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THE STORY OF A CANNONEER UNDER 
 STONEWALL JACKSON 
 
L 
 
 General "Stonewall" Jackson 
 
The Story of a Cannoneer 
 Under Stonewall Jackson 
 
 IN WHICH IS TOLD THE PART TAKEN BY THE 
 
 ROCKBRIDGE ARTILLERY IN THE ARMY 
 
 OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD A. MOORE 
 
 Of the Rockbridge Artillery 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTIONS BY 
 
 CAPT. ROBERT E. LEE, Jr., and HON. HENRY 
 ST. GEORGE TUCKER 
 
 Fully Illustrated by Portraits 
 
 LYNCHBURG, VA. 
 
 J. P. BELL COMPANY, INC. 
 
 1910 
 
Copyright, 1907, by 
 EDWARD A. MOORE 
 
 ^CIA280478 
 
To THE Spartan Mother 
 
 WHO UNFLINCHINGLY SENT HER FOUR SONS 
 TO THE FIELD 
 
 AND 
 
 To THE Wife 
 
 WITHOUT WHOSE ASSISTANCE AND ENCOURAGEMENT 
 
 IT WOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN WRITTEN, 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
PREFACE 
 
 More than thirty years ago, at the solicitation 
 of my kinsman, H. C. McDowell, of Kentucky, I 
 undertook to write a sketch of my war experience. 
 McDowell was a major in the Federal Army during 
 the civil war, and with eleven first cousins, includ- 
 ing Gen. Irvin McDowell, fought against the same 
 number of first cousins in the Confederate Army. 
 Various interruptions prevented the completion of 
 my work at that time. More recently, after despair- 
 ing of the hope that some more capable member of 
 my old command, the Rockbridge Artillery, would 
 not allow its history to pass into oblivion, I resumed 
 the task, and now present this volume as the only 
 published record of that company, celebrated as it 
 was even in that matchless body of men, the Army 
 of Northern Virginia. 
 
 E. A. M. 
 
INTRODUCTION BY HENRY ST. GEORGE 
 TUCKER 
 
 Between 1740 and 1750 nine brothers by the 
 name of Moore emigrated from the north of Ireland 
 to America. Several of them settled in South Caro- 
 lina, and of these quite a number participated in the 
 Revolutionary War, several being killed in battle. 
 One of the nine brothers, David by name, came to 
 Virginia and settled in the "Borden Grant," now 
 the northern part of Rockbridge County. There, 
 in 1752, his son, afterward known as Gen. Andrew 
 Moore, was born. His mother was a Miss Evans, 
 of Welsh ancestry. Andrew Moore was educated 
 at an academy afterward known as Liberty Hall. 
 In early life with some of his companions he made 
 a voyage to the West Indies ; was shipwrecked, but 
 rescued, after many hardships, by a passing vessel 
 and returned to the Colonies. Upon his return home 
 he studied law in the office of Chancellor Wythe, at 
 Williamsburg, and was licensed to practice law in 
 1774. In 1776 he entered the army as lieutenant, 
 in Morgan's Riflemen, and was engaged in those 
 battles which resulted in the capture of Burgoyne's 
 army, and at the surrender of the British forces at 
 Saratoga. For courage and gallantry in battle he 
 was promoted to a captaincy. Having served three 
 
 15 
 
16 INTRODUCTION 
 
 years with Morgan, he returned home and took his 
 seat as a member of the Virginia legislature, taking 
 such an active and distinguished part in the delib- 
 erations of that body that he was elected to Con- 
 gress, and as a member of the first House of Rep- 
 resentatives was distinguished for his services to 
 such a degree that he was re-elected at each suc- 
 ceeding election until 1797, when he declined fur- 
 ther service in that body, but accepted a seat in the 
 Virginia House of Delegates. He was again elected 
 to Congress in 1804, but in the first year of his 
 service he was elected to the United States Senate, 
 in which body he served with distinguished ability 
 until 1809. when he retired. He was then appointed 
 United States Marshal for the District of Virginia, 
 which office he held until his death, April 14, 1821. 
 His brother William served as a soldier in the In- 
 dian wars, and the Revolutionary War. He was a 
 lieutenant of riflemen at Pt. Pleasant, and carried 
 his captain, who had been severely wounded, from 
 the field of battle, after killing the Indian who was 
 about to scalp him — a feat of courage and strength 
 rarely equaled. Gen. Andrew Moore's wife was 
 Miss Sarah Reid, a descendant of Capt. John Mc- 
 Dowell, who was killed by the Indians. December 
 18, 1742, on James River, in Rockbridge County. 
 She was the daughter of Capt. Andrew Reid, a 
 soldier of the French and Indian War. 
 
 Our auth(^r's father was Capt. David E. Moore, 
 for twenty-three years the Attorney for the Com- 
 
INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 moiiAvealth for Rockbridge County, and a member 
 of the Constitutional Convention, 1850-51. His 
 mother was Miss Elizabeth Harvey, a descendant 
 of Benjamin Borden, and daughter of Matthew 
 Harvey, who at sixteen years of age ran away from 
 home and became a member of "Lee's Legion," 
 participating in the numerous battles in which that 
 distinguished corps took part. 
 
 Thus it will be seen that our author is of martial 
 stock and a worthy descendant of those who never 
 failed to respond to the call to arms; the youngest 
 of four brothers, one of whom surrendered under 
 General Johnston, the other three at Appomattox, 
 after serving throughout the war. It is safe to say 
 that Virginia furnished to the Confederate service 
 no finer examples of true valor than our author and 
 his three brothers. 
 
 Henry St. George Tucker. 
 Lexington, Va., 
 
 December 20, 1906. 
 
jiWAiii) A. Mooiii: 
 (1007) 
 
THE STORY OF A CANNONEER UNDER 
 STONEWALL JACKSON 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 WASHINGTON COLLEGE LEXINGTON — VIRGINIA 
 
 MILITARY INSTITUTE 
 
 At the age of eighteen I was a member of the 
 Junior Class at Washington College at Lexington, 
 Virginia, during the session of 1860-61, and with 
 the rest of the students was more interested in the 
 foreshadowings of that ominous period than in the 
 teachings of the professors. Among our number 
 there were a few from the States farther south who 
 seemed to have been born secessionists, while a large 
 majority of the students were decidedly in favor of 
 the Union. 
 
 Our president, the Rev. Dr. George Junkin, who 
 hailed from the North, was heart and soul a Union 
 man, notwithstanding the fact that one of his 
 daughters was the first wife of Major Thomas J. 
 Jackson, who developed into the world-renowned 
 "Stonewall" Jackson. Another daughter was the 
 great Southern poetess, Mrs. Margaret J. Preston, 
 and Dr. Junkin' s son, Rev. W. F. Junkin, a most 
 
 19 
 
20 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 lovable man, became an ardent Southern soldier and 
 a chaplain in the Confederate Army throughout the 
 war. 
 
 At the anniversary of the Washington Literary 
 Society, on February 22, 1861, the right of seces- 
 sion was attacked and defended by the participants 
 in the discussion, with no less zeal than they after- 
 ward displayed on many bloody battlefields. 
 
 We had as a near neighbor the Virginia Military 
 Institute, "The West Point of the South," where 
 scores of her young chivalry were assembled, who 
 were eager to put into practice the subjects taught 
 in their school. Previous to these exciting times 
 not the most kindly feelings, and but little inter- 
 course had existed between the two bodies of young 
 men. The secession element in the College, how- 
 ever, finding more congenial company among the 
 cadets, opened up the way for quite intimate and 
 friendly relations between the two institutions. In 
 January, 1860, the corps of cadets had been ordered 
 by Governor Wise to be present, as a military guard, 
 at the execution of John Brown at Harper's Ferry. 
 After their return more than the usual time was 
 given to the drill ; and target-shooting with cannon 
 and small arms was daily practised in our hearing. 
 
 Only a small proportion of the citizens of the 
 community favored secession, but they were very 
 aggressive. One afternoon, while a huge Union 
 flag-pole was being raised on the street, whicli when 
 half-way up snapped and fell to the ground in 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 21 
 
 pieces, I witnessed a personal encounter between a 
 cadet and a mechanic (the latter afterward deserted 
 from our battery during the Gettysburg campaign 
 in Pennsylvania, his native State), which was 
 promptly taken up by their respective friends. The 
 cadets who were present hastened to their barracks 
 and, joined by their comrades, armed themselves, 
 and w^ith fixed bayonets came streaming at double- 
 quick toward the town. They were met at the end 
 of Main street by their professors, conspicuous 
 among whom was Colonel Colston on horseback. 
 He was a native of France and professor of French 
 at the Listitute ; he became a major-general in the 
 Confederate Army and later a general in the Egyp- 
 tian Army. After considerable persuasion the ca- 
 dets were induced to return to their barracks. 
 
 Instead of the usual Saturday night debates of 
 the College literary societies, the students either 
 joined the cadets in their barracks at the Institute 
 or received them at the College halls to harangue 
 on the one absorbing topic. 
 
 On the top of the main building at the College 
 was a statue of Washington, and over this statue 
 some of the students hoisted a palmetto flag. This 
 greatly incensed our president. He tried, for some 
 time, but in vain, to have the flag torn down. When 
 my class went at the usual hour to his room to re- 
 cite, and before we had taken our seats, he inquired 
 if the flag was still flying. On being told that it 
 was, he said, "The class is dismissed ; I will never 
 
22 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 hear a recitation under a traitor's flag!" And 
 away we went. 
 
 Lincoln's proclamation calling for 75,000 men 
 to whip in the seceded States, was immediately fol- 
 lowed by the ordinance of secession, and the idea 
 of union was abandoned by all. Recitation-bells no 
 longer sounded; our books were left to gather dust, 
 and forgotten, save only to recall those scenes that 
 filled our minds with the mighty deeds and prowess 
 of such characters as the "Ruling Agamemnon" 
 and his warlike cohorts, and we could almost hear 
 "the terrible clang of striking spears against shields, 
 as it resounded throughout the army." 
 
 There was much that seems ludicrous as we re- 
 call it now. The youths of the community, imbued 
 with the idea that "cold steel" would play an im- 
 portant part in the conflict, provided themselves 
 with huge bowie-knives, fashioned by our home 
 blacksmith, and with these fierce weapons swing- 
 ing from their belts were much in evidence. There 
 were already several organized military companies 
 in the county. The Rockbridge Rifles, and a com- 
 pany of cavalry left Lexington April 17, under or- 
 ders from Governor John Letcher, our townsman, 
 who had just been inaugurated Governor of Vir- 
 ginia, to report at Harper's Ferry. The cavalry 
 company endeavored to make the journey without 
 a halt, and did march the first sixty-four miles in 
 twenty- four hours. 
 
 The students formed a company with J. J. \\'hite. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 23 
 
 professor of Greek, as their captain. Drilling was 
 the occupation of the day; the students having ex- 
 cellent instructors in the cadets and their profes- 
 sors. Our outraged president had set out alone in 
 his private carriage for his former home in the 
 North. 
 
 Many of the cadets were called away as drill- 
 masters at camps established in different parts of 
 the South, and later became distinguished officers 
 in the Confederate Army, as did also a large num- 
 ber of the older alumni of the Institute. 
 
 The Rockbridge Artillery Company was organ- 
 ized about this time, and, after a fortnight's drill- 
 ing with the cadet's battery, was ordered to the 
 front, under command of Rev. W. N. Pendleton, 
 rector of the Episcopal Church, and a graduate of 
 West Point, as captain. 
 
 The cadets received marching orders, and on that 
 morning, for the first time since his residence in 
 Lexington, Major Jackson was seen in his element. 
 As a professor at the Virginia Military Institute he 
 was remarkable only for strict punctuality and dis- 
 cipline. I, with one of my brothers, had been as- 
 signed to his class in Sunday-school, where his regu- 
 lar attendance and earnest manner were equally 
 striking. 
 
 It was on a beautiful Sunday morning in May 
 that the cadets received orders to move, and I re- 
 member how we were all astonished to see the 
 Christian major, galloping to and fro on a spirited 
 horse, preparing for their departure. 
 
24 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 In the arsenal at the Institute were large stores 
 of firearms of old patterns, which were hauled away 
 from time to time to supply the troops. I, with five 
 others of the College company, was detailed as a 
 guard to a convoy of wagons, loaded with these 
 arms, as far as Staunton. We were all al)out the 
 same size, and with one exception members of the 
 same class. In the first battle of Manassas four of 
 the five present — Charles Bell, William Wilson, Wil- 
 liam Paxton and Benjamin Bradley — were killed, 
 and William Anderson, now Attorney-General of 
 Virginia, was maimed for life. 
 
 There was great opposition on the part of the 
 friends of the students to their going into the ser- 
 vice, at any rate in one body, but they grew more 
 and more impatient to be ordered out, and felt 
 decidedly offended at the delay. 
 
 Finally, in June, the long-hoped-for orders came. 
 The town was filled with people from far and near, 
 and every one present, old and young, white and 
 black, not only shed tears, but actually sobbed. My 
 father had positively forbidden my going, as his 
 other three sons, older than myself, were already in 
 the field. After this my time was chiefly occupied 
 in drilling militia in different parts of the country. 
 And I am reminded to this day by ni}- friends the 
 daughters of General Pendleton of my apprehen- 
 sions "lest the war should be over before I should 
 get a trip." 
 
L < 
 
 
 2 > 
 
 T. S 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 ENTERING THE SERVICE MY FIRST BATTLE BATTLE 
 
 OF KERNSTOWN 
 
 Jackson's first engagement took place at Haines- 
 ville, near Martinsburg, on July 2, one of the Rock- 
 bridge Artillery guns firing the first hostile cannon- 
 shot fired in the Valley of Virginia. This gun is 
 now in the possession of the Virginia Military In- 
 stitute, and my brother David fired the shot. Be- 
 fore we knew that Jackson was out of the Valley, 
 news came of the battle of First Manassas, in which 
 General Bee conferred upon him and his brigade 
 the soubriquet of "Stonewall," and by so doing 
 likened himself to "Homer, who immortalized the 
 victory won by Achilles." 
 
 In this battle the Rockbridge Artillery did splen- 
 did execution without losing a man, while the in- 
 fantry in their rear, and for their support, suffered 
 dreadfully. The College company alone (now Com- 
 pany I of the Fourth Virginia Regiment) lost seven 
 killed and many wounded. 
 
 In August it was reported that a force of Federal 
 cavalry was near the White Sulphur Springs, on 
 their way to Lexington. Numbers of men from the 
 hills and mountains around gathered at Colliers- 
 town, a straggling village in the western portion of 
 
 25 
 
26 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 the county, and I spent the greater part of the night 
 driUing them in the town-hall, getting news from 
 time to time from the pickets in the mountain-pass. 
 The prospect of meeting so formidable a band had 
 doubtless kept the Federals from even contemplat- 
 ing such an expedition. 
 
 The winter passed drearily along, the armies in 
 all directions having only mud to contend with. 
 
 Since my failure to leave with the College com- 
 pany it had been my intention to join it the first 
 opportunity; but, hearing it would be disbanded in 
 the spring, I enlisted in the Rockbridge Artillery 
 attached to the Stonewall Brigade, and with about 
 fifty other recruits left Lexington ]\Iarch 10, 1862, 
 to join Jackson, then about thirty miles south of 
 Winchester. Some of us traveled on horseback, 
 and some in farm-wagons secured for the purpose. 
 We did not create the sensation we had anticipated, 
 either on leaving Lexington or along the road ; still 
 we had plenty of fun. I remember one of the party 
 — a fellow with a very large chin, as well as cheek — 
 riding up close to a house by the roadside in the 
 door of which stood a woman with a number of 
 children around her, and, taking ofif his hat, said, 
 "God bless you, madam! May you raise many for 
 the Southern Confederacy." 
 
 We spent Saturday afternoon and night in Staun- 
 ton, and were quartered in a hotel kept by a sour- 
 looking old Frenchman. We were given an abom- 
 inable supper, the hash especially being a most mys- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 27 
 
 terious-looking dish. After retiring to our blankets 
 on the floor, I heard two of the party, who had par- 
 taken of some of Bumgardner's mountain dew, dis- 
 cussing the situation generally, and, among other 
 things, surmising as to the ingredients of the sup- 
 per's hash, when Winn said, "Bob, I analyzed that 
 hash. It was made of buttermilk, dried apple, dam- 
 sons and wool !" 
 
 The following day, Sunday, was clear and beau- 
 tiful. We had about seventy miles to travel along 
 the Valley turnpike. In passing a stately residence, 
 on the porch of which the family had assembled, 
 one of our party raised his hat in salutation. Not 
 a member of the family took the least notice of the 
 civility ; but a negro girl, who was sweeping off the 
 pavement in front, flourished her broom around her 
 head most enthusiastically, which raised a general 
 shout. 
 
 We arrived at Camp Buchanan, a few miles be- 
 low Mount Jackson, on Monday afternoon. I then, 
 for the first time since April, 1861, saw my brother 
 John. How tough and brown he looked ! He had 
 been transferred to the Rockbridge Artillery 
 shortly before the first battle of Manassas, and with 
 my brother David belonged to a mess of as interest- 
 ing young men as I ever knew. Some of them I 
 have not seen for more than forty years. Mention- 
 ing their names may serve to recall incidents con- 
 nected with them : My two brothers, both graduates 
 of Washington College; Berkeley Minor, a student 
 
28 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 of the University of Virginia, a perfect bookworm; 
 Alex. Boteler, student of the University of Vir- 
 ginia, son of Hon. Alex. Boteler, of West Virginia, 
 and his two cousins, Henry and Charles Boteler, of 
 Shepherdstown, West Virginia; Thompson and 
 Magruder Maury, both clergymen after the war ; 
 Joe Shaner, of Lexington, Virginia, as kind a friend 
 as I ever had, and who carried my blanket for me 
 on his off -horse at least one thousand miles; John 
 M. Gregory, of Charles City County, an A. M. of 
 the University of Virginia. How distinctly I recall 
 his large, well-developed head, fair skin and clear 
 blue eyes ; and his voice is as familiar to me as if I 
 had heard it yesterday. Then the brothers, Walter 
 and Joe Packard, of the neighborhood of Alexan- 
 dria, Virginia, sons of the Rev. Dr. Packard, of 
 the Theological Seminary, and both graduates of 
 colleges ; Frank Preston, of Lexington, graduate of 
 Washington College, who died soon after the war 
 while professor of Greek at William and Mary Col- 
 lege, a whole-souled and most companionable fel- 
 low ; William Boiling, of Fauquier County, student 
 of the University of Virginia; Frank Singleton, of 
 Kentucky, student of the University of Virginia, 
 whom William Williamson, another member of the 
 mess and a graduate of Washington College, pro- 
 nounced "always a gentleman." Williamson was 
 quite deaf, and Singleton always, in the gentlest 
 and most patient way, would repeat for his benefit 
 anything he failed to hear. Last, and most interest- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 29 
 
 ing of all, was George Bedinger, of Sheperdstown, 
 a student of the University of Virginia. 
 
 There were men in the company from almost 
 every State in the South, and several from North- 
 ern States. Among the latter were two sons of 
 Commodore Porter, of the United States Navy, 
 one of whom went by the name of "Porter-he," 
 from his having gone with Sergeant Paxton to visit 
 some young ladies, and, on their return, being asked 
 how they had enjoyed their visit, the sergeant said, 
 "Oh, splendidly! and Porter, he were very much 
 elated." 
 
 Soon after my arrival supper was ready, and I 
 joined the mess in my first meal in camp, and was 
 astonished to see how they relished fat bacon, "flap- 
 jacks" and strong black coffee in big tin cups. The 
 company was abundantly supplied with first-rate 
 tents, many of them captured from the enemy, and 
 everybody seemed to be perfectly at home and 
 happy. 
 
 I bunked with my brother John, but there was no 
 sleep for me that first night. There were just 
 enough cornstalks under me for each to be dis- 
 tinctly felt, and the ground between was exceed- 
 ingly cold. We remained in this camp until the fol- 
 lowing Friday, when orders came to move. 
 
 We first marched about three miles south, or up 
 the Valley, then countermarched, going about twenty 
 miles, and on Sunday, March 23rd, twelve miles 
 farther, which brought us, I thought, and it seemed 
 
30 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 to be the general impression, in rather close prox- 
 imity to the enemy. There having been only a few 
 skirmishes since Manassas in July, 1861, none of us 
 dreamed of a battle ; but very soon a cannon boomed 
 two or three miles ahead, then another and another. 
 The boys said, "That's Chew's battery, under 
 Ashby." 
 
 Pretty soon Chew's battery was answered, and 
 for the first time I saw and heard a shell burst, high 
 in the air, leaving a little cloud of white smoke. On 
 we moved, halting frequently, as the troops were 
 being deployed in line of battle. Our battery turned 
 out of the pike and we had not heard a shot for 
 half an hour. In front of us lay a stretch of half 
 a mile of level, open ground and beyond this a 
 wooded hill, for which we seemed to be making. 
 When half-way across the low ground, as I was 
 walking by my gun, talking to a comrade at my side, 
 a shell burst with a terrible crash — it seemed to me 
 almost on my head. The concussion knocked me to 
 my knees, and my comrade sprawling on the ground. 
 We then began to feel that we were "going in," and 
 a most weakening effect it had on the stomach. 
 
 I recall distinctly the sad, solemn feeling pro- 
 duced by seeing the ambulances brought up to the 
 front; it was entirely too suggestive. Soon we 
 reached the woods and were ascending the hill along 
 a little ravine, for a position, when a solid shot 
 broke the trunnions of one of the guns, thus dis- 
 abling it ; then another, nearly spent, struck a tree 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 31 
 
 about half-way up and fell nearby. Just after we 
 got to the top of the hill, and within fifty or one 
 hundred yards of the position we were to take, a 
 shell struck the off- wheel horse of my gun and 
 burst. The horse was torn to pieces, and the pieces 
 thrown in every direction. The saddle-horse was 
 also horribly mangled. The leg of the driver, W. H. 
 Byrd, was shot off, as was also the foot of O. P. 
 Gray, who was walking along-side. Both men died 
 that night. A white horse working in the lead looked 
 more like a bay after the catastrophe. To one who 
 had been in the army but five days, and but five 
 minutes under fire, this seemed an awful introduc- 
 tion. 
 
 The other guns of the battery had gotten into 
 position before we had cleared up the wreck of our 
 team and put in two new horses. As soon as this 
 was done we pulled up to where the other guns 
 were firing, and passed by a member of the com- 
 pany, John Wallace, horribly torn by a shell, but 
 still alive. On reaching the crest of the hill, which 
 was clear open ground, we got a full view of the 
 enemy's batteries on the hills opposite. 
 
 In the woods on our left, and a few hundred 
 yards distant, the infantry were hotly engaged, the 
 small arms keeping up an incessant roar. Neither 
 side seemed to move an inch. From about the Fed- 
 eral batteries in front of us came regiment after 
 regiment of their infantry, marching in line of bat- 
 tle, with the Stars and Stripes flying, to join in the 
 
Z2 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 attack on our infantry, who were not being rein- 
 forced at all, as everything but the Fifth Virginia 
 had been engaged from the first. We did some fine 
 shooting at their advancing infantry, their batteries 
 having almost quit firing. The battle had now con- 
 tinued for two or three hours. Now, for the first 
 time, I heard the keen whistle of the Minie-ball. Our 
 infantry was being driven back and the Federals 
 were in close pursuit. 
 
 Seeing the day was lost, we were ordered to lim- 
 ber up and leave. Just then a large force of the 
 enemy came in sight in the woods on our left. The 
 gunner of the piece nearest them had his piece loaded 
 with canister, and fired the charge into their ranks 
 as they crowded through a narrow opening in a 
 stone fence. One of the guns of the battery, having 
 several of its horses killed, fell into the hands of 
 the enemy. About this time the Fifth Virginia 
 Regiment, which, through some misunderstanding 
 of orders, had not been engaged, arrived on the 
 crest of the hill, and I heard General Jackson, as he 
 rode to their front, direct the men to form in line 
 and check the enemy. But everything else was now 
 in full retreat, with Minie-balls to remind us that it 
 would not do to stop. Running back through the 
 woods, I passed close by John Wallace as he lay 
 dying. Night came on opportunely and put an end 
 to the pursuit, and to the taking of prisoners, though 
 we lost several hundred men. I afterward heard 
 Capt. George Junkin, nephew of the Northern col- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 33 
 
 lege president, and General Jackson's adjutant, say 
 that he had the exact number of men engaged on 
 our side, and that there were 2,700 in the battle. The 
 enemy's official report gave their number as 8,000. 
 
 It was dusk when I again found myself on the 
 turnpike, and I followed the few indistinct moving 
 figures in the direction of safety. I stopped for a 
 few minutes near a camp-fire, in a piece of woods, 
 where our infantry halted, and I remember hearing 
 the colored cook of one of their messes asking in 
 piteous tones, over and over again, "Marse George, 
 Where's Marse Charles?" No answer was made, 
 but the sorrowful face of the one interrogated was 
 response enough. I got back to the village of New- 
 town, about three miles from the battlefield, where 
 I joined several members of the battery at a hos- 
 pitable house. Here we were kindly supplied with 
 food, and, as the house was full, were allowed to 
 sleep soundly on the floor. This battle was known 
 as Kernstown. 
 
 The Confederate loss was : 80 killed, 375 wound- 
 ed, 263 captured; total, 718. 
 
 Federal loss: 118 killed, 450 wounded, 22 miss- 
 ing; total, 590. 
 
 General Jackson was greatly disturbed at being 
 defeated in this battle (claiming that the retreat was 
 premature), and not until it was fully demonstrated 
 by brigade and regimental officers that the infantry 
 yielded only when their ammunition was exhausted 
 did he seem to be reconciled. The effects of it, how- 
 
34 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 ever, were far-reaching, as some 40,000 Federals 
 in armies for the protection of Washington were 
 prevented from going to join McClellan's advance 
 on Richmond. 
 
 In regard to this battle Gen. Jackson wrote to 
 his wife as follows : 
 
 "You appear to be much concerned at my attack- 
 ing on Sunday. I am greatly concerned too 
 and I hope and pray to our Heavenly Father that I 
 may never again be circumstanced as on that day." 
 
 In this sentiment many of us fully concurred. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE RETREAT CEDAR CREEK GENERAL ASHBY 
 
 SKIRMISHES m'GAHEYSVILLE 
 
 The next dawn brought a raw, gloomy Monday. 
 We found the battery a mile or two from the battle- 
 field, where we lay all day, thinking, of course, the 
 enemy would follow up their victory; but this they 
 showed no inclination to do. On Tuesday we moved 
 a mile or more toward our old camp — Buchanan. 
 On Wednesday, about noon, we reached Cedar 
 Creek, the scene of one of General Early's battles 
 more than two years afterward, 1864. The creek 
 ran through a narrow defile, and, the bridge having 
 been burned, we crossed in single file, on the charred 
 timbers, still clinging together and resting on the 
 surface of the water. Just here, for the first time 
 since Kernstown, the Federal cavalry attacked the 
 rear of our column, and the news and commotion 
 reached my part of the line when I was half-across 
 the stream. The man immediately in front of me, 
 being in too much of a hurry to follow the file on 
 the bridge-planks, jumped frantically into the 
 stream. He was fished out of the cold waters, 
 shoulder deep, on the bayonets of the infantry on 
 the timbers. 
 
 35 
 
36 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 We found our wagons awaiting us on top of a 
 high hill beyond, and went into camp about noon, 
 to get up a whole meal, to which we thought we 
 could do full justice. But, alas! alas! About the 
 time the beans were done, and each had his share 
 in a tin plate or cup, "bang!" went a cannon on the 
 opposite hill, and the shell screamed over our heads. 
 My gun being a rifled piece, was ordered to hitch up 
 and go into position, and my appetite was gone. 
 Turning to my brother, I said, "John, I don't want 
 these beans !" My friend Bedinger gave me a home- 
 made biscuit, which I ate as I followed the gun. We 
 moved out and across the road with two guns, and 
 took position one hundred yards nearer the enemy. 
 The guns were unlimbered and loaded just in time 
 to fire at a column of the enemy's cavalry which had 
 started down the opposite hill at a gallop. The guns 
 were discharged simultaneously, and the two shells 
 burst in the head of their column, and by the time 
 the smoke and dust had cleared up that squadron of 
 cavalry was invisible. This check gave the wagons 
 and troops time to get in marching order, and after 
 firing a few more rounds we followed. 
 
 As we drove into the road again, I saw several 
 infantrymen lying, horribly torn by shells, and the 
 clothes of one of them on fire. I afterward heard 
 amusing accounts of the exit of the rest of the com- 
 pany from this camp. Quartermaster "John D." 
 had his teams at a full trot, with the steam flying 
 from the still hot camp-kettles as they rocked to 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 37 
 
 and fro on the tops of the wagons. In a day or two 
 we were again in Camp Buchanan, and pitched our 
 tents on their old sites and kindled our fires with 
 the old embers. Here more additions were made to 
 the company, among them R. E. Lee, Jr., son of 
 the General; Arthur Robinson, of Baltimore, and 
 Edward Hyde, of Alexandria. After a few nights' 
 rest and one or two square meals everything was as 
 gay as ever. 
 
 An hour or two each day was spent in going 
 through the artillery manual. Every morning we 
 heard the strong, clear voice of an infantry officer 
 drilling his men, which I learned was the voice of 
 our cousin, James Allen, colonel of the Second Vir- 
 ginia Regiment. He was at least half a mile dis- 
 tant. About the fourth or fifth day after our re- 
 turn to camp we were ordered out to meet the 
 enemy, and moved a few miles in their direction, 
 but were relieved on learning that it was a false 
 alarm, and counter-marched to the same camp. 
 When we went to the wagons for our cooking uten- 
 sils, etc., my heavy double blanket, brought from 
 home, had been lost, which made the ground seem 
 colder and the stalks rougher. With me the nights, 
 until bedtime, were pleasant enough. There were 
 some good voices in the company, two or three in 
 our mess; Bedinger and his cousin. Alec Boteler, 
 both sang well, but Boteler stammered badly when 
 talking, and Bedinger kept him in a rage half the 
 time mocking him, frequently advising him to go 
 
38 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 back home and learn to talk. Still they were bed- 
 fellows and devoted friends. I feel as if I could 
 hear Bedinger now, as he shifted around the fire, to 
 keep out of the smoke, singing: 
 
 "Though the world may call me gay, yet my feelings I smother. 
 Oh! thou hast been the cause of this anguish — my mother." 
 
 A thing that I was very slow to learn was to sit 
 on the ground with any comfort; and a log or a 
 fence, for a few minutes' rest, was a thing of joy. 
 Then the smoke from the camp-fires almost suffo- 
 cated me, and always seemed to blow toward me, 
 though each of the others thought himself the fav- 
 ored one. But the worst part of the twenty-four 
 hours was from bedtime till daylight, half -awake 
 and half-asleep and half-frozen. I was, since 
 Kernstown, having that battle all over and over 
 again. 
 
 I noticed a thing in this camp (it being the first 
 winter of the war), in which experience and neces- 
 sity afterward made a great change. The soldiers, 
 not being accustomed to fires out-of-doors, fre- 
 quently had either the tails of their overcoats 
 burned off, or big holes or scorched places in their 
 pantaloons. 
 
 Since Jackson's late reverse, more troops being 
 needed, the militia had been ordered out, and the 
 contingent from Rockbridge County was encamped 
 a few miles in rear of us. I got permission from 
 our captain to go to see them and hear the news from 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 39 
 
 home. Among them were several merchants of 
 Lexington, and steady old farmers from the county. 
 They were much impressed with the accounts of the 
 battle and spoke very solemnly of war. I had rid- 
 den Sergeant Baxter McCorkle's horse, and, on my 
 return, soon after passing through Mt. Jackson, 
 overtook Bedinger and Charley Boteler, with a can- 
 teen of French brandy which a surgeon- friend in 
 town had given them. As a return for a drink, I 
 asked Bedinger to ride a piece on my horse, which, 
 for some time, he declined to do, but finally said, 
 "All right; get down." He had scarcely gotten into 
 the saddle before he plied the horse with hat and 
 heels, and away he went down the road at full speed 
 and disappeared in the distance. 
 
 This was more kindness than I had intended, but 
 it afforded a good laugh. Boteler and the brandy 
 followed the horseman, and I turned in and spent 
 the night with the College company, quartered close 
 by as a guard to General Jackson's headquarters. I 
 got back to camp the next afternoon, Sunday. 
 McCorkle had just found his horse, still saddled and 
 bridled, grazing in a wheat-field. 
 
 From Camp Buchanan we fell back to Rude's 
 Hill, four miles above Mt. Jackson and overlooking 
 the Shenandoah River. About once in three days 
 our two Parrott guns, to one of which I belonged, 
 were sent down to General Ashby, some ten miles, 
 for picket service to supply the place of Chew's bat- 
 tery, which exhausted its ammunition in daily skirm- 
 
40 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 ishes with the enemy. Ashby himself was always 
 there; and an agreeable, unpretending gentleman he 
 was. His complexion was very dark and his hair 
 and beard as black as a raven. He was always in 
 motion, mounted on one of his three superb stal- 
 lions, one of which was coal-black, another a chest- 
 nut sorrel, and the third white. On our first trip 
 we had a lively cannonade, and the white horse in 
 our team, still bearing the stains of blood from the 
 Kernstown carnage, reared and plunged furiously 
 during the firing. The Federal skirmish line was 
 about a mile off, near the edge of some woods, and 
 at that distance looked very harmless ; but when I 
 looked at them through General Ashby's field-glass 
 it made them look so large, and brought them so 
 close, that it startled me. There was a fence inter- 
 vening, and, on giving the glass a slight jar, I im- 
 agined they jumped the fence; I preferred looking 
 at them with the naked eye. Bob Lee volunteered 
 to go with us another day (he belonged to another 
 detachment). He seemed to enjoy the sport much. 
 He had not been at Kernstown, and I thought if he 
 had, possibly he would have felt more as did I and 
 the white horse. 
 
 On our way down on another expedition, hear- 
 ing the enemy were driving in our pickets, and that 
 we would probably have some lively work and run- 
 ning, I left my blanket — a blue one I had recently 
 borrowed — at the house of a mulatto woman by the 
 roadside, and told her I would call for it as we came 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 41 
 
 back. We returned soon, but the woman, learning 
 that a battle was impending, had locked up and gone. 
 This blanket was my only wrap during the chilly 
 nights, so I must have it. The guns had gone on. 
 As I stood deliberating as to what I should do, 
 General Ashby came riding by. I told him my 
 predicament and asked, "Shall I get in and get it?" 
 He said, "Yes, certainly." With the help of an axe 
 I soon had a window-sash out and my blanket in 
 my possession. From these frequent picket excur- 
 sions I got the name of "Veteran." My friend Boil- 
 ing generously offered to go as my substitute on one 
 expedition, but the Captain, seeing our two detach- 
 ments were being overworked, had all relieved and 
 sent other detachments with our guns. 
 
 From Rude's Hill about fifty of us recruits were 
 detailed to go to Harrisonburg — Lieutenant Gra- 
 ham in command — to guard prisoners. The prison- 
 ers were quartered in the courthouse. Among them 
 were a number of Dunkards from the surrounding 
 country, whose creed was "No fight." I was ap- 
 pointed corporal, the only promotion I was honored 
 with during the war, and that only for the detailed 
 service. Here we spent a week or ten days, pleas- 
 antly, with good fare and quarters. Things con- 
 tinued quiet at the front during this time. 
 
 The enemy again advanced, and quite a lively 
 calvary skirmish was had from Mt. Jackson to the 
 bridge across the Shenandoah. The enemy tried 
 hard to keep our men from burning this bridge, and 
 
42 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 in the fray Ashby's white horse was mortally 
 wounded under him and his own life saved by the 
 daring interposition of one of his men. His horse 
 lived to carry him out, but fell dead as soon as he 
 had accomplished it ; and, after his death, every hair 
 was pulled from his tail by Ashby's men as memen- 
 toes of the occasion. 
 
 Jackson fell back slowly, and, on reaching Har- 
 risonburg, to our dismay, the head of the column 
 filed to the left, on the road leading toward the Blue 
 Ridge, thus disclosing the fact that the Valley was 
 to be given up a prey to the enemy. Gloom was seen 
 on every face at feeling that our homes were for- 
 saken. We carried our prisoners along, and a mis- 
 erable-looking set the poor Dunkards were, with 
 their long beards and solemn eyes. A little fun, 
 though, we would have. Every mile or so, and at 
 every cross-road, a sign-post was stuck up, "Keezle- 
 town Road, 2 miles," and of every countryman or 
 darky along the way some wag would inquire the 
 distance to Keezletown, and if he thought we could 
 get there before night. 
 
 By dawn next morning we were again on the 
 march. I have recalled this early dawn oftener, I 
 am sure, than any other of my whole life. Our 
 road lay along the edge of a forest, occasionally 
 winding in and out of it. At the more open places 
 we could see the Blue Ridge in the near distance. 
 During the night a slight shower had moistened the 
 earth and leaves, so that our steps, and even the 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 43 
 
 wheels of the artillery, were scarcely heard. Here 
 and there on the roadside was the home of a sol- 
 dier, in which he had just passed probably his last 
 night. I distinctly recall now the sobs of a wife 
 or mother as she moved about, preparing a meal for 
 her husband or son, and the thoughts it gave rise 
 to. Very possibly it helped also to remind us that 
 we had left camp that morning without any break- 
 fast ourselves. At any rate, I told my friend, Joe 
 McCalpin, who was quite too modest a man to for- 
 age, and face a strange family in quest of a meal, 
 that if he would put himself in my charge I would 
 promise him a good breakfast. 
 
 In a few miles we reached McGaheysville, a quiet, 
 comfortable little village away off in the hills. The 
 sun was now up, and now was the time and this the 
 place. A short distance up a cross-street I saw a 
 motherly-looking old lady standing at her gate, 
 watching the passing troops. Said I, "Mac, there's 
 the place." We approached, and I announced the 
 object of our visit. She said, "Breakfast is just 
 ready. Walk in, sit down at the table, and make 
 yourselves at home. A breakfast it was — fresh eggs, 
 white light biscuit and other toothsome articles. A 
 man of about forty-five years — a boarder — re- 
 marked, at the table, "The war has not cost me the 
 loss of an hour's sleep." The good mother said, 
 with a quavering tone of voice, "/ have sons in the 
 army." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 SWIFT RUN GAP REORGANIZATION OF THE BATTERY 
 
 WADING IN THE MUD CROSSING AND 
 
 RECROSSING THE BLUE RIDGE BATTLE OF 
 
 MCDOWELL RETURN TO THE VALLEY 
 
 We reached the south branch of the Shenandoah 
 about noon, crossed on a bridge, and that night 
 camped in Swift Run Gap. Our detail was sep- 
 arated from the battery and I, therefore, not with 
 my own mess. We occupied a low, flat piece of 
 ground with a creek alongside and about forty 
 yards from the tent in which I stayed. The priso- 
 ners were in a barn a quarter of a mile distant. 
 Here we had most wretched weather, real winter 
 again, rain or snow almost all the time. One night 
 about midnight I was awakened by hearing a horse 
 splashing through water just outside of the tent and 
 a voice calling to the inmates to get out of the flood. 
 The horse was backed half into the tent-door, and, 
 one by one, my companions left me. My bunk was 
 on a little rise. I put my hand out — into the water. 
 I determined, however, to stay as long as I could, 
 and was soon asleep, which showed that I was be- 
 coming a soldier — in one important respect at least. 
 By daylight, the flood having subsided. I was able 
 to reach a fence and "coon it" to a hill above. 
 
 44 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 45 
 
 While in this camp, as the time had expired for 
 which most of the soldiers enlisted, the army was 
 reorganized. The battery having more men than 
 was a quota for one company, the last recruits were 
 required to enlist in other companies or to exchange 
 with older members who wished to change. Thus 
 some of our most interesting members left us, to 
 join other commands, and the number of our guns 
 was reduced from eight to six. The prisoners were 
 now disposed of, and I returned to my old mess. 
 After spending about ten days in this wretched 
 camp we marched again, following the Shenandoah 
 River along the base of the mountains toward Port 
 Republic. After such weather, the dirt-roads were, 
 of course, almost bottomless. The wagons monopo- 
 lized them during the day, so we had to wait until 
 they were out of the way. When they halted for 
 the night, we took the mud. The depth of it was 
 nearly up to my knees and frequently over them. 
 The bushes on the sides of the road, and the dark- 
 ness, compelled us to wade right in. Here was 
 swearing and growHng, "Flanders and Flounders." 
 An infantryinan was cursing Stonewall most elo- 
 quently, when the old Christian rode by, and, hear- 
 ing him, said, in his short way, "It's for your own 
 good, sir!" The wagons could make only six miles 
 during the day, and, by traveling this distance after 
 night, we reached them about nine o'clock. We 
 would then build fires, get our cooking utensils, and 
 cook our suppers, and, by the light of the fires, see 
 
46 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 our muddy condition and try to dry off before re- 
 tiring to the ground. We engaged in this sort of 
 warfare for three days, when we reached Port Re- 
 pubhc, eighteen miles from our starting-point and 
 about the same distance from Staunton. Our move- 
 ments, or rather Jackson's, had entirely bewildered 
 us as to his intentions. 
 
 While we were at Swift Run, Swell's division, 
 having been brought from the army around Rich- 
 mond, was encamped just across the mountain op- 
 posite us. We remained at Port Republic several 
 days. Our company was convenient to a comfort- 
 able farmhouse, where hot apple turnovers were 
 constantly on sale. Our hopes for remaining in the 
 Valley were again blasted when the wagons moved 
 out on the Brown's Gap road and we followed 
 across the Blue Ridge, making our exit from the 
 pass a few miles north of Mechum's River, which 
 we reached about noon of the following day. 
 
 There had been a good deal of cutting at each 
 other among the members of the company who 
 hailed from different sides of the Blue Ridge — 
 "Tuckahoes" and "Cohees," as they are provin- 
 cially called. "Lit" Macon, formerly sheriff of 
 Albemarle County, an incessant talker, had given 
 us glowing accounts of the treatment we would re- 
 ceive "on t'other side." "Jam puffs, jam puffs!" 
 Joe Shaner and I, having something of a turn for 
 investigating the resources of a new country, took 
 the first opportunity of testing Macon's promised 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 47 
 
 land. We selected a fine-looking house, and, ap- 
 proaching it, made known our wants to a young 
 lady. She left us standing outside of the yard, we 
 supposed to cool off while she made ready for our 
 entertainment in the house. In this we were mis- 
 taken ; for, after a long time, she returned and 
 handed us, through the fence, some cold corn-bread 
 and bacon. This and similar experiences by others 
 gave us ample means to tease Macon about the grand 
 things we were to see and enjoy ''on t'other side." 
 We were now much puzzled as to the meaning 
 of this "wiring in and wiring out," as we had turned 
 to the right on crossing the mountain and taken the 
 road toward Staunton. To our astonishment we 
 recrossed the mountain, from the top of which we 
 again gazed on that grand old Valley, and felt that 
 our homes might still be ours. A mile or two from 
 the mountain lay the quiet little village of Waynes- 
 boro, where we arrived about noon. As I was pass- 
 ing along the main street, somewhat in advance of 
 the battery, Frank Preston came running out of one 
 of the houses— the Waddells'— and, with his usual 
 take-no-excuse style, dragged me in to face a family 
 of the prettiest girls in Virginia. I was immediately 
 taken to the dining-room, where were "jam puffs" 
 sure enough, and the beautiful Miss Nettie to di- 
 vide my attention. 
 
 The next day we camped near Staunton and re- 
 mained a day. Conjecturing now as to Jackson's 
 program was wild, so we concluded to let him have 
 
48 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 his own way. The cadets of the Virginia Military 
 Institute, most of whom were boys under seventeen, 
 had, in this emergency, been ordered to the field, 
 and joined the line of march as we passed through 
 Staunton, and the young ladies of that place made 
 them the heroes of the army, to the disgust of the 
 "Veterans" of the old Stonewall Brigade. Our 
 course was now westward, and Milroy, who was too 
 strong for General Ed. Johnson in the Alleghanies, 
 was the object. About twenty miles west of Staun- 
 ton was the home of a young lady friend, and, on 
 learning that our road lay within four miles of it, 
 I determined at least to try to see her. Sergeant 
 Clem. Fishburne, who was related to the family, 
 expected to go with me, but at the last moment gave 
 it up, so I went alone. To my very great disap- 
 pointment she was not at home, but her sisters en- 
 tertained me nicely with music, etc., and filled my 
 haversack before I left. Just before starting off in 
 the afternoon I learned that cannonading had been 
 heard toward the front. When a mile or two on 
 my way a passing cavalryman, a stranger to me, 
 kindly offered to carry my overcoat, which he did, 
 and left it with the battery. 
 
 The battery had marched about fifteen miles 
 after I had left it, so I had to retrace my four miles, 
 then travel the fifteen, crossing two mountains. I 
 must have walked at least five miles an hour, as I 
 reached the company before sundown. They had 
 gone into camp. My brother John, and Frank 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 49 
 
 Preston, seeing me approach, came out to meet me, 
 and told me how excessively uneasy they had been 
 about me all day. A battle had been fought and 
 they had expected to be called on every moment, 
 and, "Suppose we had gone in, and you off forag- 
 ing!" How penitent I felt, and at the same time 
 how grateful for having two such anxious guar- 
 dians ! While expressing this deep interest they 
 each kept an eye on my full haversack. "Well," 
 said I, "I have some pabulum here ; let's go to the 
 mess and give them a snack." They said, "That 
 little bit wouldn't be a drop in the bucket with all 
 that mess ; let's just go down yonder to the branch 
 and have one real good old-fashioned repast." So 
 off we went to the branch, and by the time they were 
 through congratulating me on getting back before 
 the battery had "gotten into it," my haversack was 
 empty. The battle had been fought by Johnson's 
 division, the enemy whipped and put to flight. The 
 next day we started in pursuit, passing through 
 McDowell, a village in Highland County, and near 
 this village the fight had occurred. The ground was 
 too rough and broken for the effective use of artil- 
 lery, so the work was done by the infantry on both 
 sides. This was the first opportunity that many of 
 us had had of seeing a battlefield the day after the 
 battle. The ghastly faces of the dead made a sick- 
 ening and lasting impression ; but I hoped I did not 
 look as pale as did some of the young cadets, who 
 proved gallant enough afterward. We continued 
 
50 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 the pursuit a day or two through that wild mount- 
 tainous country, but Milroy stopped only once after 
 his defeat, for a skirmish. In a meadow and near 
 the roadside stood a deserted cabin, which had been 
 struck several times during the skirmish by shells. 
 I went inside of it, to see what a shell could do. 
 Three had penetrated the outer wall and burst in 
 the house, and I counted twenty-seven holes made 
 through the frame partition by the fragments. Be- 
 ing an artilleryman, and therefore to be exposed to 
 missiles of that kind, I concluded that my chances 
 for surviving the war were extremely slim. 
 
 While on this expedition an amusing incident 
 occurred in our mess. There belonged to it quite 
 a character. He was not considered a pretty boy, 
 and tried to* get even with the world by taking good 
 care of himself. We had halted one morning to 
 cook several days' rations, and a large pile of bread 
 was placed near the fire, of which we were to eat 
 our breakfast and the rest was to be divided among 
 us. He came, we thought, too often to the pile, and 
 helped himself bountifully; he would return to his 
 seat on his blanket, and one or two of us saw, or 
 thought we saw him conceal pieces of bread under 
 it. Nothing was said at the time, but after he had 
 gone away Boiling, Packard and I concluded to 
 examine his haversack, which looked very fat. In 
 it we found about half a gallon of rye for coffee, a 
 hock of bacon, a number of home-made buttered 
 biscuit, a hen-egg and a goose-egg, besides more 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 51 
 
 than his share of camp rations. Here was our 
 chance to teach a Christian man in an agreeable way 
 that he should not appropriate more than his share 
 of the rations without the consent of the mess, so 
 we set to and ate heartily of his good stores, and in 
 their place put, for ballast, a river-jack that weighed 
 about two pounds. He carried the stone for two 
 days before he ate down to it, and, when he did, was 
 mad enough to eat it. We then told him what we 
 had done and why; but thought he had hidden 
 enough under his blanket to carry him through the 
 campaign. 
 
 Before leaving the Valley we had observed de- 
 cided evidences of spring; but here it was hke mid- 
 winter — not a bud nor blade of grass to be seen. 
 Milroy was now out of reach, so we retraced our 
 steps. On getting out of the mountains we bore to 
 the left of Staunton in the direction of Harrison- 
 burg, twenty-five miles northeast of the former. 
 After the bleak mountains, with their leafless trees, 
 the old Valley looked like Paradise. The cherry- 
 and peach-trees were loaded with bloom, the fields 
 covered with rank clover, and how our weary 
 horses did revel in it! We camped the first night 
 in a beautiful meadow, and soon after settling down 
 I borrowed Sergeant Gregory's one-eyed horse to 
 go foraging on. I was very successful; I got sup- 
 per at a comfortable Dutch house, and at it and one 
 or two others I bought myself and the mess rich. 
 As I was returning to camp after night with a ham 
 
52 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 of bacon between me and the pommel of the saddle, 
 a bucket of butter on one arm, a kerchief of pies on 
 the other, and chickens swung across behind, my one- 
 eyed horse stumbled and fell forward about ten feet 
 with his nose to the ground. I let him take care of 
 himself while I took care of my provisions. When 
 he recovered his feet and started, I do not think a 
 single one of my possessions had slipped an inch. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 BRIDGEWATER LURAY VALLEY FRONT ROYAL 
 
 FOLLOWING GENERAL BANKS NIGHT MARCH 
 
 BATTLE OF WINCHESTER BANK'S RETREAT 
 
 The next day we who were on foot crossed the 
 Shenandoah on a bridge made of wagons standing 
 side by side, with tongues up-stream, and boards 
 extending from one wagon to another. We reached 
 Bridgewater about four p. m. It was a place of 
 which I had never heard, and a beautiful village it 
 proved to be, buried in trees and flowers. From 
 Bridgewater we went to Harrisonburg, and then on 
 our old familiar and beaten path — the Valley pike 
 to New Market. Thence obliquely to the right, 
 crossing the Massanutten Mountain into Luray 
 Valley. During the Milroy campaign Ewell had 
 crossed into the Valley, and we now followed his 
 division, which was several miles in advance. Banks 
 was in command of the Union force in the Valley, 
 with his base at Winchester and detachments of his 
 army at Strasburg, eighteen miles southwest, and 
 at Front Royal, about the same distance in the Lu- 
 ray Valley. So the latter place was to be attacked 
 first. About three p. m. the following day cannon- 
 ading was heard on ahead, and, after a sharp fight, 
 
 53 
 
54 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Ewell carried the day. We arrived about sundown, 
 after it was all over. In this battle the First Mary- 
 land Regiment (Confederate) had met the First 
 Maryland (Federal) and captured the whole regi- 
 ment. Several members of our battery had bro- 
 thers or other relatives in the Maryland (Confed- 
 erate) regiment, wdiom they now met for the first 
 time since going into service. Next day we moved 
 toward Middletown on the Valley pike, and mid- 
 way between Winchester and Strasburg. 
 
 Jackson's rapid movements seemed to have taken 
 the enemy entirely by surprise, and we struck their 
 divided forces piecemeal, and even after the Front 
 Royal affair their troops at Strasburg, consisting 
 chiefly of cavalry, had not moved. Two of our guns 
 were sent on with the Louisiana Tigers, to intercept 
 them at Middletown. The guns were posted about 
 one hundred and fifty yards from the road, and the 
 Tigers strung along behind a stone fence on the 
 roadside. Everything was in readiness when the 
 enemy came in sight. They wavered for a time, 
 some trying to pass around, but, being pushed from 
 behind, there was no alternative. Most of them tried 
 to run the gauntlet ; few, however, got through. As 
 the rest of us came up we met a number of prisoners 
 on horseback. They had been riding at a run for 
 nine miles on the i)ike in a cloud of white dust. 
 Many of them were hatless. some had sabre-cuts on 
 their heads and streams of blood were coursing down 
 through the dust on their faces. Among them was 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 55 
 
 a woman wearing a short red skirt and mounted on 
 a tall horse. 
 
 Confined in a churchyard in the village were two 
 or three hundred prisoners. As we were passing 
 by them an old negro cook, belonging to the Alle- 
 ghany Rough Battery of our brigade, ran over to 
 the fence and gave them a hearty greeting, said he 
 was delighted to see them "thar," and that we would 
 catch all the rest of them before they got back home. 
 Bank's main force was at Winchester, and thither 
 we directed our course. 
 
 Newtown was the next village, and there we had 
 another skirmish, our artillery being at one end of 
 the town and the enemy's at the opposite. In this 
 encounter two members of our battery, Calvin 
 Dold and George Ginger, were wounded. There 
 was great rejoicing among the people to see us back 
 again and to be once more free from Northern sol- 
 diers. As the troops were passing through New- 
 town a very portly old lady came running out on her 
 porch, and, spreading her arms wide, called out, 
 "All of you run here and kiss me!" 
 
 Our captures were not confined to men and horses, 
 but army stores of all kinds. From a butler's wagon 
 we passed, William Boiling secured a whole barrel 
 of ginger cakes, which he placed in our ambulance 
 at the rear of the battery. Word was passed along 
 the line and soon a large funeral procession was in 
 its wake devouring ginger cakes. 
 
 Night soon set in, and a long, weary night it was ; 
 
56 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 the most trying I ever passed, in war or out of it. 
 From dark till daylight we did not advance more 
 than four miles. Step by step we moved along, halt- 
 ing for five minutes ; then on a few steps and halt 
 again. About ten o'clock we passed by a house 
 rather below the roadside, on the porch of which 
 lay several dead Yankees, a light shining on their 
 ghastly faces. Occasionally we were startled by the 
 sharp report of a rifle, followed in quick succession 
 by others ; then all as quiet as the grave. Sometimes, 
 when a longer halt was made, we would endeavor to 
 steal a few moments' sleep, for want of which it was 
 hard to stand up. By the time a blanket was un- 
 rolled, the column was astir again, and so it con- 
 tinued throughout the long, dreary hours of the 
 night. 
 
 At last morning broke, clear and beautiful, find- 
 ing us about two miles from Winchester. After 
 moving on for perhaps half a mile, we filed to the 
 left. All indications were that a battle was immi- 
 nent, Banks evidently intending to make one more 
 effort. The sun was up, and never shone on a pret- 
 tier country nor a lovelier May morning. Along our 
 route was a brigade of Louisiana troops under the 
 command of Gen. Dick Taylor, of Ewell's division. 
 They were in line of battle in a ravine, and as we 
 were passing by them several shells came screaming 
 close over our heads and burst just beyond. I heard 
 a colonel chicling his men for dodging, one of whom 
 called out, in reply, "Colonel, lead us up to where 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 57 
 
 we can get at them and then we won't dodge !" We 
 passed on, bearing to the left and in the direction 
 from which the shells came. General Jackson or- 
 dered us to take position on the hill just in front. The 
 ground was covered with clover, and as we reached 
 the crest we were met by a volley of musketry from 
 a line of infantry behind a stone fence about two 
 hundred yards distant. 
 
 My gun was one of the last to get into position, 
 coming up on the left. I was assigned the position 
 of No. 2, Jim Ford No. I. The Minie-balls were 
 now flying fast by our heads, through the clover and 
 everywhere. A charge of powder was handed me, 
 which I put into the muzzle of the gun. In a rifled 
 gun this should have been rammed home first, but 
 No. 1 said, "Put in your shell and let one ram do. 
 Hear those Minies?" I heard them and adopted 
 the suggestion; the consequence was, the charge 
 stopped half-way down and there it stuck, and the 
 gun was thereby rendered unavailable. This was 
 not very disagreeable, even from a patriotic point of 
 view, as we could do but little good shooting at in- 
 fantry behind a stone fence. On going about fifty 
 yards to the rear, I came up with my friend and 
 messmate, Gregory, who was being carried by sev- 
 eral comrades. A Minie-ball had gone through his 
 left arm into his breast and almost through his body, 
 lodging in the right side of his back. Still he recov- 
 ered, and was a captain of ordnance at the surren- 
 der, and two years ago I visited him at his own 
 
58 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 home in California. As my train stopped at his 
 depot, and I saw a portly old gentleman with a long 
 white beard coming to meet it, I thought of the 
 youth I remembered, and said, "Can that be Greg- 
 ory?" 
 
 Then came Frank Preston with his arm shattered, 
 which had to be amputated at the shoulder. I 
 helped to carry Gregory to a barn one hundred and 
 fifty yards in the rear, and there lay Bob McKim, 
 of Baltimore, another member of the company, shot 
 through the head and dying. Also my messmate, 
 Wash. Stuart, who had recently joined the battery. 
 A ball had struck him just below the cheek-bone, 
 and, passing through the mouth, came out on the 
 opposite side of his face, breaking out most of his 
 jaw-teeth. Then came my brother Jolm witli a 
 stream of blood running from the top of his head, 
 and, dividing at the forehead, trickled in all direc- 
 tions down his face. My brother David was also 
 slightly wounded on the arm by a piece of shell. 
 By this time the Louisianians had been "led up to 
 where they could get at them," and gotten them on 
 the run. As one of our guns was being put into 
 position a gate-post interfered and was jammed be- 
 tween a wheel and the tongue. In response to Capt. 
 Poague's request for volunteers to cut it down. Can- 
 noneer Whitt promptly undertook and completed 
 the task, under a constant hail of bullets from the 
 sharp-shooters behind the stone-wall. 
 
 In this battle, known as First Winchester, two of 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 59 
 
 the battery were killed and twelve or fourteen 
 wounded. The fighting was soon over and became 
 a chase. My gun being hors de combat, I remained 
 awhile with the wounded, so did not witness the first 
 wild enthusiasm of the Winchester people as our 
 men drove the enemy through the streets, but heard 
 that the ladies could not be kept indoors. Our bat- 
 tery did itself credit on this occasion. I will quote 
 from Gen. Dick Taylor's book, entitled "Destruc- 
 tion and Reconstruction": "Jackson was on the 
 pike and near him were several regiments lying 
 down for shelter, as the fire from the ridge was 
 heavy and searching. A Virginian battery, the 
 Rockbridge Artillery, was fighting at great disad- 
 vantage, and already much cut up. Poetic author- 
 ity asserts that 'Old Virginny never tires,' and the 
 conduct of this battery justified the assertion of the 
 muses. With scarce a leg or wheel for man and 
 horse, gun or caisson, to stand on, it continued to 
 hammer away at the crushing fire above." And 
 further on in the same narrative he says, "Mean- 
 while, the Rockbridge Battery held on manfully 
 and engaged the enemy's attention." Dr. Dabney's 
 "Life of Stonewall Jackson," page 377, says: 
 "Just at this moment General Jackson rode for- 
 ward, followed by two field-officers, to the very 
 crest of the hill, and, amidst a perfect shower of 
 balls reconnoitred the whole position. 
 He saw them posting another battery, with which 
 they hoped to enfilade the ground occupied by the 
 
60 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 guns of Poague; and nearer to his left front a body 
 of riflemen were just seizing a position behind a 
 stone fence when they poured a galhng fire upon 
 the gunners and struck down many men and horses. 
 Here this gallant battery stood its ground, some- 
 times almost silenced, yet never yielding an inch. 
 After a time they changed their front to the left, 
 and while a part of their guns replied to the oppos- 
 ing battery the remainder shattered the stone fence, 
 which sheltered the Federal infantry, with solid 
 shot and raked it with canister." 
 
 In one of the hospitals I saw Jim ("Red") Jor- 
 dan, an old schoolmate and member of the Alle- 
 ghany Roughs, with his arm and shoulder horribly 
 mangled by a shell. He had beautiful brown eyes, 
 and, as I came into the room where he lay tossing 
 on his bed, he opened them for a moment and called 
 my name, but again fell back delirious, and soon 
 afterward died. 
 
 The chase was now over, and the town full of 
 soldiers and officers, especially the latter. I was 
 invited by John Williams, better known as 
 "Johnny," to spend the night at his home, a home 
 renowned even in hospitable Winchester for its 
 hospitality. He had many more intimate friends 
 than I, and the house was full. Still I thought I 
 received more attention and kindness than even the 
 officers. I was given a choice room all to myself, 
 and never shall I forget the impression made by the 
 sight of that clean, snow-white bed, the first I had 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 61 
 
 seen since taking up arms for my country, which 
 already seemed to me a Hfetime. I thought I must 
 He awake a while, in order to take in the situation, 
 then go gradually to sleep, realizing that to no rude 
 alarm was I to hearken, and once or twice during 
 the night to wake up and realize it again. But, 
 alas! my plans were all to no purpose; for, after 
 the continual marching and the vigils of the pre- 
 vious night, I was asleep the moment my head 
 touched the pillow, nor moved a muscle till break- 
 fast was announced next morning. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 CAPTURING FEDERAL CAVALRY CHARLESTOWN 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY MARCH 
 
 After camping for a day or two about three 
 miles below Winchester we marched again toward 
 Harper's Ferry, thirty miles below. Four of the 
 six guns of the battery were sent in advance with 
 the infantry of the brigade ; the other two guns, to 
 one of which I belonged, coming on leisurely in the 
 rear. As we approached Charlestown, seated on the 
 limbers and caissons, we saw three or four of our 
 cavalrymen coming at full speed along a road on 
 our left, which joined the road we were on, mak- 
 ing an acute angle at the end of the main street. 
 They announced "Yankee cavalry" as they passed 
 and disappeared into the town. In a moment the 
 Federals were within one hundred yards of us. We 
 had no officer, except Sergeant Jordan, but we 
 needed none. Instantly every man was on his feet, 
 the guns unlimbered, and, by the time the muzzles 
 were in the right direction, No. 5 handed me a 
 charge of canister. No. 1 standing ready to ram. 
 Before I put the charge into the gun the enemy had 
 come to a halt within eighty yards of us, and their 
 commanding officer drew and waved a white hand- 
 kerchief. W^e, afraid to leave our guns lest they 
 
 62 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 63 
 
 should escape or turn the tables on us, after some 
 time prevailed on our straggling cavalry, who had 
 halted around the turn, to ride forward and take 
 them. There were seventeen Federals, well-mounted 
 and equipped. Our cavalry claimed all the spoils, 
 and I heard afterward most of the credit, too. We 
 got four of the horses, one of which, under various 
 sergeants and corporals, and by the name of ''Fiz- 
 zle,' became quite a celebrity. 
 
 Delighted with our success and gallantry, we 
 again mounted our caissons and entered the town at 
 a trot. The people had been under Northern rule 
 for a long time, and were rejoiced to greet their 
 friends. I heard a very old lady say to a little girl, 
 as we drove by, "Oh, dear! if your father was just 
 here, to see this !" The young ladies were stand- 
 ing on the sides of the streets, and, as our guns 
 rattled by, would reach out to hand us some of the 
 dainties from their baskets ; but we had had plenty, 
 so they could not reach far enough. The excitement 
 over, we went into camp in a pretty piece of woods 
 two miles below the town and six from Harper's 
 Ferry. Here we spent several days pleasantly. 
 
 Mayor Middleton, of our town, Lexington, had 
 followed us with a wagonload of boxes of edibles 
 from home. So many of the company had been 
 wounded or left behind that the rest of us had a 
 double share. Gregory's box, which Middleton 
 brought from the railroad, contained a jar of deli- 
 cious pickle. I had never relished it before, but 
 
64 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 camp-life had created a craving for it that seemed 
 insatiable. The cows of the neighborhood seemed 
 to have a curiosity to see us, and would stroll 
 around the camp and stand kindly till a canteen 
 could be filled with rich milk, which could soon be 
 cooled in a convenient spring. Just outside of 
 Charlestown lived the Ransons, who had formerly 
 lived near Lexington and were great friends of my 
 father's family. I called to see them. "Buck," the 
 second son, was then about fifteen and chafing to 
 go into the army. I took a clean shave with his 
 razor, which he used daily to encourage his beard 
 and shorten his stay in Jericho. He treated me to 
 a flowing goblet of champagne left by the Federal 
 officers in their haste, and gave me a lead-colored 
 knit jacket, with a blue border, in which I felt quite 
 fine, and wore through the rest of the campaign. 
 It was known in the mess as my "Josey." "Buck" 
 eventually succeeded in getting in, and now bears 
 the scars of three saber-cuts on his head. 
 
 It was raining the day we broke camp and started 
 toward Winchester, but our march was enlivened 
 by the addition of a new recruit in the person of 
 Steve Dandridge. He was about sixteen and had 
 just come from the Virginia Military Institute, 
 where he had been sent to be kept out of the army. 
 He wore a cadet-cap which came well over the eyes 
 and nose, and left a mass of brown, curly hair un- 
 protected on the back of his head. His joy at being 
 "mustered in" was irrepressible. He had no ear 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 65 
 
 for music, was really "too good-natured to strike 
 a tune," but the songs he tried to sing would have 
 made a "dog laugh." Within an hour after his 
 arrival he was on intimate terms with everybody 
 and knew and called us all by our first names. 
 
 The march of this day was one of the noted ones 
 of the war. Our battery traveled about thirty-five 
 miles, and the infantry of the brigade, being camped 
 within a mile of Harper's Ferry, made more than 
 forty miles through rain and mud. The cause of 
 this haste was soon revealed. General Fremont, 
 with a large army, was moving rapidly from the 
 north to cut us off, and was already nearer our base 
 than we were, while General Shields, with another 
 large force, was pushing from the southeast, having 
 also the advantage of us in distance, and trying to 
 unite with Fremont, and General McDowell with 
 20,000 men was at Fredericksburg. The roads on 
 which the three armies were marching concentrated 
 at Strasburg, and Jackson was the first to get there. 
 Two of our guns were put in position on a fortified 
 hill near the town, from which I could see the pick- 
 ets of both the opposing armies on their respective 
 roads and numbers of our stragglers still following 
 on behind us, between the two. Many of our offi- 
 cers had collected around our guns with their field- 
 glasses, and, at the suggestion of one of them, we 
 fired a few rounds at the enemy's videttes "to hurry 
 up our stragglers." 
 
 The next day, when near the village of Edin- 
 
66 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 burg, a squadron of our cavalry, under command 
 of General Munford, was badly stampeded by a 
 charge of Federal cavalry. Suddenly some of these 
 men and horses without riders came dashing through 
 our battery, apparently blind to objects in their 
 front. One of our company was knocked down by 
 the knees of a flying horse, and, as the horse was 
 making his next leap toward him, his bridle was 
 seized by a driver and the horse almost doubled up 
 and brought to a standstill. This was the only time 
 I ever heard a field-officer upbraided by privates; 
 but one of the officers got ample abuse from us on 
 that occasion. 
 
 I had now again, since Winchester, been assigned 
 to a Parrott gun, and it, with another, was ordered 
 into position on the left of the road. The Federals 
 soon opened on us with two guns occupying an un- 
 favorable position considerably below us. The 
 gunner of my piece was J. P. Smith, who afterward 
 became an aide on General Jackson's staff, and was 
 with him when he received his death-wound at 
 Chancellorsville. One of the guns firing at us could 
 not, for some time, be accurately located, owing to 
 some small trees, etc., which intervened, so the other 
 gun received most of our attention. Finally, I 
 marked the hidden one exactly, beyond a small tree, 
 from the puff of smoke wlien it fired. I then asked 
 J. P., as we called him, to let me try a shot at it, to 
 which he kindly assented. I got a first-rate aim and 
 ordered "Fire!" The enemy's gun did not fire 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 67 
 
 again, though its companion continued for some 
 time. I have often wished to know what damage 
 I did them. 
 
 The confusion of the stampede being over, the 
 hne of march was quietly resumed for several miles, 
 until we reached "The Narrows," where we again 
 went into position. I had taken a seat by the road- 
 side and was chatting with a companion while the 
 guns drove out into a field to prepare for action, 
 and, as I could see the ground toward the enemy, I 
 knew that I had ample time to get to my post before 
 being needed. When getting out the accouterments 
 the priming-wire could not be found. I being No. 3 
 was, of course, responsible for it. I heard Captain 
 Poague, on being informed who No. 3 was, shout, 
 "Ned Moore, where is that priming-wire?" I re- 
 plied, "It is in the limber-chest where it belongs." 
 There were a good many people around, and I did 
 not wish it to appear that I had misplaced my little 
 priming-wire in the excitement of covering Stone- 
 wall's retreat. The captain yelled, as I thought un- 
 necessarily, "It isn't there!" I, in the same tone, 
 rephed, "It is there, and I will get it!" So off I 
 hurried, and, to my delight, there it was in its 
 proper place, and I brought it forth with no small 
 flourish and triumph. 
 
 After waiting here for a reasonable time, and no 
 foe appearing, we followed on in rear of the column 
 without further molestation or incident that I can 
 now recall. We reached Harrisonburg after a few 
 days' marching. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 GENERAL JACKSON NARROWLY ESCAPES BEING CAP- 
 TURED AT PORT REPUBLIC CONTEST BETWEEN 
 
 CONFEDERATES AND FEDERALS FOR BRIDGE OVER 
 SHENANDOAH 
 
 The College company had as cook a very black 
 negro boy named Pete, who through all this march- 
 ing had carried, on a baggage- wagon, a small game 
 rooster which he named "Ashby" and which he told 
 me had whipped every chicken from Harrisonburg 
 to Winchester and back again. At last poor Ashby 
 met defeat, and Pete consigned him to the pot. say- 
 ing, "No chicken dat kin be whipped shall go 'long 
 wid Jackson's headquarters." At Harrisonburg we 
 turned to the left again, but this time obliquely, in 
 the direction of Port Republic, twenty miles distant. 
 We went into camp on Saturday evening. June 7, 
 about one mile from Port Republic and on the north 
 side of the Shenandoah. Shields had kept his army 
 on the south side of this stream and had been mov- 
 ing parallel with us during our retreat. Jackson's 
 division was in advance. Instead of going into 
 camp. I, with two messmates. Boiling and Walter 
 Packard, diverged to a log-house for supper. The 
 man of the house was quiet; his wife did the talk- 
 
 08 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 69 
 
 ing, and a great deal of it. She flatly refused us a 
 bite to eat, but, on stating the case to her, she con- 
 sented to let us have some bread and milk. Seated 
 around an unset dining-table we began divesting 
 ourselves of our knapsacks. She said, "Just keep 
 your baggage on; you can eat a bite and go." We 
 told her we could eat faster unharnessed. She 
 sliced a loaf of bread as sad as beeswax, one she 
 had had on hand for perhaps a week, and gave us 
 each a bowl of sour milk, all the while reminding 
 us to make our stay short. For the sake of "argu- 
 ment" we proposed to call around for breakfast. 
 She scorned the idea, had "promised breakfast to 
 fifty already." "Staying all night? Not any." We 
 said we could sleep in the yard and take our chances 
 for breakfast. After yielding, inch by inch, she said 
 we could sleep on the porch. "Well, I reckon you 
 just as well come into the house," and showed us 
 into a snug room containing two nice, clean beds, 
 in one of which lay a little "nigger" about five years 
 old, with her nappy head on a snow-white pillow. 
 We took the floor and slept all night, and were 
 roused next morning to partake of a first-rate break- 
 fast. 
 
 About eight or nine o'clock this Sunday morn- 
 ing we were taking our ease in and about camp, 
 some having gone to the river to bathe, and the 
 horses turned loose in the fields to graze. I was 
 stretched at full length on the ground, when 
 "bang!" went a Yankee cannon about a mile in our 
 
70 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 rear, toward Port Republic. We were up and astir 
 instantly, fully realizing the situation. By lending 
 my assistance to the drivers in catching and hitch- 
 ing" uj) the horses, my gun was the first ready, and 
 started immediately in the direction of the firing, 
 with Captain Poague in the lead, the other guns 
 following on as they got ready. 
 
 Three or four hundred yards brought us in full 
 view of Port Republic, situated just across the 
 river. Beyond, and to the left of the village, was a 
 small body of woods; below this, and lying between 
 the river and mountain, an open plain. We fired on 
 several regiments of infantry in the road parallel 
 to and across the river, who soon began moving off 
 to the left. The other guns of the battery, arriving 
 on the scene one at a time, took position on our left 
 and opened vigorously on the retreating infantry. 
 My gun then moved forward and unlimbered close 
 to a bridge about two hundred yards below the 
 town, where we took position on a bluff in tlie bend 
 of the river. We commenced firing at the enemy's 
 cavalry as they emerged from the woods and crossed 
 the open plain. One of our solid shots struck a horse 
 and rider going at full gallop. The horse reared 
 straight up, then down both fell in a common heap 
 to rise no more. 
 
 While in this position General Jackson, who had 
 narrowly escaped being captured in his quarters in 
 the town, came riding up to us. Soon after his ar- 
 rival we saw^ a single piece of artillery pass by the 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 71 
 
 lower end of the village, and, turning to the right, 
 drive quietly along the road toward the bridge. The 
 men were dressed in blue, most of them having on 
 blue overcoats ; still we were confident they were 
 our own men, as three-fourths of us wore captured 
 overcoats. General Jackson ordered, "Fire on that 
 gun!" We said, "General, those are our men." The 
 General repeated, "Fire on that gun !" Captain 
 Poague said, "General, I know those are our men." 
 (Poague has since told me that he had, that morn- 
 ing, crossed the river and seen one of our batteries 
 in camp near this place.) Then the General called, 
 "Bring that gun over here," and repeated the order 
 several times. We had seen, a short distance be- 
 hind us, a regiment of our infantry, the Thirty- 
 seventh Virginia. It was now marching in column 
 very slowly toward us. In response to Jackson's 
 order to "bring that gun over here," the Federals, 
 for Federals they were, unlimbered their gun and 
 pointed it through the bridge. We tried to fire, but 
 could not depress our gun sufficiently for a good 
 aim. 
 
 The front of the infantry regiment had now 
 reached a point within twenty steps of us on our 
 right, when the Federals turned their gun toward 
 us and fired, killing the five men of the regiment at 
 the front. The Federals then mounted their horses 
 and limber, leaving their gun behind, and started 
 off. The infantry, shocked by their warm recep- 
 tion, had not yet recovered. We called on them, 
 
72 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 over and over, to kill a horse as the enemy drove off. 
 They soon began shooting, and, I thought, fired 
 shots enough to kill a dozen horses ; but on the Fed- 
 erals went, right in front of us, and not more than 
 one hundred yards distant, accompanied by two offi- 
 cers on horseback. When near the town the horse 
 of one officer received a shot and fell dead. The 
 Thirty-seventh Virginia followed on in column 
 through the bridge, its front having passed the de- 
 serted gun while its rear was passing us. The men 
 in the rear, mistaking the front of their own regi- 
 ment for the enemy, opened fire on them, heedless 
 of the shouts of their officers and of the artillery- 
 men as to what they were doing. I saw a little fel- 
 low stoop, and, resting his rifle on his knee, take a 
 long aim and fire. Fortunately, they shot no better 
 at their own men than they did at the enemy, as 
 not a man was touched. Up to this time we had 
 been absorbed in events immediately at hand, but, 
 quiet being now restored, we heard cannonading 
 back toward Harrisonburg. Fremont had attacked 
 Ewell at Cross Keys about four miles from us. Soon 
 the musketry was heard and the battle waxed warm. 
 Remaining in this position the greater portion of 
 the day, we listened anxiously to learn from the in- 
 creasing or lessening sound how the battle was go- 
 ing with Ewell, and turned our eyes constantly in 
 the opposite direction, expecting a renewal of the 
 attack from Shields. Toward the middle of the 
 afternoon the sound became more and more remote 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 73 
 
 — Ewell had evidently been victorious, which fact 
 was later confirmed by couriers. We learned, too, 
 of the death of General Ashby, which had occurred 
 the preceding day, and that his body had been borne 
 through our camp just before the alarm of that 
 morning. In an encounter with the First New Jer- 
 sey Cavalry, which was led by Colonel Percy Wind- 
 ham, an Englishman who was captured in the 
 melee, Ashby's horse was killed under him ; he rose, 
 and while leading the Fifty-eighth Virginia on foot, 
 he fell pierced by a bullet and died almost instantly. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 BATTLE OF PORT REPUBLIC 
 
 About sundown we crossed on the bridge, and 
 our wagons joining us we went into bivouac. In 
 times of this kind, when every one is tired, each has 
 to depend on himself to prepare his meal. While I 
 was considering how best and soonest I could get 
 my supper cooked. Bob Lee happened to stop at our 
 fire, and said he would show me a first-rate plan. It 
 was to mix flour and water together into a thin bat- 
 ter, then fry the grease out of bacon, take the meat 
 out of the frying pan and pour the batter in, and 
 then "just let her rip awhile over the fire." I found 
 the receipt a good one and expeditious. 
 
 About two miles below us, near the river, we 
 could plainly see the enemy's camp-fires. Early 
 next morning we were astir, and crossed the other 
 fork of the river on an improvised bridge made of 
 boards laid on the running-gear of wagons. 
 
 We felt assured that Fremont and Shields had 
 received ample satisfaction, and that we were done 
 with them for the present at least. Still more were 
 we of this opinion when the w^agon-train took the 
 Brown's Gap road leading across the Blue Ridge, 
 we expecting, of course, to follow. We did not fol- 
 low, however, but took instead the route Shields's 
 
 74 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 75 
 
 forces had taken the day previous, along which lay 
 the bodies of the men we had killed, their heads, 
 with few exceptions, being shot entirely off. 
 
 Having gone about a mile, the enemy opened on 
 us with artillery, their shells tearing by us with a 
 most venomous whistle. Halted on the sides of the 
 road, as we moved by, were the infantry of our 
 brigade. Among them I recognized my old school- 
 teacher, Alfonso Smith, who had just joined the 
 army. I had many times quailed under his fierce 
 eye and writhed under his birch rod. The strain to 
 which he was subjected under these circumstances 
 was doubly trying, waiting inactive for his first bap- 
 tism of fire. His eye was restless as we passed ; 
 perhaps he had a presentiment, as he received his 
 death-wound before the day was over. 
 
 Again our two Parrott guns were ordered for- 
 ward. Turning out of the road to the left, we un- 
 limbered and commenced firing. The ground on 
 which we stood was level and very soft, and, having 
 no hand-spike, we had to move the trail of the gun 
 by main force. The enemy very soon got our range, 
 and more accurate shooting I was never subjected 
 to. The other four guns of the battery now came 
 up, and, passing along a small ravine about forty 
 yards behind us, halted for a time nearby. We were 
 hotly engaged, shells bursting close around and 
 pelting us with soft dirt as they struck the ground. 
 Bob Lee came creeping up from his gun in the 
 ravine, and called to me, "Ned, that isn't making 
 
76 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 batter-cakes, is it?" The constant recoiling of our 
 gun cut great furrows in the earth, which made it 
 necessary to move several times to more solid 
 ground. In these different positions which we oc- 
 cupied three of the enemy's shells passed between 
 the wheels and under the axle of our gun, bursting 
 at the trail. One of them undermined the gunner's 
 (Henry's) footing and injured him so as to neces- 
 sitate his leaving the field. Even the old Irish hero, 
 Tom Martin, was demoralized, and, in dodging 
 from a Yankee shell, was struck by the wheel of our 
 gun in its recoil and rendered hors de combat. We 
 had been kept in this position for two or three 
 hours, while a flank movement was being made by 
 Taylor's Louisiana Brigade and the Second Vir- 
 ginia Regiment through the brush at the foot of the 
 mountain on our right. When it was thought that 
 sufficient time had been allowed for them to make 
 the detour, our whole line moved forward, the rest 
 of the battery several hundred yards to our left. 
 When my gun moved up an eighth of a mile nearer 
 to the enemy, they added two guns to the three 
 occupying the site of an old coal-hearth at the foot 
 of the rugged mountain, so that our gun had five 
 to contend with for an hour longer. 
 
 Graham Montgomery had become gunner in 
 Henry's place, and proved a good one. He could 
 not be hurried, and every time the smoke puffed 
 from our gun their cannoneers slid right and left 
 from the coal-hearth, then returning to their guns 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 77 
 
 loaded and gave us a volley. As usual in such 
 cases, our flanking party was longer in making their 
 appearance than expected. The whole Federal line 
 charged, and as they did so their ranks rapidly 
 thinned, some hesitating to advance, while others 
 were shot down in full view. Still they drove us 
 back and captured one gun of our battery. Single- 
 ton, of my mess, was captured, and Lieut. Cole 
 Davis, supposed to be mortally wounded, was left 
 on the field. On getting back a short distance I 
 found myself utterly exhausted, my woolen clothes 
 wet with perspiration. Having been too tired to 
 get out of the way when the gun fired, my ear- 
 drums kept up the vibrations for hours. Sleep soon- 
 overcame me, but still the battle reverberated in my 
 head. 
 
 The Louisianians and the Second Virginia had 
 gotten through the brush and driven the enemy from 
 the field. I was roused, to join in the pursuit, and 
 had the satisfaction of seeing the five cannon that 
 had played on our gun standing silent on the coal- 
 hearth, in our hands. There being no room in their 
 rear, their caissons and limbers stood off to their 
 right on a flat piece of heavily wooded ground. This 
 was almost covered with dead horses. I think there 
 must have been eighty or ninety on less than an 
 acre ; one 1 noticed standing almost upright, per- 
 fectly lifeless, supported by a fallen tree. Farther 
 on we overtook one of our battery horses which we 
 had captured from Banks two weeks before. 
 
78 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Shields's men then captured him from us, and we 
 again from them. He had been wounded four times, 
 but was still fit for service. 
 
 The other four guns of our battery were posted 
 in a wheat-field where the faces of the men were 
 constantly sprinkled with the milk from the half- 
 ripe wheat, splashed by the Minies. 
 
 Such a spectacle as we here witnessed and exult- 
 ingly enjoyed possibly has no parallel. After a 
 rapid retreat of more than one hundred miles, to 
 escape from the clutches of three armies hotly pur- 
 suing on flank and rear, one of which had outstrip- 
 ped us, we paused to contemplate the situation. On 
 the ground where we stood lay the dead and 
 wounded of Shields's army, with much of their artil- 
 lery and many prisoners in our possession, while, 
 crowning the hills in full view and with no means 
 of crossing an intervening river, even should they 
 venture to do so, stood another army — Fremont's — 
 with flags flying. 
 
 The narrow road with river on one side and 
 mountain on the other caused the closely-pressed 
 Federals in many instances to "take to the brush." 
 George Ailstock, of Rockbridge County, celebrated 
 for his courage and physical strength, member of 
 Company G, Fifty-eighth Virginia Regiment, with 
 two or three others of his company, was in hot pur- 
 suit, following the trail of a band through broken 
 brush and weeds, and being fleeter than his com- 
 panions he outran them, and while alone overtook a 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 79 
 
 party of Federals, a lieutenant and twenty -eight 
 privates. He called on them to surrender, which 
 they did, and when his friends came up he had 
 formed his prisoners in line and was marching them 
 out. When asked by the major of his regiment how 
 he had managed to capture so many, George replied, 
 "I just surrounded 'em. Major." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 FROM BROWN^S GAP TO STAUNTON FROM STAUN- 
 TON TO RICHMOND COLD HARBOR GENERAL 
 
 LEE VISITS HIS SON IN THE BATTERY 
 
 I HAD exchanged my brother John as a bed-fel- 
 low for Walter Packard. Walter was a droll fel- 
 low, rather given to arguing, and had a way of 
 enraging his adversary while he kept cool, and 
 when it suited, could put on great dignity. Imme- 
 diately following our battery, as we worked our 
 way along a by-road through the foothills toward 
 Brown's Gap, was Gen. Dick Taylor at the head of 
 his Louisiana Brigade. Walter had mounted and 
 was riding on a caisson, contrary to orders recently 
 issued by Jackson. Taylor ordered him to get down. 
 Walter turned around, and, looking coolly at him, 
 said, with his usual sang-froid, "Who are you, and 
 what the devil have you to do with my riding on a 
 caisson?" Taylor seemed astounded for a moment, 
 and then opened on poor Walter with a volley of 
 oaths that our champion swearer, Irish Emmett, 
 would have envied. 
 
 Taylor then told who he was and Walter replied, 
 "Excuse me. General, I have my Captain's permis- 
 sion to ride." 
 
 80 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 81 
 
 When we had gotten about half-way to the top 
 of the mountain, I, with three others, was detailed 
 to go back and bring Lieut. Cole Davis from the 
 field. We were too tired for any thought but of 
 ourselves, and retraced our steps, growling as we 
 went. We had heard that Davis was mortally 
 wounded, and was probably dead then. Suddenly, 
 one hundred yards in front of us, we saw a man rid- 
 ing slowly toward us, sitting erect, with his plume 
 flying. We said, ''That's Davis or his ghost!" It 
 was he, held on his horse by a man on each side. 
 We walked on with him till dusk, but, finding he 
 had assistants to spare, two of us overtook the bat- 
 tery. Davis was shot through the body, and suffer- 
 ing dreadfully, able to move only in an upright 
 posture. He entirely recovered, however, and did 
 gallant service until the close of the war. 
 
 Still photographed on my memory is the appear- 
 ance of the body of one of the Second Virginia 
 Regiment being hauled on our rear caisson. His 
 head had been shot ofif, and over the headless trunk 
 was fastened a white handkerchief, which served 
 as a sort of guide in the darkness. Weary of plod- 
 ding thus, Graham Montgomery and I left the road, 
 a short distance from which we concluded to spend 
 the night and be subject to no more orders. A 
 drizzling rain was falling. Each having a gum- 
 cloth, we spread one on the loose stones and the 
 other over us, with our feet against a big tree, to 
 keep from sliding down the mountain-side. We 
 
82 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 were soon asleep, and when we awoke next morn- 
 ing we had slid into a heap close against the tree. 
 To give an idea of the ready access we had to the 
 enemy's stores, I had been the possessor of nine 
 gum-blankets within the past three weeks, and no 
 such article as a gum -blanket was ever manufac- 
 tured in the South. Any soldier carrying a Confed- 
 erate canteen was at once recognized as a new re- 
 cruit, as it required but a short time to secure one of 
 superior quality from a dead foeman on a battlefield. 
 
 Following the road up the mountain, we came 
 across one of our guns which, by bad driving, 
 had fallen over an embankment some forty feet. 
 Two horses still hitched to it lay on their backs, 
 one of which I recognized as Gregory's one-eyed 
 dun which I had ridden foraging at Bridgewater. 
 After my arrival on top of the mountain I was sent 
 with a detail which recovered the gun and the two 
 horses, both alive. Dandridge and Adams were driv- 
 ing the team when the gun went over. They saved 
 themselves by jumping, and came near having a 
 fight right there as to who was at fault, and for a 
 long time afterward it was only necessary to refer 
 to the matter to have a repetition of the quarrel. 
 
 After a day or two we countermarched to- 
 ward Port Republic and went into camp a mile 
 from Weir's cave, where we spent several days. 
 Thence toward Staunton and camped near the 
 town. Here we were told that we were to have 
 a month's rest in consideration of our long- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 83 
 
 continued marching and fighting. Rest, indeed ! 
 We lost the three days we might have had for 
 rest while there, preparing our camp for a month 
 of ease. During our stay here my father paid us 
 a visit, having ridden from Lexington to see his 
 three sons. After having gotten ourselves com- 
 fortable, orders came to pack up and be ready to 
 move. I had carried in my knapsack a pair of lady's 
 shoes captured from Bank's plunder at Winchester. 
 These I gave to a camp scavenger who came from 
 the town for plunder. 
 
 Little did we dream of the marching and fight- 
 ing that were in store for us. Jackson, having van- 
 quished three armies in the Valley, was now ordered 
 to Richmond with his "bloody brigades." 
 
 We left Staunton about the twentieth of June, 
 crossed the Blue Ridge at Rockfish Gap, passed 
 through Charlottesville, and were choked, day after 
 day, by the red dust of the Piedmont region. In 
 Louisa County we had rain and mud to contend 
 with, thence through the low, flat lands of Han- 
 over, bearing to the left after passing Ashland. 
 
 Our destination was now evident. The army 
 around Richmond was waiting for Jackson to dis- 
 lodge McClellan from the Chickahominy swamps, 
 and our attack was to be made on his right flank. 
 It seems that our powers of endurance had been 
 over-estimated or the distance miscalculated, as the 
 initiatory battle at Mechanicsville was fought by 
 A. P. Hill without Jackson's aid. This was the 
 
84 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 first of the seven days' fighting around Richmond. 
 We arrived in the neighborhood of Cold Harbor 
 about two p. M. on June 27, and approached more 
 and more nearly the preliminary cannonading, most 
 of which was done by the enemy's guns. About 
 three o'clock the musketry began, and soon there- 
 after the infantry of our brigade was halted in the 
 road alongside of us, and, loading their guns, moved 
 forward. 
 
 In a short time the fighting became furious, done 
 almost entirely on our side with small arms, as few 
 positions could be found for artillery. For two or 
 three hours the noise of the battle remained almost 
 stationary, accentuated at intervals by the shouting 
 of the combatants, as ground was lost or won. It 
 was here that General Lee said to General Jackson, 
 "That fire is very heavy ! Do you think your men 
 can stand it?" The reply was, "They can stand 
 almost anything ; they can stand that !" We stood 
 expecting every moment to be ordered in, as every 
 effort was made by our officers to find a piece of 
 open ground on w^hich we could unlimber. By sun- 
 down the firing had gradually lessened and was far- 
 ther from us, and when night came on the enemy 
 had been driven from their fortifications and quiet 
 was restored. The loss on our side was fearful. 
 Among the killed was my cousin, James Allen, col- 
 onel of the Second Virginia Regiment. 
 
 While lying among the guns in park that night 
 my rest was frequently disturbed by the antics of 
 
William j\f. Willson 
 
 (Coinnr:il ) 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 85 
 
 one of the battery horses suffering with an attack 
 of "blind staggers," and floundering around in the 
 darkness among the sleeping men. 
 
 Before leaving our place of bivouac the next 
 morning, a visit from General Lee, attended by his 
 full staff, to his son Robert, gave us our first oppor- 
 tunity of seeing this grand man. The interview be- 
 tween father and son is described by the latter in his 
 "Recollections and Letters of Gen. Robert E. Lee," 
 which I quote : 
 
 "The day after the battle of Cold Harbor, during 
 the 'Seven Days' fighting around Richmond, was 
 the first time I met my father after I had joined 
 General Jackson. The tremendous work Stone- 
 wall's men had performed, including the rapid 
 march from the Valley of Virginia, the short ra- 
 tions, the bad water, and the great heat, had begun 
 to tell upon us, and I was pretty well worn out. On 
 this particular morning my battery had not moved 
 from its bivouac ground of the previous night, but 
 was parked in an open field, all ready waiting or- 
 ders. Most of the men were lying down, many sleep- 
 ing, myself among the latter number. To get some 
 shade and to be out of the way I had crawled under 
 a caisson, and was busy making up many lost hours 
 of rest. Suddenly I was rudely awakened by a 
 comrade, prodding me with a sponge-staff as I had 
 failed to be aroused by his call, and was told to get 
 up and come out, that some one wished to see me. 
 Half-awake I staggered out, and found myself face 
 
86 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 to face with General Lee and his staff. Their fresh 
 uniforms, bright equipments, and well-groomed 
 horses contrasted so forcibly with the war-worn 
 appearance of our command that I was completely 
 dazed. It took me a moment or two to realize what 
 it all meant, but when I saw my father's loving eyes 
 and smile it became clear to me that he had ridden 
 by to see if I was safe and to ask how I was getting 
 along. I remember well how curiously those with 
 him gazed at me, and I am sure that it must have 
 struck them as very odd that such a dirty, ragged, 
 unkempt youth could have been the son of this 
 grand-looking victorious commander. 
 
 'T was introduced recently to a gentleman, now 
 living in Washington, who, when he found out my 
 name, said he had met me once before and that it 
 was on this occasion. At that time he was a mem- 
 ber of the Tenth Virginia Infantry, Jackson's divi- 
 sion, and was camped near our battery. Seeing 
 General Lee and staff approach, he, with others, 
 drew near to have a look at them, and witnessed 
 the meeting between father and son. He also said 
 that he had often told of the incident as illustrating 
 the peculiar composition of our army." 
 
 As we moved on over the battlefield that morning, 
 the number of slain on both sides was fully in pro- 
 portion to the magnitude of the conflict of the day 
 preceding. In a piece of woods through which we 
 passed, and through which the battle had surged 
 back and forth, after careful observation I failed 
 
Capt. W. T. Poague 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 87 
 
 to find a tree the size of a man's body with less than 
 a dozen bullet-marks on it within six feet of the 
 ground, and many of them were scarred to the tops. 
 Not even the small saplings had escaped, yet some 
 of the men engaged had passed through the battle 
 untouched. I was with my messmate, William Boil- 
 ing, when he here discovered and recognized the 
 dead body of his former school-teacher. Wood 
 McDonald, of Winchester. 
 
 On the 28th we crossed the Chickahominy on 
 Grapevine Bridge, the long approaches to which 
 were made of poles, thence across the York River 
 Railroad at Savage Station. As we moved along 
 fighting was almost constantly heard in advance of 
 us, and rumors were rife that the trap was so set 
 as to capture the bulk of McClellan's army. Near 
 White Oak Swamp we reached another battlefield, 
 and, after night, went into bivouac among the 
 enemy's dead. About ten o'clock I, with several 
 others, was detailed to go back with some wagons, 
 to get a supply of captured ammunition. For four 
 or five miles we jolted over corduroy roads, loaded 
 our wagons, and got back to the battery just before 
 dawn of the following morning. Scarcely had I 
 stretched myself on the ground when the bugle 
 sounded reveille, and even those who had spent the 
 night undisturbed were with difficulty aroused from 
 sleep. I remember seeing Captain Poague go to a 
 prostrate form that did not respond to the sum- 
 mons, and call out, "Wake up, wake up!" But, 
 
88 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 seeing no sign of stirring, he used his foot to give 
 it a shake, when he discovered he was trying to 
 rouse a dead Yankee ! Having been on duty all 
 night I was being left unmolested to the last mo- 
 ment, when Joe Shaner came to me, as usual, and 
 very quietly rolled up my blanket with his, to be 
 carried on his off-horse. This was the battlefield 
 of White Oak Swamp, fought on June 30. Along 
 the march from Cold Harbor we had passed several 
 Federal field-hospitals containing their sick, some 
 of them in tents, some lying in bunks made of poles 
 supported on upright forks. These and their old 
 camps were infested with vermin — "war bugs," as 
 we usually called them — which, with what we 
 already had after two weeks of constant march, 
 with neither time nor material for a change, made 
 us exceedingly uncomfortable. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 GENERAL JACKSON COMPLIMENTS THE BATTERY— 
 MALVERN HILL— MY VISIT TO RICHMOND 
 
 On July 1 we passed near the battlefield known 
 as Frazier's Farm, also fought on June 30 by the 
 divisions of Magruder, Longstreet, and others, and 
 arrived early in the day in front of Malvern Hill. 
 For a mile or more our road ran through a dense 
 body of woods extending to the high range of hills 
 occupied by the enemy. At a point where another 
 road crossed the one on which we had traveled, and 
 where stood two old gate-posts, we were ordered to 
 mount the caissons and limbers and trot on toward 
 the firing already begun. This order can be attrib- 
 uted to the reputation our battery had made, and is 
 a matter of record, which I quote: "At Malvern 
 Hill the battery was openly complimented by Gen- 
 eral Jackson in connection with Carpenter's battery. 
 When Gen. D. H. Hill asked General Jackson if he 
 could furnish him a battery which would hold a 
 certain position, from which two or three batteries 
 had been driven by the galling fire of the enemy 
 he said, 'Yes, two,' and called for Carpenter and 
 Poague, and General Hill ordered Captain Poague 
 to bring up his battery at once." 
 
90 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Taking the road to the left, we soon emerged 
 from the woods into a wheat-field, the grain stand- 
 ing in shocks. While seated on a caisson, driving 
 down this road at a trot, I was suddenly seized with 
 a presentiment that I was to be killed in this battle, 
 the only time such a feeling came over me during 
 the war. Finding myself becoming rapidly demor- 
 alized, I felt that, in order to avoid disgrace, I must 
 get down from that seat and shake the wretched 
 thing off. So down I jumped and took it afoot, 
 alongside of the gun, as we passed down a little 
 ravine which was being raked from end to end by 
 the enemy's shells. The diversion worked like a 
 charm, for in two minutes the apprehension toned 
 down to the normal proportions of "stage fright." 
 We soon were in position with our six guns ablaze. 
 The enemy's batteries were posted on considerably 
 higher ground, with three times as many guns and 
 of heavier calibre than ours, which served us the 
 same galling fire that had wrecked the batteries pre- 
 ceding us. After having been engaged for an hour, 
 a battery posted some two hundred yards to our left 
 was stampeded and came by us under whip and 
 spur, announcing, as they passed, that they were 
 flanked by Federal cavalry. In the commotion, 
 some one in our battery called out that we had orders 
 to withdraw, and, before it could be corrected, eight 
 or ten of the company, joining in the rout, beat a 
 retreat to the woods, for which they were afterward 
 punished; some being assigned as drivers, and one 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 91 
 
 or two gallant fellows having it ever afterward to 
 dim their glory. We soon, however, recovered from 
 the confusion, but with diminished numbers. I 
 know that for a part of the time I filled the posi- 
 tions of 7, 5, and 2 at my gun, until a gallant little 
 lieutenant named Day, of some general's staff, re- 
 lieved me of part of the work. My brother John, 
 working at the gun next to mine, received a painful 
 shell-wound in the side and had to leave the field. 
 His place was supplied by Doran, an Irishman, and 
 in a few minutes Doran's arm was shattered by a 
 shell, causing him to cry out most lustily. My 
 brother David, shortly after this, was disabled by 
 a blow on his arm, and, at my solicitation, left the 
 field. 
 
 I would suggest to any young man when enlist- 
 ing, to select a company in which he has no near 
 kindred. The concern as to one's own person af- 
 fords sufficient entertainment, without being kept 
 in suspense as to who went down when a shell ex- 
 plodes in proximity to another member of the 
 family. 
 
 John Fuller, driver at the piece next on my right, 
 was crouched down on his knees, with his head 
 leaning forward, holding his horses. Seeing a 
 large shell descending directly toward him, I called 
 to him to look out! When he raised his head, this 
 shell was within five feet of him and grazed his 
 back before entering the ground close behind him. 
 He was severely shocked, and for some days unfit 
 
92 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 for duty. At the first battle of Fredericksburg, 
 less than a year after this, while holding his horses 
 and kneeling in the same posture, a shell descend- 
 ing in like manner struck him square on his head 
 and passed down through the length of his body. A 
 month after the battle I saw all that was left of his 
 cap — the morocco vizor — lying on the ground 
 where he was killed. 
 
 Behind us, scattered over the wheat-field, were 
 a number of loose artillery horses from the batteries 
 that had been knocked out. Taking advantage of 
 the opportunity to get a meal, one of these stood 
 eating quietly at a shock of wheat, when another 
 horse came galloping toward him from the woods. 
 When within about thirty yards of the animal feed- 
 ing, a shell burst between the two. The approach- 
 ing horse instantly wheeled, and was flying for the 
 woods when another shell burst a few feet in front 
 of him, turning him again to the field as before; 
 the old warrior ate away at his shock, perfectly un- 
 concerned. 
 
 The firing on both sides, especially on ours, was 
 now diminishing — and soon ceased. In this en- 
 counter ten or twelve members of the company were 
 wounded, and Frank Herndon, wheel driver at my 
 caisson, was killed. After remaining quiet for a 
 short time we were ordered back, and again found 
 ourselves at the cross-roads, near the old gate- 
 posts, which seemed to be the headquarters of Gen- 
 erals Lee, Jackson and D. H. Hill. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 93 
 
 John Brown, one of our company who had been 
 detailed to care for the wounded, had taken a seat 
 behind a large oak-tree in the edge of the woods 
 near us. A thirty-two-pound shot struck the tree, 
 and, passing through the center of it, took Brown's 
 head entirely off. We spent several hours standing 
 in the road, which was filled with artillery, and our 
 generals were evidently at their wits' ends. To- 
 ward evening we moved farther back into the 
 woods, where many regiments of our infantry were 
 in bivouac. The enemy had now turned their fire 
 in this direction. Both that of their heavy field- 
 pieces and gunboats, and enormous shells and solid 
 shot, were constantly crashing through the timber, 
 tearing off limbs and the tops of trees, which some- 
 times fell among the troops, maiming and killing 
 men. 
 
 After sundown a charge was made against the 
 enemy's left, which was repulsed with terrible loss 
 to our men. After this the enemy continued shell- 
 ing the woods; in fact their whole front, until ten 
 o'clock at night. Our battery had moved back at 
 least two miles and gone into park in a field, where, 
 at short intervals, a large gunboat shell would burst 
 over us, scattering pieces around, while the main 
 part would whirr on, it seemed, indefinitely. 
 
 The next day, the enemy having abandoned Mal- 
 vern Hill during the night, we made a rapid start 
 in pursuit toward Harrison's Landing, but sud- 
 denly came to a halt and countermarched to a place 
 
94 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 where several roads crossed, on all of which were 
 columns of infantry and artillery. During the re- 
 mainder of the day the soldiers gave vent to their 
 feelings by cheering the different generals as they 
 passed to and fro, Jackson naturally receiving the 
 lion's share. 
 
 McClellan's army being now under cover of then- 
 gunboats, and gunboats being held in mortal terror 
 by the Confederates, we began slowly to make our 
 way out of this loathsome place, a place which I felt 
 should be cheerfully given up to the Northerners, 
 where they could inhale the poisonous vapors of the 
 bogs, and prosecute the war in continuous battle 
 with the mosquitoes and vermin. The water of the 
 few sluggish streams, although transparent, was 
 highly colored by the decaying vegetable matter and 
 the roots of the juniper. For the first time in my 
 life I was now out of sight of the mountains. I 
 felt utterly lost, and found myself repeatedly ris- 
 ing on tip-toe and gazing for a view of them in the 
 distance. Being very much worsted physically by 
 the campaign and malarial atmosphere, I was put 
 on the sick-list, and given permission to go to Rich- 
 mond to recuperate. 
 
 My entrance into the city contrasted strikingly 
 with that of soldiers I had read of after a series of 
 victories in battle. The portable forge belonging 
 to our battery needed some repairs, which could be 
 made at a foundry in Richmond, and, as no other 
 conveyance was available, I took passage on it. So 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 95 
 
 I entered the city, the first I had ever visited, after 
 dark, seated on a blacksmith-shop drawn by four 
 mules. Not having received my eleven dollars a 
 month for a long time, I could not pay a hotel-bill, 
 so I climbed the fence into a wagon-yard, retired to 
 bed in a horse-cart, and slept soundly till daylight. 
 That morning I took breakfast with my cousin, 
 Robert Barton, of the First Virginia Cavalry, at his 
 boarding-house. After which, having gotten a sick 
 furlough, he hurried to take the train, to go to his 
 home, and left me feeling very forlorn. Thinking 
 that I could fare no worse in camp than I would in 
 the midst of the painful surroundings of a hospital, 
 I returned in the afternoon to the battery. The 
 arduous service undergone during the past three 
 weeks, or rather three months, had left the men 
 greatly depleted in health and vigor. Many were 
 seriously sick, and those still on duty were more or 
 less run-down. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 FROM RICHMOND TO GORDONSVILLE BATTLE OF 
 
 CEDAR RUN DEATH OF GENERAL WINDER DE- 
 SERTERS SHOT CROSS THE RAPPAHANNOCK 
 
 At the conclusion of this sojourn in camp, Jack- 
 son's command again took the march and toiled 
 along the line of the Central Railroad toward Gor- 
 donsville. I, being sick, was given transportation 
 by rail in a freight-car with a mixture of troops. A 
 week was spent in Louisa County, in the celebrated 
 Green Spring neighborhood, where we fared well. 
 My old mess, numbering seventeen when I joined 
 it, had by this time been greatly reduced. My bro- 
 ther John had gotten a discharge from the army, 
 his office of commissioner of chancery exempting 
 him. He re-enlisted later and served with the bat- 
 tery until Appomattox. Gregory, Frank Preston 
 and Stuart had been left in Winchester in the 
 enemy's lines severely wounded. Singleton had been 
 captured at Port Republic, and others were off on 
 sick-leave. My bedfellow, Walter Packard, had con- 
 tracted fever in the Chickahominy swamps, from 
 which lie soon after died. He had been left at the 
 house of a friend in Hanover County, attended by 
 his brother. In his delirium he impatiently rehearsed 
 the names of his companions, calling the roll of the 
 
 96 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 97 
 
 company over and over. From Green Spring we 
 marched to the neighborhood of Gordonsville, where 
 we remained in camp until about the fifth or sixth 
 of August. 
 
 We now heard reports of the approach of the re- 
 nowned General Pope with "headquarters in the 
 saddle," along the line of the old Orange and Alex- 
 andria Railroad. On August 7, we moved out of 
 camp, going in his direction. On the third day's 
 march, being too unwell to foot it, I was riding in 
 the ambulance. About noon indications in front 
 showed that a battle was at hand. I was excused 
 from duty, but was asked by the captain if I would 
 assist in caring for the wounded. This I declined 
 to do. About this time the battery was ordered for- 
 ward, and, seeing my gun start off at a trot, I 
 mounted and rode in with it. We had a long hill 
 to descend, from the top of which could be seen and 
 heard the cannonading in front. Then, entering 
 an extensive body of woods, we passed by the bod- 
 ies of four infantrymen lying side by side, having 
 just been killed by a bursting shell. 
 
 We took position in the road near the corner of 
 an open field with our two Parrott guns and one 
 gun of Carpenter's battery, en echelon, with each 
 gun's horses and limber off on its left among the 
 trees. Both Capt. Joe Carpenter and his brother, 
 John, who was his first lieutenant, were with this 
 gun, as was their custom when any one of their 
 guns went into action. We soon let the enemy 
 
98 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 know where we were, and they repHed promptly, 
 getting our range in a few rounds. 
 
 General Winder, commander of our brigade, dis- 
 mounted, and, in his shirt-sleeves, had taken his 
 stand a few paces to the left of my gun and with his 
 field-glass was intently observing the progress of 
 the battle. We had been engaged less than fifteen 
 minutes when Captain Carpenter was struck in the 
 head by a piece of shell, from which, after linger- 
 ing a few weeks, he died. Between my gun and 
 limber, where General Winder stood, was a con- 
 stant stream of shells tearing through the trees and 
 bursting close by. While the enemy's guns were 
 changing their position he gave some directions, 
 which we could not hear for the surrounding noise. 
 I, being nearest, turned and, walking toward him, 
 asked what he had said. As he put his hand to his 
 mouth to repeat the remark, a shell passed through 
 his side and arm, tearing them fearfully. He fell 
 straight back at full length, and lay quivering on 
 the ground. He had issued strict orders that morn- 
 ing that no one, except those detailed for the pur- 
 pose, should leave his post to carry off the wounded, 
 in obedience to which I turned to the gun and went 
 to work. He was soon carried off, however, and 
 died a few hours later. 
 
 The next man struck was Major Snowden An- 
 drews, afterward colonel of artillery. While stand- 
 ing near by us a shell burst as it passed him, tearing 
 his clothes and wounding him severely. Though 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 99 
 
 drawn to a stooping posture, he lived many years. 
 Next I saw a ricocheting shell strike Captain Cas- 
 kie, of Richmond, Virginia, on his seat, which 
 knocked him eight or ten feet and his red cap some 
 feet farther. He did not get straightened up until 
 he had overtaken his cap on the opposite side of 
 some bushes, through which they had both been pro- 
 pelled. Lieutenant Graham, of our battery, also 
 received a painful, though not serious, wound be- 
 fore the day was over. This proved to be a very 
 dangerous place for officers, but not a private sol- 
 dier was touched. 
 
 By frequent firing during the campaign the vent 
 of my gun had been burned to several times its 
 proper size, so that at each discharge an excess of 
 smoke gushed from it. After the captain's atten- 
 tion was called to it, it happened that a tree in front, 
 but somewhat out of line, was cut off by a Federal 
 shell just as our gun fired. Supposing the defect 
 had caused a wild shot, we were ordered to take the 
 gun to the rear, the other gun soon following. We 
 got away at a fortunate time, as the Second Brigade 
 of Jackson's division was flanked by the enemy and 
 driven over the place a few minutes later. One 
 company in the Twenty -first Virginia Regiment lost, 
 in a few minutes, seventeen men killed, besides those 
 wounded. The flankers, however, were soon at- 
 tacked by fresh troops, who drove them back and 
 took a large number of prisoners, who walked and 
 looked, as they passed, as if they had done their 
 
100 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 best and had nothing of which to be ashamed. By 
 nightfall the whole of Pope's army had been driven 
 back, and we held the entire battlefield. This battle 
 was called Cedar Run by the Confederates, and 
 Slaughter's Mountain by the Federals. 
 
 On the following day we retraced our steps and 
 occupied an excellent camping-ground near Gor- 
 donsville. Shortly after our arrival, my brother 
 David, who had been absent on sick-leave, returned 
 from home, bringing a large mess-chest of delicious 
 edibles, which we enjoyed immensely, having Wil- 
 lie Preston, from Lexington, who had just joined 
 the College company, to dine with us. From a 
 nearby cornfield we managed to supply ourselves 
 with roasting ears, and the number a young Con- 
 federate could consume in a day would have been 
 ample rations for a horse. 
 
 While here we had visits from some of our 
 former messmates. One of them, Frank Singleton, 
 after being captured at Port Republic had been 
 taken to Fort Warren, where were in confinement 
 as prisoners members of the Maryland legislature. 
 Generals Pillow and Buckner, and others captured 
 at Fort Donelson. Singleton gave glowing accounts 
 of the "to-do" that was made over him, he being 
 the only representative from the army of Stonewall, 
 whose fame was now filling the world. His pres- 
 ence even became known outside of prison-walls, 
 and brought substantial tokens of esteem and sym- 
 pathy. 
 
CTV 
 
 Robert A. Gibson 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 101 
 
 Gregory, who we supposed had received his death- 
 wound at Winchester in May, after escaping into 
 our hues spent a day or two with us. Both, how- 
 ever, having gotten discharges, left us — Singleton 
 to go to Kentucky, his native State, to raise a com- 
 pany of cavalry under Morgan, and Gregory to be- 
 come captain of ordnance. 
 
 An extensive move was evidently now on foot, 
 and about August 17th it began, proving to be by 
 far the most eventful of that eventful year. On 
 reaching the Rapidan, a few miles distant, we were 
 ordered to leave all baggage we could not carry on 
 our backs, and in that August weather we chose to 
 make our burdens light. This was the last we saw 
 of our baggage, as it was plundered and stolen by 
 camp-followers and shirkers who stayed behind. 
 
 Having recuperated somewhat during my stay 
 in camp I had set out, with the battery, for the 
 march, but a few days of hot sun soon weakened me 
 again, so I had to be excused from duty, and remain 
 with the wagons. Part of a day with them was 
 sufficient, so I returned to the battery, sick or well. 
 Soon after my return, about sundown, Arthur Rob- 
 inson, of Baltimore, whom I had regarded as a sort 
 of dude, brought me a cup of delicious tea and sev- 
 eral lumps of cut loaf-sugar. Cut loaf-sugar! What 
 associations it awakened and how kindly I felt to- 
 ward the donor ever afterward ! As I dropped each 
 lump into the tea I could sympathize with an old 
 lady in Rockbridge County, who eyed a lump of it 
 
102 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 lovingly and said, "Before the war I used to buy 
 that by the pound." 
 
 On the following morning, August 18, Gen. 
 J. E. B. Stuart came dashing into our camp bare- 
 headed and, for him, very much excited. He had 
 just narrowly escaped capture by a scouting-party 
 of Federal cavalry at a house near Verdiersville, 
 where he had passed the night. Leaving his hat, he 
 mounted and leaped the fence with his horse. His 
 adjutant, however. Major Fitzhugh, in possession 
 of General Lee's instructions to General Stuart, was 
 captured, and thus General Pope informed of the 
 plan of campaign. Four days later General Stuart, 
 with a large force of cavalry, having passed to the 
 rear of the Federal army, captured, at Catlett's Sta- 
 tion, General Pope's headquarters wagon with his 
 official papers and personal effects. As his plan of 
 campaign was to be governed by General Lee's 
 movements, these papers were not very reliable 
 guides. 
 
 Our stay in this bivouac was only thirty-six 
 hours in duration, but another scene witnessed in 
 the afternoon leaves an indelible impression. To 
 escape the arduous service to which we had for 
 some time been subjected, a few, probably eight or 
 ten men, of Jackson's old division had deserted. Of 
 these, three had been caught, one of whom was a 
 member of the Stonewall Brigade, and they were 
 sentenced by court-martial to be shot. As a warn- 
 ing to others, the whole division was mustered out 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 103 
 
 to witness the painfully solemn spectacle. After 
 marching in column through intervening woods, 
 with bands playing the dead march, we entered an 
 extensive field. Here the three men, blindfolded, 
 were directed to kneel in front of their open graves, 
 and a platoon of twelve or fifteen men, half of them 
 with their muskets loaded with ball, and half with 
 blank cartridges (so that no man would feel that he 
 had fired a fatal shot), at the word "Fire!" emptied 
 their guns at close range. Then the whole division 
 marched by within a few steps to view their lifeless 
 bodies. 
 
 Jackson's object now was to cross the Rappa- 
 hannock, trying first one ford and then another. 
 We spent most of the following day galloping to 
 and fro, firing and being fired at. At one ford my 
 gun crossed the river, but, as no support followed 
 it, although the rest of our battery and Brocken- 
 brough's Maryland Battery were close by, we soon 
 recrossed. Rain during the afternoon and night 
 made the river past fording, catching Early's bri- 
 gade, which had crossed further up-stream, on the 
 enemy's side. He was not pressed, however, and by 
 the next afternoon the whole of Jackson's command 
 had crossed the stream by the fords nearer its source, 
 at Hinson's mill. Thence we traveled northwest 
 through Little Washington, the county-seat of Rap- 
 pahannock. Then to Flint Hall, at the base of the 
 Blue Ridge. Then turned southeast into Fauquier 
 County and through Warrenton, the prettiest town 
 
104 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 I had seen since leaving the Valley. We had made 
 an extensive detour, and were no longer disturbed 
 by General Pope, who possibly thought Jackson was 
 on his way to Ohio or New York, and a week later 
 no doubt regretted that one of those distant places 
 had not been his destination. 
 
 Before reaching Thoroughfare Gap we had the 
 pleasure of a visit from Mr. Robert Boiling, or 
 rather found him waiting on the roadside to see his 
 son, of our mess, having driven from his home in 
 the neighborhood. His son had been left behind 
 sick, but his messmates did full justice to the bounti- 
 ful supply of refreshments brought in the carriage 
 for him. I remember, as we stood regaling our- 
 selves, when some hungry infantryman would fall 
 out of ranks, and ask to purchase a "wee bite," how 
 delicately we would endeavor to "shoo" him off, 
 without appearing to the old gentleman as the nat- 
 ural heirs to what he had brought for his boy. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 CAPTURE OF RAILROAD TRAINS AT MANASSAS JUNC- 
 TION BATTLE WITH TAYLOR's NEW JERSEY 
 
 BRIGADE NIGHT MARCH BY LIGHT OF BURN- 
 ING CARS 
 
 Our halts and opportunities for rest had been 
 and continued to be few and of short duration, trav- 
 eling steadily on throughout the twenty-four hours. 
 It has been many years since, but how vividly some 
 scenes are recalled, others vague and the order of 
 succession forgotten. After passing through Thor- 
 oughfare Gap we moved on toward Manassas Junc- 
 tion, arriving within a mile or two of the place 
 shortly after dawn, when we came upon a sleepy 
 Federal cavalryman mounted on a fine young horse. 
 Lieutenant Brown took him and his arms in charge 
 and rode the horse for a few days, but, learning that 
 he had been taken from a farmer in the neighbor- 
 hood, returned him to his owner. As we approached 
 the Junction several cannon-shots warned us that 
 some force of the enemy was there, but not Gen- 
 eral Pope, as we had left him many miles in our 
 rear. 
 
 In the regiment of our cavalry, acting as a van- 
 guard, I had but two acquaintances — old college- 
 mates — and these were the only two members of the 
 
 105 
 
106 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 command I met. One of them gave me a loaf of 
 baker's bread, the other presented me with a hand- 
 ful of cigars, and they both informed us that they 
 had made a big capture, which we would soon see. 
 The samples they had brought made us the more 
 anxious. Arriving in sight of the place, we saw the 
 tracks of both railroads closely covered for half a 
 mile with the cars filled with army supplies of every 
 description. The artillery that had been firing a 
 short time before opened on us again, while we were 
 preparing to help ourselves, but not before one of 
 my messmates had secured a cup of molasses. With 
 the help of this, my loaf of bread was soon devoured 
 and with a relish contrasting very favorably with 
 my sudden loss of appetite for the beans at Cedar 
 Creek a few months before. On this occasion we 
 managed to appease our hunger with very little in- 
 terruption from the flying shells. The firing, how- 
 ever, was at long range and soon ceased, and we 
 resumed the march, saddened to part with so rich 
 a booty and the opportunity to fill our stomachs and 
 empty haversacks. 
 
 As we moved quietly along with General Jack- 
 son and one or two of his staff riding at the front 
 of the battery, there suddenly appeared, about a mile 
 ahead of us, a line of bayonets glistening in the sun- 
 light. As we halted I heard General Jackson and 
 those about him questioning each other and specu- 
 lating as to what troops they could be, whether 
 friend or foe. Their bayonets were evidently too 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 107 
 
 brigbt for our war-worn weapons, and the direction 
 from which they came and, a little later, the color 
 of their uniforms being distinguishable, no longer 
 left room for doubt. It proved to be a brigade of 
 New Jersey infantry commanded by General Tay- 
 lor, who had just arrived by rail from Alexandria. 
 Rodes's division was on our left and not three hun- 
 dred yards distant. As the enemy advanced, Jack- 
 son ordered Rodes to halt. The Federal brigade 
 came up on our right about one hundred and twenty- 
 five yards from us, marching by companies in 
 column. 
 
 Jackson ordered us to fire on them with canister, 
 which we did, and very rapidly, as they passed. 
 Then, limbering up, we galloped again to their flank 
 and repeated the operation; meanwhile, one of our 
 batteries immediately in their front firing at them 
 with shells. Jackson, who accompanied us, then 
 drew a white handkerchief from his pocket, and, 
 waving it up and down, ordered them to surrender, 
 in response to which one of them raised his gun and 
 fired deliberately at him. I heard the Minie as it 
 whistled by him. After limbering up our guns for 
 the third time to keep in close range, I turned to get 
 my blanket, which I had left on the ground while 
 engaged, and, as I ran to overtake the guns, found 
 myself between Rodes's line, which had now ad- 
 vanced, and the Federals, in easy range of each 
 other. I expected, of course, to be riddled with 
 bullets, but neither side fired a shot. 
 
108 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 The Federals moved on in perfect order, then 
 suddenly broke and came back like a flock of sheep; 
 and, most singular of all, Rodes's division was 
 ordered back and let them pass, we still firing. It 
 was a fine sample of a sham battle, as I saw none 
 of them killed and heard there w^ere very few casual- 
 ties, and the only shot they fired was the one at Gen- 
 eral Jackson. After crossing a ravine along which 
 ran a creek, they had a hill to ascend which kept 
 them still in full view, while we fired at them with 
 shells and solid shot as they streamed along the 
 paths. Maupin, a member of our detachment, 
 picked up a canteen of whiskey which had been 
 thrown aside in their flight. As it was the only 
 liquid to which we had access on that hot August 
 day, we each took a turn, and soon undertook to 
 criticise our gunner's bad shooting, telling him 
 among other things that if he would aim lower he 
 would do more execution. 
 
 After the enemy had disappeared from our sight, 
 and the battery had gone into park, I borrowed Ser- 
 geant Dick Payne's horse to ride to the creek, over 
 which the enemy had retreated, for a canteen of 
 water. When within a few steps of the branch, I 
 passed two artillerymen from another battery on 
 foot, who were on the same errand, but none of us 
 armed. We saw a Yankee infantryman a short 
 distance off, hurrying along with gun on shoulder. 
 We called to him to surrender, and, as I rode to get 
 his gun, another one following came in sight. When 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 109 
 
 I confronted him and ordered him to throw down 
 his gun, he promptly obeyed. The gun, a brand- 
 new one, was loaded, showing a bright cap under 
 the hammer. The man was a German, and tried 
 hard, in broken Enghsh, to explain, either how he 
 had fallen behind, or to apologize for coming to 
 fight us — I could not tell which. 
 
 We now had full and undisturbed possession of 
 Manassas Junction and of the long trains of cap- 
 tured cars, through the doors and openings of which 
 could be seen the United States army supplies of all 
 kinds and of the best quality. On a flat car there 
 stood two new pieces of artillery made of a bronze- 
 colored metal, and of a different style from any we 
 had yet seen. In our last battle, that of Slaughter's 
 Mountain, we had noticed, for the first time, a sing- 
 ular noise made by some of the shells fired at us, 
 and quite like the shrill note of a tree-frog on a big 
 scale. Since then we had sometimes speculated as 
 to what new engine of war we had to contend with. 
 Here it was, and known as the three-inch rifled gun, 
 a most accurate shooter, and later on much used by 
 both Federals and Confederates. 
 
 In view of the fact that almost all of the field 
 artillery used by the Confederates was manufact- 
 ured in the North, a supply for both armies seemed 
 to have been wisely provided in the number they 
 turned out. Here we spent the remainder of the 
 day, but not being allowed to plunder the cars did 
 not have the satisfaction of replacing our worn-out 
 
no THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 garments with the new ones in sight. We were very- 
 willing to don the blue uniforms, but General Jack- 
 son thought otherwise. What we got to eat was 
 also disappointing, and not of a kind to invigorate, 
 consisting, as it did, of hard-tack, pickled oysters, 
 and canned stuff generally. 
 
 Darkness had scarcely fallen before we were 
 again on the march, and before two miles had been 
 traveled the surrounding country was illuminated 
 by the blazing cars and their contents, fired to pre- 
 vent their falling again into the hands of their origi- 
 nal owners. The entire night was spent marching 
 through woods and fields, but in what direction we 
 had no idea. Notwithstanding the strict orders to 
 the contrary, two of our boys — Billy Bumpas and 
 John Gibbs — had procured from a car about half a 
 bushel of nice white sugar, put it in a sack-bag, and 
 tied it securely, they thought, to the axle of a cais- 
 son. During the night either the bag stretched or 
 the string slipped, letting a corner drag on the 
 ground, which soon wore a hole. When daylight 
 broke, the first thing that met their eager gaze was 
 an empty bag dangling in the breeze and visions of 
 a trail of white sugar mingling with the dust miles 
 behind. Many times afterward, in winter quarters 
 or during apple-dumpling season, have I heard them 
 lament the loss of that sweetening. 
 
 There are various scenes and incidents on the 
 battlefield, in camp, and on the march which leave 
 an indelible impression. Of these, among the most 
 
D. (iAKDlNKK TyI.KR 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 111 
 
 vivid to me is that of a column of men and horses 
 at dawn of day, after having marched throughout 
 the night. The weary animals, with heads hanging 
 and gaunt sides, put their feet to the ground as 
 softly as if fearing to arouse their drowsy mates or 
 give themselves a jar. A man looks some years 
 older than on the preceding day, and his haggard 
 face as if it had been unwashed for a week. Not 
 yet accustomed to the light, and thinking his coun- 
 tenance unobserved, as in the darkness, he makes 
 no effort to assume an expression more cheerful than 
 in keeping with his solemn feelings, and, when 
 spoken to, his distressful attempt to smile serves only 
 to emphasize the need of "sore labor's bath." Van- 
 ity, however, seems to prevent each one from seeing 
 in his neighbor's visage a photograph of his own. 
 But, with an hour of sunlight and a halt for break- 
 fast with a draught of rare coffee, he stands a new 
 creature. On the morning after our departure from 
 Manassas Junction, having marched all night, we 
 had a good illustration of this. 
 
 About seven o'clock we came to a Federal wagon 
 which had upset over a bank and was lying, bottom 
 upward, in a ditch below the road. Around it were 
 boxes and packages of food, desiccated vegetables 
 red with tomatoes and yellow with pumpkin. Here 
 a timely halt was called. Across the ditch, near 
 where we went into park, the infantry who had pre- 
 ceded us had carried from the overturned wagon a 
 barrel of molasses with the head knocked out. Surg- 
 
112 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 ing around it was a swarm of men with canteens, 
 tin cups, and frying-pans — anything that would hold 
 molasses. As each vessel was filled by a dip into 
 the barrel it was held aloft, to prevent its being 
 knocked from the owner's grasp as he made his way 
 out through the struggling mass ; and woe be to him 
 that was hatless ! as the stream that trickled from 
 above, over head and clothes, left him in a sorry 
 plight. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 CIRCUITOUS NIGHT MARCH FIRST DAY OF SECOND 
 
 MANASSAS ARRIVAL OF LONGSTREET's CORPS 
 
 Here we halted long enough for a hurried break- 
 fast for men and horses. Sleep did not seem to enter 
 into Jackson's calculations, or time was regarded as 
 too precious to be allowed for it. We were on the 
 move again by noon and approaching the scene of 
 the battle of July, 1861. This was on Thursday, 
 August 26, 1862, and a battle was evidently to open 
 at any moment. In the absence of Henry, our gun- 
 ner, who was sick and off duty, I was appointed to 
 fill his place. And it was one of the few occasions, 
 most probably the only one during the war, that I 
 felt the slightest real desire to exclaim, with the Cor- 
 poral at Waterloo, "Let the battle begin!" About 
 two p. M. we went into position, but, before firing 
 a shot, suddenly moved off, and, marching almost in 
 a semi-circle, came up in the rear of the infantry, 
 who were now hotly engaged. This was the begin- 
 ning of the second battle of Manassas, during the 
 first two days of which, and the day preceding, 
 Jackson's command was in great suspense, and, 
 with a wide-awake and active foe, would have been 
 in great jeopardy. He was entirely in the rear of 
 
 113 
 
114 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER ' 
 
 the Federal army, with only his own corps, while 
 Longstreet had not yet passed through Thorough- 
 fare Gap, a narrow defile miles away. The rapid 
 and steady roll of the musketry, however, indicated 
 that there was no lack of confidence on the part of 
 his men, though the line of battle had changed front 
 and was now facing in the opposite direction from 
 the one held a few hours before. Moving through 
 a body of woods toward the firing-line we soon be- 
 gan meeting and passing the stream of wounded 
 men making their way to the rear. And here our 
 attention was again called to a singular and unac- 
 countable fact, which was noticed and remarked re- 
 peatedly throughout the war. It was that in one 
 battle the large majority of the less serious wounds 
 received were in the same portion of the body. In 
 this case, fully three-fourths of the men we met 
 were wounded in the left hand ; in another battle 
 the same proportion were wounded in the right 
 hand ; while in another the head was the attractive 
 mark for flying bullets, and so on. I venture the 
 assertion that every old soldier whose attention is 
 called to it will verify the statement. 
 
 The battle was of about two hours duration, and 
 by sundown the firing had entirely ceased, the enemy 
 being driven from the field, leaving their dead and 
 wounded. The infantry of the Stonewall Brigade 
 had been in the thickest of it all and had suffered 
 severe loss. 
 
 Willie Preston, of the College company, less than 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 115 
 
 eighteen years of age, a most attractive and promis- 
 ing youth, received a mortal wound. His dying 
 messages were committed to Hugh White, the cap- 
 tain of his company, who, two days later, was him- 
 self instantly killed. On the ground where some of 
 the heaviest fighting took place there stood a neat 
 log house, the home of a farmer's family. From it 
 they had, of course, hurriedly fled, leaving their cow 
 and a half -grown colt in the yard. Both of these 
 were killed. I saw also, on this field, a dead rabbit 
 and a dead field-lark — innocent victims of man's 
 brutality ! 
 
 A quiet night followed, and, except for those of 
 us who were on guard, the first unbroken rest we 
 had had for almost a week. Next morning, after 
 breakfasting leisurely, we went into position oppo- 
 site the enemy, who occupied a long range of hills 
 too distant for serious damage. But, after we had 
 shelled each other for half an hour, one of our in- 
 fantry regiments emerged from the woods a short 
 distance to our right and stood in line of battle most 
 needlessly exposed. In less than five minutes a shell 
 burst among them, killing and wounding eleven men. 
 This over, we moved to a haystack nearby, where 
 our horses had more than one refreshing feed dur- 
 ing lulls in the battle. It seemed, also, an attractive 
 place for General Jackson, as he was seldom far 
 from it till the close of the battle on the following 
 day. 
 
 An hour later, while engaged in another artillery 
 
116 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 encounter, our detachment received a very peremp- 
 tory and officious order from Major Shoemaker, 
 commanding the artillery of the division. My 
 friend and former messmate, W. G. Williamson, 
 now a lieutenant of engineers, having no duty in 
 that line to perform, had hunted us up, and, with 
 his innate gallantry, was serving as a cannoneer at 
 the gun. Offended at Shoemaker's insolent and 
 ostentatious manner, we answered him as he de- 
 served. Furious at such impudence and insubordi- 
 nation, he was almost ready to lop our heads off 
 with his drawn sword, when Williamson informed 
 him that he was a commissioned officer and would 
 see him at the devil before he would submit to such 
 uncalled-for interference. 
 
 'Tf you are a commissioned officer," Shoemaker 
 replied, "why are you here, working at a gun?" 
 
 "Because I had not been assigned to other duty," 
 was Williamson's reply, "and I chose to come back, 
 for the time being, with my old battery." 
 
 "Then I order you under arrest for your dis- 
 respect to a superior officer !" said Shoemaker. 
 
 The case was promptly reported to General Jack- 
 son, and Williamson as promptly released. The 
 bombastic major had little idea that among the men 
 he was so uselessly reprimanding was a son of Gen- 
 eral Lee, as well as Lieutenant Williamson, who 
 was a nephew of Gen. Dick Garnett, who was later 
 killed in Pickett's charge at Gettysburg. This epi- 
 sode over, we again drove to the haystack. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 117 
 
 These repeated advances and attacks made by 
 the enemy's artillery plainly showed that they re- 
 alized that our situation was a hazardous one, of 
 which we, too, were fully aware, and unless Long- 
 street should soon show up we felt that the whole 
 of Pope's army would be upon us. While quietly 
 awaiting developments, we heard the sound of a 
 horse's hoofs, and, as a courier galloped up to Gen- 
 eral Jackson, to announce Longstreet's approach, 
 the cloud of red dust raised by his vanguard in the 
 direction of Thoroughfare Gap assured us that he 
 would soon be at hand. Before he reached the field, 
 however, and while we were enjoying the sense of 
 relief at his coming, one of the enemy's batteries 
 had quietly and unobserved managed to get into 
 one of the positions occupied by our battery during 
 the morning. Their first volley, coming from such 
 an unexpected quarter, created a great commotion. 
 Instantly we galloped to their front and unlimbered 
 our guns at close range. Other of our batteries 
 fired a few shots, but soon ceased, all seeming in- 
 tent on witnessing a duel between the two batteries 
 of four guns each. Their position was the more 
 favorable, as their limbers and caissons were behind 
 the crest of the hill, while we were on level ground 
 with ours fully exposed. Each man worked as if 
 success depended on his individual exertions, while 
 Captain Poague and Lieutenant Graham galloped 
 back and forth among the guns, urging us to our 
 best efforts. Our antagonists got our range at once. 
 
118 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 and, with their twelve-pound Napoleon guns, poured 
 in a raking fire. One shell I noticed particularly as 
 it burst, and waited a moment to observe its effects 
 as the fragments tore by. One of them struck Cap- 
 tain Poague's horse near the middle of the hip, tear- 
 ing an ugly hole, from which there spurted a stream 
 of blood the size of a man's wrist. To dismount 
 before his horse fell required quick work, but the 
 captain was equal to the occasion. Another shell 
 robbed Henry Boteler of the seat of his trousers, 
 but caused the shedding of no blood, and his narrow 
 escape the shedding of no tears, although the loss 
 was a serious one. Eugene Alexander, of Moore- 
 field, had his thigh-bone broken and was incapaci- 
 tated for service. Sergeant Henry Payne, a splen- 
 did man and an accomplished scholar, was struck 
 by a solid shot just below the knee and his leg left 
 hanging by shreds of flesh. An hour later, when 
 being lifted into an ambulance, I heard him ask if 
 his leg could not be saved, but in another hour he 
 was dead. 
 
 After an hour of spirited work, our antagonists 
 limbered up and hurried off, leaving us victors in 
 the contest. Lieutenant Baxter McCorkle galloped 
 over to the place to see what execution we had done, 
 and found several dead men, as many or more dead 
 horses, and one of their caissons as evidences of good 
 aim ; and brought back with him a fine army-pistol 
 left in the caisson. When the affair was over, I 
 found myself exhausted and faint from overexer- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 119 
 
 tion in the hot sun. Remembering that my brother 
 David had brought along a canteen of vinegar, got- 
 ten in the big capture of stores a few days before, 
 and thinking a swallow of it would revive me, I 
 went to him and asked him to get it for me. Be- 
 fore I was done speaking, the world seemed to make 
 a sudden revolution and turn black as I collapsed 
 with it. My brother, thinking I was shot, hurried 
 for the vinegar, but found the canteen, which hung 
 at the rear of a caisson, entirely empty ; it, too, hav- 
 ing been struck by a piece of shell, and even the 
 contents of the little canteen demanded by this in- 
 satiable plain, whose thirst no amount of blood 
 seemed able to quench. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE SECOND BATTLE OF MANASSAS INCIDENTS AND 
 
 SCENES ON THE BATTLEFIELD 
 
 These encounters were the preludes to the great 
 battle for which both sides were preparing, almost 
 two days having already been spent in maneuvering 
 and feeling each other's lines. The afternoon, how- 
 ever, passed quietly with no further collisions 
 worthy of mention. The following day, Saturday, 
 was full of excitement. It was the third and last 
 of this protracted battle, and the last for many a 
 brave soldier in both armies. 
 
 The shifting of troops began early, our battery 
 changing position several times during the forenoon. 
 Neither army had buried its dead of the first day's 
 battle. We held the ground on which were strewn 
 the corpses of both Blue and Gray, in some places 
 lying side by side. The hot August sun had parched 
 the grass to a crisp, and it was frequently ignited 
 by bursting shells. In this way the clothes of the 
 dead were sometimes burned off, and the bodies par- 
 tially roasted ! Such spectacles made little or no im- 
 pression at the time, and we moved to and fro over 
 the field, scarcely heeding them. 
 
 About two o'clock we were ordered some distance 
 forward, to fire on a battery posted on a low ridge 
 
 120 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 121 
 
 near a piece of woods. By skirting along a body of 
 woods on our left, and screened by it, we came out 
 in full view of this battery and on its right flank. 
 My gun, being in front and the first seen by them, 
 attracted their whole fire; but most of their shells 
 passed over our heads and burst among the guns in 
 our rear and among the trees. None of us was hurt, 
 and in a few minutes all four of our guns were un- 
 limbered and opened on them most vigorously. In 
 five or six rounds their guns ceased firing and were 
 drawn by hand from the crest of the ridge entirely 
 out of view and range. 
 
 As we stood by our guns, highly gratified with 
 our prowess, General Jackson came riding up to the 
 first detachment and said, "That was handsomely 
 done, very handsomely done," then passed on to the 
 other detachments and to each one addressed some 
 complimentary remark. In half an hour we were 
 again at our rendezvous, the haystack, and he at his 
 headquarters, and all quiet. But this time it was 
 the calm before the real storm. 
 
 Across the open plains on which we stood, and 
 some three hundred yards distant from us, was an 
 extensive body of woods in which Longstreet's corps 
 had quietly formed in line of battle. In front of 
 this was open ground, sloping gently for one- fourth 
 of a mile, and on its crest the enemy's line of battle. 
 To our left another large body of woods extended 
 toward our front, and concealed the movements of 
 both armies from view in that direction. General 
 
122 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Jackson had dismounted from his horse and was 
 sitting on the rail- fence, and ours and one or two 
 other batteries were in bivouac close by, and all as 
 calm and peaceful as if the armies were in their re- 
 spective winter cjuarters, when a roar and crash of 
 musketry that was almost deafening burst forth in 
 the woods in our immediate front, and a shower of 
 Minie-bullets whistled through the air, striking here 
 and there about us. Instantly everything was astir, 
 with an occasional lamentation or cry of pain from 
 some wounded man. General Jackson mounted his 
 horse hurriedly. The fighting soon became general 
 throughout the lines, in portions of it terrific. Gen- 
 eral Pope, after two days of preparation, had ad- 
 vanced his lines and made the attack instead of re- 
 ceiving it, as our lines were on the eve of advancing. 
 A projected but uncompleted railroad, with alter- 
 nating cuts and embankments, afforded a splendid 
 line of defense to our infantry on the left. The most 
 continued and persistent fighting was where it be- 
 gan, on that portion of the line held by Jackson's old 
 division. In the course of an hour the attack was 
 repulsed and a counter-charge made, but, judging 
 from the number of dead the enemy left on the field, 
 and the rapidity of their pursuit, the Confederates 
 met with but little resistance thereafter. An attack 
 had been made on Longstreets's corps at the same 
 time, which met with the same ill success, and was 
 followed by a countercharge. I remember our 
 noticing the high range of hills in front of Long- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 123 
 
 street, completely commanding, as it did, the inter- 
 vening ground, and some one remarking, while the 
 charge was in progress, that it seemed impossible to 
 carry it. But the reserves who occupied this high 
 ground made but little resistance, and, joining those 
 who had been repulsed, all fled hurriedly from the 
 field. As soon as the retreat of the Federal army 
 began, active participation in the battle by the ar- 
 tillery ceased. We joined in the pursuit, which was 
 brought to a close soon after it began by approach- 
 ing night. 
 
 In crossing a field in the pursuit, a short distance 
 from our gun, I passed near a young infantryman 
 lying entirely alone, with his thigh-bone broken by 
 a Minie-bullet. He was in great distress of mind 
 and body, and asked me most pleadingly to render 
 him some assistance. If I could do nothing else, he 
 begged that I should find his brother, who belonged 
 to Johnston's battery, of Bedford County, Virginia. 
 I told him I could not leave my gun, etc., which gave 
 him little comfort ; but he told me his name, which 
 was Ferguson, and where his home was. Fortu- 
 nately, however, I happened on Johnston's battery 
 soon after, and sent his brother to him. I heard 
 nothing further of him until five years later — two 
 years after the war — when I was on a visit to some 
 relatives in Bedford County. As we started to 
 church in Liberty one Sunday morning I recalled 
 the incident and mentioned it to my aunt's family, 
 and was informed that Ferguson was still alive, had 
 
124 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 been very recently married, and that I would prob- 
 ably see him that morning at church. And sure 
 enough, I was scarcely seated in church when he 
 camp limping in and took a seat near me. I recog- 
 nized him at once, but, fearing he had not forgotten 
 w^hat he felt was cruel indifference in his desperate 
 situation, did not renew our acquaintance. 
 
 After parting with him on the battlefield and 
 overtaking my gun, our route for a time was 
 through the enemy's dead and wounded of the bat- 
 tle which took place two days before, who had been 
 lying between the two armies, exposed to the hot 
 sun since that time. While taking a more direct 
 route, as the battery w-as winding around an ascent, 
 my attention was called to a Federal soldier of enor- 
 mous size lying on the ground. His head was al- 
 most as large as a half -bushel and his face a dark- 
 blue color. I supposed, as a matter of course, that 
 he was dead, and considered him a curiosity even as 
 a dead man. But, while standing near him, wonder- 
 ing at the size of the monster, he began to move, 
 and turned as if about to rise to his feet. Thinking 
 he might succeed, I hurried on and joined my gun. 
 
 Here we had a good opportunity of observing the 
 marked and striking difference between the Fed- 
 erals and Confederates who remained unburied for 
 tw^enty-four hours or more after being killed. While 
 the Confederates underwent no perceptible change 
 in color or otherwise, the Federals, on the contrary, 
 became much swollen and discolored. This was, 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 125 
 
 of course, attributable to the difference in their food 
 and drink. And while some Confederates, no doubt 
 for want of sufficient food, fell by the wayside on 
 the march, the great majority of them, owing to 
 their simple fare, could endure, and unquestionably 
 did endure, more hardship than the Federals who 
 were overfed and accustomed to regular and full 
 rations. 
 
 Our following in the pursuit was a mere form, 
 as the enemy had been driven by our infantry from 
 all of their formidable positions, and night, as usual 
 in such cases, had put a stop to further pursuit. As 
 we countermarched, to find a suitable camping- 
 ground, great care had to be taken in the darkness 
 to avoid driving over the enemy's wounded who lay 
 along the course of our route. I remember one of 
 them especially, in a narrow place, was very grate- 
 ful to me for standing near him and cautioning the 
 drivers as they passed by. 
 
 On the next day, Sunday, August 31, after three 
 days of occupation such as I have described, we were 
 not averse to a Sabbath-day's rest, which also gave 
 us the opportunity of reviewing at leisure the events 
 and results of our experience, and going over other 
 portions of the battlefield. Looking to the right 
 front, spread out in full view, was the sloping 
 ground over which Longstreet had fought and 
 driven his antagonists. The extensive area pre- 
 sented the appearance of an immense flower-garden, 
 the prevailing blue thickly dotted with red, the color 
 
126 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 of the Federal Zouave uniform. In front of the 
 railroad-cut, and not more than fifty yards from it, 
 where Jackson's old division had been attacked, at 
 least three-fourths of the men who made the charge 
 had been killed, and lay in line as they had fallen. I 
 looked over and examined the ground carefully, and 
 was confident that I could have walked a quarter of 
 a mile in almost a straight line on their dead bodies 
 without putting a foot on the ground. By such evi- 
 dences as this, our minds had been entirely disabused 
 of the idea that "the Northerners would not fight." 
 
 It was near this scene of carnage that I also saw 
 two hundred or more citizens whose credulity un- 
 der General Pope's assurance had brought them from 
 Washington and other cities to see "Jackson bag- 
 ged," and enjoy a gala day. They were now un- 
 der guard, as prisoners, and responded promptly to 
 the authority of those who marched them by at a 
 lively pace. This sample of gentlemen of leisure 
 gave an idea of the material the North had in re- 
 serve, to be utilized, if need be, in future. 
 
 During the three days — 28th, 29th and 30th — 
 the official reports give the Federal losses as 20.000, 
 the Confederates as 10.000. On each of these days 
 our town of Lexington had lost one of her most 
 promising young men — Henry R. Payne, of our 
 battery; Hugh White, captain of the College com- 
 pany, and Willie Preston, a private in the same com- 
 pany, a noble young fellow who had had the forti- 
 tude and moral courage, at the request of President 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 127 
 
 Juiikin, to pull down the palmetto flag hoisted by 
 the students over Washington College. We re- 
 mained about Manassas only long enough for the 
 dead to be buried. 
 
 The suffering of the wounded for want of atten- 
 tion, bad enough at best, in this case must have been 
 extraordinary. The aggregate of wounded of the 
 two armies. Confederate and Federal, exceeded 
 15,000 in number. The surrounding country had 
 been devastated by war until it was practically a 
 desert. The railroad bridges and tracks, extending 
 from the Rapidan in Orange County to Fairfax, a 
 distance of fifty miles, had been destroyed, so that 
 it would require several weeks before the Confed- 
 erates could reach the hospitals in Richmond and 
 Charlottesville, and then in box-cars, over rough, 
 improvised roads. Those of the Federal army were 
 cut off in like manner from their hospitals in the 
 North. In addition to all this, the surgeons and 
 ambulances and their corps continued with their re- 
 spective commands, to meet emergencies of like na- 
 ture, to be repeated before the September moon had 
 begun to wane. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 BATTLE OF CHANTILLY LEESBURG CROSSING THE 
 
 POTOMAC 
 
 After such prolonged marching and such a vic- 
 tory as the second Manassas we hoped for a rest so 
 well earned ; at any rate, we imagined that there was 
 no enemy near inclined to give battle; but on Mon- 
 day, September 1, we were again on the march, 
 which continued far into the night, it being near 
 daylight when we went into park. The latter part 
 of the way I rode on a caisson, seated by a com- 
 panion, and so entirely overcome with sleep as to be 
 unable to keep my eyes open five seconds at a time, 
 nodding from side to side over the wheels. My 
 companion would rouse me and tell me of my dan- 
 ger, but shame, danger, and all were of no avail till, 
 waking for the fortieth time, I found my hat was 
 gone. I jumped down, went back a short distance, 
 and found my old drab fur, of Lexington make, flat 
 in the road, having been trampled over by several 
 teams and gun-wheels. 
 
 After a halt of a few hours we were again on the 
 move, and soon found ourselves in Fairfax County. 
 About noon we passed by "Chantilly," the home of 
 my messmate, Wash. Stuart, whom we had left des- 
 perately wounded at Winchester. The place, a beau- 
 
 128 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 129 
 
 tiful country residence, was deserted now. Stuart, 
 though, was somewhere in the neighborhood, a 
 paroled prisoner, and on his return to us the follow- 
 ing winter told us of the efforts he had made to find 
 us near "The Plains" with a feast of wines, etc., for 
 our refreshment. Two or three miles from Chan- 
 tilly short and frequent halts and cautious advances 
 warned us that there were breakers ahead. Then 
 the pop, pop, pop! of a skirmish-line along the edge 
 of a wood in our front brought back again those 
 nervous pulsations in the region of the stomach 
 which no amount of philosophy or will-power seemed 
 able to repress. 
 
 The battery kept straight on in the road and 
 through the woods, the enemy's skirmishers having 
 fallen back to our right. We halted where the road 
 began to descend, v/aiting until a place suitable for 
 action could be found. Up to this time there was 
 only infantry skirmishing, not a cannon having been 
 fired on either side, when, as we stood quietly by our 
 guns, a Federal shell burst in our midst with a tre- 
 mendous crash. None of us heard the report of the 
 gun that sent it, or knew from what direction it 
 came, but the accuracy with which we had been lo- 
 cated in the dense forest was not comforting. 
 
 Soon after this, our attention was attracted by 
 the approach, along the road in our front, of ten or 
 twelve horsemen, riding leisurely toward us, one of 
 whom bore a banner of unusually large size. As 
 they passed, the most conspicuous figure in the party 
 
130 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 was a Federal officer clad in brilliant uniform and 
 mounted on a superb bay horse, who with several 
 other prisoners was being escorted by a squad of 
 cavalry. The banner was the flag of New York 
 State, with the field of white-satin emblazoned with 
 the coat-of-arms of the Empire State and all elabor- 
 ately decorated with flowing cords and tassels. The 
 officer I afterwards learned had been at West Point 
 with Gen. Fitz Lee, and asked that his beautiful 
 animal be given to this former friend — and the 
 horse became the mount of Lieut. John Lee, a 
 brother of the General. 
 
 After remaining here for an hour, and our officers 
 finding no open ground for battle, and no enemy in 
 sight except some videttes who saluted us with an 
 occasional Minie-ball, we countermarched one-half 
 mile in a drenching rain and went into park. Mean- 
 while, a brisk musketry fire had extended along the 
 infantry lines, and soon after halting two of our 
 battery horses fell dead, struck by their stray bul- 
 lets. It was during this contest, in the pouring rain, 
 that General Jackson, on receiving a message from 
 a brigadier that his ammunition was wet, and he 
 feared he could not hold on, replied, "Tell him to 
 hold his ground. If his guns will not go off, neither 
 will the enemy's." 
 
 Before the firing ceased, which continued through 
 the twilight, Major-General Kearney, mistaking a 
 line of Confederates for his own men, rode almost 
 into their midst before discovering his error. He 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 131 
 
 wheeled his horse, and, as he dashed off, leaning for- 
 ward on the horse's neck, received a bullet in his 
 back and fell dead upon the field. Next day his 
 body was returned to his friends under flag of truce. 
 From Chantilly, or Ox Hill, as this battle was 
 called by Confederates and Federals, respectively, 
 we reached Leesburg, the county-seat, by a march of 
 thirty miles due north into Loudoun County, and a 
 mile or two east of this attractive town went into 
 bivouac about sunset in a beautiful grassy meadow 
 which afforded what seemed to us a downy couch, 
 and to the horses luxuriant pasturage, recalling 
 former and better days. Next morning, while lying 
 sound asleep wrapped in my blanket, I became pain- 
 fully conscious of a crushing weight on my foot. 
 Opening my eyes, there stood a horse almost over 
 me, quietly cropping the grass, with one forefoot 
 planted on one of mine. Having no weapon at hand, 
 I motioned and yelled at him most lustily. Being 
 the last foot put down it was the last taken up, and, 
 turning completely around, he twisted the blanket 
 around the calks of his shoe, stripped it entirely off 
 of me, and dragged it some yards away. There be- 
 ing no stones nor other missiles available, I could 
 only indulge in a storm of impotent rage, but, not- 
 withstanding the trampling I had undergone, was 
 able "to keep up with the procession." 
 
 The morning was a beautiful one, the sun having 
 just risen in a clear sky above the mists overhang- 
 ing and marking the course of the Potomac a mile 
 
132 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 to the east, and lighting up the peaks of the Blue 
 Ridge to the west. The country and scenery were 
 not unhke, and equal to the prettiest parts of the 
 Valley. Circling and hovering overhead, calling 
 and answering one another in their peculiarly plain- 
 tive notes, as if disturbed by our presence, were the 
 gray plover, a bird I had never before seen. The 
 environment was strikingly peaceful and beautiful, 
 and suggestive of the wish that the Federals, whom 
 we had literally whipped out of their boots and 
 several other articles of attire, and who had now 
 returned to their own country, would remain there, 
 and allow us the same privilege. 
 
 But General Lee took a different view of it, and 
 felt that the desired object would be more effectu- 
 ally accomplished by transferring the war into their 
 own territory. So before noon we were again 
 "trekking," and that, too, straight for the Potomac. 
 Orders had again been issued forbidding the can- 
 noneers riding on the caissons anl limbers ; but, in 
 crossing the Potomac that day, as the horses were 
 in better shape and the ford smooth, Captain 
 Poague gave us permission to mount and ride over 
 dry-shod. For which breach of discipline he was 
 put under arrest and for several days rode — solemn 
 and downcast — in rear of the battery, with the firm 
 resolve, no doubt, that it was the last act of charity 
 of which he would be guilty during the war. Lieu- 
 tenant Graham was in command. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 MARYLAND MY DAY IN FREDERICK CITY 
 
 We were now in Maryland, September 5, 1862. 
 From accounts generally, and more particularly 
 from the opinions expressed by the Maryland mem- 
 bers of our battery, we were in eager anticipation of 
 seeing the whole population rise to receive us with 
 open arms, and our depleted ranks swelled by the 
 younger men, impatient for the opportunity to help 
 to achieve Southern independence. The prospect of 
 what was in store for us when we reached Balti- 
 more, as pictured by our boys from that city, filled 
 our minds with such eager yearnings that our impa- 
 tience to rush in could scarcely be restrained. On 
 the evening of our arrival within the borders of the 
 State, with several companions, I took supper at the 
 house of a Southern sympathizer, who said much 
 to encourage our faith. 
 
 In a day of two we were approaching Frederick 
 City. Strict orders had been issued against forag- 
 ing or leaving the ranks, but Steve Dandridge and 
 I determined to take the bit in our teeth and en- 
 deavor to do the town for one day at all hazards. 
 Knowing the officers and provost-guards would be 
 on the alert and hard to evade after the town was 
 reached, we concluded, in order to be safe from their 
 observation, to accomplish that part of our plan be- 
 
 133 
 
134 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 forehand. A field of corn half a mile from the city 
 afforded us good cover till well out of sight. Then, 
 by "taking judicious advantage of the shrubbery," 
 we made our way into a quiet part of the city, and, 
 after scaling a few picket fences, came out into a 
 cross-street remote from the line of march. Steve 
 was the fortunate possessor of a few dollars in 
 greenbacks, my holdings being a like sum in Con- 
 federate scrip. 
 
 As previously mentioned, our extra baggage — and 
 extra meant all save that worn on our backs — had 
 been left weeks before near the banks of the Rapi- 
 dan, so that our apparel was now in sad plight. 
 Dandridge had lost his little cadet-cap while on a 
 night march, and supplied its place from the head 
 of a dead Federal at Manassas, his hair still pro- 
 truding freely, and burnt as "brown as a pretzel 
 bun." The style of my hat was on the other ex- 
 treme. It had been made to order by a substantial 
 hatter in Lexington, enlisted, and served through 
 the war on one head after another. It was a tall, 
 drab-colored fur of conical shape, with several rows 
 of holes punched around the crown for ventilation. 
 I still wore the lead-colored knit jacket given me by 
 "Buck" Ranson during the Banks campaign. This 
 garment was adorned with a blue stripe near the 
 edges, buttoned close at the throat, and came down 
 well over the hips, fitting after the manner of a 
 shirt. My trousers, issued by the Confederate 
 Quartermaster Department, were fashioned in North 
 
Edward A. Moore 
 
 (March. 1862) 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 135 
 
 Carolina, of a reddish-brown or brick-dust color, 
 part wool and part cotton, elaborate in dimensions 
 about the hips and seat, but tapering and small at 
 the feet, in imitation, as to shape and color, of those 
 worn by Billy Wilson's Zouaves at first Manassas. 
 This is an accurate description of our apparel. 
 Among our fellow-soldiers it attracted no especial 
 attention, as there were many others equally as 
 striking. Very naturally, we were at first eyed with 
 suspicion by the people we met, and when we in- 
 quired for a place to get refreshments were directed 
 "down yonder" ; in fact anywhere else than where 
 
 we were. 
 
 We soon found a nice little family grocery-store ; 
 that is, one kept by a family, including among others 
 two very comely young women. Here we found 
 O'Rourke, an Irishman of our company, who had a 
 talent for nosing out good things— both solids and 
 liquids. We were served with a good repast of na- 
 tive wine, bread, butter, etc. ; and, in case we should 
 not have leisure for milder beverages, had a canteen 
 filled with whiskey. 
 
 While enjoying our agreeable cheer, a man about 
 thirty years of age came in, he said, to make our 
 acquaintance. He was quite a sharp-looking fellow, 
 with small, keen black eyes, a "glib" tongue, and told 
 us that he was an out-and-out rebel, proud to meet 
 us and ready to oblige. Steve forthwith proposed, 
 as evidence of his good-will, an exchange of head- 
 gear. He dilated eloquently on the historic value of 
 
136 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 his own cap, and, while it did not entirely suit him, 
 exposed as he was to the weather, it would be be- 
 coming to a city gentleman, besides reviving the 
 most pleasant associations as a souvenir ; and, more- 
 over, the hat the stranger wore was most suitable for 
 a soldier and would do good service to the cause. At 
 length the exchange was made and, Steve having 
 donned the nice black hat, we took our leave. We 
 had scarcely walked a square when our attention 
 was attracted by the sound of rapid footsteps ap- 
 proaching from the rear, and, turning, we saw our 
 new and interesting acquaintance coming at a run. 
 As he passed us, with a high bound he seized the 
 hat from Dandridge's head, threw the cap on the 
 pavement, and disappeared like a flash around the 
 corner. 
 
 While seated in a confectionery, enjoying a water- 
 melon we had purchased at a nearby fruitstand, a 
 gentleman came in and insisted on presenting us with 
 a bottle of blackberry brandy, which he recom- 
 mended as an excellent tonic. We declined his offer, 
 a little suspicious as to the nature of the liquor, but, 
 as he accepted our invitation to partake of our 
 melon, we compromised by joining him in a drink 
 of the brandy, and found it so palatable we regretted 
 not having accepted his proposed present of the 
 whole bottle. Here, with boyish delight, we laid in 
 a supply of confectionery. 
 
 Passing along the street soon after this, we were 
 accosted by a venerable-looking gentleman, who 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 137 
 
 stopped us and inquired, very modestly, if there was 
 any way in which he could be of service to us. We 
 could suggest none. He then intimated that we 
 might be a little short of current funds. We could 
 not deny that our funds were somewhat short and 
 not very current. He offered us some greenbacks, 
 of which we accepted a dollar, asking him to try one 
 of our Confederate dollars instead, which he declined 
 to do, but expressed the hope, in a very delicate way, 
 that all of the Confederate soldiers would so con- 
 duct themselves as to show the Marylanders of 
 Union proclivities what gentlemen they really were. 
 Our next experience was rather trying, for me at 
 least, as events will show. Dandridge remembered 
 that he had a lady friend in the city, and proposed 
 that we hunt her up and pay a call. We discussed 
 the subject, I thinking such assurance out of the 
 question; but he said he knew her "like a book," that 
 she had visited at "The Bower," his family home; 
 would excuse our appearance, and be charmed to 
 see us. He knew that, when in Frederick City, she 
 visited at a Mr. Webster's, whose handsome resi- 
 dence we succeeded in locating, and were soon at the 
 door. The bell was answered by a tall, dignified- 
 looking gentleman of about forty- five years, with a 
 full brown beard, who, standing in the half-open 
 door, looked inquiringly as to the object of our 
 
 visit. Dandridge asked if Miss was in. He 
 
 replied she was, and waited as if inclined to ask, 
 "What business is that of yours?" Dandridge cut 
 
138 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 the interview short by saying, '*My name is Dand- 
 ridge, and I wish to see her. Come in, Ned." We 
 walked in, and were asked to be seated in the hall. 
 
 Presently Miss appeared. She seemed at first, 
 
 and doubtless was, somewhat surprised. Dandridge, 
 though, was perfectly natural and at ease, intro- 
 duced me as if I were a general, and rattled away 
 in his usual style. She informed him that another 
 of his lady friends was in the house, and left us to 
 bring her in. To me the situation was not of the 
 kind I had been seeking and, rising, I said, "Steven, 
 if you have time before the ladies return to manu- 
 facture a satisfactory explanation of my absence, do 
 so; otherwise, treat the matter as if you had come 
 alone," and I vanished. Dandridge was invited to 
 remain to dinner, was sumptuously feasted and en- 
 tertained by the host, and to my astonishment 
 brought me a special invitation to return with him 
 the following day and dine with the household. 
 Other engagements, however, prevented my going. 
 About four p. M. I met Joe Shaner, of Lexington, 
 and of our battery, on the street. His gun having 
 met with some mishap the day previous, had fallen 
 behind, and had now just come up and passed 
 through the town. Joe was wo fully dejected, and de- 
 plored missing, as one would have imagined, the 
 opportunity of his life — a day in such a city, teem- 
 ing with all that was good. But little time now re- 
 mained before evening roll-call, when each must 
 give an account of himself. He was hungry, tired, 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 139 
 
 and warm, and I felt it my duty to comfort him as 
 far as possible. I asked him how he would like a 
 taste of whiskey. "It's just what I need," was his 
 quiet reply, and before I had time to get the strap 
 off of my shoulder he dropped on one knee on the 
 curb-stone and had my canteen upside down to his 
 mouth, obHvious of those passing by. He had no 
 money, but, being a messmate, I invested the rem- 
 nant of my change for his benefit, but found it 
 necessary to include a weighty watermelon, to make 
 out his load to camp. 
 
 The next acquaintance I met was George Bedin- 
 ger, whom I found, clad a la mode, standing in a 
 hotel-door with an expression of calm satisfaction 
 on his face. As I came up to him, carrying my re- 
 cent purchases tied in a bandana handkerchief, and 
 stood before him, he scanned me from head to foot, 
 said not a word, but fell back with a roar of laugh- 
 ter. Gay, brilliant Bedinger, whose presence im- 
 parted an electric touch to those around him ; I shall 
 ne'er see his like again! 
 
 The sun was now setting; camp was two miles 
 away. Thither I set out, cheered by the assurance 
 that, whatever punishment befell, I had had a day. 
 Arriving there, my apprehensions were relieved, 
 possibly because offenses of the kind were too num- 
 erous to be handled conveniently. About dusk that 
 evening a free fight between the members of our 
 company and those of Raine's battery, of Lynch- 
 burg, was with difficulty prevented by the officers of 
 
142 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Heights, the extreme north end of the Blue Ridge 
 in Virginia, at the base of which flowed the Shenan- 
 doah River, and now held by onr artillery, as 
 were also Maryland Heights, across the Potomac, 
 while various lines of infantry lay concealed along 
 the banks of both rivers and intervening valleys, 
 completely enveloping the Federal position. 
 
 The morning was still and clear, giving us a full 
 view of the lines of the lofty mountains. Simul- 
 taneously the great circle of artillery opened, all fir- 
 ing to a common center, while the clouds of smoke, 
 rolling up from the tops of the various mountains, 
 and the thunder of the guns reverberating among 
 them, gave the idea of so many volcanoes. 
 
 The contrast between the conditions and the 
 scene presented as I viewed the surroundings five 
 years later, during Christmas, 1867, is too striking 
 to be forgotten. 
 
 On the face of the country, mountain, field and 
 forest lay a deep snow and on this a sleet had fallen, 
 encasing every tree, shrub and fence in a glassy 
 coating; and as I sped along the highway behind 
 jingling sleigh-bells, seated by a young lady uncom- 
 mon fair, the morning sun blazing through the 
 mountain gorge cut by the rivers, and reflected from 
 myriads of sparkling icy prisms, made a scene of 
 dazzling beauty. 
 
 The fire of the Federals in the unequal contest 
 made no perceptible impression, not even on the lines 
 of infantry which had begun closing in from all 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 143 
 
 sides for the final charge. Before they (the in- 
 fantry) were within musket range, a horseman bear- 
 ing a large piece of tent-cloth swept along the crest 
 of Bolivar Heights. The doubtful color of the flag 
 displayed prevented an immediate cessation of the 
 Confederate fire. It proved to be in token of sur- 
 render, but after its appearance I saw a shot from 
 our second piece strike so near a horseman riding 
 at speed along the heights as to envelop horse and 
 rider in its smoke and dust. 
 
 The whole affair, devoid, as it was, of ordinary 
 danger, was one of thrilHng interest. Our com- 
 manding position gave us a full view of the exten- 
 sive and varied terrain, a thing of rare occurrence 
 to other than general officers. In addition to this, 
 the fact that we had defeated our antagonists, usu- 
 ally in superior numbers, in battle after battle 
 throughout a long campaign, tended to confirm us 
 in the opinion that we could down them every time, 
 and that the contest must, at no distant day, end in 
 our favor. The number of troops surrendered was 
 11,500, with seventy-three pieces of artillery, suffi- 
 cient to supply our batteries for some time. It was 
 comparatively a bloodless victory, though the com- 
 manding officer, Colonel Miles, was killed at the last 
 moment, and the terms of surrender arranged by 
 General White, who had fallen back to this place 
 from Martinsburg. I saw their artillery as it was 
 driven out and turned over to us, supplied with most 
 excellent equipments, and horses sleek and fat. 
 
144 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 As some time would be consumed in handling the 
 prisoners and the transfer of arms and stores, I set 
 out in the afternoon for Charlestown, and, as usual, 
 went to my friends — the Ransons. After a refresh- 
 ing bath I donned a clean white shirt and a pair of 
 light-checked trousers, and was ready to discuss the 
 events of the campaign with General Lindsay 
 Walker, who was also a guest of the house. About 
 nine o'clock at night I was joined by Dandridge, 
 who had been met in the town by his mother and 
 sisters from "The Bower," and, with light hearts 
 and full haversacks, we set out for camp seven miles 
 distant. 
 
 The Ranson family has several times been men- 
 tioned in these pages, as their home was a place 
 where, when hungry, I was fed and, when naked, 
 clothed. The oldest son, Tom, now a lawyer in 
 Staunton, Virginia, was my schoolfellow and class- 
 mate at college when a boy in Lexington. After 
 receiving a wound at Cross Keys in June, 1862, 
 when a lieutenant in the Fifty-second Virginia Regi- 
 ment, which incapacitated him for further service in 
 the infantry, he enlisted in the cavalry. By reason 
 of his familiarity with the topography of the coun- 
 try about Harper's Ferry and the lower portion of 
 the Valley, together with his indomitable pluck and 
 steady ner^'e, he was often employed as a scout, and 
 in this capacity frequently visited his home near 
 Charlestown. The residence, situated, as it was, a 
 quarter of a mile from and overlooking the town. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 145 
 
 ^\•as approached by a wide avenue leading by a gen- 
 tle ascent to the front gate, which stood about sev- 
 enty-five yards from the house. Owing to the com- 
 manding view thus afforded, it was a favorite place 
 for a Federal picket-post, so that, while a dangerous 
 place for a rebel soldier to venture, it offered many 
 facilities for obtaining valuable information. On one 
 occasion young Ranson spent three days in this home 
 while the Federal pickets were on constant watch 
 day and night at the front gate opening into the 
 lawn, and went in and out of the house at their con- 
 venience. Moreover, the negro servants of the fam- 
 ily knew of "Marse Tom's" presence, but looked and 
 acted negro ignorance to perfection when catechised. 
 When standing at a front window one afternoon 
 Tom saw a lady friend of the family approaching 
 the house from the town. On reaching the front 
 gate she, of course, was stopped by the sentinel and, 
 after a parley, refused admittance and required to 
 retrace her steps. Two hours later, much to their 
 surprise, she appeared in the family-room and sank 
 down completely exhausted, having entered the 
 house by a rear door, which she had reached after 
 making a detour of a mile or more to escape the 
 vigilance of the videttes in front. After recovering 
 breath she unburdened herself of her load, which 
 consisted, in part, of a pair of long-legged cavalry 
 boots, late issues of Northern newspapers, etc. This 
 load she had carried suspended from her waist and 
 concealed under the large hoop-skirt then worn by 
 
146 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 ladies. The newspapers and information of large 
 bodies of Federal troops being hurried by rail past 
 Harper's Ferry were delivered by young Ranson to 
 General Lee on the following day. 
 
 Throughout the preceding day, while occupied 
 about Harper's Ferry, we heard heavy cannonading 
 across the Maryland border, apparently eight or ten 
 miles from us. This had increased in volume, and 
 by sunset had evidently advanced toward us, as the 
 sound of musketry was distinctly heard. It proved 
 to be an attack on Gen. D. H. Hill's division and 
 other commands occupying the South Mountain 
 passes. After stubborn resistance the Confederates 
 had been forced to yield. So on reaching camp to- 
 ward midnight, after our visit to Charlestown, we 
 were not surprised to find the battery preparing to 
 move. With scarcely an hour's delay we were again 
 on the march, heading for Maryland. We arrived 
 at Shepherdstown before dawn, and while halting 
 in the road for half an hour Henry Lewis, driver at 
 my gun, overcome with sleep, fell sprawling from 
 his horse, rousing those about him from a similar 
 condition. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 INTO MARYLAND AGAIN BATTLE OF SHARPSBURG 
 
 WOUNDED RETURN TO WINCHESTER HOME 
 
 Half a mile below the town we forded the Poto- 
 mac for the third time, and by the middle of the 
 afternoon were on the ontskirts of Sharpsburg, fonr 
 miles from the river. On the opposite, or east, side 
 of this village are Antietam creek and valley; a mile 
 from the creek and parallel to it was a heavily 
 wooded mountain. It is not my design to attempt 
 a description of the battle which was fought on this 
 ground on the following day, generally conceded to 
 have been the fiercest of the war, but only to men- 
 tion what came under my observation or was especi- 
 ally associated therewith. 
 
 The unusual activity and aggressiveness on the 
 part of General McClellan, as evidenced by the fierce 
 attacks made on our forces in the South Mountain 
 passes for the two preceding days, were explained by 
 his being in possession of General Lee's order to his 
 subordinates. This order, or a copy of it, which 
 contained directions for the movements of the va- 
 rious portions of the Confederate army, including 
 the investment of Harper's Ferry, had been lost or 
 disposed of by some one in Frederick City, and when 
 this place was occupied, on September 13, by the 
 Federals, was delivered to General McClellan. Thus 
 
 147 
 
148 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 acquainted with the location and movements of each 
 division of the Confederate army, which was scat- 
 tered over a wide territory and separated by a river 
 and rugged mountains, it seems surprising that with 
 his army of 90,000 men he should not have practi- 
 cally destroyed General Lee's army of 40,000. Gen- 
 eral Lee, however, was informed early on the morn- 
 ing of the fourteenth that a copy of his order had 
 fallen into the hands of General McClellan. 
 
 This was done by a citizen of Frederick City w'ho 
 happened to be present when General McClellan re- 
 ceived it and heard him express satisfaction over 
 such a stroke of luck. This citizen at once went to 
 work to inform General Lee, which task he accom- 
 plished by passing through the Federal lines during 
 the niglit and informing General Stuart, who forth- 
 with communicated it to General Lee, who lost no 
 time in moving heaven and earth — the former by 
 prayer, we assume ; the latter by his authority over 
 men — to meet the emergency. Results proved how 
 wonderfully he succeeded. 
 
 As we moved past the town we saw neither any 
 of our troops nor those of the enemy, and heard no 
 firing. Altliough there was complete absence of the 
 usual prelude to battle, still the apprehension came 
 over us that something serious in that line was not 
 very remote, either in time or place. The command- 
 ers of both armies were conscious of the importance 
 of the impending contest, which perhaps explains the 
 extreme caution they exercised. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 149 
 
 After passing through a piece of woodland, we 
 entered a small field and came in distinct view of 
 two blue lines of battle, drawn up one in rear of the 
 other. On these we at once opened fire, and were 
 answered very promptly by a Federal battery in the 
 same quarter. While thus engaged we had a visi- 
 tor in the person of a young fellow who had just 
 been commissioned a lieutenant, having previously 
 been an orderly at brigade headquarters. Feeling 
 his newly acquired importance, he spurred his horse 
 around among the guns, calling out, "Let 'em have 
 it !" and the like, until, seeing our disgust at his im- 
 pertinent encouragement, and that we preferred a 
 chance to let him have it, he departed. Our next 
 visitor came in a different guise, and by a hint of 
 another kind was quickly disposed of. He, a man 
 of unusually large size, with sword dangling at his 
 side, came bounding from our right at a full run. 
 A large log a few steps in our rear was his goal 
 as a place of safety, and over it he leaped and was 
 instantly concealed behind it. He had scant time 
 to adjust himself before the log was struck a crash- 
 ing blow by a solid shot. He reappeared as part of 
 the upheaval; but, regaining his feet, broke for the 
 woods with the speed of a quarter-horse, and with a 
 greater confidence in distance than in logs. 
 
 It was now dark, and our range had been ac- 
 curately gotten. After each discharge of our op- 
 ponent's guns, what appeared to be a harmless 
 spark of fire, immovable as a star, repeatedly de- 
 
150 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 ceived us. It was the burning fuse in the head of 
 the shell which, coming straight toward us, seemed 
 stationary until the shell shot by or burst. Four 
 young mules drawing our battery-forge were 
 stampeded by these shells and ran off through the 
 woods, thus affording Pleasants, our blacksmith, 
 entertainment for the rest of the night. 
 
 Firing ceased on both sides at about eight o'clock, 
 and we passed through the woods to our left and 
 went into park on the opposite side. Still feeling 
 the comfort of my clean clothes, I enjoyed a quiet 
 night's rest on the top of a caisson, little heeding 
 the gentle rain which fell on my face. Our bivouac 
 was immediately by the "Straw-stacks," which 
 have been so generally referred to as landmarks in 
 this battle, and which were located in the open 
 ground near the forest which extended to the Dunk- 
 ard church. About seven o'clock next morning, 
 while standing with horses hitched and awaiting 
 orders, no engagement so far having taken place 
 near us, a shell of great size burst with a terrific 
 report. One fragment of it mortally wounded Sam 
 Moore, a driver of my gun, while another piece cut 
 off the forefoot of one of the horses in the team. 
 We soon transferred his harness to another horse 
 which we hitched in his stead and, as we went off 
 at a trot, the crippled horse took his place close by 
 where he was accustomed to work, and kept along- 
 side on three legs until his suffering was relieved 
 by a bullet in the brain. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON LSI 
 
 We had moved, to get out of range of missiles, 
 but the place to which we had just come was not an 
 improvement. While standing with the gun in 
 front turned in file at right angles to those follow- 
 ing, a twenty-pound shell swept by the six drivers 
 and their teams in the rear, just grazing them, then 
 striking the ground, ricocheted almost between the 
 forward driver and his saddle as he threw himself 
 forward on the horse's neck. I mention this in con- 
 trast with an occurrence later in the day, when one 
 shell killed or wounded all of the six horses in a 
 team, together with their three drivers. 
 
 Fighting along the line of four miles had become 
 general — done on our side chiefly by infantry. Jack- 
 son's corps occupied the left with a thin line of 
 men, and from it there was already a stream of 
 stragglers. Jackson, while sitting nearby on his 
 horse, watching the battle, was approached by a lad 
 of about thirteen years, who for some time had been 
 one of his orderlies. He began talking in a very 
 animated manner, pointing the while to different 
 parts of the field. Jackson kept his eyes on the 
 ground, but gave close attention to what was said. 
 The boy was Charles Randolph, and soon after this 
 became a cadet at the Virginia Military Institute, and 
 at the battle of New Market was left on the field 
 for dead. Fourteen years after the war, while visit- 
 ing in a neighboring county, I was introduced to a 
 Reverend Mr. Randolph, and, seeing the resem- 
 blance to the soldier-boy, I asked him about Sharps- 
 
152 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 burg, recalling the incident, and found he was the 
 lad. 
 
 The straggling already mentioned continually in- 
 creased, and seemed to give General Jackson great 
 concern. He endeavored, with the aid of his staff 
 officers who were present and the members of our 
 company, to stop the men and turn them back, but 
 without the least effect ; claiming, as they did, the 
 want of ammunition and the usual excuses. The 
 marvel was, how those remaining in line could have 
 withstood the tremendous odds against them; but, 
 from accounts, the enemy suffered the same experi- 
 ence, and in a greater degree. Up to this time, with 
 the exception of a return of our battery to the Dunk- 
 ard church, where we had fought the evening be- 
 fore, we had done nothing. At about ten o'clock 
 the indications were that if reinforcements could 
 not be promptly had serious consequences would 
 follow. But just after our return from the church 
 to General Jackson's place of observation we saw a 
 long column of troops approaching from the right. 
 This was McLaw's division of Longstreet's corps, 
 which had just reached the field. Their coming- 
 was most opportune, and but a short time elapsed 
 before the comparative quiet was interrupted — first 
 by volleys, followed by a continuous roar of battle. 
 
 Our battery was now ordered to the left of our 
 line, and on the way thither joined Raine's battery, 
 of Lynchburg, and a battery of Louisianians — eleven 
 guns in all. Besides the ordinary number of guns 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 153 
 
 accompanying infantry, we had to contend with 
 about thirty 32-pounders on the high ground in the 
 rear and entirely commanding that part of the field. 
 Li view of the superior odds against us, our orders 
 were to hold our positions as long as possible, then 
 to move to our left and occupy new ones. Why 
 such instructions were given was soon explained, as 
 the ground over which we passed, and where we 
 stopped to fire, was strewn with the dead horses and 
 the wrecks of guns and caissons of the batteries 
 which had preceded us. By the practice thus 
 afforded, the Federal batteries had gotten a perfect 
 range, and by the time our guns were unlimbered 
 we were enveloped in the smoke and dust of burst- 
 ing shells, and the air was alive with flying iron. At 
 most of the positions we occupied on this move it 
 was the exception when splinters and pieces of 
 broken rails were not flying from the fences which 
 stood in our front, hurled by shot and shell. 
 
 Working in the lead of one of the Louisiana 
 battery teams was a horse that frequently attracted 
 my admiration. A rich blood-bay in color, with 
 flowing black mane and tail, as he swept around in 
 the various changes with wide, glowing nostrils and 
 flecked with foam, in my eyes he came well up to 
 the description of the war-horse whose "neck was 
 clothed with thunder." 
 
 Moving as we had been doing, toward the left 
 of our line, we passed beyond that portion held by 
 regular infantry commands into what was defended 
 
154 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 by a mere show of force when scarcely any existed. 
 In charge of it was Gen. J. E. B. Stuart, who 
 demonstrated on this occasion his ability to accom- 
 plish what it would seem impossible for one man to 
 do. With a few skeleton regiments supplied with 
 numerous flags which he posted to show over the 
 crests of the ridges in our rear, as if there were 
 men in proportion, he himself took command of a 
 line of sharpshooters in our front. This skirmish- 
 line was composed of stragglers he had gathered 
 up, and whom he had transformed from a lot of 
 shirkers into a band of heroes. With black plume 
 floating, cheering and singing, back and forth along 
 the line he swept. 
 
 The Federals confronting us in the three blue 
 lines could not have been less than 8,000 men, who, 
 with their powerful artillery, should have utterly 
 overwhelmed the scant numbers handled by Stuart. 
 As the blue lines would start forward, calling to our 
 artillery to pour in the shells again, he would urge 
 on his sharpshooters to meet them half-way. The 
 failure of a strong force of Federals to advance 
 farther is explained, no doubt, by the fact that two 
 of their army corps and one division had suffered 
 terribly a short time before near the same ground. 
 
 Colonel Allan states, in his "Army of Northern 
 Virginia, 1862," page 409, ''Of Hooker's and Mans- 
 field's corps, and of Sedgwick's division, was noth- 
 ing left available for further operations" ; and Gen- 
 eral Palfrey, the Northern historian, says, "In less 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 155 
 
 time than it takes to tell it, the ground was strewn 
 with the bodies of the dead and wounded, while the 
 unwounded were moving off rapidly to the north." 
 (Palfrey, "Antietam and Fredericksburg," page 
 87.) 
 
 While engaged in one of these artillery duels a 
 thirty-two-pound shot tore by the gun and struck 
 close by Henry Rader, a driver, who was lying on 
 the ground, holding the lead-horses at the limber. 
 The shell tore a trench alongside of him, and hoisted 
 him horizontally from the ground. As he stag- 
 gered off, dazed by the shock, the horses swung 
 around to run, when young R. E. Lee, Jr., with 
 bare arms and face begrimed with powder, made 
 a dash from the gun, seized the bridle of each of the 
 leaders at the mouth, and brought them back into 
 position before the dust had cleared away. 
 
 In the constant changes from knoll to knoll, in 
 accordance with orders to "move when the fire be- 
 came too hot," some of the batteries with us with- 
 drew, perhaps prematurely. In this way the Rock- 
 bridge guns were left to receive the whole of the 
 enemy's fire. In just such a situation as this, it not 
 being to our liking, I asked Lieutenant Graham if 
 we should pull out when the others did. Before he 
 could answer the question a shell burst at our gun, 
 from which an iron ball an inch in diameter struck 
 me on the right thigh-joint, tearing and carrying 
 the clothes in to the bone. I fell, paralyzed with 
 excruciating pain. Graham rode off, thinking I was 
 
156 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 killed, as he afterward told me. The pain soon sub- 
 sided, and I was at first content to lie still ; but, see- 
 ing the grass and earth around constantly torn up, 
 and sometimes thrown on me, I made fruitless 
 efforts to move. The strict orders against assisting 
 the wounded prevented my being carried off until 
 the firing had ceased, when I was taken back about 
 fifty yards and my wound examined by two sur- 
 geons from the skeleton regiments, who treated me 
 with the utmost kindness, thinking, perhaps, from 
 my clean white shirt, that I was an officer. An hour 
 later my gun came by, and I was put on a caisson 
 and hauled around for an hour or two more. 
 
 It was about this time that what was left of the 
 battery was seen by General Lee, and the interview 
 between him and his son took place. To give an 
 idea of the condition of the battery, I quote from 
 "Recollections and Letters of General Lee," by 
 R. E. Lee, Jr., page 77 : 
 
 "As one of the Army of Northern Virginia I 
 occasionally saw the Commander-in-Chief, or passed 
 the headquarters close enough to recognize him and 
 mem1)ers of his staff'; but a private soldier in Jack- 
 son's corps did not have much time during that cam- 
 paign for visiting, and until the battle of Sharps- 
 burg I had no opportunity of speaking to him. On 
 that occasion our battery had been severely handled, 
 losing many men and horses. Having three guns 
 disabled, we were ordered to withdraw and, while 
 moving back, we passed General Lee and several of 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 157 
 
 his staff grouped on a little knoll near the road. 
 Having no definite orders where to go, our captain, 
 seeing the commanding General, halted us and rode 
 over to get some instructions. Some others and my- 
 self went along to see and hear. General Lee was 
 dismounted with some of his staff around him, a 
 courier holding his horse. Captain Poague, com- 
 manding our battery, the Rockbridge Artillery, sa- 
 luted, reported our condition, and asked for instruc- 
 tions. The General listened patiently, looked at us, 
 his eyes passing over me without any sign of recog- 
 nition, and then ordered Captain Poague to take the 
 most serviceable horses and men, man the unin- 
 jured gun, send the disabled part of his command 
 back to refit, and report to the front for duty. As 
 Poague turned to go, I went up to speak to my 
 father. When he found out who I was he con- 
 gratulated me on being well and unhurt. I then 
 said, 'General, are you going to send us in again?' 
 'Yes, my son,' he replied, with a smile, 'you all must 
 do what you can to help drive these people back.' 
 In a letter to Mrs. Lee, General Lee says, 'I have 
 not laid eyes on Rob since I saw him in the battle 
 of Sharpsburg, going in with a single gun of his, 
 for the second time, after his company had been 
 withdrawn in consequence of three of its guns hav- 
 ing been disabled. . . .' " 
 
 Held by a companion on the caisson, as it was 
 driven toward our right, jolting over the partly 
 torn-down fences and exposed to far-reaching mis- 
 
158 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 siles, I had an opportunity of seeing other portions 
 of the battlefield. We stopped for a time on the 
 ridge overlooking the village almost enveloped in 
 the flames of burning buildings, while flocks of ter- 
 rified pigeons, driven hither and thither by the 
 screaming and bursting shells, flew round and 
 round in the clouds of smoke. In hearing, from be- 
 yond and to the left of the village, was the fighting 
 at "Bloody Lane," a sunken road which was almost 
 filled with the dead of both sides when the day 
 closed. As was also that at "Burnside Bridge," a 
 mile southeast of the town, for the possession of 
 which Burnside's corps and Toombs's Georgians 
 contended till late in the afternoon. I was not 
 averse to leaving this scene when the disabled cais- 
 son proceeded, and reached the pike. 
 
 A mile farther on I was deposited on the road- 
 side, near the brigade field-hospital ; and, completely 
 exhausted, was carried into the yard of a neat brick 
 cottage by two stalwart Alleghany Roughs and laid 
 beside their captain, John Carpenter. The place, 
 inside and out, was filled with wounded men. Car- 
 penter insisted on my taking the last of his two- 
 ounce vial of whiskey, which wonderfully revived 
 me. Upon inquiry, he told me he had been shot 
 through the knee by a piece of shell and that the 
 surgeons wanted to amputate his leg, but, calling 
 my attention to a pistol at his side, said, "You see 
 that? It will not be taken ofY while I can pull a 
 trigger." He entirely recovered, and led his bat- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 159 
 
 tery into the next battle, where he was again se- 
 verely wounded. That the history of the four Car- 
 penter brothers of Alleghany County, Virginia, has 
 not been recorded is a misfortune. As already men- 
 tioned, Joe, the oldest, and captain of the Alleghany 
 Rough Battery, was mortally wounded near us at 
 Cedar Mountain. John, who succeeded him as cap- 
 tain, after being w^ounded at Sharpsburg, was again 
 wounded at Fredericksburg in 1862, where he was 
 twice carried from the field, and as often worked 
 his way back to his gun. In Early's campaign in 
 1864 he lost his right arm. In the same campaign 
 his next younger brother, Ben, lieutenant in the 
 same company, was shot through the lungs. The 
 wounds of neither had healed when they received 
 news, at their home, of the surrender at Appomat- 
 tox. Mounting their horses, they set out for Gen. 
 Joe Johnston's army in North Carolina, but, on 
 arriving at Lexington, Virginia, heard of the sur- 
 render of that army. The fourth and youngest bro- 
 ther lost a leg near the close of the war. Like all 
 true heroes, their modesty was as striking as their 
 courage and patriotism. 
 
 On the following day at our hospital the heap of 
 amputated legs and arms increased in size until it 
 became several feet in height, while the two armies 
 lay face to face, like two exhausted monsters, each 
 waiting for the other to strike. 
 
 About sundown that afternoon I was put in an 
 ambulance with S. R. Moore, of the College com- 
 
160 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 pany, who was in a semi-conscious state, having 
 been struck on the brow, the ball passing out back 
 of the ear. The distance to Shepherdstown was 
 only three miles, but the slow progress of innumer- 
 able trains of wagons and impedimenta generally, 
 converging at the one ford of the Potomac, delayed 
 our arrival until dawn the next morning. About 
 sunrise we were carried into an old deserted frame 
 house and assigned to the bare floor for beds. My 
 brother David, whose gun had remained on picket 
 duty on this side of the river, soon found me, and 
 at once set about finding means to get me away. The 
 only conveyance available was George Bedinger's 
 mother's carriage, but my brother's horse — the same 
 brute that had robbed me of my bedding at Lees- 
 burg — now refused to work. 
 
 The booming of cannon and bursting of shells 
 along the river at the lower end of the town ad- 
 monished us that our stay in the desolate old house 
 must be short, and, as brigade after brigade marched 
 by the door, the apprehension that "they in whose 
 wars I had borne my part" would soon "have all 
 passed by," made me very wretched. As a last re- 
 sort, I was lifted upon the back of this same ob- 
 streperous horse and, in great pain, rode to the bat- 
 tery, which was camped a short distance from the 
 town. 
 
 S. R. Moore was afterward taken to the Bedin- 
 gers' residence, where he remained in the enemy's 
 
^^m^ 
 
 n 
 
 R. T. Barton 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 161 
 
 lines until, with their permission, he was taken home 
 by his father some weeks later. 
 
 David Barton, a former member of our company, 
 but now in command of Cutshaw's battery, kindly 
 sent his ambulance, with instructions that I be taken 
 to his father's house in Winchester, which place, in 
 company with a wounded man of his battery, I 
 reached on the following day. At Mr. Barton's I 
 found my cousin and theirs, Robert Barton, . of 
 Rockbridge, on sick-leave, and a Doctor Grammer, 
 who dressed my wound ; and, although unable to 
 leave my bed, I intensely enjoyed the rest and kind- 
 ness received in that hospitable home, which was 
 repeatedly made desolate by the deaths of its gal- 
 lant sons who fell in battle. 
 
 Marshall, the eldest, and heutenant in artillery, 
 was killed on the outskirts of Winchester in May, 
 1862. David, the third son, whom I have just men- 
 tioned, was killed in December of the same year. 
 Strother, the second son, lost a leg at Chancellors- 
 ville and died soon after the war; and Randolph, the 
 fourth son, captain on the staff of the Stonewall 
 Brigade, and now a distinguished lawyer in Balti- 
 more, was seven times wounded, while Robert, a 
 member of our battery, and a gallant soldier, was 
 the only one of the five brothers in the service who 
 survived the war unscathed. Our mutual cousin, 
 Robert Barton of the Rockbridge Cavalry, was shot 
 
162 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 through the lungs in Early's Valley campaign, and 
 left within the enemy's lines, where, nursed by his 
 sister, his life hung in the balance for many days. 
 
 The following copy of a letter from Gen. J. E. B. 
 Stuart to Miss Virginia Barton is of interest : 
 
 "Center viLLE, Feb. 7, 1862. 
 "My Dear Miss Barton : 
 
 "I received your note just as I was upon the point 
 of granting your brother a furlough. It greatly 
 enhances the pleasure it afforded me to grant it, to 
 know how dear a sister he has to receive him at 
 home. 
 
 "I avail myself of this opportunity to express my 
 very high appreciation of the conspicuous gallantry 
 he has displayed on all occasions, and to assure you 
 that he is a cavaher of whom a sister and a country 
 may be justly proud. 
 
 "Hoping when the war is ended and peace once 
 more smiles on old Virginia, to do myself the honor 
 to make the acquaintance of the fair young Virginia, 
 I am very truly and sincerely, 
 
 "Your well-wisher, 
 
 "J. E. B. Stuart." 
 
 After a sojourn of a few days, leave to go home 
 was given me by the department surgeon, and at 
 four o'clock in the morning, with young Boiling. 
 Barton and Reid serving as my crutches (on their 
 way to the Virginia Military Institute), I was put 
 in the stage-coach at the front door and driven to 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 163 
 
 the hotel, where several Baltimoreans, who were 
 returning from Northern prisons, got in. One of 
 them was especially noticeable, as his face was much 
 pitted by smallpox, and with his Confederate uni- 
 form he wore a wide-brimmed straw hat. They 
 were a jolly set, and enlivened the journey no little. 
 A square or two farther on, two wounded officers 
 came from a house at which we stopped, and in an 
 authoritative manner demanded seats, inside, all of 
 which were occupied. They said they were officers 
 in a celebrated command and expected correspond- 
 ing consideration. The fellow with the hat told 
 them his party was just from Fort Delaware, where 
 little distinction was paid to rank, but if they re- 
 quired exalted positions they ought to get on top of 
 the coach. The officers said they were wounded and 
 could not climb up. "I was wounded, too — 
 mortally," came from under the hat. After joking 
 them sufficiently, the Baltimoreans kindly gave up 
 their seats and mounted to the top. 
 
 At the towns at which we stopped to change 
 horses, the boys who collected around were enter- 
 tained with wonderful stories by our friends from 
 Baltimore. Just outside of one of these stopping- 
 places, we passed an old gentleman, probably refu- 
 geeing, who wore a tall beaver hat and rode a pie- 
 bald pony. To the usual crowd of lads who had 
 gathered around, they said they were going to give 
 a show in the next town and wanted them all to 
 come, would give them free tickets, and each a hat- 
 
164 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 ful of "goobers" ; then pointing to the old gentleman 
 on the spotted pony, who had now ridden up, said, 
 "Ah, there is our clown; he can give you full par- 
 ticulars." One hundred and thirty miles from the 
 battle-field of Sharpsburg the dawn of the second 
 day of our journey showed again the procession of 
 wounded men, by whom we had been passing all 
 night and who had bivouacked along the road as 
 darkness overtook them. 
 
 They were now astir, bathing each other's 
 wounds. The distance from Winchester to Staun- 
 ton is ninety-six miles, and the trip was made by our 
 stage in twenty-six hours, with stops only long 
 enough to change horses. 
 
 From nine to ten o'clock in the night I was utterly 
 exhausted, and felt that I could not go a mile farther 
 alive ; but rallied, and reached Staunton at six o'clock 
 in the morning, having been twenty-six hours on the 
 way. Here Sam Lyle and Joe Chester, of the Col- 
 lege company, detailed as a provost-guard, cared for 
 me until the next day, when another stage-ride of 
 thirty-six miles brought me to Lexington and home. 
 With the aid of a crutch I was soon able to get 
 about, but four months passed before I was again 
 fit for duty, and from the effects of the wound I am 
 lame to this day. 
 
 Since going into the service in March, 1862, six 
 months before, I had been in nine pitched battles, 
 about the same number of skirmishes, and had 
 marched more than one thousand miles — and this, 
 too, with no natural taste for war. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 RETURN TO ARMY IN WINTER-QUARTERS NEAR PORT 
 
 ROYAL 
 
 On December 13, 1862, the great first battle of 
 Fredericksburg had been fought, in which four men 
 — Montgomery, McCalpin, Fuller and Beard — in 
 my detachment had been killed, and others wounded, 
 while the second piece, standing close by, did not 
 lose a man. This section of the battery was posted 
 in the flat, east of the railroad. As I was not pres- 
 ent in this battle I will insert an account recently 
 given me by Dr. Robert Frazer, a member of the 
 detachment, who was severely wounded at the time : 
 
 "First battle of Fredericksburg, December 13, 
 1862. — We reached the field a little after sunrise, 
 having come up during the night from Port Royal, 
 where we had been engaging the enemy's gunboats. 
 The first section, under Lieutenant Graham, went 
 immediately into action in front of Hamilton's 
 Crossing. 
 
 "In conjunction with Stuart's horse artillery it 
 was our mission to meet Burnside's movement 
 against General Lee's right wing, resting on the 
 Rappahannock. With the exception of brief inter- 
 vals, to let the guns cool, we ceased firing only once 
 during the entire day, and this was to move about 
 
 165 
 
166 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 a hundred yards for a more effective position. Ex- 
 cepting the few minutes this occupied, our guns and 
 hmber-chests remained in the same position all day, 
 the caissons plying steadily between the ordnance- 
 train and the battle line, to keep up the stock of 
 ammunition. I do not recall the number of casual- 
 ties, but our losses were heavy. When we came to 
 make the change of position mentioned above, more 
 than half the horses were unable to take a single 
 step. One of the drivers, Fuller, was lying on the 
 ground, his head toward the enemy. A shell en- 
 tered the crown of his head and exploded in his 
 body ! Not long after this I heard some one calling 
 me, and, looking back, I saw 'Doc' Montgomery 
 prostrate. I ran to him and, stooping at his side, 
 began to examine his wound. 'There is nothing 
 you can do for me,' he said, 'I am mortally wounded, 
 and can live but a little while. Take a message for 
 my mother.' (His mother was a widow.) 'When 
 the battle is over, write and tell her how I died — at 
 my post — like a man — and ready to give my life 
 for the cause. Now, Frazer, pray for me.' When 
 the brief prayer was ended I resumed my place at 
 the gun. It was about this time, I think, that Pel- 
 ham came up and said, 'Well, you men stand kill- 
 ing better than any I ever saw.' A little later, just 
 after sunset, I received two severe wounds myself, 
 one of them disabling my right arm for life; and 
 so I had to commit brave 'Doc's' dying message for 
 his mother to other hands." 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 167 
 
 The third and fourth pieces, twenty-pound Par- 
 rott guns, were on the hill west of the railroad, and 
 there Lieutenant Baxter McCorkle, Randolph Fair- 
 fax and Arthur Robinson were killed, and Edward 
 Alexander lost an arm. Lieut. -Col. Lewis Cole- 
 man, professor of Latin at the University of Vir- 
 ginia, second in command of the battalion, while 
 standing by this gun received a mortal wound. This 
 section of the battery was exposed to a fire unsur- 
 passed in fierceness during the war. The ground, 
 when it arrived, was already strewn with dead 
 horses and wrecked batteries, and two horses that 
 were standing, with holes in their heads through 
 which daylight could be seen, were instantly killed 
 by other shots intended for our guns. 
 
 Captain Poague has since told me that the orders 
 General Jackson gave him as he came to the place 
 were, "to fire on the enemy's artillery till it became 
 too hot for him, and then to turn his guns on their 
 infantry," and that he, Poague, had stated this in 
 his official report, and the chief of artillery of the 
 corps, before forwarding the report, had asked him 
 if he was sure that these were General Jackson's 
 orders. He told him he was. The report was then 
 endorsed and so forwarded. 
 
 The scene, as described at the close of this battle 
 near nightfall, was a melancholy one. As the two 
 sections of the battery, which had separated and 
 gone to different portions of the field in the morn- 
 ing — the one to the heights, the other to the plain 
 
168 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 — met again, on the caissons of each were borne the 
 dead bodies of those of their number who had fal- 
 len, the wounded, and the harness stripped from 
 the dead horses. The few horses that had survived, 
 though scarcely able to drag the now empty ammu- 
 nition-chests, were thus again burdened. 
 
 After going into bivouac and the dead had been 
 buried, to clear the ground for a renewal of the 
 battle on the following day, the wagon-horses had 
 to be brought into requisition. These were driven 
 in pairs to the position on the bluff and, as lights 
 would attract the fire of the enemy, the dead horses 
 had to be found in the darkness, and with chains 
 dragged to the rear. The approach of the first in- 
 stalment to a line of infantry, through which it had 
 to pass and who were roused from sleep by the 
 rattling of chains and the dragging of the ponder- 
 ous bodies through brush and fallen timber, created 
 no little excitement, and a wide berth was given the 
 gruesome procession. By midnight the work had 
 been accomplished. 
 
 At dawn of the following day a fresh detach- 
 ment of men and horses having been furnished by 
 another battery for the fourth piece, our battery 
 again went into position. There it remained inac- 
 tive throughout the day, while the enemy's dead 
 within our lines were being buried by their own 
 men under flag of truce. On the night which fol- 
 lowed, as the two armies lay under arms, confront- 
 ing each other, a display of the aurora borealis, of 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 169 
 
 surpassing splendor and beauty, was witnessed. At 
 such times, from time immemorial, "shooting-stars," 
 comets, and the movements of the heavenly bodies 
 have been observed with profoundest interest as 
 presaging good or evil. On this occasion, with the 
 deep impress of what had just been experienced and 
 the apprehension of an even more determined con- 
 flict on the day next to dawn, it can readily be im- 
 agined that minds naturally prone to superstition 
 were thrilled with emotions and conjectures aroused 
 by the sight. At any rate, these "northern lights," 
 reinforced by the memory of the fearful carnage 
 so recently suffered, seem to have been interpreted 
 as a summons home — as the Northern hosts, like 
 the shifting lights, had vanished from view when 
 daylight appeared. 
 
 In January, 1863, with William McClintic, of our 
 company, I returned to the army, which was in 
 winter-quarters near Guiney's Station in CaroHne 
 County. 
 
 After arriving in a box-car at this station, about 
 midnight, during a pouring rain, we found one sec- 
 tion of the battery camped three miles from Port 
 Royal. The other section, to which I belonged, was 
 on picket twelve miles beyond — at Jack's Hill, over- 
 looking Port Tobacco Bay. The section near Port 
 Royal had comfortable winter-quarters on a hill- 
 side and was well sheltered in pine woods. The pic- 
 ture on the opposite page, is a copy from the origi- 
 nal, and a perfect representation by Edward Hyde, 
 
170 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 who, with Wilham Bolhng, Thomas McCorkle, Wil- 
 Ham McCHntic, A. S. Dandridge, G. W. Stewart, 
 David Moore, and myself, constituted the mess. The 
 homes of the other messes, at intervals, near. The 
 tent on the left was our sleeping apartment, accom- 
 modating six men ; the other two occupied a Yankee 
 tent-fly, not shown in the picture. We slept three 
 in a bed ; when weary of lying on one side, the word 
 to turn over was "when," and the movement was 
 executed simultaneously and with military precision. 
 The other structure was our kitchen and dining- 
 room, a semi-"dugout," with the fireplace in the 
 earthen wall. The little box attached to a log con- 
 tained our table-ware, if we had had a table, and 
 was just above the mess-chest. We had two meals 
 a day, consisting usually of meat and biscuit. Gen- 
 erally we had coffee, either genuine or rye, similar 
 in flavor to "postum." 
 
 When the number of biscuit turned out happened 
 not to be a multiple of eight, say fifty-seven, every 
 man in the mess took into account the odd one, and 
 to get through with the seven allotted to him, with- 
 out appearing over-anxious to secure it, with be- 
 coming propriety, and aware, too, that every other 
 man had the same ambition, brought into play an 
 exercise of talent that was not uninteresting. An 
 extra draught of coffee left in the pot was subject to 
 similar consideration and fell to the lot of him 
 whose throat could stand the highest degree of 
 temperature. More than once there were evidences 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 171 
 
 that the boiling process had not entirely ceased un- 
 til after it was swallowed. The plantation adjoin- 
 ing the one on which we were camped was owned 
 by a gentleman named Garrett, and at his barn 
 Wilkes Booth, who assassinated President Lincoln, 
 was afterwards overtaken and killed. 
 
 As most of my mess were in this section, I was 
 allowed to remain until the contents of my box 
 brought from home were consumed. One night 
 soon after my arrival, while making a visit to mern- 
 bers of another mess, Abner Arnold, one of my 
 hosts, pointing to several large, dark stains on the 
 tarpaulin which served as the roof of their shanty, 
 said, "Have you any idea what discolored those 
 places ?" As I had not, he said, "That's your blood ; 
 that is the caisson-cover on which you were hauled 
 around at Sharpsburg— and neither rain nor snow 
 can wash it out." 
 
 The infantry of the Stonewall Brigade was in 
 camp seven miles from us, toward the railroad. 
 Having ridden there one morning for our mail, I 
 met two men in one of their winter-quarters' 
 streets. One of them, wearing a citizen's overcoat, 
 attracted my attention. Then, noticing the scars 
 on his face, I recognized my former messmate, 
 Wash. Stuart, on his return to the battery for the 
 first time since his fearful wound at Winchester the 
 preceding May. His companion was Capt. Willie 
 Randolph, of the Second Virginia Regiment, both 
 of whom will be mentioned later. 
 
172 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 The chief sport of the troops in their winter- 
 quarters was snowbalHng, which was conducted on 
 regular military principles. Two brigades would 
 sometimes form in line of battle, commanded by 
 their officers, and pelt each other without mercy. In 
 one such engagement a whole brigade was driven 
 pell-mell through its camp, and their cooking uten- 
 sils captured by their opponents. 
 
 Once a week quite regularly an old negro man 
 came to our camp with a wagon-load of fine oysters 
 from Tappahannock. It was interesting to see some 
 of the men from our mountains, who had never 
 seen the bivalve before, trying to eat them, and hear 
 their comments. Our custom was to buy anything 
 to eat that came along, and so they had invested 
 their Confederate notes in oysters. One of them 
 gave some of my messmates an account of the time 
 his mess had had with their purchases. When it 
 was proposed that they sell their supply to us, he 
 said, "No, we are not afraid to tackle anything, and 
 we've made up our minds to eat what we've got on 
 hand, if it takes the hair off." 
 
 While in this camp, although it was after a five- 
 months' absence, I invariably waked about two min- 
 utes before my time to go on guard, having slept 
 soundly during the rest of the four hours. One 
 officer, always finding me awake, asked if I ever 
 slept at all. The habit did not continue, and had 
 not been experienced before. An instance of the 
 opposite extreme I witnessed here in an effort to 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 173 
 
 rouse Silvey, who was generally a driver. After 
 getting him on his feet, he was shaken, pnlled, and 
 dragged around a blazing fire, almost scorching 
 him, until the guard-officer had to give him up. If 
 feigning, it was never discovered. 
 
 The contents of my box having long since been 
 consumed, L with several others, was sent, under 
 command of Lieut. Cole Davis, to my section at 
 Jack's Hill. There we were quartered in some negro 
 cabins on this bleak hill, over which the cold winds 
 from Port Tobacco Bay had a fair sweep. On my 
 return from the sentinel's beat one snowy night I 
 discovered, by the dim firelight, eight or ten sheep 
 in our cabin, sheltering from the storm. The temp- 
 tation, with such an opportunity, to stir up a panic, 
 was hard to resist. But, fearing the loss of an eye 
 or other injury to the prostrate sleepers on the dirt 
 floor, by the hoof of a bucking sheep, I concluded 
 to forego the fun. After a stay of several weeks we 
 were ordered back to the other section, much to our 
 delight. In that barren region, with scant proven- 
 der and protected from the weather by a roof of 
 cedar-brush, our horses had fared badly, and showed 
 no disposition to pull when hitched to the guns that 
 were held tight in the frozen mud. To one of the 
 drivers, very tall and long of limb, who was trying 
 in vain with voice and spur to urge his team to do 
 its best, our Irish wit, Tom Martin, called out, "Pull 
 up your frog-legs, Tomlin, if you want to find the 
 baste ; your heels are just a-spurrin' one another a 
 foot below his belly!" 
 
174 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 We were delighted to be again in our old quar- 
 ters, where we were more in the world and guard 
 duty lighter. Several times before leaving this camp 
 our mess had visits from the two cousins, Lewis and 
 William Randolph, the first-named a captain in the 
 Irish Battalion, the second a captain in the Second 
 Virginia Regiment, who stopped over-night with 
 us, on scouting expeditions across the Rappahan- 
 nock in the enemy's lines, where Willie Randolph 
 had a sweetheart, whom he, soon after this, mar- 
 ried. Lewis Randolph told us that he had killed a 
 Federal soldier with a stone in the charge on the 
 railroad-cut at second Manassas ; that the man, who 
 was about twenty steps from him, was recapping 
 his gun, which had just missed fire while aimed at 
 Randolph's orderly-sergeant, when he threw the 
 stone. William Randolph said, "Yes, that's true ; 
 when we were provost-officers at Frederick, Mary- 
 land, a man was brought in under arrest and, look- 
 ing at Lewis, said, T've seen you before. I saw 
 you kill a Yankee at second Manassas with a stone,' 
 and then related the circumstances exactly." 
 
 William Randolph was six feet two inches in 
 height, and said that he had often been asked how 
 he escaped in battle, and his reply was, "By taking 
 a judicious advantage of the shrubbery." This, 
 however, did not continue to avail him, as he was 
 afterward killed while in command of his regiment, 
 beinsf one of the six commanders which the Second 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 175 
 
 Virginia Regiment lost — killed in battle — during 
 the war. 
 
 In March we moved from our winter-quarters to 
 Hamilton's Crossing, three miles from Fredericks- 
 burg, where we remained in camp, with several 
 interruptions, until May. Our fare here was greatly 
 improved by the addition of fresh fish, so abundant 
 at that season of the year in the Rappahannock and 
 the adjacent creeks. To a mountaineer familiar 
 with the habits of the wary trout and other fish that 
 are caught with hook and line, the manner of fish- 
 ing here was very novel. Of the herring and shad 
 left by the hundreds in the grass and shallows as the 
 tide receded, the soldiers had only to wade in and 
 with stick or bare hand to secure all they could 
 carry. Circling overhead was a concourse of fish- 
 hawks and eagles, each watching his chance to swoop 
 down on his prey, then ascending with his catch, 
 whose silvery sides gleamed in the sunlight like a 
 polished bayonet, run the gauntlet of his pursuers. 
 In April the great cavalry battle at Kelly's Ford, 
 forty miles above, was fought, in which the "Gal- 
 lant Pelham" was killed. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 SECOND BATTLE OF FREDERICKSBURG CHANCEL- 
 
 LORSVILLE WOUNDING AND DEATH OF STONE- 
 WALL JACKSON 
 
 The battle at Kelly's Ford was the forerunner of 
 the crossing of Hooker's army to our side of the 
 river, although this was delayed longer than was 
 expected. "Fighting Joe Hooker" having succeeded 
 Burnside as commander of the Army of the Poto- 
 mac, numbering 130.000, was the fourth Federal 
 general delegated to crush Lee, with less than 
 50,000, Longstreet's corps being still on the Virginia 
 peninsula. In the latter part of April we were 
 roused one morning before dawn to go into posi- 
 tion on the fatal hill in the bend of the railroad. 
 The various divisions of the army were already in 
 motion from their winter-quarters, and, as they 
 reached the neighborhood, were deployed in line of 
 battle above and below. 
 
 The high hills sloping toward the river on the 
 enemy's side were manned with heavy siege-guns, 
 from which shells were thrown at intervals as our 
 troops came into view. Here we lay for a day or 
 more, with guns unlimbered, awaiting the tedious 
 disposition of the various divisions. The bluff on 
 
 176 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 177 
 
 which our guns were posted, commanding, as it did, 
 an extensive view of the country, attracted many of 
 the officers, who had preceded their men, and, with 
 field-glasses, scanned the surroundings. I saw at 
 one time, within a few rods of where we stood. 
 Generals Lee, Jackson, D. H. and A. P. Hill, Early, 
 Rodes and Colston, besides a score of brigadiers. 
 At this time the enemy were moving across their 
 pontoon bridges and extending their skirmish-lines 
 on the right and left. 
 
 The only time I met General Jackson to speak to 
 him since he had left Lexington was when he rode 
 away from this group of officers. As I held aside 
 the limb of a tree in his w-ay, near our gun, he ex- 
 tended his hand and, as he gave me a hearty shake, 
 said, "How do you do, Edward?" A short time 
 after this, our battery had orders to fire a few 
 rounds, as a sort of "feeler," and the enemy at once 
 replied. The officers, not having been informed of 
 the order, were for a time exposed to an unneces- 
 sary and what might have proved very serious dan- 
 ger. Ho^^•ever, they withdrew before any damage 
 was done, although a large piece of shell which 
 flew past our gun gave General Colston a close call 
 as he tarried near it. After threatening weather, 
 the sun rose clear on the following morning. A 
 light mist which lay along the river soon disap- 
 peared, and again, as at Harper's Ferry, our ele- 
 vated position afforded a superb view. A level plain 
 extended to the river in our front and for some 
 
178 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 miles to the right, and as far as Fredericksburg (two 
 miles) to the left, and beyond the river the Stafford 
 Heights. 
 
 While we were standing admiring the scene, three 
 horses without riders came dashing from within the 
 Federal lines, and swept at full speed between the 
 two armies. They ran as if on a regular race-track 
 and conscious of the many spectators who cheered 
 them to their best. Then, veering in their course 
 from side to side, they finally shot through an open- 
 ing made to receive them into our lines, which raised 
 a "rebel yell," as if Jackson were passing by. One 
 of these horses trotted into our battery and was 
 caught and ridden by Sergeant Strickler, under the 
 name of "Sedgwick," to the close of the war. 
 
 Hooker's crossing the river at Fredericksburg 
 was only a feint, as the mass of his army crossed 
 near Chancellorsville, and thither our army went, 
 leaving Early's division, two other brigades and sev- 
 eral batteries, including ours, to oppose Sedgwick's 
 corps. After three days here, with occasional artil- 
 lery duels, Sedgwick recrossed the river, and Early, 
 supposing he would join Hooker, set out with his 
 command toward Chancellorsville. Before we had 
 gone three miles I heard General Barksdale, as he 
 rode along the column, ask for General Early, who 
 was a short distance ahead, and announce, "My 
 young men have told me that the Federals are re- 
 crossing the river." A few moments later, as the 
 two rode back together. General Early said, "If 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 179 
 
 that is the case, I must go back or they will get my 
 wagon-train." 
 
 We at once countermarched, and by eleven o'clock 
 were back in position on the same bluff. The fourth 
 detachment was in front and failed to get the order 
 to countermarch, and so kept on almost to Chancel- 
 lorsville, and did not rejoin us until eight o'clock 
 the next morning (Sunday), having spent the whole 
 night marching. 
 
 I will mention here a striking instance of what 
 I suppose could be called the "irony of fate." My 
 bedfellow, Stuart, as already stated, had been fear- 
 fully wounded at Winchester, his first battle. After 
 his return many months later, he often expressed 
 the greatest desire to pass through one battle unhurt, 
 and regarded his companions who had done so as 
 fortunate heroes. It was now Sunday morning and 
 there had been heavy firing for an hour or two about 
 Fredericksburg, and thither the third and fourth 
 pieces were ordered. As they were starting off, I 
 saw Stuart bidding good-by to several friends, and 
 I, not wishing to undergo a thing so suggestive, was 
 quietly moving off. But he called out, "Where is my 
 partner?" and came to me, looking so jaded after 
 his long night-march that his farewell made me 
 rather serious. In half an hour he was dead. As 
 he was going with his gun into position a case-shot 
 exploded close to him and three balls passed through 
 his body, any one of which would have been fatal. 
 
 Two other members of the battery, Henry Foutz 
 
180 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 and J. S. Agnor, were also killed in this engage- 
 ment. The position was a trying one. Two bat- 
 teries had already suffered severely while occupying 
 it, and the cannoneers of a third battery were lying 
 inactive by their guns as ours came into it. But in 
 less than an hour thereafter the enemy's guns were 
 outmatched ; at any rate, ceased firing. General 
 Hoke, who had witnessed the whole affair, came 
 and asked Major Latimer to introduce him to Cap- 
 tain Graham, saying he wanted to know the man 
 whose guns could do such execution. About noon 
 my section joined the others a short distance in rear 
 of this place on the hills overlooking Fredericks- 
 burg. 
 
 Soon after we had gotten together, the bodies of 
 our dead comrades were brought from the places at 
 which they had fallen, and William Boiling, Berke- 
 ley Minor and myself, messmates of Stuart, were 
 detailed to bury him. His body was taken in our 
 battery ambulance, which we accompanied, to the 
 Marye family cemetery near our old camp, and per- 
 mission gotten to bury it there. HI was ever utterly 
 miserable, it was on this Sunday afternoon as we 
 stood, after we had dug the grave, in this quiet 
 place, surrounded by a dense hedge of cedar, the 
 ground and tombstones overgrown with moss and 
 ivy, and a stillness as deep as if no war existed. Just 
 at this time there came timidly through the hedge, 
 like an apparition, the figure of a woman. She 
 proved to be Mrs. Marye; and, during the battle, 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 181 
 
 which had now continued four days, she had been 
 seeking shelter from the enemy's shells in the cellar 
 of her house. She had come to get a lock of Stuart's 
 hair for his mother, and her presence, now added to 
 that of our ambulance driver, as Minor read the 
 Episcopal burial service, made the occasion painfully 
 solemn. In less than an hour we were again with 
 the battery and in line of battle with the whole of 
 our battalion, twenty guns, all of which opened 
 simultaneously on what appeared to be a coltimn 
 of artillery moving through the woods in our front. 
 However, it proved to be a train of wagons, some of 
 which were overturned and secured by us the next 
 day. 
 
 Here we lay during the night with guns unlimb- 
 ered near Gen. "Extra Billy" Smith's brigade of in- 
 fantry. Next afternoon we had a fine view of a 
 charge by Early's division, with Brigadier-Generals 
 Gordon and Hoke riding to and fro along their 
 lines and the division driving the Federals from their 
 position along the crest of the hill. The greater 
 portion of the enemy's killed and wounded were 
 left in our hands. Many of the latter with whom 
 we talked were heartily sick of the war and longed 
 for the expiration of their term of service. This 
 series of battles, continuing, as it did, at intervals 
 for a week, was not yet done with. 
 
 After dark our battery was ordered to move 
 down toward Fredericksburg and occupy some earth- 
 works just outside of the town. We had been well 
 
182 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 in range of the siege-guns already, but now the only 
 hope was that they would overshoot us. As I was 
 on guard that night I had ample time, while pacing 
 the breastworks, for cogitation. I heard distinctly 
 the barking of the dogs and the clocks striking the 
 hours during the night. When morning came, a 
 dense fog had settled along the river, entirely con- 
 cealing us, and while it hung we were ordered to 
 pull out quietly. 
 
 Two hundred yards back from this place we 
 came into clear sunlight and, as we turned, saw an 
 immense balloon poised on the surface of the mist, 
 and apparently near enough to have pierced it with 
 a shell. Not a shot was fired at us — veiled, as we 
 were, by the mist — until we had gotten still farther 
 away, but then some enormous projectiles landed 
 around us. 
 
 A question that would naturally present itself to 
 one who had heard of the repeated victories won by 
 the Confederate army would be, "Why were no 
 decisive results?" By carefully studying the history 
 of the war, the inquirer could not fail to notice that 
 at every crisis either some flagrant failure on the 
 part of a subordinate to execute the duty assigned 
 to him occurred, or that some untoward accident be- 
 fell the Confederate arms. Conspicuous among the 
 latter was Jackson's fall at Chancellorsville. 
 
 That General Hooker seemed entirely ignorant 
 of the proximity of General Lee's army was dis- 
 closed by the discovery, by General Fitz Lee, that 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 183 
 
 the right flank of the Federal army was totally un- 
 guarded. 
 
 General Jackson, when informed of this, pro- 
 ceeded by a rapid march to throw his corps well to 
 the right and rear of this exposed wing, and by this 
 unexpected onset threw that portion of Hooker's 
 army into the utmost confusion and disorder. Fall- 
 ing night for a time checked his advance, but, while 
 making dispositions to push the advantage gained, 
 so as to envelope his adversary, he passed, with his 
 staff, outside of his picket line, and when returning 
 to re-enter was mortally wounded by his own men. 
 
 This May 4 closed the great effort of General 
 Hooker, with 132,000 men, to "crush" General Lee's 
 army of 47,000. The two last of the six days of 
 his experience in the effort probably made him 
 thankful that the loss of 20,000 of his force had 
 been no greater. 
 
 The mortal wounding of Jackson and his death 
 on the tenth more than offset the advantage of the 
 victory to the Confederates. His loss was deplored 
 by the whole army, especially by General Lee, and 
 to his absence in later battles, conspicuously at Get- 
 tysburg, was our failure to succeed attributed. In 
 fact General Lee said to a friend, after the war, that 
 with Jackson at Gettysburg our success would have 
 been assured — a feeling that was entertained 
 throughout the army. 
 
 On the evening of the fifth, rain, which seemed 
 invariably to follow a great battle, fell in torrents 
 
184 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 and we went into camp drenched to the skin. After 
 drying by a fire, I went to bed and slept for eighteen 
 hours. Being in our old position on the hill, we 
 converted it into a camp and there remained. 
 
 On that portion of the great plain which extended 
 along the railroad on our right we witnessed a grand 
 review of Jackson's old corps, now commanded by 
 General Ewell. The three divisions, commanded, 
 respectively, by Generals Ed. Johnson, Rodes and 
 Early, were drawn up one behind the other, with a 
 space of seventy-five yards between, and General 
 Lee, mounted on "Traveler" and attended by a full 
 staff and numerous generals, at a sweeping gallop, 
 made first a circuit of the entire corps, then in front 
 and rear of each division. One by one his attend- 
 ants dropped out of the cavalcade. Gen. Ed. John- 
 son escaped a fall from his horse by being caught 
 by one of his staff. Early soon pulled out, followed 
 at intervals by others ; but the tireless gray, as with 
 superb ease and even strides he swept back and 
 forth, making the turns as his rider's body inclined 
 to right or left, absorbed attention. The distance 
 covered was nine miles, at the end of which Gen- 
 eral Lee drew rein with only one of his staff and 
 Gen. A. P. Hill at his side. Such spectacles were 
 to us extremely rare, and this one was especially 
 well timed, affording the troops, as it did, an oppor- 
 tunity to see that they were still formidable in num- 
 ber, and although Jackson was dead that the soul 
 of the army had not passed away. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 OPENING OF CAMPAIGN OF 1863 CROSSING TO THE 
 
 VALLEY BATTLE AT WINCHESTER WITH MIL- 
 ROY CROSSING THE POTOMAC 
 
 The indications of another campaign were now 
 not wanting", but what shape it would take caused 
 curious speculation ; that is, among those whose duty 
 was only to execute. Longstreet had been recalled 
 from the Virginia Peninsula; Hooker's hosts again 
 lined the Stafford Heights across the Rappahan- 
 nock. At evening we listened to the music of their 
 bands, at night could see the glow of their camp- 
 fires for miles around. On June 2, Ewell's corps 
 first broke camp, followed in a day or two by Long- 
 street's while A. P. Hill's remained at Fredericks- 
 burg to observe the movements of Hooker. On the 
 eighth we reached Culpeper, where we remained 
 during the ninth, awaiting the result of the greatest 
 and most stubbornly contested cavalry engagement 
 of the war, which continued throughout the day in 
 our hearing — at Brandy Station. The Federals 
 having been driven across the river, our march was 
 resumed on the tenth. 
 
 On the following day we heard, at first indis- 
 tinctly, toward the front of the column continued 
 cheering. Following on, it grew louder and louder. 
 We reached the foot of a long ascent, from the sum- 
 
 185 
 
186 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 mit of which the shout went up, but were at a loss 
 to know what called it forth. Arriving there, there 
 loomed up before us the old Blue Ridge, and we, 
 too, joined in the chorus. Moving on with renewed 
 life, the continued greeting of those following was 
 heard as eye after eye took in its familiar face. We 
 had thought that the love for these old mountains 
 was peculiar to us who had grown up among them ; 
 but the cheer of the Creoles who had been with us 
 under Jackson was as hearty as our own. 
 
 We passed through Little Washington, thence 
 by Chester Gap to Front Royal, the first of our old 
 battlegrounds in the Valley, having left Longstreet's 
 and Hill's corps on the east side of the mountain. 
 At Winchester, as usual, was a force of the enemy 
 under our former acquaintance, General Milroy. 
 Without interruption we were soon in his vicinity. 
 Nearly two days were consumed in feeling his 
 strength and position. Our battery was posted on 
 a commanding hill north of the town, the top of 
 which was already furrowed with solid shot and 
 shells to familiarize the enemy with its range. Our 
 battery now consisted of two twenty-pound Par- 
 rott, and two brand-new English Blakeley guns, to 
 one of which I belonged. And a singular coinci- 
 dence it was that in putting in the first charge my 
 gun was choked, the same thing having occurred 
 on the same field a year before, being the only times 
 it happened during the war. I went immediately 
 to the third piece and took the place of No. 1. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 187 
 
 The battle had now begun, the enemy firing at us 
 from a strongly fortified fort near the town. Their 
 target practice was no criterion of their shooting 
 when being shot at, as not one of us was even 
 wounded. While the battle was in progress we had 
 a repetition of the race at Fredericksburg when 
 there dashed from the Federal fort three artillery 
 horses, which came at full speed over the mile be- 
 tween us, appearing and disappearing from view. 
 On reaching the battery they were caught, and one 
 of them, which we named "Milroy," was driven by 
 James Lewis at the wheel of my gun, and restored 
 with "Sedgwick" to his old associates at Appomat- 
 tox. 
 
 Night put a stop to hostilities, and the next day, 
 until late in the afternoon, we passed inactively. 
 Then Hayes's Louisiana Brigade, formerly com- 
 manded by Gen. Dick Taylor, formed in our front 
 and, charging with the old yell, captured the fort. 
 After night I found two members of our company 
 in possession of a little mule, equipped with saddle 
 and bridle, supposed to be a United States animal. 
 They said they were afraid of mules, and turned 
 him over to me. I forthwith mounted, and passed 
 an hour pleasantly, riding around. As I once heard 
 a little negro say, "I went everywhar I knowed, an' 
 every whar I didn't know I come back." I felt now 
 that I had a mount for the campaign, but next 
 morning one of the Richmond Howitzers claimed 
 the mule and identified it as his. 
 
188 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 The bulk of Milroy's force escaped during the 
 night, but we captured four thousand prisoners, 
 twenty-eight pieces of artillery, and hundreds of 
 wagons and horses, and equipped ourselves, as we 
 had done in 1862, at the expense of Banks. For 
 our two recently acquired English Blakeley guns 
 we substituted two twenty-pound Parrotts, giving 
 us four guns of the same caliber. On the thirteenth 
 we crossed the Potomac at Sheperdstown, thence 
 by way of Hagerstown, Maryland, to Greencastle, 
 Pennsylvania, the first live Yankee town we had 
 visited in war times. Many of the stores were open 
 and full of goods, but as they refused to take Con- 
 federate money, and we were forbidden to plunder, 
 we passed on, feeling aggrieved, and went into 
 camp a few miles beyond. 
 
 Having a curiosity to test the resources and hos- 
 pitality of this abundant country, I set out from 
 camp, with two companions, for this purpose. A 
 walk of a mile brought us to the house of a widow 
 with three pretty daughters. They told us they had 
 been feeding many of our soldiers and could give 
 us only some milk, which they served, as seemed to 
 be the custom of the country, in large bowls. They 
 said they did not dislike rebels, and if we would 
 go on to Washington and kill Lincoln, and end the 
 war, they would rejoice. Proceeding farther, we 
 stopped at a substantial brick house and were silently 
 ushered into a large room, in the far end of which 
 sat the head of the house, in clean white shirt-sleeves 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 189 
 
 but otherwise dressed for company, his hat on and 
 his feet as high as his head against the wall, smok- 
 ing a cigar. At the other end of the room the rest 
 of the family were at supper, of which we were 
 perfunctorily asked by the mistress to partake. A 
 very aged lady, at a corner of the table, without 
 speaking or raising her eyes, chewed apparently 
 the same mouthful during our stay — one of our 
 party suggested, "perhaps her tongue." The table 
 was thickly covered with saucers of preserves, 
 pickles, radishes, onions, cheese, etc. The man of 
 the house did not turn his head nor speak a word 
 during our stay, which was naturally over with the 
 meal. 
 
 We returned to the battalion about sunset, en- 
 camped in a clean, grassy enclosure, the horses en- 
 joying their bountiful food, the men in gay spirits, 
 and the regimental bands playing lively airs. Shortly 
 after our return, there occurred an incident which 
 lent additional interest to the occasion. 
 
 No one at all familiar with the Rockbridge Ar- 
 tillery will fail to remember Merrick. A lawyer 
 and native of Hagerstown, Maryland, having been 
 educated abroad, he was an accomplished scholar 
 and a fine musician, with a stock of Irish and other 
 songs which he sang admirably. In person he was 
 very slender, over six feet in height, with a long 
 neck, prominent nose, and very thin hair and 
 whiskers. Cut off from home and being utterly 
 improvident, he was entirely dependent on quarter- 
 
190 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 master's goods for his apparel, and when clothing 
 was issued his forlorn and ragged appearance 
 hushed every claim by others who might have had 
 precedence. This Confederate clothing, like the 
 rations, was very short, so that Merrick's panta- 
 loons and jacket failed to meet, by several inches, 
 the intervening space showing a very soiled cotton 
 shirt. With the garments mentioned — a gray cap, 
 rusty shoes and socks, and, in winter, half the tail 
 of his overcoat burnt off — his costume is described. 
 
 Indifference to his appearance extended also to 
 danger, and when a battle was on hand so was Mer- 
 rick. Before crossing the Potomac he disappeared 
 from the command a perfect-looking vagabond, 
 and now as we were reveling in this bountiful coun- 
 try there rolled into our midst a handsome equipage 
 drawn by two stylish horses. When the door was 
 opened out stepped Merrick, handsomely dressed 
 in citizen's clothes, and handed out two distin- 
 guished-looking gentlemen, to whom he introduced 
 us. Then, in the language of Dick Swiveler, "he 
 passed around the rosy" ; and all taking a pull, our 
 enthusiasm for Merrick mounted high. 
 
 Our march under Ew^ell had been admirably con- 
 ducted. We were always on the road at an early 
 hour, and, without hurry or the usual halts caused 
 by troops crowding on one another, we made good 
 distances each day and were in camp by sunset. I 
 never before or afterward saw the men so buoyant. 
 There was no demonstration, but a quiet undercur- 
 
B. C. M. Frii:xd 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 191 
 
 rent of confidence that they were there to conquer. 
 The horses, too, invigorated by abundant food, car- 
 ried higher heads and pulled with firmer tread. 
 
 Our march from Greencastle was through Cham- 
 bersburg and Shippensburg, and when within eight 
 or ten miles of Carlisle we passed through one or 
 two hundred Pennsylvania militia in new Federal 
 uniforms, who had just been captured and paroled. 
 Before reaching Carlisle we very unexpectedly (to 
 us) countermarched, and found the militiamen at 
 the same place, but almost all of them barefooted, 
 their shoes and stockings having been appropriated 
 by needy rebels. As we first saw them they were 
 greatly crestfallen, but after losing their footgear 
 all spirit seemed to have gone out of them. They 
 lingered, it may be, in anticipation of the greetings 
 when met by wives and little ones at home, after 
 having sallied forth so valiantly in their defense. 
 How embarrassing bare feet would be instead of 
 the expected trophies of war! Imagine a young 
 fellow, too, meeting his sweetheart ! That they kept 
 each other company to the last moment, managed 
 to reach home after night, and ate between meals 
 for some days, we may be sure. 
 
 Before reaching Chambersburg we took a road 
 to the left, in the direction of Gettysburg. To give 
 an idea of the change in our diet since leaving Dixie, 
 I give the bill-of-fare of a breakfast my mess en- 
 joyed while on this road : Real coffee and sugar, 
 light bread, biscuits with lard in them, butter, apple- 
 
192 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 butter, a fine dish of fried chicken, and a quarter of 
 roast lamb! 
 
 On the morning of July 1 we passed through a 
 division of Longstreet's corps bivouacked in a piece 
 of woods. Our road lay across a high range of hills, 
 from beyond which the sound of cannonading 
 greeted us. By three o'clock that afternoon, when 
 we reached the summit of the hills, the firing ahead 
 had developed into the roar of a battle, and we 
 pushed forward on the down-grade. The valley 
 below, through which we passed, was thickly settled, 
 and soon we began to meet prisoners and wounded, 
 whose numbers rapidly increased as we advanced, 
 and at the same pump by the roadside we frequently 
 saw a group of Federal and Confederate soldiers 
 having their wounds bathed and dressed by North- 
 ern women, kind alike to friend and foe. When we 
 reached the field, about sundown, the battle was 
 over. This was July 1 and the first of the three 
 days of terrific fighting which constituted the battle 
 of Gettysburg. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ON THE WAY TO GETTYSBURG BATTLE OF GETTYS- 
 BURG RETREAT 
 
 Before proceeding farther let lis consider briefly 
 the condition of the two armies, and which had the 
 better grounds to hope for success in the great con- 
 flict now impending. With the exception of one — 
 Sharpsburg — which was a drawn battle, the Con- 
 federates had been victorious in every general en- 
 gagement up to this time. Scant rations, depriva- 
 tion, and hardships of every kind had made them 
 tired of the war ; and the recent abundance had not 
 only put them in better fighting condition than ever 
 before, but made them long to enjoy it permanently 
 at home. 
 
 The Federal army had changed commanders after 
 every defeat, and the present one — General Meade 
 — who had just been appointed, was not an officer 
 to inspire special confidence. With all this in favor 
 of the Southerners, all else seemed to conspire 
 against them. On the morning of June 30, the day 
 before the battle, Pickett's division was at Cham- 
 bersburg, thirty miles from Gettysburg ; Hood's and 
 McLaw's (the other two divisions of Longstreet's 
 corps) fifteen miles nearer Gettysburg; Hill's corps 
 at Cashtown, nine miles from Gettysburg; Rodes's 
 division of Ewell's corps at Carlisle, thirty miles 
 
 193 
 
194 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 distant; Johnson's at Greenville, and Early's near 
 York. General Early levied for and obtained from 
 the city of York several thousand pairs of shoes and 
 socks and a less number of hats for his men. and 
 $26,000 in money. 
 
 The different portions of the Federal army at 
 this time were spread out over a large area, south 
 and east of Gettysburg. To the absence of our cav- 
 alry, whose whereabouts since crossing the Potomac 
 had not been known by General Lee, was due the 
 ignorance as to the location of the Federals, causing 
 loss of time and the employment of other troops to 
 do what the cavalry should have done. It is gener- 
 ally conceded that until they found themselves face 
 to face the commander of neither army expected or 
 desired this locality to be the battle-ground. x\nd 
 when we consider the fact that armies have been 
 known to maneuver for weeks for a vantage ground 
 on which to give battle, we can realize the import- 
 ance of this seeming accident, which sealed the doom 
 of the Confederacy. For if the whole State of 
 Pennsylvania had been gone over, it is probable that 
 no other place could have been found which afforded 
 sucli advantages as did this to the Northern army. 
 
 Early's division had passed it several days before 
 on his way to York, and Pettigrew's brigade of 
 Hill's corps on July 1, while approaching in search 
 of shoes for his men, encountered Buford's Federal 
 cavalry, precipitating the first day's conflict, in which 
 Hill's corps, Rodes's and Early's divisions captured 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 195 
 
 5,000 prisoners and drove the Federals through the 
 town to the heights beyond. Our battahon of artil- 
 lery, soon after dark, passed southward through the 
 outskirts of the town with Early's division and 
 bivouacked for the night. By dawn of the follow- 
 ing day (July 2) sufficient of the Federal army had 
 arrived to occupy and fortify the heights. From 
 where our battery was posted, a mile east of the 
 town, we had in full view the end of Cemetery Hill, 
 with an arched gateway for an entrance. To the 
 left of it and joined by a depressed ridge was Culp's 
 Hill, steep and rugged as a mountain, all now held 
 and fortified by the enemy. Jackson's old division, 
 now commanded by Gen. Ed. Johnson, having ar- 
 rived late in the night, formed at the base of Culp's 
 Hill, and before an hour of daylight had elapsed 
 had stirred up a hornets' nest in their front. 
 
 I must mention an incident that occurred during 
 this forenoon quite interesting to myself. As we 
 were standing by our guns, not yet having fired a 
 shot, General Ewell and his staff came riding by, 
 and Lieut. -Col. Sandy Pendleton, his adjutant, rode 
 out from among them and handed me two letters. 
 To receive two letters in the army at any time was 
 an event, but here, away in the enemy's country, in 
 the face of their frowning guns, for them to have 
 come so far and then be delivered at the hands of the 
 General and his staff was quite something. One of 
 the letters I recognized as being from my mother, 
 the other aroused my curiosity. The envelope, di- 
 
196 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 rected in a feminine hand, was very neat, but the 
 end had been burned off and the contents were held 
 in place by a narrow red ribbon daintily tied. In 
 so conspicuous a place, with a battle on, I could not 
 trust myself to open my treasures. It was near 
 night before a suitable time came, and my billet-doux 
 contained the following : 
 
 You are cordially invited to be present 
 at the Commencement Exercises of the 
 
 Female Seminary, on the evening 
 
 of July ^rd, i86^, at eight o'clock p. m. 
 Compliments of Gertrude — — -. 
 
 My feelings were inexpressible. How I longed 
 to be there ! To think of such a place of quiet and 
 peace as compared with my surroundings on this 
 bloody battlefield ! 
 
 But to return to the serious features of the day. 
 With the exception of the steady musketry firing 
 by Johnson's men on Gulp's Hill, the day passed 
 quietly until nearly four o'clock. At this time An- 
 drew's battalion of artillery, led by Major Latimer, 
 passed in front of us and went into position two 
 hundred yards to our left, and nearer the enemy. 
 The ground sloped so as to give us a perfect view of 
 his four batteries. Promptly other batteries joined 
 those confronting us on Cemetery Hill, and by the 
 time Latimer's guns were unlimbered the guns on 
 both sides were thundering. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 197 
 
 Li less than five minutes one of Latimer's caissons 
 was exploded, which called forth a lusty cheer from 
 the enemy. In five minutes more a Federal caisson 
 was blown up, which brought forth a louder cheer 
 from us. In this action Latimer's batteries suffered 
 fearfully, the Alleghany Roughs alone losing twenty- 
 seven men killed and wounded. Only one or two 
 were wounded in our battery, the proximity of Lati- 
 mer's guns drawing the fire to them. Near the close 
 of the engagement. Latimer, who was a graduate 
 of the Virginia Military Institute, a mere youth in 
 appearance, was killed. 
 
 The artillery contest was a small part of the 
 afternoon's work. One of Johnson's brigades, after 
 capturing breastworks and prisoners on Gulp's Hill, 
 pushed nearly to General Meade's headquarters. 
 Rodes, usually so prompt, was occupying the town 
 and failed to attack till late, and then with but two 
 of his four brigades ; but they charged over three 
 lines of breastworks and captured several pieces of 
 artillery, which had to be abandoned for want of 
 support. Sickles's corps, having occupied the two 
 "Round Tops" on the extreme left of the Federal 
 line, advanced on Longstreet, and at four p. m. the 
 two lines met in the celebrated "Peach Orchard," 
 and from that time until night fought furiously, the 
 Federals being driven back to their original ground. 
 
 At the close of the second day the Gonfederates 
 had gained ground on the right and left, and cap- 
 tured some artillery, but still nothing decisive. An- 
 
198 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 other night passed, and the third and last day 
 dawned on two anxious armies. Pickett, after a 
 mysterious delay of twenty-four hours, arrived dur- 
 ing the forenoon and became the left of Longstreet's 
 corps. At twelve o'clock word was passed along our 
 lines that when two signal-guns were heard, fol- 
 lowed by heavy firing, to open vigorously with our 
 guns. There was no mistaking when that time came, 
 and we joined with the three hundred guns that 
 made the firing. For an hour or more a crash and 
 roar of artillery continued that rolled and reverber- 
 ated above, and made the earth under us tremble. 
 When it began there was great commotion among 
 the enemy's batteries in our front, some of which 
 limbered up and galloped along the crest of Ceme- 
 tery Hill, but soon returned and renewed their fire 
 on us. 
 
 So far they had failed to do our battery any 
 serious harm, but now each volley of their shells 
 came closer and closer. At this time my attention 
 was attracted to the second piece, a few paces to our 
 left, and I saw a shell plow into the ground under 
 Lieutenant Brown's feet and explode. It tore a 
 large hole, into which Brown sank, enveloped as he 
 fell in smoke and dust. In an instant another shell 
 burst at the trail of my gun, tearing the front half 
 of Tom Williamson's shoe of¥, and wounding him 
 sorely. A piece of it also broke James Ford's leg, 
 besides cutting off the fore leg of Captain Graham's 
 horse. Ford was holding the lead-horses of the 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 199 
 
 limber, and, as they wheeled to run, their bridles 
 were seized by Rader, a shell struck the horse nearest 
 to him, and, exploding at the instant, killed all four 
 of the lead-horses and stunned Rader. These same 
 horses and this driver had very nearly a similar ex- 
 perience (though not so fatal) at Sharpsburg a year 
 before, as already described. Sam Wilson, another 
 member of our detachment, was also painfully 
 wounded and knocked down by the same shell. 
 
 This artillery bombardment was the prelude to 
 Pickett's charge, which took place on the opposite 
 side of Cemetery Hill, and out of our view. Culp's 
 Hill, since the early morning previous, had been 
 enveloped in a veil of smoke from Johnson's musk- 
 ets, which had scarcely had time to cool during the 
 thirty-six hours. 
 
 The men of the Fourth Virginia Regiment had 
 been gradually and steadily advancing from 
 boulder to boulder, until they were almost under the 
 enemy's fortifications along the crest of the ridge. 
 To proceed farther was physically impossible, to re- 
 treat was almost certain death. So, of the College 
 company alone, one of whom had already been killed 
 and many wounded, sixteen, including Captain 
 Strickler, were captured. To John McKee, of this 
 company, a stalwart Irish Federal said as he reached 
 out to pull him up over the breastworks, "Gim-me 
 your hand, Johnny Reb ; you've give' us the bulliest 
 fight of the war!" 
 
 Lieutenant "Cush" Jones determined to run the 
 
200 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 gauntlet for escape, and as he darted away the 
 point of his scabbard struck a stone, and throwing 
 it inverted above his head, lost out his handsome 
 sword. Three bullets passed through his clothing in 
 his flight, and the boulder behind which he next took 
 refuge was peppered by others. Here, also, my 
 former messmate, George Bedinger, now captain of 
 a company in the Thirty-third Virginia Regiment, 
 was killed, leading his "Greeks," as he called his 
 men. 
 
 About nine o'clock that evening, and before we 
 had moved from our position, I received a message, 
 through Captain Graham, from some of the wounded 
 of our company, to go to them at their field-hospital. 
 Following the messenger, I found them in charge of 
 our surgeon. Dr. Herndon, occupying a neat brick 
 cottage a mile in the rear, from which the owners 
 had fled, leaving a well-stocked larder, and from it 
 we refreshed ourselves most gratefully. Toward 
 midnight orders came to move. The ambulances 
 were driven to the door and, after the wounded, 
 some eight or ten in number, had been assisted into 
 them, I added from the stores in the house a bucket 
 of lard, a crock of butter, a jar of apple-butter, a 
 ham, a middling of bacon, and a side of sole-leather. 
 All for the wounded ! 
 
 Feeling assured that we would not tarry much 
 longer in Pennsylvania, and expecting to reach the 
 battery before my services would be needed, I set 
 out with the ambulances. We moved on until day- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 201 
 
 light and joined the wounded of the other batteries 
 of our battalion, and soon after left, at a house by 
 the wayside, a member of the Richmond Howitzers 
 who was dying. Our course was along a by-road 
 in the direction of Hagerstown. Li the afternoon, 
 after joining the wagon-train, I found "Joe," the 
 colored cook of my mess, in possession of a super- 
 numerary battery-horse, which I appropriated and 
 mounted. Our column now consisted of ambulances 
 loaded with wounded men, wounded men on foot, 
 cows, bulls, quartermasters, portable forges, sur- 
 geons, cooks, and camp-followers in general, all 
 plodding gloomily along through the falling rain. 
 We arrived at the base of the mountain about 
 five p. M. and began ascending by a narrow road, 
 leading obliquely to the left. Before proceeding- 
 farther some description of the horse I was riding 
 is appropriate, as he proved an important factor in 
 my experiences before the night was over. He was 
 the tallest horse I ever saw outside of a show, with 
 a very short back and exceedingly long legs, which 
 he handled peculiarly, going several gaits at one 
 time. Many a cannoneer had sought rest on his 
 back on the march, but none had ventured on so 
 high a perch when going into battle. When half- 
 way up the mountain we heard to our left oblique 
 the distant mutter of a cannon, then in a few mo- 
 ments the sound was repeated, but we thought it 
 was safely out of our course and felt correspond- 
 ingly comfortable. At intervals the report of that 
 
202 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 gun was heard again and again. About dusk we 
 reached the top of the mountain, after many, many 
 halts, and the sound of that cannon became more 
 emphatic. 
 
 After descending a few hundred yards there came 
 from a bridle-path on our left, just as I passed it. 
 three cavalry horses with empty saddles. This was 
 rather ominous. The halts in the mixed column 
 were now frequent, darkness having set in, and we 
 had but little to say. That cannon had moved more 
 to our front, and our road bore still more to where 
 it was thundering. We were now almost at the foot 
 of the mountain, and to the left, nearer our front, 
 were scattering musket-shots. Our halts were still 
 short and frequent, and in the deep shadow of the 
 mountain it was pitch-dark. All of this time I had 
 not a particle of confidence in my horse. I could 
 not tell what was before me in the dense darkness, 
 whether friend or foe, but suddenly, after pausing 
 an instant, he dashed forward. For fifty or seventy- 
 five yards every other sound was drowned by a roar- 
 ing waterfall on my right; then, emerging from its 
 noise, I was carried at a fearful rate close by dis- 
 mounted men who were firing from behind trees 
 along the roadside, the flashes of their guns, "whose 
 speedy gleams the darkness swallowed," revealing 
 me on my tall horse with his head up. He must see 
 safety ahead, and I let him fly. 
 
 A hundred yards farther on our road joined the 
 main pike at an acute angle, and entering it he swept 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 203 
 
 on. Then, just behind me, a Federal cannon was 
 discharged. The charge of canister tore through 
 the brush on either side, and over and under me, and 
 at the same instant my steed's hind leg gave way, 
 and my heart sank with it. If struck at all, he 
 immediately rallied and outran himself as well as 
 his competitors. After getting out of the range of 
 the firing and the shadow of the mountain, I saw 
 indistinctly our cavalrymen along the side of the 
 road, and we bantered each other as I passed. 
 
 Farther on, at a toll-gate, I heard the voice of 
 Tom Williamson. His ambulance had broken down 
 and he was being assisted toward the house. I drew 
 rein, but thought, "How can I help him? This 
 horse must be well-nigh done for," and rode on. 
 Since reaching the foot of the mountain the way 
 had been open and everything on it moving for life. 
 But again the road was full, and approaching clat- 
 ter, with the sharp reports of pistols, brought on 
 another rush, and away we went — wagons, wounded 
 men, negroes, forges, ambulances, cavalry — every- 
 thing. 
 
 This in time subsided and, feeling ashamed, I 
 turned back to look after my wounded, my horse 
 as reluctant as myself, and expecting every moment 
 the sound of the coming foe. A sudden snort and 
 the timid step of my nervous steed warned me of 
 breakers ahead. Peering through the darkness I 
 saw coming toward me, noisless and swift as the 
 wind, an object white as the driven snow. "What," 
 
204 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 I asked myself, "are ghosts abroad, and in such a 
 place? Is Gettysburg giving up her dead so soon?" 
 But, as the thing met me, a voice cried out, "It that 
 you, Ned? Is that you? Take me on your horse. 
 Let me get in the saddle and you behind." For a 
 moment I was dumb, and wished it wasn't I. The 
 voice was the voice of Lieutenant Brown, the same 
 whom I had seen undermined by the shell at Gettys- 
 burg, and who had not put a foot to the ground until 
 now. Barefooted, bareheaded; nothing on but 
 drawers and shirt — white as a shroud ! The pros- 
 pect that now confronted me instantly flashed 
 through my mind. First, "Can this horse carry 
 two?" Then I pictured myself with such a looking 
 object in my embrace, and with nothing with which 
 to conceal him. There were settlements ahead, day- 
 light was approaching, and what a figure we would 
 cut! It was too much for me, and I said, "No, 
 get on behind," feeling that the specter might retard 
 the pursuing foe. But my tall horse solved the diffi- 
 culty. Withdrawing my foot from the stirrup, 
 Brown would put his in and try to climb up, when 
 suddenly the horse would "swap ends," and down 
 he'd go. Again he would try and almost make it, 
 and the horse not wheeling quickly enough I would 
 give him the hint with my "off" heel. My relief 
 can be imagined when an ambulance arrived and took 
 Brown in. I accompanied him for a short distance, 
 then quickened my pace and overtook the train. 
 Presently another clatter behind and the popping of 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 205 
 
 pistols. Riding at my side was a horseman, and by 
 the flash of his pistol I saw it pointing to the ground 
 at our horses' feet. 
 
 Reaching the foot of a hill, my horse stumbled 
 and fell as if to rise no more. I expected to be 
 instantly trampled out of sight. I heard a groan, 
 but not where the horse's head should have been. 
 Resting my feet on the ground, thus relieving him 
 of my weight, he got his head from under him and 
 floundered forward, then to his feet and away. Far- 
 ther on, a swift horse without a rider was dashing 
 by me. I seized what I supposed to be his bridle- 
 rein, but it proved to be the strap on the saddle-bow, 
 and the pull I gave came near unhorsing me. 
 
 The pursuit continued no farther. Not having 
 slept for two days and nights, I could not keep 
 awake, and my game old horse, now wearied out, 
 would stagger heedlessly against the wheels of mov- 
 ing wagons. Just at dawn of day, in company with 
 a few horsemen of our battalion, I rode through the 
 quiet streets of Hagerstown, thence seven miles to 
 Williamsport. 
 
 The wounded of our battalion had all been cap- 
 tured. A few, however, were not carried off, but 
 left until our army came up. Some of the cooks, 
 etc., escaped by dodging into the brush, but many a 
 good horse and rider had been run down and taken. 
 At Williamsport I exchanged horses with an in- 
 fantryman while he was lying asleep on a porch, 
 and had completed the transaction before he was 
 sufficiently awake to remonstrate. 
 
206 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 It must not be supposed from the experience we 
 had undergone that our army was at all demoralized. 
 The battle closed on July 3rd. On the next day our 
 lines began to withdraw, Ewell's corps holding its 
 ground till near noon of the 5th. The Federal com- 
 mander, though repeatedly urged by the Washing- 
 ton authorities to do so, declined to attack during 
 that time. Our army was prevented from crossing 
 the Potomac, swollen by heavy rains, till the 14th, 
 meantime not only offering but inviting battle, which 
 was steadily declined. 
 
 We were now entirely cut off from our army, and 
 with w^hat of the wagons, etc., that remained were 
 at the mercy of the enemy, as the Potomac was 
 swollen to a depth of twenty feet where I had waded 
 a year before. Most of the horses had to be swmn 
 over, as there was little room in the ferry-boats for 
 them. The river was so high that this was very 
 dangerous, and only expert swimmers dared to un- 
 dertake it. Twenty dollars was paid for swimming 
 a horse over, and I saw numbers swept down by the 
 current and landed hundreds of yards below, many 
 on the side from which they had started. I crossed 
 in a ferry-boat on my recently acquired horse, hav- 
 ing left my faithful old charger, his head encased 
 in mud to the tips of his ears, wnth mingled feelings 
 of sadness and gratitude. 
 
 A great curiosity to understand this battle and 
 battlefield induced me to visit it at the first oppor- 
 tunity, and in 1887, twenty-four years after it was 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 207 
 
 fought, I, with Colonel Poague, gladly accepted an 
 invitation from the survivors of Pickett's division 
 to go with them to Gettysburg, whither they had 
 been invited to meet the Philadelphia Brigade, as 
 their guests, and go over the battlefield together. 
 After our arrival there, in company with two officers 
 of the Philadelphia Brigade, one of Pickett's men 
 and an intelligent guide, I drove over the field. As 
 a part of our entertainment we saw the Pickett men 
 formed on the same ground and in the same order 
 in which they had advanced to the charge. Farther 
 on we saw the superb monuments, marking the loca- 
 tion of the different Federal regiments, presenting 
 the appearance of a vast cemetery. The position 
 held by the Federals for defense was perfect. Its 
 extent rec|uired the whole of the Confederate army 
 present to occupy the one line they first adopted, with 
 no troops to spare for flanking. Its shape, some- 
 what like a fish-hook, enabled the Federal army to 
 reinforce promptly any part that was even threat- 
 ened. Its terrain was such that the only ground 
 sufficiently smooth for an enemy to advance on, 
 that in front of its center, was exposed throughout, 
 not only to missiles from its front, but could be 
 raked from the heights on its left. And, in addition 
 to all this, the whole face of the country, when the 
 battle was fought, was closely intersected with post 
 and rail and stone fences. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 AT '^'^THE bower" RETURN TO ORANGE COUNTY, 
 
 VIRGINIA BLUE RUN CHURCH BRISTOW STA- 
 TION RAPPAHANNOCK BRIDGE SUPPLEMENT- 
 ING CAMP RATIONS 
 
 To RETURN to my retreat from Gettysburg. The 
 clothes that I wore were all that I now possessed. 
 My blanket, extra wearing apparel, lard, apple-but- 
 ter, sole-leather, etc., with the wounded, were in the 
 hands of the Federals. Being completely cut off 
 from our army, I set out for Winchester. Near 
 Martinsburg I passed the night sleeping on the 
 ground — my first sleep in sixty hours — and reached 
 Winchester the following day. In a day or two, 
 thinking our army had probably reached the Poto- 
 mac, I turned back to join it. On my way thither 
 I called at "The Bower," the home of my messmate, 
 Steve Dandridge. This was a favorite resort of 
 Gen. J. E. B. Stuart, where, accompanied by the 
 celebrated banjoist, Joe Sweeny, merry nights were 
 passed with song and dance. I was overwhelmed 
 with kindness by Mr. and Mrs. Dandridge, their 
 daughters, nieces, and cousins. The last named be- 
 ing two Misses Conrad, of Martinsburg, whose two 
 brothers. Tucker and Holmes, had been killed at the 
 same instant at first Manassas, and fell clasped in 
 
 208 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 209 
 
 each other's arms. They would not hear of my leav- 
 ing ; at any rate, until they had time to make me some 
 undergarments. In the afternoon I accompanied 
 the young ladies to the fields blackberrying, and had 
 some jolly laughs. They felt that a Confederate 
 soldier should be treated like a king, that he must be 
 worn out with marching and fighting. They insisted 
 on my sitting in the shade while they gathered and 
 brought me the choicest berries, and actually wanted 
 to let the fences down, to save me the effort of climb- 
 ing. At that time I weighed one hundred and ninety 
 pounds, was in vigorous health and strength, tough 
 as hickory, and could go over or through a Virginia 
 rail fence as deftly as a mule. It was some days 
 before our army could recross the Potomac, on ac- 
 count of high water. As I rode in, on my return to 
 the battery, I was given a regular cheer, all thinking 
 that I was probably, by that time, in Fort Delaware. 
 Our wounded had been captured in Pennsylvania, 
 except Tom Williamson, who was left at the toll- 
 house and picked up as our battery came by. As he 
 had become my bedfellow since Stuart's death, I was 
 sent with him to Winchester, where I cared for him 
 at the home of Mrs. Anne Magill. During my stay 
 Randolph Tucker, a brother of Mrs. Magill, and 
 Bishop Wilmer, of Alabama, were guests in the 
 house, and Mr. Tucker kept the household alive with 
 his songs and jokes. After a week or more in camp, 
 near Bunker Hill, our despondent army passed 
 through Winchester, thence by Front Royal across 
 
210 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 the Bine Ridge, and encamped for the remainder of 
 the summer in Orange County, with men and horses 
 greatly depleted in number and spirits. 
 
 Our battery camped at Blue Run Church and near 
 a field of corn. Roasting ears afforded the chief 
 portion of our living. It was surprising to see how 
 much, in addition to the army rations, a man could 
 consume day after day, or rather night after night, 
 with no especial alteration in his physique. 
 
 Soup was a favorite dish, requiring, as it did, but 
 one vessel for all the courses, and the more ingre- 
 dients it contained, the more it was relished. Mer- 
 rick claimed to be an adept in the culinary art, and 
 proposed to several of us that if we would "club in" 
 with him he would concoct a pot that would be food 
 for the gods. He was to remain in camp, have the 
 water boiling, and the meat sufficiently cooked by 
 the time the others returned from their various 
 rounds in search of provender. In due time, one 
 after another, the foragers showed up, having been 
 very successful in their acquisitions, which, accord- 
 ing to Merrick's directions, were consigned to the 
 pot. As some fresh contribution, which he regarded 
 as especially savory, was added, Merrick's counten- 
 ance would brighten up. At one time he sat quietly 
 musing, then gave expression to his joy in an Irish 
 ditty. His handsome suit of clothes, donned at 
 Hagerstown, was now in tatters, which made his 
 appearance the more ludicrous as he "cut the pigeon- 
 wing" around the seething cauldron. He had par- 
 
John M. Kuown 
 \\'ai-t iinc pmtiait i 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 211 
 
 ticularly enjoined upon us, when starting out, to 
 procure, at all hazards, some okra, which we failed 
 to get, and, in naming aloud the various items, as 
 each appeared on the surface of the water, he wound 
 up his soliloquy with, "And now. Lord, for a little 
 okra!" 
 
 In September the army moved again toward Ma- 
 nassas, about seventy miles distant. When we ar- 
 rived at Bristow, the next station south of Manassas, 
 an engagement had just taken place, in which Gen. 
 A. P. Hill had been disastrously outwitted by his 
 adversary, General Warren, and the ground was still 
 strewn with our dead. The Federals were drawn up 
 in two lines of battle, the one in front being con- 
 cealed in the railroad-cut, while the rear line, with 
 skirmishers in front, stood in full view. The Con- 
 federates, unaware of the line in the cut, advanced 
 to the attack without skirmishers and were terribly 
 cut up by the front line, and driven back, with a loss 
 of several pieces of artillery and scores of men. The 
 delay caused by this unfortunate affair gave the Fed- 
 eral army ample time to withdraw at leisure. Gen- 
 eral Lee arrived on the scene just at the close of 
 this affair and was asked, by General Hill, if he 
 should pursue the then retreating Federals. He re- 
 plied, "No, General Hill; all that can now be done 
 is to bury your unfortunate dead." 
 
 After this we returned to the west side of the 
 Rappahannock and encamped at Pisgah Church, 
 overlooking the plains about Brandy Station. As 
 
212 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 the war was prolonged, Confederate rations pro- 
 portionately diminished, both in quantity and 
 variety. Consequently, to escape the pangs of hun- 
 ger, the few opportunities that presented themselves 
 were gladly seized. In the absence of the sports- 
 men of peace times, game had become quite abund- 
 ant, especially quail. But our "murmurings," if 
 any there were, did not avail, as did those of the 
 Israelites, "to fill the camp." I soon succeeded in 
 getting an Enfield rifle, a gun not designed for such 
 small game. By beating Minie-balls out flat, then 
 cutting the plates into square blocks or slugs, I pre- 
 pared my ammunition, and in the first eleven shots 
 killed nine quail on the wing. I was shooting for 
 the pot, and shot to kill. 
 
 From this camp our battery was ordered to occupy 
 a fort on the west side of the river, near Rappahan- 
 nock Station. Immediately across the river Hayes's 
 and Hoke's brigades of Early's division occupied a 
 line of breastworks as a picket or outpost. A pon- 
 toon bridge (a bridge of boats), in place of the rail- 
 road bridge, which had been burned, served as a 
 crossing. While a dozen or more of our battery 
 were a mile in the rear of the fort, getting a supply 
 of firewood, another member of the company came 
 to us at a gallop, with orders to return as quickly 
 as possible to the fort. On our arrival the indica- 
 tions of an attack from the enemy were very appar- 
 ent. They must have anticipated immense slaughter, 
 as no less than a hundred of their ambulances were 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 213 
 
 plainly visible. About four p. m. they opened on us 
 with artillery, and from that time until sundown 
 a spirited contest w^as kept up. While this was in 
 progress their infantry advanced, but, after a brief 
 but rapid fire of musketry, almost perfect quiet was 
 restored. 
 
 While working at my gun I received what I 
 thought to be a violent kick on the calf of my leg, 
 but, turning to discover whence the blow came, saw 
 a Minie-ball spinning on the ground. It was very 
 painful for a time, but did not interrupt my service 
 at the gun. It was too dark for us to see what was 
 going on across the river, but the sudden and com- 
 plete stillness following the firing was very mys- 
 terious. While speculating among ourselves as to 
 what it meant, a half-naked infantryman came 
 almost breathless into our midst and announced that 
 both brigades had been captured, he having escaped 
 by swimming the river. One of our lieutenants re- 
 fused to believe his statement and did the worthy 
 fellow cruel injustice in accusing him of skulking. 
 That his story was true soon became evident. Our 
 situation was now extremely dangerous, as the Fed- 
 erals had only to cross on the pontoon bridge a hun- 
 dred yards from the fort and ''gobble us up." About 
 nine o'clock General Early, with his other two bri- 
 gades, arrived. After acquainting himself with the 
 surrounding conditions, he asked our batterymen 
 for a volunteer to burn the bridge. To accomplish 
 this would involve extreme danger, as the moment 
 
214 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 a light was struck for the purpose a hundred shots 
 could be expected from the opposite end, not more 
 than seventy-five yards away. However, Wilham 
 Effinger, of Harrisonburg, Virginia, one of our can- 
 noneers, promptly volunteered to undertake it; and 
 soon had the bridge in flames, the enemy not firing 
 a shot. For this gallant and daring act, Efiinger, 
 after a long time, received a Heutenant's commis- 
 sion and was assigned to another branch of the ser- 
 vice. 
 
 From this perilous situation we came off surpris- 
 ingly well, but lost Robert Bell, of Winchester, Vir- 
 ginia. He was struck by a large piece of shell, 
 which passed through his body. During the hour he 
 survived, his companions who could leave their posts 
 went to say good-by. He was a bra^•e sokHer and a 
 modest, unassuming gentleman as well. The Fed- 
 erals, satisfied with the capture of the two celebrated 
 brigades without loss to themselves, withdrew — and 
 again we returned to the vicinity of Brandy Station. 
 
 In an artillery company two sentinels are kept on 
 post — one to see after the guns and ammunition, 
 the other to catch and tie loose horses or extricate 
 them when tangled in their halters, and the like. 
 Merrick's name and mine, being together on the roll, 
 we were frequently on guard at the same time, and, 
 to while away the tedious hours of the night, would 
 seek each other's company. Our turn came while in 
 this camp one dark, chilly night ; the rain falling fast 
 and the wind moaning through the leafless woods. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 215 
 
 As we stood near a fitful fire, Merrick, apparently 
 becoming oblivious of the dismal surroundings, be- 
 gan to sing. He played the role of a lover serenad- 
 ing his sweetheart, opening with some lively air to 
 attract her attention. The pattering of the rain he 
 construed as her tread to the lattice; then poured 
 forth his soul in deepest pathos, "Hear me, Nomia, 
 in pity hear me!" (the progress of his suit being in- 
 terpreted, aside, to me), and again fixed his gaze on 
 the imaginary window. Each sound made by the 
 storm he explained as some recognition; the creak- 
 ing of a bent tree was the gentle opening of the case- 
 ment, and the timely falling of a bough broken by 
 the wind was a bouquet thrown to his eager grasp, 
 over which he went into raptures. Whether the in- 
 spiration was due to a taste of some stimulant or to 
 his recurring moods of intense imagination, I could 
 not say, but the performance was genuinely artistic. 
 During the last night of our sojourn in this camp 
 I had another experience of as fully absorbing in- 
 terest. A very tough piece of beef (instead of quail) 
 for supper proved more than my digestive organs 
 could stand. After retiring to my bunk several 
 sleepless hours passed wrestling with my burden. 
 About one o'clock, the struggle being over, with an 
 intense feeling of comfort I was falling into a sound 
 sleep when I heard, in the distance, the shrill note of 
 a bugle, then another and another, as camp after 
 camp was invaded by urgent couriers ; then our own 
 bugle took up the alarm and sounded the call to hitch 
 
216 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 up. Meantime, drums were rolling, till the hitherto 
 stillness of night had become a din of noise. We 
 packed up and pulled out through the woods in the 
 dark, with gun No. 1, to w^hich I belonged, the rear 
 one of the battery. A small bridge, spanning a ditch 
 about five feet deep, had been passed over safely by 
 the other guns and caissons in front, but when my 
 gun-carriage was midway on it the whole structure 
 collapsed. The struggle the detachment of men and 
 horses underwent during the rest of this night of 
 travail constituted still another feature of the vicissi- 
 tudes of "merry war." Fortunately for us, Lieut. 
 Jack Jordan was in charge, and, as Rockbridge men 
 can testify, any physical difficulty that could not be 
 successfully overcome by a Jordan, where men and 
 horses were involved, might well be despaired of. 
 
 After reaching the Rapidan, a day was spent 
 skirmishing with the enemy's artillery on the hills 
 beyond. After which both sides withdrew — we to 
 our former camps. 
 
 A short time thereafter I called on my old friends 
 of the College company, whom we seldom met since 
 our severance from the Stonewall Brigade. Two of 
 these college boys, Ted ford Barclay and George 
 Chapin, told me that a recent provision had been 
 announced, to the effect that a commission would be 
 granted to any private who should perform some act 
 of conspicuous gallantry in battle, and they had each 
 resolved to earn the offered reward, and to be pri- 
 vates no longer. They were tired of carrying musk- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 217 
 
 ets and cartridge-boxes; and, in the next fight, as 
 they expressed it, they had determined to be "dis- 
 tinguished or extinguished." 
 
 The determined manner with which it was said 
 impressed me, so that I awaited results with interest. 
 A fortnight had not elapsed before their opportunity 
 came, and they proved true to their resolve. Under 
 a galling fire their regiment hesitated to advance, 
 when the two lads pushed to the front of the line of 
 battle and climbed an intervening fence. Chapin 
 was killed, and Barclay, who survives to this day, 
 received for his daring courage the promised com- 
 mission as lieutenant. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 BATTLE OF MINE RUN MARCH TO FREDERICK'S 
 
 HALL WINTER-QUARTERS SOCIAL AFFAIRS 
 
 AGAIN TO THE FRONT NARROW ESCAPE FROM 
 
 CAPTURE BY GENERAL DAHLGREN FURLOUGHS 
 
 CADETS RETURN FROM NEW MARKET SPOTT- 
 
 SYLVANIA AND THE WILDERNESS RETURN TO 
 
 ARMY AT HANOVER JUNCTION PANIC AT 
 
 NIGHT 
 
 The movement in which we were next engaged 
 included the battle of Mine Run, which has been 
 designated by a mihtary critic as "a campaign of 
 strategy," an account of which is, therefore, not 
 within my province. The Federals on this occasion 
 did most of the marching and, after crossing the 
 Rapidan at several different fords, were confronted 
 not far from our quarters at Mine Run, in Orange 
 County. After breaking camp our first intimation 
 that a battle was expected was the invariable pro- 
 fusion of playing-cards along the road. I never saw 
 or heard of a Bible or prayer-book being cast aside 
 at such a time, but cards were always thrown away 
 by soldiers going into battle. 
 
 After a spirited engagement between Johnson's 
 division and Warren's corps, the Federals lost time 
 sufficient for the Confederates to construct a for- 
 
 218 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 219 
 
 midable line of breastworks. The position occupied 
 by our battery was in the midst of a brigade of 
 North Carohnians who had seen some service in 
 their own State, but had never participated in a real 
 battle. From a Federal shell, which burst some dis- 
 tance overhead, a thin piece twirled downward and 
 fell like a leaf within a few feet of our gun. I saw 
 one of their lieutenants, who was lying in the trench, 
 eye it suspiciously, then creep out and pick it up. . 
 Presently the colonel of his regiment passed along 
 and the lieutenant said, as he held up the trophy, 
 "Colonel, just look at this. I was lying right here, 
 and it fell right there." This brigade had no occa- 
 sion to test its mettle until the following spring, but 
 then, in the great battle of Spottsylvania, it fought 
 gallantly and lost its general (Wright), who was 
 killed. 
 
 Naturally, after such a determined advance on 
 the part of the Federals, a general attack was ex- 
 pected ; but, after spending two days threatening 
 different portions of our lines, they withdrew in the 
 night, leaving only men sufficient to keep their camp- 
 fires burning for a time, as a ruse. The road along 
 which we followed them for some miles was strewn 
 at intervals with feathers from the beds of the peo- 
 ple whose houses they had ransacked. 
 
 It was now October, and the chilly autumn nights 
 suggested retiring to more comfortable surround- 
 ings. Our battalion of artillery was ordered to 
 Frederick's Hall, on the Chesapeake and Ohio Rail- 
 
220 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 road, about fifty miles from Richmond. In this 
 neighborhood there were quite a number of nice peo- 
 ple, whose society and hospitality afforded those of 
 us so inclined much agreeable entertainment. A 
 white paper-collar became no unusual sight, but when 
 two of our members appeared one afternoon adorned 
 with blue cravats a sensation was created. 
 
 A member of our battery returned from a visit to 
 a family of former acquaintances some twelve miles 
 from camp, and brought an invitation for some of 
 his friends to accompany him on his next visit. Soon 
 thereafter four of us went, through a drizzling rain, 
 I riding a blind horse, the others on foot. Night 
 overtook us soon after leaving camp, and when, 
 within a mile of our destination, we asked at a house 
 by the roadside for directions as to the way, a gruff 
 voice informed us that an intervening creek was too 
 high to cross, and insisted on our coming in and 
 spending the night. We declined this, and the man 
 said, "Well, I'll send a negro boy with you; but 
 you'll have to come back," which proved to be the 
 case. On our return we were boisterously welcomed. 
 A blazing fire of dry pine soon lit up the room, with 
 its clean, bare floor, and disclosed the figure of our 
 host — Peter Johnson by name — a stout, burly man, 
 clad in homespun and a fur cap. He said his wife 
 and children had been "a-bed" since dark, were tired 
 of his jokes, and that he was delighted to have a 
 fresh audience ; that it was past supper-time and 
 some hours before breakfast, but that fasting was 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 221 
 
 nothing new to Confederate soldiers. The names of 
 two of our party, McCorkle and McClintic, he said, 
 were too long and that he would call them Cockle and 
 Flint, but before proceeding further he would give 
 us some music. Forthwith he produced a short flute, 
 took a seat on the foot of the stairs (in the far cor- 
 ner of the room), and played "The Devil's Dream," 
 "The Arkansas Traveler," etc., beating time with 
 his foot. 
 
 Here we passed the night in comfortable beds and, 
 after a bountiful breakfast, left with a pressing in- 
 vitation to return for a rabbit-chase with his hounds, 
 which we gladly accepted and afterward enjoyed. 
 This was typical of eastern Virginia and her hos- 
 pitable, whole-souled "Tuckahoes," whose houses 
 were never too full for them to hail a passer-by and 
 compel him to come in. This interruption detracted 
 nothing from the pleasure of the visit for which we 
 had originally set out. 
 
 A short time after our return to Frederick's Hall 
 our whole artillery command narrowly escaped cap- 
 ture by a band of cavalry raiders under command of 
 Colonel Dahlgren. About fifty of the cannoneers 
 of the battalion had been furnished with muskets 
 and regularly exercised in the infantry drill. When 
 the raiders arrived within a mile of our winter-quar- 
 ters they inquired of the country people as to the 
 character of troops occupying our camp, and were 
 informed by some negroes that the "men had musk- 
 ets with bayonets on them." As infantry was not 
 
222 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 what they were seeking, they gave us the go-by and 
 passed on toward Richmond, the capture of which 
 was the chief object of the expedition. In the attack 
 on Richmond, which occurred in the night, Dahlgren 
 was killed and his command defeated with heavy 
 loss. 
 
 Encouraged by the visit already mentioned, I ac- 
 companied my friend, Tom Williamson, on a visit by 
 rail to his relations, the Garnetts, near Hanover 
 Junction; thence, after spending the night, to some 
 friends in Caroline County. On our return to camp 
 we found preparations on foot for a move to the 
 front, and although we left camp by eleven o'clock 
 that night not more than three or four miles was 
 traveled by daylight. In the darkness one of our 
 twenty-pounders went over a thirty- foot embank- 
 ment, carrying the drivers and eight horses into the 
 mud and water at its base. 
 
 While on the march later in the day, to save dis- 
 tance, I undertook to pass near a house, in the yard 
 of which were two men with a large Newfoundland 
 dog. A smaller dog, chained to the corner of the 
 house, broke loose as I passed and viciously seized 
 the tail of my overcoat. Instantly, to my dismay, 
 the large dog left the men and dashed straight for 
 me ; but, instead of rending me, knocked my assail- 
 ant heels over head and held him down until secured 
 by the men and chained. 
 
 Before reaching the front, it was learned that we 
 had been called out on a false alarm. Our return to 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 223 
 
 Frederick's Hall was by a more circuitous route, 
 near which was an establishment where apple-brandy 
 was for sale. The stock had been heavily watered 
 and the price of shares (in a drink), even then, too 
 far above par for eleven dollars a month to afford 
 scarcely more than a smell. However, after reach- 
 ing camp, more than ordinary wrestling and testing 
 of strength were indulged in. 
 
 Two years had elapsed since any furloughs had 
 been given, except to the sick and wounded. The 
 granting of them was now revived, and those who 
 had been longest from home were, of course, to be 
 served first. My turn came in March. I shall never 
 forget the impression made on me as I sat at the 
 supper-table at home, on the evening of my arrival. 
 My father, mother, sisters, and little niece, Bessie 
 Nelson, were present. The last named, who had 
 formerly treated me as scarcely an equal, now eyed 
 me with even some degree of reverence. 
 
 After the noise, loud talking, etc., in camp, 
 the quiet was painful. It was just as it had always 
 been, except the vacant places of the boys at the 
 front; still, I felt that something was wrong. Equally 
 as impressive was the mild diet of cold bread, milk, 
 and weak-looking tea. The effect was the same as 
 that produced by a sudden transition from a low to 
 a high altitude, or vice versa, requiring time for 
 adaptation, as I soon experienced. My fifteen days' 
 leave of absence having expired, I returned to camp. 
 
 To induce the boys who were under age, and still 
 
224 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 at home, to enlist, a thirty-day furlough was offered 
 to every soldier who would secure a recruit for the 
 service. By this means many boys of only fifteen 
 or sixteen years joined the army, to enable a long- 
 absent kinsman to get home. McClintic, of my mess, 
 got this furlough by the enlistment of his brother, 
 and while at home drummed up the son of a neigh- 
 bor, William Barger, whom he brought back with 
 him to repeat the operation. To allowing this sec- 
 ond furlough the authorities, right or wrong, ob- 
 jected. The matter was compromised by McClintic 
 very generously assigning the young recruit to my 
 credit, by which I got the furlough. 
 
 Before my return to the army, at the expiration 
 of the thirty days, the Grant campaign had opened 
 and the great battles of the Wilderness and Spottsyl- 
 vania had been fought. Our battery had escaped 
 without serious loss, as the character of the country 
 afforded little opportunity for the use of artillery. 
 From Staunton I traveled on a freight train with the 
 cadets of the Virginia Military Institute and their 
 professors, who were now the conspicuous heroes 
 of the hour, having just won immortal fame in their 
 charge, on May 15, at New Market. Among the 
 professors was my friend and former messmate, 
 Frank Preston, with an empty sleeve, now captain 
 of a cadet company, and Henry A. Wise, Jr., who 
 took command of the cadets after the wounding of 
 Colonel Shipp, their commandant. 
 
 Our army was now near Hano^'er Junction, twen- 
 
^^'ILLIAM McClIXTTC 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 225 
 
 ty-five miles from Richmond, and engaged in its 
 death struggle with Grant's countless legions. If 
 any one period of the four years of the war were to 
 be selected as an example of Southern endurance 
 and valor, it probably should be the campaign from 
 the Wilderness, beginning May 5 and closing a 
 month later at Petersburg, in which the Confederate 
 army, numbering 64,000 half-clothed, half-fed men, 
 successfully resisted a splendidly equipped army of 
 140,000— inflicting a loss of 60,000 killed and 
 wounded. 
 
 Any account or record of a war which failed to 
 at least make mention of the events in that war 
 which towered above all others, and which immortal- 
 ized the immediate actors and shed luster on the 
 whole army, would be incomplete. I therefore take 
 pride in paying tribute to those men who on three 
 separate occasions in the campaign, then in progress, 
 displayed a species of valor and sublime conduct, the 
 parallel of which is recorded nozvhere else in history. 
 The events referred to were : First, on the morn- 
 ing of May 6, when our lines had been broken by 
 the tremendous assaults of the enemy and to restore 
 them. General Lee undertook in person to lead Gen- 
 eral Gregg's brigade of Texans in the charge. When 
 the order to advance was given, these men, who had 
 never before even paused to obey, now stood motion- 
 less as if some strange spell had come over them, 
 too modest, at first, to explain the cause of their 
 refusal, till one of their number made bold to call 
 
226 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 out, "General Lee to the rear," which was at once 
 repeated from a hundred throats. Then yielding to 
 the appeals of men and officers not to expose his life, 
 the Texas brigade moved forward as one man. 
 
 Again on May 10th a similar emergency calling 
 General Lee to the breach, two regiments, one of 
 Georgians and one of Virginians, the Forty-ninth 
 Virginia, refused, as did the Texans, to heed the 
 command "Forward," until General Lee had con- 
 sented to withdraw, then the line advanced. 
 
 Two such events are sufficient to establish the claim 
 made, but as evidence that they were not the prompt- 
 ings of some sudden and passing impulse, two days 
 thereafter, on May 12th, a band of Mississippians 
 repeated the scene. Since every nation holds some 
 particular display of fortitude and valor on the part 
 of its soldiers, as its peculiar heritage, so we of the 
 South should offer these exhibitions of dauntless and 
 sublime heroism. 
 
 The English have the charge at Balaklava. the 
 French the heroism of "The Old Guard," the Spar- 
 tans their Thermopylae, the Romans their Marcus 
 Curtius. It required the pen of a Homer to paint 
 the feats of valor of a Hector or an Achilles as they 
 advanced to join in single combat amid the plaudits 
 of admiring gods and men ; the inspired language of 
 Holy Writ to thrill us with the valor of a David in 
 his contest with the Giant. But we are told also 
 what there was to impel him, that when in obedience 
 to the Divine call, he joined his people, who day after 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 227 
 
 day had been cowering under the derisive taunts of 
 their adversaries; that there was a promise from 
 King Saul that whoever would vanquish this lusty- 
 giant would be rewarded with the hand of the king's 
 daughter, and then to awaken all the courage he 
 could muster he was asked in contempt by his elder 
 brother, "With whom hast thou left those fezv sheep 
 in the wilderness ?" So when he advanced with his 
 five smooth pebbles "from out the brook" there was 
 nothing lacking to nerve his whole being. 
 
 Returning to our examples of valor, the surround- 
 ing's of these Southerners must also be taken into 
 account. As already stated, in every other instance 
 in which men have displayed exalted heroism and 
 won immortal fame, it requires but little considera- 
 tion to see that none possessed the element that ani- 
 mated these men of the South. In some instances the 
 others were led by some renowned chieftain, whom 
 they felt it a credit to follozv, as the grenadiers fol- 
 lowed Napoleon at the Bridge of Lodi. 
 
 Others had their courage inspired and pride in- 
 voked by a contest with a single adversary, but in the 
 case of the Southern men all of these elements were 
 wanting. Then, too, the Northern men, whom they 
 were now confronting, were the seasoned veterans of 
 all the armies that had been brought against them in 
 campaign after campaign and had proven themselves 
 formidable antagonists, and equipped, too, with 
 every advantage known to military science, while 
 their own equipment was almost the reverse. 
 
228 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 In each of the three cases under consideration, the 
 Confederate hnes had been broken and overrun by 
 overwhelming numbers and were now held by the 
 victors exulting in their success. Then the physical 
 condition of the Southern men must not be over- 
 looked. For some days there had scarcely been a 
 lull in the fighting. The small portions of the pre- 
 ceding nights devoted to rest had been passed with 
 their arms and accoutrements about them, and when 
 roused from sleep scant time was given to swallow 
 their rations. Then amid the surroundings of a 
 gloomy forest they moved forward among the 
 wounded and over the dead bodies of their comrades. 
 So if ever environment was such as to allay enthu- 
 siasm, surely it was found here. 
 
 The following extract from a letter written by 
 Colonel Poague to his father, when these scenes had 
 just transpired, will be of interest: 
 
 "Line of battle on Hanover C. H. Road, 
 
 "10 miles from Richmond, 
 
 "June 1st, 1864. 
 
 EXTRACT 
 
 "1 will take this occasion to relate an incident or 
 two illustrating the feeling our soldiers have for 
 General Lee. On the morning of the 6th of May, 
 when the enemy had gained some advantage over 
 our troops on the plank road in the wilderness and 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 229 
 
 were pressing our men back, Longstreet's troops 
 came up and were hastily formed in line of battle, 
 and as the famous Texas Brigade started forward, 
 passing right through my guns, General Lee rode 
 along with it with head uncovered. This spectacle 
 wrought our troops up to the highest pitch of en- 
 thusiasm. But they did not forget that their beloved 
 General was thus greatly exposing himself, and the 
 whole line called out, *Go back! Go back. General 
 Lee ! ;' and finally they told him they would not fire 
 a gun unless he went back. Entreated thus by his 
 troops and implored by members of his staff, he was 
 prevailed on to withdraw to a place less exposed. 
 How the old General's heart must have swelled at 
 this display of filial regard and tender solicitude 
 by his veterans under such circumstances! Again 
 at Spottsylvania General Lee was at the position 
 occupied by my battalion, when the Yankee batteries 
 opened most furiously on the place, as if conscious 
 of the whereabouts of their great antagonist. A 
 great big impulsive fellow, private Shirley of Utter- 
 bach's battery, becoming uneasy for the safety of 
 the General, politely but earnestly invited him to 
 take a seat in the gunpit. The General in his polite 
 and pleasant way declined. Presently a shell struck 
 very near, covering the General with dirt. Shirley 
 could stand it no longer, but springing forward 
 seized him by the hand and besought him to take a 
 seat in the pit and did almost drag General Lee to a 
 place where he was less exposed. These little inci- 
 
230 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 dents will serve to show how General Lee's boys 
 value him and love him. I would not have missed 
 that scene on the plank road for a good deal. But 
 here is an order to move. ..... 
 
 "Your affectionate son, 
 
 "W. T. POAGUE.^^ 
 
 The distinctive features demonstrated on those 
 occasions were : First, General Lee's attitude as he 
 put himself at the head of his men. Then the spirit 
 which animated these men in refusing to allow him 
 to expose his life, and, above all, that it required not 
 even the example of a Lee to encourage them to lay 
 down their lives in the performance of duty. 
 
 The South to do honor to itself, and to the mem- 
 ory of these men, should erect a monument which 
 in majesty of proportion and design should have 
 but one competitor, and that one to the mothers 
 and wives in the South, whose self-sacrifice, patience 
 and devotion rendered such deeds of valor only 
 natural. 
 
 Much has been said and written concerning the 
 comparative equipment, etc., of the two armies. A 
 striking reference to it I heard in a conversation at 
 General Lee's home in Lexington after the war. Of 
 the students who attended Washington College dur- 
 ing his presidency he always requested a visit to 
 himself whenever they returned to the town. With 
 this request they were very ready to comply. While 
 performing this pleasant duty one evening, during 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 231 
 
 a visit to my old home in Lexington, Mrs. Lee, sit- 
 ting in her invahd-chair, was discoursing to me, 
 feehngly, on the striking contrast between the rag- 
 ged clothing worn by Confederate soldiers as com- 
 pared with that worn by the Federals, as she had 
 seen the Federal troops entering Richmond after its 
 evacuation. The General, who was pacing the floor, 
 paused for a moment, his eye lighting up, and, at 
 the conclusion of her remarks, said, as he inclined 
 forward with that superb grace, "But, ah ! Mistress 
 Lee, we gave them some awfully hard knocks, with 
 all of our rags !" 
 
 After parting with my cadet friends at Hanover 
 Junction, soon after day-dawn, I readily found our 
 battery bivouacking in sight of the station. Some of 
 the men were lying asleep; those who had risen 
 seemed not yet fully awake. All looked ten years 
 older than when I had bidden them good-by a month 
 before — hollow-eyed, unwashed, jaded, and hun- 
 gry; paper-collars and blue neckties shed and for- 
 gotten. The contents of my basket (boxes were 
 now obsolete), consisting of pies, sweetened with 
 sorghum molasses, and other such edibles, were 
 soon devoured, and I reported "returned for duty." 
 In a few hours we were on the road to Richmond, 
 with the prospect of another sojourn in the sur- 
 rounding swamps. 
 
 On the night of June 1 our battery was biv- 
 ouacked in the edge of a dense piece of woods, the 
 guns being parked in open ground just outside, 
 
232 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 while the men were lying in the leaves, with the 
 horses tied among them. About midnight one of 
 the horses became tangled in his halter and fell to 
 the ground, struggling and kicking frantically to 
 free himself. A man close by, being startled from 
 sleep, began halloaing, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" The 
 alarm was taken up by one after another as each 
 roused from slumber, increasing and spreading the 
 noise and confusion; by this time the horses had 
 joined in, pawing and snorting in terror, complet- 
 ing the reign of pandemonium. As darkness pre- 
 vented successful running, some of the men climbed 
 trees or clung to them for protection, while the sen- 
 tinel over the guns in the open broke from his beat, 
 supposing Grant's cavalry was upon us. In a space 
 of two minutes all suddenly became still, the climbers 
 stealthily slid from their trees, and others gingerly 
 picked their way back to their lairs, "ashamed as 
 men who flee in battle." For some time, as the 
 cause and absurdity of the incident was realized, 
 there issued now and then from a pile of leaves a 
 chuckle of suppressed laughter. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 SECOND COLD HARBOR WOUNDED RETURN HOME 
 
 REFUGEEING FROM HUNTER 
 
 After spending the following day and night in 
 ''Camp Panic," we moved forward early on the 
 morning of June 3 to the field of the memorable 
 second Cold Harbor. Minie-balls were rapping 
 against the trees as we drove through a copse of 
 small timber to occupy a temporary redoubt in the 
 line of breastworks beyond. While the guns halted 
 briefly before driving in to unlimber, I walked for- 
 ward to see what was in front. The moment I came 
 into view a Minie-ball sung by my head and passed 
 through the clothes of the cannoneer, Barton Mc- 
 Crum, who was a few steps from me, suggesting to 
 both of us to lie low until called for as videttes. 
 Perched in the tops of the trees beyond the half- 
 mile of open field in our front, the enemy's sharp- 
 shooters, with telescope sights on their rifles, blazed 
 away at every moving object along our line. It was 
 noon before their artillery opened on us, and, in the 
 firing which ensued, a large barn a hundred yards 
 in our front was set on fire by a shell and burned to 
 
 the ground. 
 
 An hour or two later, during this brisk can- 
 nonade, I, being No. 3, stood with my thumb on the 
 vent as the gun was being loaded. From a shell 
 
 233 
 
234 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 which exploded a few yards in front I was struck 
 on the breast by the butt-end, weighing not less than 
 three pounds, and at the same time by a smaller 
 piece on the thigh. After writhing for a time I was 
 accompanied to our surgeon in the rear. The brass 
 button on my jacket, which I still have as a me- 
 mento, was cut almost in two and the shirt button 
 underneath driven to the breast-bone, besides other 
 smaller gashes. A large contusion was made by the 
 blow on my thigh, and my clothing was very much 
 torn. After my wounds had been dressed I passed 
 the night at the quarters of my friend and fellow- 
 townsman, Capt. Charles Estill, of the Ordnance 
 Department, who already had in charge his brother 
 Jack, wounded in a cavalry engagement the day be- 
 fore. 
 
 An hour after dark, as I sat by the light of a 
 camp-fire, enjoying the relief and rest, as well as 
 the agreeable company of old friends, the rattle of 
 musketry two miles away had gradually increased 
 into the proportions of a fierce battle. The feelings 
 of one honorably out of such a conflict, but listen- 
 ing in perfect security, may be better imagined than 
 described. This, like a curfew bell, signaled the 
 close of a day of frightful and probably unparal- 
 leled carnage. Within the space of a single hour 
 in the forenoon the Federal army had been three 
 times repulsed with a loss of thirteen thousand men 
 killed and wounded; after which their troops firmly 
 refused to submit themselves to further butcherv- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 235 
 
 This statement is made on the evidence of Northern 
 historians. 
 
 After a night's rest I was sent to Richmond, 
 where I received a transfer to a hospital in Staun- 
 ton. Sheridan's cavalry having interrupted travel 
 over the Virginia Central Railroad, I went by rail 
 to Lynchburg, via the Southside Road, with Cap- 
 tain Semmes and eight or ten cadets on their return 
 to Lexington with artillery horses pressed into ser- 
 vice. Learning, in Lynchburg, that Hunter's army 
 was near Staunton, I continued with the cadets, rid- 
 ing one of their artillery horses, but was too much 
 exhausted to proceed far, and stopped for the night 
 on the way. Here I learned from refugees that 
 Hunter was advancing toward Lexington. As the 
 whole country seemed now to be overrun by the 
 Federals, to avoid them was very difficult. 
 
 I resumed my journey toward home, frequently 
 meeting acquaintances who were seeking safety 
 elsewhere. When within four or five miles of the 
 town, while ascending a long hill, I heard the sound 
 of a drum and fife not far ahead. Presently I 
 recognized the tune played to be "Yankee Doodle." 
 I could not believe it to be the vanguard of Hunter's 
 army, but what on earth could it be ? However, at 
 the top of the hill I saw a train of refugee wagons 
 preceded by two negroes who were making the 
 music. 
 
 I remained at home only a day and a night, at 
 the expiration of which time General McCausland 
 
236 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 (the first captain of our battery) with his brigade 
 of cavalry was within a mile of town, closely pur- 
 sued by Hunter's whole army. I spent half of the 
 night assisting my mother and the servants (our 
 slaves) to conceal from the marauders what flour, 
 bacon, etc., the family still had; and before sunrise 
 the next morning set out, mounted on my father's 
 horse, for a safer place. By this time my wounds 
 had become very painful, and my leg had turned a 
 dark-blue color from the thigh to the knee. 
 
 A brief account of my experience while refugee- 
 ing may be of interest, as it will give an idea of the 
 horror with which our non-combatants regarded the 
 invasion of their homes by our fellow-countrymen 
 of the North, who had now resorted to fire, after 
 learning by bitter experience that the sword alone 
 could not restore us to the blessings of the Union. 
 
 My destination was the home of my aunt, Mrs. 
 Allen, forty miles distant, in Bedford County. After 
 passing through the gap between the two peaks of 
 Otter, I reached my aunt's and found there three 
 officers from Louisiana recovering from wounds. 
 After a respite of two days one of the officers, on 
 his return from a neighbor's, brought information 
 that McCausland's command was approaching 
 through the mountain-pass, with Hunter in close 
 pursuit. In a few hours our house of refuge was 
 overrun by McCausland's hungry soldiers. Again 
 I went through the process of helping to hide valu- 
 ables and packing up what was to be hauled away. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 237 
 
 I started at dawn next morning with the officers, 
 leaving my aunt and her three daughters very for- 
 lorn and unprotected. When I left she gave me the 
 pistol which her son Robert, colonel of the Twenty- 
 eighth Virginia Regiment, was wearing when he 
 fell in Pickett's charge at Gettysburg. In our care 
 were the loaded wagons, negro men, lowing cows, 
 and bleating sheep. 
 
 That afternoon, after exchanging my gray for 
 a fleet-footed cavalry horse ridden by one of the 
 officers, I rode back from our place of hiding, some 
 miles south of Liberty, to reconnoiter; but, after 
 passing through the town, met General McCausland 
 at the head of his brigade falling back toward 
 Lynchburg, and rode back a short distance with 
 him to return to my party of refugees, who mean- 
 time had moved farther on. Next day I stopped 
 at a house by the wayside to get dinner, and had 
 just taken my seat at the table when there arose a 
 great commotion outside, with cries of "Yankee 
 cavalry! Yankee cavalry!" Stepping to the door, 
 I saw a stream of terrified school-children crying 
 as they ran by, and refugees flying for the woods. 
 In a moment I was on my fleet-footed dun, not tak- 
 ing time to pick up a biscuit of my untasted dinner 
 nor the pillow worn between my crippled leg and the 
 saddle, and joined in the flight. I had noticed a 
 yearling colt in the yard of the house as I entered, 
 and in five minutes after I started a twelve-year-old 
 boy mounted on the little thing, barebacked, shot 
 
238 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 by me with the speed of a greyhound. A hundred 
 yards farther on I overtook some refugee wagons 
 from about Lexington, whose owners had left them 
 on the road and betaken themselves to the woods ; 
 but there still stood by them a mulatto man of our 
 town — Lindsay Reid by name — who indignantly 
 refused to be routed, and was doing his utmost, 
 with voice and example, to stem the tide, saying, 
 "It is a shame to fear anything ; let's stand and give 
 them a fight !" 
 
 A moment later a negro boy rode by at a gallop 
 in the direction from which the alarm came. In 
 reply to the inquiry as to where he was going, he 
 called out, "After Marse Wilham." Relying on 
 him as a picket, I remained in view of the road. In 
 ten minutes he appeared, returning at full speed, 
 and called out to me, as he rode up, that he had 
 "run almost into them." They were close behind, 
 and I must "fly or be caught." I was well along- 
 side of him as he finished the warning, and for half 
 a mile our horses ran neck and neck. He said he 
 would take me to his old master's, an out-of-the-way 
 place, several miles distant. Arriving there, a nice 
 country house and very secluded, I concealed my 
 horse in the woods as best I could and went to the 
 house, where I was welcomed and cared for by two 
 young ladies and their aged father, Mr. Hurt, who 
 was blind. I was now much exhausted, and determ- 
 ined to take a rest, with the chances of being cap- 
 tured. The occasion of the alarm was a body of 
 
Robert Frazek 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 239 
 
 Federal cavalry which had been sent on a raid to 
 meet Hunter's army, advancing on Lynchburg. 
 
 After two days in this quiet abode I set out to 
 make my way past the rear of Hunter's army and 
 eventually to reach home. On the way to Liberty 
 I was informed that a train of Hunter's wagons 
 and many negroes, under a cavalry escort, were then 
 passing northward through the town. To satisfy 
 myself (being again mounted on my father's gray) 
 I rode to the top of the hill overlooking the place. 
 Then a strikingly pretty young lady of about six- 
 teen, bareheaded (although it was not then the 
 fashion), and almost out of breath, who had seen 
 me coming into danger, ran to meet me and called, 
 "For God's sake, fly ; the town is full of Yankees !" 
 Many years after the war a lady friend of Norfolk, 
 Virginia, who was refugeeing in Liberty at the 
 time, told me that she had witnessed the incident, 
 and said that the girl who had run out to warn me 
 had afterward married a Federal officer. I then 
 went around the town and crossed the road a mile 
 west of it, learning that the wagon-train, etc., had 
 all passed. 
 
 From this place on, throughout the territory 
 over which this patriotic army had operated, were 
 the desolated homes of helpless people, stripped of 
 every valuable they possessed, and outraged at the 
 wanton destruction of their property, scarcely 
 knowing how to repair the damage or to take up 
 ae-ain their broken fortunes. Night had now fallen, 
 
240 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 but a bright moon rather added to the risks of con- 
 tinuing my journey. An old negro man, however, 
 kindly agreed to pilot me through fields and woods, 
 avoiding the highways, "as far as Colonel Nichols' " 
 (his master's). When near his destination he went 
 ahead to reconnoiter, and soon returned from the 
 house, accompanied by one of the ladies, who told 
 me that their house and premises had been overrun 
 by Yankees all day, and that some of them were 
 still prowling about, and, in her fright, pointed to 
 each bush as an armed foe. 
 
 Camp-fires still burning enabled me to steer clear 
 of the road, but it was midnight when I reached my 
 aunt's, and, going to the negro cabin farthest from 
 her dwelling, I succeeded, after a long time, in get- 
 ting "Uncle" Mose to venture out of his door. He 
 said he thought the Yankees were all gone, but to 
 wait till he crept up to the house and let "Ole Miss" 
 know I was about. He reported the way clear, and 
 I was soon in the side porch. After the inmates 
 were satisfied as to my identity, the door was opened 
 just enough for me to squeeze through. The family, 
 consisting of females, including the overseer's wife, 
 who had come for protection, quietly collected in 
 the sitting-room, where a tallow candle, placed not 
 to attract attention from outside, shed a dim light 
 over my ghost-like companions clad in their night- 
 dresses. The younger ladies were almost hysterical, 
 and all looked as if they had passed through a fear- 
 ful storm at sea, as various experiences were re- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 241 
 
 counted. The house had been ransacked from gar- 
 ret to cellar, and what could not be devoured or car- 
 ried off was scattered about, and such things as 
 sugar, vinegar, flour, salt, etc., conglomerately 
 mixed. The only food that escaped was what the 
 negroes had in their cabins, and this they freely 
 divided with the whites. 
 
 The next day I concealed myself and horse in 
 the woods, and was lying half-asleep when I heard 
 footsteps stealthily approaching through the leaves. 
 Presently a half -grown negro, carrying a small bas- 
 ket, stumbled almost on me. He drew back, startled 
 at my question, "What do you want?" and replied, 
 "Nothin' ; I jus' gwine take 'Uncle' Mose he din- 
 ner. He workin' in de fiel' over yander." My din- 
 ner was to be sent by a boy named Phil, so I said, 
 "Is that you, Phil?" "Lordy! Is that you, Marse 
 Eddie? I though you was a Yankee! Yas, dis is 
 me, and here's yer dinner I done brung yer." Phil, 
 who belonged to my aunt, had run off several weeks 
 before, but of his own accord had returned the 
 preceding day, and this was our first meeting. 
 
 As Hunter's army was still threatening Lynch- 
 burg, to avoid the scouting-parties scouring the 
 country in his rear I set out on Sunday morning to 
 make my way back to Lexington by Peteet's Gap. 
 I was scarcely out of sight — in fact one of my 
 cousins, as I learned afterward, ran to the porch to 
 assure herself that I was gone — when twenty-five 
 or thirty Federal cavalry, accompanied by a large, 
 
242 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 black dog, and guided by one of my aunt's negroes 
 armed and dressed in Federal uniform, galloped into 
 the yard and searched the house for "rebel soldiers." 
 Passing through the Federal camp-ground, from 
 among the numerous household articles, etc., I 
 picked up a book, on the fly-leaf of which was writ- 
 ten, "Captured at Washington College, Lexington, 
 Rockingham County, Virginia." That afternoon, 
 as I was slowly toiling up the steep mountain path 
 almost overgrown with ferns, I was stopped by an 
 old, white-bearded mountaineer at a small gate 
 which he held open for me. While asking for the 
 news, after I had dismounted, he noticed the split 
 button on my coat and my torn trousers, and, paus- 
 ing for a moment, he said, very solemnly, "Well, 
 you ought to be a mighty good young man." I 
 asked why he thought so. "Well," said he, "the 
 hand of God has certainly been around you." 
 
 That night I spent at Judge Anderson's, in Ar- 
 nold's Valley, and the next day reached Lexington 
 — a very different Lexington from the one I had left 
 a fortnight before. The Virginia Military Insti- 
 tute barracks, the professors' houses, and Governor 
 Letcher's private home had been burned, and also 
 all neighboring mills, etc., while the intervening 
 and adjacent grounds were one great desolate com- 
 mon. Preparations had also been made to burn 
 Washington College, when my father, who was a 
 trustee of that institution, called on General Hun- 
 ter, and, by explaining that it was endowed by and 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 243 
 
 named in honor of General Washington, finally suc- 
 ceeded in preventing its entire destruction, although 
 much valuable apparatus, etc., had already been 
 destroyed. 
 
 Comparisons are odious, but the contrast between 
 the conduct of Northern and Southern soldiers dur- 
 ing their invasions of each other's territory is very 
 striking and suggestive; especially when taken in 
 connection with the fact that the Federal army, from 
 first to last, numbered twenty-eight hundred thou- 
 sand men, and the Confederates not more than six 
 hundred and fifty thousand. 
 
 General Early, with three divisions, having been 
 despatched from the army near Richmond, had 
 reached Lynchburg in time to prevent its occu- 
 pancy by Hunter, who promptly retreated, and his 
 army soon became a mass of fugitives, struggling 
 through the mountains of West Virginia on to the 
 Ohio River. The Confederates at Lynchburg, all 
 told, numbered 11,000 men, the Federals 20,000. 
 
 An incident which occurred in Rockbridge 
 County, the participants in which were of the "cra- 
 dle and grave" classes, deserves mention. Maj. 
 Angus McDonald, aged seventy, having four sons 
 in our army, set out from Lexington with his four- 
 teen-year-old son Harry, refugeeing. They were 
 joined, near the Natural Bridge, by Mr. Thomas 
 Wilson, a white-haired old man ; and the three de- 
 termined to give battle to Hunter's army. From a 
 hastily constructed shelter of rails and stones they 
 
244 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 opened, with shotguns and pistols, on his advance 
 guard, but, of course, were quickly overpowered. 
 Mr. Wilson was left for dead on the ground, and 
 the McDonalds captured. The father was taken to 
 a Northern prison, but Harry made his escape by 
 night in the mountains, and in turn captured a Fed- 
 eral soldier, whom I saw him turn over to the pro- 
 vost on his return to Lexington. General Early pur- 
 sued Hunter no farther than Botetourt County, and 
 thence passed through Lexington on his disastrous 
 campaign toward Washington. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 PERSONAL MENTION OF OFFICERS AND MEN ROCK- 
 BRIDGE ARTILLERY SECOND ROCKBRIDGE AR- 
 TILLERY 
 
 As HAS already been mentioned, the captain under 
 whom the battery was mustered into service was the 
 Rev. Wm. N. Pendleton, rector of the Episcopal 
 Church in Lexington, Virginia, who, after the first 
 battle of Manassas, became chief of artillery of the 
 Army of Northern Virginia. His only son, Alexan- 
 der S. Pendleton, graduated at Washington College 
 at the age of 18. He entered the army from the 
 University of Virginia at the beginning of the war 
 as lieutenant on General Jackson's staff, and rose 
 through the various grades of promotion to the 
 rank of lieutenant-colonel. After General Jack- 
 son's death he continued to fill the position of ad- 
 jutant to the succeeding commanders of the corps 
 until he fell in battle near Winchester, in 1864. He 
 was one of the bravest and most efficient staff offi- 
 cers in the Army of Northern Virginia. 
 
 The captains of the battery under whom I served 
 were three uncommonly brave and capable officers. 
 
 The first, William McLaughlin, after making an 
 enviable record with the company, distinguished 
 himself as commander of a battalion of artillery in 
 General Early's company in 1864. 
 
 245 
 
246 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 The second, Captain W. T. Poague, whose repu- 
 tation for efficiency and courage won for him the 
 command of a battahon of artillery in A. P. Hill's 
 corps, was amply equipped with both intelligence 
 and valor to have handled an army division with 
 credit to himself and advantage to the service. 
 
 The third, Archibald Graham, who was appointed 
 a sergeant upon the organization of the company, 
 then elected a lieutenant, and for the last two years 
 of the war captain, had the distinction of having 
 been in every engagement in which the battery took 
 part from Hainesville, in 1861, to Appomattox in 
 1865. His dreamy, brown eyes kindled most at the 
 sound of good music, and where the noise of battle 
 was greatest, and shells flew thickest, there Graham 
 lingered, as if courting danger. 
 
 Our First Lieut. W. M. Brown, a brave officer, 
 wounded and captured at Gettysburg, remained in 
 prison from that time until the close of the war. 
 
 Lieut. J. B. McCorkle, a noble fellow and reck- 
 lessly brave, was killed at first Fredericksburg. 
 
 As stated in this paper, besides those regularly 
 enrolled in the company were men who did more 
 or less service with it, but whose names do not ap- 
 pear on the roll. For example, Bernard Wolfe, of 
 Martinsburg, served in this capacity for a time pre- 
 vious to and in the first battle of Manassas, and later 
 became major of commissary on General Pendle- 
 ton's staff. 
 
 Chapman Maupin, of Charlottesville, son of Pro- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 247 
 
 fessor Maupin, of the University of Virginia, served 
 during part of the campaign of 1862, was with the 
 battery in several battles, and enlisted afterward 
 in the Signal Corps. 
 
 That so many intelligent and educated men from 
 outside of Rockbridge were attracted to this com- 
 pany was primarily due to the fact that the Rev. 
 W. N. Pendleton, its captain until after first Ma- 
 nassas, was a graduate of West Point and was 
 widely known as a clergyman and educator. After 
 his promotion the character of the company itself 
 accomplished the same effect. 
 
 Of the names on the roll there were four A. M.'s 
 and a score of students of the University of Vir- 
 ginia. There were at least twenty graduates of 
 Washington College, and as many undergraduates, 
 and many graduates and students of other colleges. 
 
 Among the privates in the company was a son 
 and namesake of General R. E. Lee, whose presence 
 in such a capacity was characteristic of his noble 
 father, when it seemed so natural and surely the 
 custom to have provided him with a commission. 
 That the son should have the instincts and attributes 
 of a soldier was not surprising; but, with these in- 
 herited gifts, his individuality, in which uniform 
 cheerfulness, consideration for others, and enjoy- 
 ment of fun were prominent features, won for him 
 the esteem and affection of his comrades. When it 
 fell to his lot, as a cannoneer, to supply temporarily 
 the place of a sick or wounded driver, he handled 
 
248 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 and cared for his horses as diligently and with as 
 much pride as when firing a gun. 
 
 Two sons of Ex-President Tyler, one of whom 
 — Gardiner — afterwards represented his district in 
 Congress. 
 
 A son of Commodore Porter, of the United 
 States Navy. 
 
 Walter and Joseph Packard, descendants of 
 Charles Lee, who was a brother of Light-Horse 
 Harry Lee. 
 
 The beautiful character of Randolph Fairfax, a 
 descendant of Lord Fairfax, who was killed on 
 December 13, 1862, on that fatal hill near Fred- 
 ericksburg, has been worthily portrayed in a memoir 
 by the Rev. Philip Slaughter. More than ten thou- 
 sand copies of this memoir were distributed through 
 the army at the expense of General Lee, Gen. 
 J. E. B. Stuart, and other officers and men, and no 
 better idea of the exalted character of young Fair- 
 fax can be conveyed, than by extracts copied from 
 this little volume : 
 
 " 'Rev. p. Slaughter. 
 
 " 'Dear Sir : Please receive enclosed a contribu- 
 tion ($100) to the very laudable work alluded to 
 in church by you to-day. It is very desirable to 
 place the example of Private Randolph Fairfax be- 
 fore every soldier of the army. I am particularly 
 desirous that my command should have the advant- 
 age of such a Christian light to guide them on their 
 
Raxdolph Fairfax 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 249 
 
 way. How invincible would an army of such men 
 
 be ! — men who never murmur and who never flinch ! 
 
 " 'Very truly yours, 
 
 " 7. E. B. Stuart/ 
 
 "Berkeley Minor says : 
 
 " 'I knew Randolph Fairfax at the University 
 quite well, but not so intimately as I did after he 
 joined this company (the Rockbridge Battery). For 
 several months before his death I was his messmate 
 and bedfellow, and was able to note more fully the 
 tone of earnest piety that pervaded his words and 
 actions. He was unselfish, modest, and uniformly 
 kind and considerate to all. H there was one trait 
 in him more striking than others, it was his calm, 
 earnest, trustful demeanor in time of battle, result- 
 ing, I believe, from his abiding trust in the provi- 
 dence and love of God. Many fine young men have 
 been removed by death from this company, yet I do 
 not think that any has been more deeply lamented 
 than he.' 
 
 "Joseph Packard, another of his comrades, 
 writes : 
 
 " 'His cheerful courage, his coolness and steadi- 
 ness, made him conspicuous in every battlefield. At 
 the battle of Malvern Hill, where he had received 
 a wound which nine men out of ten would have con- 
 sidered an excuse for retiring from the awful scene, 
 he persisted in remaining at his post, and did the 
 work of two until the battery had left the field. But 
 
250 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 it was in the bearing, more than in the daring, of 
 the soldier's Hfe that his lovely character displayed 
 itself. He never avoided the most trying and irk- 
 some duties. H he had selfishness, those who knew 
 him long and well as schoolmates and comrades 
 never discerned it. More than once I have heard 
 his beautiful Christian example spoken of by irreli- 
 gious comrades. Bitter and inexplicable as may be 
 the Providence which has removed one so full of 
 promise of good to his fellows, I feel that we may 
 thank God that we have been permitted to witness 
 a life so Christ-like terminated by a death so noble.' 
 
 "Captain Poague, commanding the Rockbridge 
 Battery, says in a letter to his father: 
 
 " Tn simple justice to your son, I desire to express 
 my high appreciation of his noble character as a 
 soldier, a Christian, and gentleman. Modest and 
 courteous in his deportment, charitable and unsel- 
 fish in his disposition, cheerful and conscientious in 
 his performance of duty, and upright and consistent 
 in his walk and conversation, he was a universal 
 favorite in the company, and greatly beloved by his 
 friends. I don't think I have ever known a j^oung 
 man whose life was so free from the frailties of 
 human nature, and whose character in all aspects 
 formed so faultless a model for the imitation of 
 others. Had his influence been restricted to the 
 silent power and beauty of his example, his life on 
 earth, short as it was, would not have been in vain. 
 The name of Randolph Fairfax will not soon be for- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 251 
 
 gotten by his comrades, and his family may be as- 
 sured that there are many who, strangers as they 
 are, deeply sympathize with them in their bereave- 
 ment.' 
 
 'The following from General Lee will be a fit 
 climax to the foregoing tributes : 
 " 'Camp Fredericksburg, December 28, 1862. 
 
 " 'My Dear Doctor : I have grieved most 
 deeply at the death of your noble son. I have 
 watched his conduct from the commencement of 
 the war, and have pointed with pride to the patriot- 
 ism, self-denial, and manliness of character he has 
 exhibited. I had hoped that an opportunity would 
 have occurred for the promotion he deserved; not 
 that it would have elevated him, but have shown 
 that his devotion to duty was appreciated by his 
 country. Such an opportunity would undoubtedly 
 have occurred ; but he has been translated to a bet- 
 ter world for which his purity and his piety have 
 eminently fitted him. You do not require to be told 
 how great his gain. It is the living for whom I 
 sorrow. I beg you will offer to Mrs. Fairfax and 
 your daughters my heartfelt sympathy, for I know 
 the depth of their grief. That JSod may give you 
 and them strength to bear this great affliction is 
 the earnest prayer of your early friend, 
 
 " 'R. E. Lee. 
 
 " 'Dr. Orlando Fairfax.' " 
 
 A son and two nephews of Hon. A. R. Boteler. 
 
 A son of Governor Gilmer, of Virginia. 
 
252 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 S. H. Letcher, brother of War-Governor John 
 Letcher. 
 
 Mercer Otey, graduate of Virginia MiHtary In- 
 stitute and son of Bishop Otey, of Tennessee. 
 
 Launcelot M. Blackford, A.M., of University of 
 Virginia, who became adjutant of the Twenty- 
 sixth Virginia Infantry, and Superintendent of the 
 Alexandria High School from the close of the war 
 to the present time — forty-one years. He has said 
 to the writer since the war that he cherished the 
 fact of his having been a private in the Rockbridge 
 Artillery with more pride than he felt in any honors 
 he has since achieved. 
 
 Robert A. Gibson, of Petersburg, Virginia, now a 
 bishop of Virginia. 
 
 Livingston Massie, of Waynesboro, who became 
 captain of another battery and was killed in General 
 Early's battle of Winchester. 
 
 Hugh McGuire, of Winchester, brother of Dr. 
 Hunter McGuire, medical director of Jackson's 
 corps, whose gallantry won for him a captaincy in 
 cavalry and lost him his life on the retreat to Appo- 
 mattox. 
 
 Boyd Faulkner, of Martinsburg, son of Hon. 
 Charles J. Faulkner. 
 
 Two Bartons from Winchester. 
 
 Two Maurys from Jefferson County, Va. 
 
 Two Minors from Albemarle and one from Han- 
 over County, Va. 
 
 Other members of the company, of whom much 
 
Edward H. Hydk 
 (Color-bearer) 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 253 
 
 that is interesting could be written, were Edgar and 
 Eugene Alexander, of Moorefield, West Virginia, 
 uncles of the authoress, Miss Mary Johnston. The 
 first named lost an arm at Fredericksburg, the sec- 
 ond had his thigh-bone broken at second Manassas. 
 William H. Boiling, of Petersburg, Virginia, the 
 handsomest of eight handsome brothers and a most 
 polished gentleman. 
 
 Holmes Boyd, of Winchester, now a distinguished 
 lawyer of that city. 
 
 Daniel Blaine, of Williamsburg, since the war a 
 Presbyterian divine. 
 
 Robert Frazer, of Culpeper, an accomplished 
 scholar and prominent educator. 
 
 William L. Gilliam, of Powhatan County. 
 Campbell Heiskell, of Moorfield. 
 J. K. Hitner, who, though a native of Pennsyl- 
 vania, fought through the war for the South. 
 
 William F. Johnston, of Rockbridge, a sterling 
 man and soldier. 
 
 Edward Hyde, of Alexandria, an excellent artist, 
 who devoted most of his time in camp to drawing 
 sketches of army life. He has recently written me 
 that his drawings were lost in a canoe in which he 
 attempted to cross James River on his journey from 
 Appomattox. Otherwise more of them would have 
 appeared in this book. 
 
 Otho Kean, of Goochland County, Virginia. 
 John E. McCauley, of Rockbridge, sergeant of 
 the battery. 
 
254 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 William S. McClintic, now a prominent citizen 
 of Missouri, 
 
 D. D. Magruder, of Frederick County, Virginia. 
 
 Littleton Macon, of Albemarle County, whose 
 utterances became proverbial. 
 
 Frank Meade and Frank Nelson, of Albemarle 
 county. 
 
 W. C. Gordon, of Lexington, Virginia. 
 
 Jefferson Ruffin, of Henrico. 
 
 J. M. Shoulder, of Rockbridge. 
 
 W. C. Stuart, of Lexington, Virginia. 
 
 Stevens M. Taylor, of Albemarle County, Vir- 
 ginia. 
 
 Charles M. Trueheart, now a physician in Gal- 
 veston, Texas. 
 
 Thomas M. Wade, of Lexington, Virginia. 
 
 W. H. White, of Lexington, Virginia. 
 
 Calvin Wilson, of Cumberland County. 
 
 John Withrow, of Lexington, Virginia. 
 
 William M. Wilson, of Rockbridge, who went by 
 the name of "Billy Zu," abbreviated for zouave; 
 and many other fine fellows, most of whom have 
 long since "passed over the river." 
 
 Corporal A. S. Whitt, gunner of the fourth piece, 
 deserves more than casual mention. His clear, blue 
 eye, ruddy complexion, and well-kept beard, and 
 above all his merry laugh, made him attractive. The 
 following incident will recall him most vividly : 
 
 Our camp in Orange County, known as "Blue 
 Run Church," occupied a piece of woodland, the 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 255 
 
 ground sloping to a little ravine along which flowed 
 a spring-branch, whose pools afforded bowls for 
 our morning face-washing, and whose source, 100 
 yards above, delicious drinking water. Approach- 
 ing the little stream one morning. I came upon Whitt 
 standing with a foot on either side of it, sleeves 
 rolled up and shirt collar tucked in, busily engaged. 
 As he straightened up to greet me, his eyes caught 
 the sun just risen, and turning toward it, his full 
 brown beard spangled with the glistening beads of 
 water, his face lit up with a smile and uplifted 
 hand, he rolled out in that clear baritone voice: 
 
 "Hail' Hail! Smiling morn, smiling morn, 
 ?hat tips the hills wtth gold, that tips the hills with gold. 
 Whose rosy fingers ope the gates of day. 
 Hail! Hail!" 
 
 Grand old Gunner Whitt! who could land a 20- 
 pound shot within a hair's breadth and not miss. 
 I doubt not that in a realm where the wild battle- 
 cry and the wicked scream of shells are unknown, 
 again and in still richer tones, his salutation is, 
 "Hail! Hail! All Hail!" 
 
 A very interesting personality in our battery was 
 George Hostetter, a stalwart youth, very erect, with 
 large, dark eyes. Born and bred in the mountains 
 of Rockbridge, his surroundings had familiarized 
 him with the calls of the wild, and to mock the 
 various birds and animals of the forest was one of 
 his pastimes. The bugle cah for reveille he fre- 
 quently anticipated by crowing like a rooster, and 
 
256 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 so perfect was the imitation that in the semi-con- 
 scious state before waking one would expect to see 
 and hear the ordinary accompaniments of the farm- 
 yard. As my companion on a hunt one morning, 
 his skill (knowledge) in woodcraft served me well. 
 Finding that the small slugs used on partridges were 
 only laughed at by a squirrel, he drew from his 
 pocket and handed me four Minie-balls, which he 
 must have charmed, as with them I brought down 
 three squirrels and a pheasant, but had no such 
 luck on later occasions. After removing his shoes 
 he went stealthily in advance, his shrill whistle be- 
 ing a sure signal that he had "treed." 
 
 After serving two years in the battery, Hostetter 
 announced that he was tired of wheeled-guns and 
 would try the infantry and be "sergeant of his own 
 piece," as he expressed it. This he did by exchang- 
 ing places with a man in the Twenty-seventh Regi- 
 ment. In the battle of the Wilderness, scorning the 
 protection of breastworks, he advanced to the front, 
 and after ringing out the defiant challenge of a 
 game-cock he would call on the "Yanks to stand up 
 and fight." 
 
 Returning to his mountain home at the close of 
 the war his ante-bellum life was resumed until closed 
 after several years by a tragic death. Having taken 
 his gun out one Sunday morning to shoot a maraud- 
 ing fox, he saw a party passing by on their way to 
 church, and with Stonewall Jackson's idea that only 
 the exigencies of war could justify the desecra- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 257 
 
 tion of the Sabbath, to conceal his gun undertook 
 to drag it. The gun was accidentally discharged, 
 inflicting a mortal wound from which, after a 
 week's suffering, he died. 
 
 'In this company were all classes of society and 
 all grades of intelligence, from the most cultured 
 scholars to the lowest degree of illiteracy. We had 
 men who had formerly been gentlemen of leisure, 
 lawyers, physicians, students of divinity, teachers, 
 merchants, farmers and mechanics, ranging in age 
 from boys of _ seventeen to matured men in the 
 forties and from all parts of the South and several 
 from Northern States, as well as Irish and Ger- 
 mans. At one camp-fire could be heard discussions 
 on literature, philosophy, science, etc., and at an- 
 other horse-talk. The tone of the company was 
 decidedly moral, and there was comparatively little 
 profanity. In addition to the services conducted by 
 the chaplain of the battalion, Rev. Henry White, 
 prayer-meetings were regularly held by the theo- 
 logical students. Then we had men that swore like 
 troopers. "Irish Emmett," whose face was dotted 
 with grains of powder imbedded under the skin, 
 could growl out oaths through half-clenched teeth 
 that chilled one's blood. 
 
 One man, Michael, a conscript from another 
 county, a full-grown man, weighing perhaps one 
 hundred and seventy-five pounds, was a chronic cry- 
 baby ; unfit for other service, he was assigned assist- 
 ant at the forge, an(;3^would lie with face to the 
 
258 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 ground and moan out, "I want to go home, 'I want 
 to go home," and sob by the hour. 
 
 Another, a primitive man from the German for- 
 ests, whose language was scarcely intelligible, lived 
 entirely to himself and constructed his shelter of 
 brush and leaves — as would a bear preparing to 
 hibernate. In his ignorance of the use of an axe I 
 saw him, in felling a tree, "throw" it so that it fell 
 on and killed a horse tied nearby. On seeing what 
 he had done, his lamentation over the dying animal 
 was pathetic. 
 
 The death of this horse was peculiar. I have 
 seen horses wounded and mutilated in every degree 
 of severity — some partially disemboweled, but still 
 on their feet, turning round and round in one spot, 
 till they lay down to die ; others with great furrows 
 plowed along their backs or sides, others still, with 
 a leg shot away, tossing the head up and down as 
 they labored to follow on, but all too brave to utter 
 other than a half -suppressed groan. But this old 
 gray went down with a piercing cry, which besides 
 giving expression to intense pain seemed a rebuke 
 as well to the stupidity of the man, who had brought 
 him, after having lived through so many fierce bat- 
 tles, to such an ignoble end. 
 
 As a school for the study of human nature, that 
 afforded in the various conditions of army life is 
 unsurpassed — a life in which danger, fatigue, hun- 
 ger, etc., leave no room for dissimulation, and ex- 
 pose the good and bad in each individual to the 
 knowledge of his associates. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 259 
 
 It sometimes fell to my lot to be on guard-duty 
 with Tom Martin, an Irishman who was over forty- 
 five and exempt from military service, but was sol- 
 diering for the love of it. Sometimes he was very 
 taciturn and entirely absorbed with his short- 
 stemmed pipe; at other times full of humor and 
 entertaining. He gave me an account, one night 
 while on post, of what he called his "great flank 
 movement"— in other words, a visit to his home in 
 Rockbridge without leave. After Doran, another 
 Irishman, had been disabled at Malvern Hill and 
 discharged from service, he became a sort of huck- 
 ster for the battery and would make trips to and 
 from Rockbridge with a wagon-load of boxes from 
 our homes and also a supply of apple-brandy. While 
 camped at Bunker Hill in the fall of 1862, shortly 
 after Doran arrived with his load, Captain Poague, 
 observing more than an ordinary degree of hilarity 
 among some of the men, had the wagon searched, 
 the brandy brought forth, confiscated, and emptied 
 on the ground. Martin, greatly outraged at the ill- 
 treatment of a fellow-son of Erin, and still more so 
 at the loss of so much good liquor, forthwith re- 
 solved to take his revenge on the Captain by takmg 
 "French leave." 
 
 To escape the vigilance of provost-guards and 
 deserter-hunters, he made his way to the foothills 
 of the North Mountain, and in the course of his 
 journey stumbled on a still-house in one of its se- 
 cluded glens. To the proprietor, who was making 
 
260 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 a run of apple-brandy, and who proved to be "a. 
 man after me own heart," Martin imparted his 
 grievances. "I tould him," he said, "I hadn't a 
 cint, but he poured me a tin chuck-full. With 
 thanks in me eyes I turned off the whole of it, then 
 kindled me pipe and stood close by the still. Ah! 
 me lad, how the liquor wint through me ! In thray 
 minits I didn't care a domn for all the captins in 
 old Stonewall's army !" 
 
 With various adventures he made his way home, 
 returned to the company of his own accord, was 
 wounded at Gettysburg, captured, and spent the 
 remainder of war-time in prison. 
 
 Rader, who drove the lead-horses at my gun 
 almost throughout the war, is mentioned elsewhere, 
 but his record, as well as his pranks and drollery, 
 coupled with his taciturnity, were interesting. 
 While sitting on his saddle-horse in one battle he 
 was knocked full length to the ground by a bursting 
 shell. When those nearby ran to pick him up they 
 asked if he was much hurt. "No," he said, "I am 
 just skeered to death." At Sharpsburg, while lying 
 down, holding his gray mares, a shell tore a trench 
 close alongside of him and hoisted him horizontally 
 into the air. On recovering his feet he staggered 
 off, completely dazed by the concussion. In the 
 first battle of Fredericksburg he was struck and 
 disabled for a time. At Gettysburg, as the same 
 animals, frightened by a bursting shell, w^ieeled to 
 run, he seized the bridle of the leader just as it was 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 261 
 
 struck by a shell, which burst at the moment, in- 
 stantly killing the two grays and the two horses 
 next to them, and stunning Rader as before. But, 
 with all of his close calls, his skin was never broken. 
 Instead of currying his horses during the time 
 allotted for that work he seemed to occupy himself 
 teaching them "tricks," but his was the best-groomed 
 team in the battery. 
 
 While on guard one cold night, as the wagon 
 drivers were sleeping quietly on a bed of loose straw 
 near a blazing fire, I saw^ Rader creep up stealthily 
 and apply a torch at several places, wait until it 
 was well ignited, and then run and yell "Fire !" then 
 repeat the sport an hour later. Vanpelt carried an 
 enormous knapsack captured from Banks and 
 branded "10th Maine." While halting on the march 
 it was Rader's amusement, especially when some 
 outsider was passing by, to set his whip-stock as a 
 prop under it, go through the motions of grinding, 
 and rattle off the music of a hand-organ with his 
 mouth until chased away by his victim. He mys- 
 teriously vanished from Rockbridge after the war, 
 and has never since been located. 
 
 Few men in this battery made a finer record than 
 did Wm, H. McCampbell, a native of Lexington, 
 and since the war a resident of Roanoke County, 
 Va. He took part in every engagement from Haines- 
 ville in '61 to Appomattox in '65, except Malvern 
 Hill, when he was in hospital. He was twice 
 wounded, captured at Gettysburg and escaped, and 
 
262 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 is probably entitled to the distinction of having 
 "pulled the lanyard" oftener, that is fired more 
 shots, than any other cannoneer in the whole army. 
 
 One of the most striking characters in the com- 
 pany was "General" Jake, as we called him, whose 
 passion for war kept him always in the army, while 
 his aversion to battle kept him always in the rear. 
 After serving a year with us, being over military 
 age, he got a discharge, but soon joined the Rock- 
 bridge cavalry as a substitute, where six legs, in- 
 stead of two, afforded three-fold opportunities. An 
 interview between the "General" and one of our 
 company, as he viewed the former and was struck 
 with his appearance, was as follows : 
 
 "Well, 'General,' you are the most perfect-look- 
 ing specimen of a soldier I ever beheld. That pierc- 
 ing eye, the grizzly mustache, the firm jaw, the pose 
 of the head, that voice — in fact, the whole make-up 
 fills to the full the measure of a man of war." 
 
 The "General," with a graceful bow and a deep 
 roll in his voice, replied, "Sire, in enumerating the 
 items which go to constitute a great general I notice 
 the omission of one requisite, the absence of which 
 in my outfit lost to the cause a genius in council and 
 a mighty leader in battle." 
 
 "What was that, 'General'!" 
 
 "Sire, it goes by the name of Cour-ridge." 
 
 Estimates of things are governed by comparison, 
 and no better idea of the Southern army could be 
 had than that given by a knowledge of its numbers, 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 263 
 
 equipment, etc., as compared with those of its ad- 
 versary throughout the four years of the war. This 
 can be illustrated by a sketch of the Rockbridge 
 Artillery in that respect, beginning with its entrance 
 into service, as a type of the whole army. 
 
 The guns with which this company set out from 
 Lexington were two smooth-bore six-pound brass 
 pieces used by Stonewall Jackson for drilling the 
 cadets at the Virginia Military Institute, which 
 were coupled together and drawn by one pair of 
 horses to Staunton. I must pause here and relate 
 an incident which occurred at that period, in which 
 these guns played a part. Among the cadets was 
 one — Hountsell — who was considered as great an 
 enigma as Jackson himself. In some of the various 
 evolutions of the drill it was necessary for the cadets 
 to trot. This gait Hountsell failed to adopt, and 
 was reported to the superintendent with the specifi- 
 cation "for failing to trot." Hountsell handed in 
 his written excuse as follows, "I am reported by 
 Major Jackson for failing, at artillery drill, to trot. 
 My excuse is, I am a natural pacer." It would be 
 interesting to know the workings of Stonewall's 
 mind when perusing this reply. 
 
 After reaching Harper's Ferry two more six- 
 pound brass pieces were received for this battery 
 from Richmond. As there were no caissons for 
 these four guns, farm-wagons were used, into which 
 boxes of ammunition, together with chests contain- 
 ing rations for the men, were loaded. In addition 
 
264 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 to friction-primers of modern invention at that time 
 for firing cannon, the old-time "slow matches" and 
 "port-fires" were in stock. So that, in preparing 
 for battle with General Patterson's army at Haines- 
 ville on July 2, 1861, the ammunition-boxes, provi- 
 sion-chests, etc., being loaded indiscriminately into 
 the same wagon, were all taken out and placed on 
 the ground. The "port-fire," adjusted in a brass 
 tube on the end of a wooden stick, was lighted, and 
 the stick stuck in the ground by the gun, to give 
 a light in case the friction-primer failed. This pro- 
 vision was due to the fact that Captain Pendleton 
 was familiar with the "port- fire," in vogue when he 
 attended West Point. On finding that the friction- 
 primer was reliable, the "port-fires" were left stick- 
 ing in the ground when the guns withdrew, and were 
 captured and taken as curiosities by the Federals. 
 
 After returning to Winchester, ammunition-chests 
 were ordered to be made by a carpenter of the town. 
 Gen. Joe Johnston, then in command of the forces, 
 went in person with Lieutenant Poague, and, as the 
 latter expressed it, reprimanded this carpenter most 
 unmercifully for his tardiness in the work. The 
 chests were then quickly completed and placed on 
 wagon-gears, which outfits served as caissons, and 
 thus equipped the battery marched to and fought at 
 first Manassas. From captures there made, these 
 crude contrivances were replaced with regular cais- 
 sons, and for two of the six-pound brass pieces two 
 rifled ten-pound Parrotts were substituted and two 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 265 
 
 heavier six-pound brass pieces added, making a six- 
 gun battery. Also the farm-wagon harness was 
 exchanged for regular artillery harness. 
 
 The revolution in the character of Confederate 
 field ordnance thenceforward continued, and every 
 new and improved weapon we had to confront in 
 one battle we had to waeld against our foes, its in- 
 ventors, in the next. 
 
 For a short time previous to and in the battle of 
 Kernstown the battery had eight guns, two of 
 which, made at the Tredegar Works in Richmond, 
 were of very inferior quality and were soon discard- 
 ed. The long and trying campaign of 1862 gradually 
 reduced the number of guns to four, two of which 
 were twenty-pound Parrotts captured at Harper's 
 Ferry, one a twelve-pound Napoleon captured at 
 Richmond, and one a six-pound brass piece. The 
 two last were replaced by two more twenty-pound 
 Parrotts captured from Milroy at Winchester in 
 June, 1863. Each of these guns required a team 
 of eight horses and as many to a caisson. They 
 were recaptured at Deep Bottom below Richmond 
 in July, 1864. 
 
 The battery's connection with the Stonewall Bri- 
 gade was severed October 1, at the close of the mem- 
 orable campaign of 1862, and under the new regime 
 became a part of the First Regiment Virginia Ar- 
 tillery, commanded by Col. J. Thompson Brown, 
 afterward by Col. R. A. Hardaway. This regiment 
 was made up of the second and third companies of 
 
266 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Richmond Howitzers, the Powhatan battery com- 
 manded by Captain Dance, the Roanoke battery 
 commanded by Captain Griffin, and Rockbridge bat- 
 tery commanded by Captain Graham, with four 
 guns to each of the five batteries. 
 
 Our new companions proved to be a fine lot of 
 men, and with them many strong and lasting friend- 
 ships were formed. 
 
 An idea of the spirit with which the Southern 
 people entered into the war can best be conveyed by 
 some account of the wild enthusiasm created by the 
 troops and the unbounded hospitality lavished upon 
 them as they proceeded to their destinations along 
 the border. 
 
 The Rockbridge Artillery traveled by rail from 
 Staunton to Strasburg. On their march of eighteen 
 miles from there to Winchester they were preceded 
 by the "Grayson Dare-devils" of Virginia, one hun- 
 dred strong, armed with Mississippi rifles and wear- 
 ing red-flannel shirts. A mile or two in advance of 
 this company was the Fourth Alabama Regiment, 
 numbering eight hundred men. The regiment, on 
 its arrival at Newtown, a small village six miles 
 from Winchester, was provided by the citizens with 
 a sumptuous dinner. Then the "Dare-devils" were 
 likewise entertained; but still the supplies and hos- 
 pitality of the people were not exhausted, as the 
 battery, on its arrival, was served with a bountiful 
 meal. 
 
 When the battery reached Winchester their two 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 267 
 
 small guns were stored for the night in a warehouse, 
 and the men lodged and entertained m private 
 houses. On the following day the company went 
 by rail to Harper's Ferry, arriving there after dark. 
 The place was then under command of Col. T. J. 
 Jackson, who was soon after superseded by Gen. 
 Joseph E. Johnston. The trains over the B. & U. 
 Railroad were still running. Evidences of the John 
 Brown raid were plainly visible, and the engme- 
 house in which he and his men barricaded them- 
 selves and were captured by the marines, commanded 
 by Col. R. E. Lee, of the United States Army, stood 
 as at the close of that affair. 
 
 One or both sections of the battery were often 
 engaged in picket service along the Potomac between 
 Sheperdstown and WiHiamsport, in connection with 
 the Second Virginia Regiment, which was composed 
 of men from the adjoining counties. Their camps 
 and bivouacs were constantly visited by the neigh- 
 boring people, especially ladies, who came by the 
 score in carriages and otherwise, provided with 
 abundant refreshments for the inner man. As de- 
 scribed by those who participated in it all, the days 
 passed as a series of military picnics, in which there 
 was no suspicion or suggestion of the serious times 
 that were to follow. During the progress of the 
 war while these outward demonstrations, of neces- 
 sity' diminished, the devotion on the part of the 
 grand women of that war-swept region only m- 
 creased. 
 
268 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 I have not undertaken to describe scenes or relate 
 incidents which transpired in the battery before I 
 became a member of it. But there is one scene which 
 was often referred to by those who witnessed it 
 which is worthy of mention. It occurred in the fall 
 of 1861, near Centerville, when a portion of the 
 army, under Gen. Joe Johnston, was returning from 
 the front, where an attack had been threatened, and 
 was passing along the highway. A full moon was 
 shining in its splendor, lighting up the rows of 
 stacked arms, parks of artillery, and the white tents 
 which dotted the plain on either side. As column 
 after column, with bands playing and bayonets 
 glistening, passed, as it were, in review, there came, 
 in its turn, the First Maryland Regiment headed by 
 its drum corps of thirty drums rolling in martial 
 time. Next came the First Virginia Regiment with 
 its superb band playing the "Mocking-Bird," the 
 shrill strains of the cornet, high above the volume 
 of the music, pouring forth in exquisite clearness the 
 notes of the bird. Scarcely had this melody passed 
 out of hearing when there came marching by, in 
 gallant style, the four batteries of the Washington 
 Artillery, of New Orleans, with officers on horse- 
 back and cannoneers mounted on the guns and cais- 
 sons, all with sabers waving in cadence to the sound 
 of their voices, singing, in its native French, "The 
 Marseillaise," that grandest of all national airs. 
 
 The younger generation cannot comprehend, and 
 express surprise that the old soldiers never forget 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 269 
 
 and are so wrought up by the recollections of their 
 war experiences ; but to have participated in a scene 
 such as this will readily explain why a soul should 
 thrill at its recurring mention. 
 
 In 1883, nearly twenty years after the war, I was 
 called to Cumberland, Maryland, on business. By 
 reason of a reunion of the Army of the Cumberland 
 being held there at the time, the hotels were crowded, 
 making it necessary for me to find accommodations 
 in a boarding-house. Sitting around the front door 
 of the house, as I entered, were half a dozen Federal 
 soldiers discussing war-times. The window of the 
 room to which I was assigned opened immediately 
 over where the men sat, and as I lay in bed I heard 
 them recount their experiences in battle after battle 
 in which I had taken part. It stirred me greatly. 
 Next morning they had gone out when I went down 
 to breakfast, but I told the lady of the house of my 
 interest in their talk of the previous night. At noon 
 the same party was sitting in the hall, having finished 
 their dinners, as I passed through to mine. They 
 greeted me cordially and said, "We heard of what 
 you said about overhearing us last night ; take a seat 
 and let's discuss old times." My answer was, 'T 
 have met you gentlemen already on too many battle- 
 fields with an empty stomach, so wait till I get my 
 dinner." With a hearty laugh this was approved of, 
 and I joined them soon after. Most of them were 
 from Ohio and West Virginia. They said, though, 
 as I was but one against six, to say what I pleased ; 
 
270 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 and for an hour or more we discussed, good-humor- 
 edly, many scenes of mutual interest. 
 
 The following lines are recalled from Merrick's 
 songs : 
 
 "Och hone, by the man in the moon ! 
 You taze me all ways that a woman can plaze ; 
 For you dance twice as high with that thief, Pat 
 
 McGhee, 
 As you do when you're dancing a jig, Love, with 
 
 me; 
 Though the piper Fd bate, for fear the old chate 
 Wouldn't play you your favorite chune. 
 
 "Och hone, don't provoke me to do it, 
 For there are girls by the score 
 That would have me and more. 
 Sure there's Katy Nale, that would jump if Fd say, 
 'Katy Nale, name the day.' 
 And though you are fresh and fair as the flowers 
 
 in May, 
 And she's short and dark as a cowld winter's day. 
 If you don't repent before Easter, when Lent 
 Is over, I'll marry for spite." 
 
 SAINT PATRICK 
 
 "A fig for St. Denis of France! 
 
 He's a trumpery fellow to brag on. 
 A fig for St. George and his lance ! 
 Who splitted a heathenish dragon. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 271 
 
 The saints of the Welshman and Scot 
 
 Are a pair of pitiful pipers, 
 Both of whom may just travel to pot, 
 
 Compared with the patron of swipers — 
 St. Patrick of Ireland, my boy ! 
 
 "Och ! he came to the Emerald Isle 
 
 On a lump of a paving-stone mounted ; 
 The steamboat he beat by a mile, 
 
 Which mighty good sailing was counted. 
 Said he, 'The salt-water, I think, 
 
 Makes me most bloodily thirsty, 
 So fetch me a flagon of drink 
 
 To wash down the mullygrubs, burst ye ! 
 A drink that is fit for a saint.' 
 
 "The pewter he lifted in sport, 
 
 And, believe me, I tell you no fable, 
 A gallon he drank from the quart 
 
 And planted it down on the table. 
 *A miracle !' every one cried. 
 
 And they all took a pull at the stingo. 
 They were capital hands at the trade. 
 
 And they drank till they fell; yet, by jingo! 
 The pot still frothed over the brim. 
 
 " 'Next day,' quoth his host, 'is a fast 
 
 And there is naught in my larder but mutton. 
 On Friday who would serve such repast, 
 Except an unchristianlike glutton?' 
 
272 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Says Pat, 'Cease your nonsense, I beg; 
 
 What you tell me is nothing but gammon. 
 Take my compliments down to the leg 
 
 And bid it walk hither, a salmon.' 
 The leg most politely complied. 
 
 ''Oh ! I suppose you have heard, long ago, 
 
 How the snakes, in a manner quite antic. 
 He marched from the County Mayo 
 
 And trundled them into the Atlantic. 
 So not to use water for drink, 
 
 The people of Ireland determined. 
 And for a mighty good reason, I think, 
 
 Since St. Patrick has filled it with vermin 
 And vipers and other such stuff. 
 
 "The people, with wonderment struck 
 At a pastor so pious and civil, 
 Cried, 'We are for you, my old buck ! 
 
 And we'll pitch our blind gods to the devil 
 Who dwells in hot water below.' 
 
 "Och ! he was an iligant blade 
 
 As you'd meet from Fairhead to Killkrumper, 
 And, though under the sod he is laid, 
 
 Here goes his health in a bumper! 
 I wish he w^as here, that my glass 
 
 He might, by art-magic, replenish — 
 But as he is not, why, alas ! 
 
 My ditty must come to a finish. 
 Because all the liquor is out." 
 
John M. Brown 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 273 
 
 THE SECOND ROCKBRIDGE ARTILLERY 
 
 The Second Rockbridge Artillery Company, or- 
 ganized July 10, 1861, like the first Rockbridge Ar- 
 tillery, was commanded by a clergyman, the Rev. 
 John Miller, of Princeton, New Jersey, as captam. 
 In honor of his wife's sister, Miss Lily McDowell, 
 daughter of Governor McDowell, of Virgmia, who 
 furnished in large part the outfit of this company, 
 it was named ''McDowell Guards." She also paid 
 a bountv to a youth under military age to serve as 
 her personal representative in this company. Miss 
 McDowell afterward became the wife of Major 
 Bernard Wolfe, whose service with the Rockbridge 
 Battery has been mentioned. 
 
 Owing to lack of artillery equipment, the Mc- 
 Dowell Guards served as infantry until January, 
 1862 in the Fifty-second Virginia Regiment, m 
 West Virginia. I heard Captain Miller relate this 
 anecdote, which occurred in the battle of Alleghany 
 Mountain, December 12, 1861 : A boy in his com- 
 pany was having a regular duel with a Federal in- 
 fantryman, whose shots several times passed close 
 to the boy's head. Finally, when a bullet knocked 
 his hat off, he defiantly called out to his adversary, 
 "Hey! You didn't git me that time, nuther. You 
 didn't git me nary a time !" 
 
 In the early part of 1862 the McDowell Guards 
 secured artillery and did excellent service in Mcin- 
 tosh's battalion of A. P. Hill's corps until the close 
 of the war. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 OAKLAND RETURN TO CAMP OFF DUTY AGAIN 
 
 THE RACE FROM NEW MARKET TO FORT GIL- 
 MORE ATTACK ON FORT HARRISON WINTER- 
 QUARTERS ON THE LINES VISITS TO RICHMOND 
 
 The desolation and dejection of the people of 
 Lexington hastened my departure, but before return- 
 ing to the army I spent two weeks most delightfully 
 at "Oakland," the hospitable home of Mrs. Cocke, 
 in Cumberland County, Virginia. This was the last 
 opportunity I had of enjoying the "old plantation 
 life," the like of which can never again be experi- 
 enced. It was an ideal life, the comforts and ad- 
 vantages of which only those who followed it could 
 appreciate. Two of Mrs. Cocke's sons, who had 
 passed many years at school and college in Lexing- 
 ton, were at home — one on sick-leave; the other, 
 still a youth, equipping himself for the cavalry ser- 
 vice, which he soon entered. William, the eldest 
 son, had been killed at Gettysburg and his body never 
 recovered. 
 
 Every day at twelve o'clock sharp, delicious water- 
 melons were brought from the icehouse to the shade 
 of the stately oaks which adorned the spacious lawn ; 
 then, two hours later, after a sumptuous dinner, a 
 small darky brought from the kitchen a shovel of 
 
 274 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 275 
 
 coals (matches were not a Southern product) to 
 light our pipes. So the time passed. It was to this 
 hospitable home that General Lee retired with his 
 family immediately after Appomattox, and was liv- 
 ing on this estate when he accepted the presidency 
 of Washington College. 
 
 My wounds being now sufficiently, or rather tem- 
 porarily, healed, I embarked about bedtime at Car- 
 tersville on the canal packet boat. On my way to a 
 berth in the cabin I noticed, by the dim light, a 
 striking-looking man clad in white lying in his berth. 
 On the deck of the boat were a score or more of 
 negroes, male and female, singing so boisterously 
 that the other passengers could not sleep. Such 
 conduct at this time was felt to be significant, and 
 the more so as the officers of the boat refrained from 
 interfering. Without intimation there was a leap 
 from my neighboring bunk, a hurried scramble up 
 the stairway, followed by a volley of — secular lan- 
 guage, with a demand for instantaneous choice be- 
 tween ''dead silence and dead niggers." Thence- 
 forward stillness prevailed, broken at intervals when 
 the plaintive windings of the packet horn, rising and 
 falling with the motion of the tandem team, heralded 
 our approach to a lock. Who that ever boarded that 
 ancient craft, or dwelt within its sound, will cease 
 to recall the associations awakened by the voice of 
 the old packet horn? 
 
 Next morning I recognized my fellow-country- 
 man, Bob Greenlee, of the First Virginia Cavalry, 
 
276 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 as the man whose eloquence had terrorized the 
 negroes. Greenlee has been aptly styled "a rare bird," 
 and the accounts he gave of experiences during his 
 sick-leave, from which he was now returning, were 
 as good as "David Harum." 
 
 I found the battery stationed at New Market, on 
 the north side of the James, near Dutch Gap. Dur- 
 ing my absence it had suffered the only serious loss 
 of the kind it had experienced during the war — the 
 capture of all four of its twenty-pound Parrott guns 
 at Deep Bottom. The horses, as usual, had been 
 taken to the rear for safety. The infantry support 
 had been outflanked, leaving our guns almost sur- 
 rounded, so that the cannoneers escaped with diffi- 
 culty — only one of them, Andrew Darnall, being 
 captured. 
 
 The ranks of the company had been considerably 
 depleted by chills and fever, so prevalent in that 
 swampy region, and one death had occurred — that 
 of John Gibbs, a most excellent soldier. Less than 
 a week's sojourn was sufficient to poison my blood 
 and reopen an old wound received two years before. 
 I was sent to Richmond, but twenty- four hours' ex- 
 perience in a hospital among the sick, the wounded, 
 and the dying induced me to get a discharge and 
 work my way, by hook and crook, back to Oakland, 
 where I underwent a severe visitation of chills and 
 fever. This, however, was soon broken up by quin- 
 ine, and I again rejoined the battery. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 277 
 
 The summer now drawing to a close had been a 
 most trying one, and the future offered no sign of 
 rehef. The situation was one of simply waiting to 
 be overwhelmed. That the fighting spirit was unim- 
 paired was demonstrated in every encounter, notably 
 the one on July 30, at The Crater, near Petersburg. 
 
 During the night of September 28 there was heard 
 the continued rumbling of wheels and the tramp of 
 large forces of the enemy crossing on the pontoon 
 bridges from the south to north side of the James. 
 At dawn next morning we hurriedly broke camp, as 
 did Gary's brigade of cavalry camped close l)y, and 
 scarcely had time to reach high ground and unlimber 
 before we were attacked. The big gaps in our lines, 
 entirely undefended, were soon penetrated, and the 
 contest quickly became one of speed to reach the 
 shorter line of fortifications some five miles nearer 
 to and in sight of Richmond. The break through 
 our lines was on our right, which placed the Federals 
 almost in our rear, so that a detour of several miles 
 on our part was necessary. On the principle that the 
 chased dog is generally the fleetest, we succeeded in 
 reaching the breastworks, a short distance to the left 
 of Fort Gilmore, with all four guns, now ten-pound 
 Parrotts, followed by the straggling cannoneers 
 much exhausted. I vividly recall George Ginger, 
 who was No. 1 at one of the guns, as he came trot- 
 ting in with the gun-rammer on his shoulder, which 
 he had carried five miles through brush and brake 
 for want of time to replace it on the gun-carriage. 
 
278 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Much has been written about the defense of Fort 
 Gilmore, and much controversy as to who deserved 
 the credit. The fact that a superb fight was made 
 was fully apparent when we entered the fort an hour 
 later, while the negroes who made the attack were 
 still firing from behind stumps and depressions in 
 the cornfield in front, to which our artillery replied 
 with little effect. The Fort was occupied by about 
 sixty men who, I understood, were Mississippians. 
 The ditch in front was eight or ten feet deep and as 
 many in width. Into it, urged on by white officers, 
 the negroes leaped, and to scale the embankment 
 on the Fort side climbed on each other's shoulders, 
 and were instantly shot down as their heads ap- 
 peared above it. The ground beyond was strewn 
 with dead and wounded. A full regiment had pre- 
 ceded us into the Fort, but the charge on it had 
 been repulsed by the small force before its arrival. 
 
 Next morning we counted twenty-three dead 
 negroes in the ditch, the wounded and prisoners 
 having previously been removed. There was great 
 lamentation among them when "Corporal Dick" 
 fell. He was a conspicuous leader, jet black, and 
 bald as a badger. A mile to the right of Fort Gil- 
 more and one- fourth of a mile in advance of our 
 line of breastworks was Fort Harrison, which was 
 feebly garrisoned by reserves. This force had been 
 overpowered and the Fort taken by the Federals. 
 Two days later, and after it had been completely 
 manned with infantry and artillery, an unsuccess- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 279 
 
 ful attempt was made to recapture it, of which we 
 had a full view. The attack was made by Colquitt's 
 and Anderson's brigades, while General Lee stood 
 on the parapet of Fort Gilmore with field-glass in 
 hand, waving his hat and cheering lustily. Of 
 course our loss in killed, wounded, and captured 
 was very heavy. This ended the fighting, except 
 sharpshooting, on the north side of the James. 
 
 During our stay in Fort Gilmore a company of 
 Reserves from Richmond took the place of the 
 regular infantry. They were venerable-looking old 
 gentlemen — lawyers, business men, etc., dressed in 
 citizens' clothes. In order to accustom them to the 
 service, we supposed, they were frequently roused 
 during the night to prepare for battle. After sev- 
 eral repetitions of this they concluded, about two 
 o'clock one night, that it was useless to retire again 
 and go through the same performance, so a party 
 of them kindled a fire and good-humoredly sat 
 around in conversation on various subjects, one of 
 which was infant baptism. My bedfellow, Tom 
 Williamson, a bachelor under twenty years of age, 
 being deeply interested in this c[uestion, of para- 
 mount importance at this time, forthwith left his 
 bunk, and from that time until daylight theology 
 was in the air. 
 
 Our battery changed from the Fort to a position 
 one-fourth of a mile to the left of it, the two sec- 
 tions being placed a hundred yards apart, where we 
 remained until March. 
 
280 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 It seems remarkable even now, after a lapse of 
 over forty years, that under such conditions and 
 without the slightest reasonable hope of ultimate 
 success we could have passed six months, including 
 a severe winter, not only moderately comfortable, 
 but ofttimes with real pleasure. Huts and hovels 
 of as varied architecture as the scarcity of material 
 at our disposal could be shaped into, rose above or 
 descended below the ground. The best shelters 
 were built of pine logs six or eight inches in diame- 
 ter, split in half, with the bark-side out. From a 
 swamp a quarter of a mile in the rear, in which the 
 trees had been previously felled for military opera- 
 tions, we carried our fuel. Several hundred negroes 
 had been impressed, in neighboring counties within 
 Confederate lines, to work on the adjacent fortifi- 
 cations, which, by their industry, soon became very 
 strong. In our immediate front, manning the Fed- 
 eral works, were negro troops whose voices could 
 be distinctly heard in darky songs and speech, and 
 their camp-fires were in full view. 
 
 It was at this time that General Early was dis- 
 tinguishing himself in the Shenandoah Valley with 
 repeated defeats in battle, the first news of which 
 reached us in a peculiar way ; that is, when the news 
 reached Grant's lines a shotted salute in celebration 
 was fired at us, thus "killing two birds with one 
 stone." These volleys of shot and shell produced 
 consternation among the negroes working on our 
 fortifications. Panic-stricken, they would break for 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 281 
 
 the rear, casting aside picks, shovels, or anything 
 that retarded speed ; and to get them and their scat- 
 tered tools gathered up after such a stampede re- 
 quired several days. I was rec|uested, by a negro 
 who had just experienced one of these escapades, 
 to write a letter for him to his home people. He 
 dictated as follows : 
 
 "My dear Wife: I take this opportunity of tak- 
 ing you down a few words and telling you of the 
 terrible bumming we was under yesterday. The 
 shells fell fast as hail and lightened as from a cloud 
 — and we had a smart run. Give my love to Mam- 
 my and tell her how we is sufferin' for somethin' 
 to eat." 
 
 Then followed some other pieces of news ; then 
 love to various kinsmen, with a message to each of 
 how they were "sufferin' for somethin' to eat." 
 
 The space between the two sections of our bat- 
 tery was occupied by infantry. I particularly re- 
 member the Nineteenth Georgia Regiment, a game 
 body of men, whose excellent band furnished us fine 
 music. It was ordered, during the winter, to North 
 Carolina and lost — killed in battle soon after — its 
 colonel and adjutant, Neil and Turner. A mile in 
 rear of our lines stood a church, a substantial frame 
 building, which, for want of better use, was con- 
 verted into a theater. As in the recent drafting 
 every department of life had been invaded, a very 
 respectable element of a histrionic turn was to be 
 
282 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 found in the ranks. The stage scenery, as one 
 would imagine, was not gaudy and, of course, did 
 not afford equipment for high art in the strict sense ; 
 but the doleful conditions of home life now in 
 vogue in the South and the desperate straits for 
 food and existence in camp afforded a fund of 
 amusement to those of us who were inclined to 
 pluck sport from hopeless conditions. 
 
 One of the performers — named Nash — was a 
 first-rate comedian. As an interlude he gave a rep- 
 resentation of an attempt made by the people to 
 furnish the army a Christmas dinner. To give an 
 idea of what a failure such an undertaking would 
 naturally be, when the people themselves were al- 
 most destitute, one thin turkey constituted the share 
 for a regiment close by us, while our battery did 
 not get so much as a doughnut. Nash, in taking 
 the thing off, appeared on the stage with a com- 
 panion to propound leading questions, and, after 
 answering one query after another, to explain the 
 meaning of his droll conduct, drew his hand from 
 the side pocket of his blouse and, with his head 
 thrown back and mouth wide open, poured a few 
 dry cracker crumbs down his throat. When asked 
 by the ringman what that act signified, he drawled 
 out, in lugubrious tones, "Soldier eating Christmas 
 dinner !" The righteous indignation produced 
 among the few citizens by such sacrilegious use of 
 a church soon brought our entertainments to a close. 
 
 Our time was frequently enlivened by visits to 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 283 
 
 Richmond. By getting a twenty-four-hour leave 
 we could manage to spend almost forty-eight hours 
 in the city. On a pass — dated, for instance, Janu- 
 ary 13 — we could leave camp immediately after 
 reveille and return in time for reveille on the fif- 
 teenth. 
 
 That this would be the last winter that Richmond 
 would be the capital of the Confederacy, or that 
 the Confederacy itself would be in existence, was 
 a feeling experienced by all, but was too painful a 
 subject for general discussion. The gaiety of the 
 place under such conditions, viewed at this remote 
 day, seems astonishing. There the Confederate 
 Congress and the Virginia Legislature held their 
 sessions ; and there were the numerous employees 
 of State and Nation, and refugees from various 
 parts of the South, and, besides, it was the great 
 manufacturing center of that section, employing 
 mechanics and artisans of every calling. For four 
 years this mixed multitude had listened to the 
 thunder of cannon almost at their doors, and had 
 seen old men and boys called out by day and by 
 night to meet some extraordinary emergency, while 
 it was no uncommon occurrence for hundreds of 
 sick, wounded, and dead men to be borne through 
 the streets to the overflowing hospitals and ceme- 
 teries. One surprising feature of it was to see how 
 readily all adapted themselves to such a life. 
 
 My first social visit, in company with my mess- 
 mate, James Gilmer, of Charlottesville, Virginia, 
 
284 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 was to call on some lady friends, formerly of Win- 
 chester. We found these ladies starting to an egg- 
 nog at the house of some friends — the Misses Mun- 
 ford — with instructions to invite their escorts. This 
 position we gladly accepted, and were soon ushered 
 into the presence of some of the celebrated beauties 
 of Richmond, and were entertained as graciously 
 as if we had been officers of high rank. The cli- 
 max of this visit was as we were returning to camp 
 the next afternoon. We overtook Tazewell Mc- 
 Corkle, of Lynchburg, the only member of our 
 company who could afford the luxury of being 
 married and having his wife nearby. He had just 
 received a box from home, and invited us to go 
 with him to his wife's boarding-house and partake 
 of its contents. While enjoying and expressing our 
 appreciation of the good things, McCorkle told us 
 of the impression the sight of old-time luxuries had 
 made on their host, Mr. Turner, a devout old Bap- 
 tist, who, with uplifted hands, exclaimed, as it first 
 met his gaze, "Pound-cake, as I pray to be saved !" 
 Since the burning of the Virginia Military Insti- 
 tute barracks, by Hunter at Lexington, the school 
 had been transferred to Richmond and occupied the 
 almshouse. This, on my visits to the city, I made 
 my headquarters, and, preparatory to calling on my 
 lady acquaintances, was kindly supplied with out- 
 fits in apparel by my friends among the professors. 
 Having developed, since entering the service, from 
 a mere vouth in size to a man of two hundred 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 285 
 
 pounds, to fit me out in becoming style was no 
 simple matter. I recall one occasion when I started 
 out on my visiting-round, wearing Frank Preston's 
 coat, Henry Wise's trousers, and Col. John Ross's 
 waistcoat, and was assured by my benefactors that 
 I looked like a brigadier-general. Sometimes as 
 many as four or six of our company, having leave 
 of absence at the same time, would rendezvous to 
 return together in the small hours of the night, 
 through Rocketts, where "hold-ups" were not un- 
 common, and recount our various experiences as 
 we proceeded campward. 
 
 Indications of the hopelessness of the Confeder- 
 acy had, by midwinter, become very much in evi- 
 dence, with but little effort at concealment. Con- 
 ferences on the subject among the members of com- 
 panies and regiments were of almost daily occur- 
 rence, in which there was much discussion as to 
 what course should be pursued when and after the 
 worst came. Many resolutions were passed in these 
 meetings, avowing the utmost loyalty to the cause, 
 and the determination to fight to the death. In one 
 regiment not far from our battery a resolution was 
 offered which did not meet the approbation of all 
 concerned, and was finally passed in a form qualified 
 thus. "Resolved, that in case our army is over- 
 whelmed and broken up, we will bushwack them; 
 that is, some of us will." 
 
 Notwithstanding all this apprehension, scant ra- 
 tions and general discomfort, the pluck and spirit 
 
286 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 of the great majority of our men continued un- 
 abated. To give an idea of the insufficiency of the 
 rations we received at this time, the following inci- 
 dent which I witnessed will suffice : Immediately 
 after finishing his breakfast, one of our company 
 invested five dollars in five loaves of bread. After 
 devouring three of them, his appetite was suffi- 
 ciently appeased to enable him to negotiate the ex- 
 change of one of the two remaining for enough 
 molasses to sweeten the other, which he ate at once. 
 These loaves, which were huckstered along the 
 lines by venders from Richmond, it must be under- 
 stood, were not full-size, but a compromise between 
 a loaf and a roll. 
 
 The frequent occasions of foraging and stress 
 laid on eating, in these pages, has doubtless been 
 noticed and very naturally and inquiringly by those 
 whose lives have had no such experience. A simple 
 extract quoted from a Northern source — "Recol- 
 lections of a Private Soldier in the Army of the 
 Potomac," by Frank Wilkeson — will suffice. It 
 reads : 'T was hungry — it seems now, as I recall 
 those dark and bloody days, I was always hungry." 
 
 Desertions were of almost nightly occurrence, 
 and occasionally a half-dozen or more of the in- 
 fantry on the picket line would go over in a body 
 to the enemy and give themselves up. The Fed- 
 erals, who had material and facilities for pyrotech- 
 nic displays, one night exhibited in glaring letters 
 of fire: 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 287 
 
 "While the lamp holds out to burn, 
 The vilest rebel may return." 
 
 Toward the latter part of March our battery 
 moved half a mile back of the line of breastworks. 
 Two or more incidents recall, very distinctly to my 
 memory, the camp which we there occupied. The 
 colored boy Joe, who had cooked for my mess when 
 rations were more abundant, was on hand again to 
 pay his respects and furnish music for our dances. 
 If we had been tramping on a hard floor never a 
 sound of his weak violin could have been heard; 
 but on the soft, pine tags we could go through the 
 mazes of a cotillion, or the lancers, with apparently 
 as much life as if our couples had been composed 
 of the two sexes. The greatest difficulty incurred, 
 in having a game of ball, was the procurement of a 
 ball that would survive even one inning. One fair 
 blow from the bat would sometimes scatter it into 
 so many fragments that the batter would claim that 
 there were not enough remains caught by any one 
 fielder to put him out. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 EVACUATION OF RICHMOND PASSING THROUGH 
 
 RICHMOND BY NIGHT THE RETREAT BATTLE 
 
 OF sailor's CREEK BATTLE OF CUMBERLAND 
 
 CHURCH 
 
 While here, in the midst of our gaiety, came the 
 news of the breaking of our Hues near Petersburg, 
 and with this a full comprehension of the fact that 
 the days of the Confederacy were numbered. I 
 was in Richmond on Sunday, April 2, and escorted 
 to church a young lady whose looks and apparel 
 were in perfect keeping with the beautiful spring 
 day. The green-checked silk dress she wore looked 
 as fresh and unspotted as if it had just run the 
 blockade. As the church we attended w^as not the 
 one at which the news of the disaster had been 
 handed to President Davis, our services were not 
 interrupted, nor did I hear anything of it until I 
 had parted with her at her home and gone to the 
 house of a relative. Dr. Randolph Page's, to dine. 
 There I learned that a fierce battle had been fought 
 at Five Forks, on the extreme right of our line, in 
 which the Federals had gotten possession of the 
 railroads by which our army was supplied with food. 
 This, of course, necessitated the abandonment of 
 both Richmond and Petersburg. 
 
 As I passed along the streets in the afternoon 
 
 288 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 289 
 
 there was nothing to indicate a panicky feeHng; in 
 fact, there was rather less commotion than usual, 
 but much, no doubt, within doors. 
 
 On arriving at camp I was the first to bring tid- 
 ings of what had occurred to the company, and 
 observed the varying effect produced on the differ- 
 ent members, officers and men. To some it came 
 as relief after long suspense, while others seemed 
 hopelessly cast down and dejected. Orders to pre- 
 pare to move soon followed, and our march to and 
 through Richmond began with only two of our four 
 guns, the other two being left behind for want of 
 horses. 
 
 We reached the city shortly before midnight, and, 
 with Estill Waddell, of our battalion, I passed by 
 the home of some friends, who, we found, had re- 
 tired for the night. In response to my call, the 
 head of the house appeared at an upper window. 
 I had with me the few valuables I possessed, among 
 them the brass button worn on my jacket and in- 
 dented by the shell at second Cold Harbor. These 
 I tossed into the yard, with the request that he 
 would keep them for me. And, some months after 
 the war, the package was sent to me in Lexington. 
 
 We could now see and realize what the evacua- 
 tion of Richmond involved. Waddell had learned 
 that his brother James, adjutant of the Twenty- 
 fourth Virginia Infantry, had been wounded the 
 day before at Petersburg, and was in the Chimbo- 
 razo Hospital. At this we soon arrived, and en- 
 
290 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 tered a large apartment with low ceiling and bril- 
 liantly lighted. On row after row of cots lay 
 wounded men, utterly oblivious and indifferent to 
 the serious conditions that disturbed those of us 
 who realized what they were. Nurses and attend- 
 ants were extremely scarce, and as deep silence pre- 
 vailed as if each cot contained a corpse. 
 
 iVfter a search of a few moments Waddell recog- 
 nized his brother in sound sleep. His appearance 
 for manly beauty, as we stood over him, surpassed 
 that of any figure I have ever seen. His slight, 
 graceful form stretched at full length, a snow-white 
 forehead fringed with dark hair, and chin resting 
 on his chest, he lay like an artist's model rather 
 than a wounded warrior, and the smile with which 
 his brown eyes opened at the sound of his brother's 
 voice betokened the awakening from a dream of 
 peace and home. On another cot, a few steps far- 
 ther on, I recognized John McClintic, of the Rock- 
 bridge Cavalry, and brother of my messmate. He 
 was a boy of seventeen, with his arm shattered at 
 the shoulder. On the cot next to him lay a man 
 who was dying. McClintic and the others near him 
 who could make their wants known were almost 
 famished for water, a bucket of which, after much 
 difficulty, we secured for them. On the following 
 day this young fellow, rather than be left in the 
 hands of the Federals, rode in an ox-cart and walked 
 twenty miles, and finally reached his home in Rock- 
 bridge. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 291 
 
 After leaving the hospital we passed on to Main 
 street and the business part of the city, where the 
 scene would remind one of Bulwer's description of 
 "The Last Days of Pompeii." The storehouses had 
 been broken into and stood wide open, and fires had 
 been kindled out of the goods boxes, on the floors, 
 to afford light to plunder. Articles of liquid na- 
 ture, especially intoxicants, had been emptied into 
 the gutters, from which such portions as could be 
 rescued were being greedily sought. 
 
 From dark garrets and cellars the old hags and 
 half -starved younger women and children had 
 gathered, and were reaping a harvest such as they 
 had never dreamed of. I saw a small boy, with an 
 old, wrinkled, grinning woman at his heels, steer a 
 barrel of flour around a corner and into a narrow 
 alley with the speed and skill of a roustabout. The 
 fire' on the floors had not extended to the structures 
 as we passed, but as no one seemed in the least 
 concerned or interfered with their progress the 
 flames soon put in their work and spread in all di- 
 rections. 
 
 We crossed the James on Mayo's Bridge, follow- 
 ing the road in a southwesterly direction. With the 
 first appearance of dawn the blowing up of the 
 naval vessels in the river began, culminating in a 
 gigantic explosion that made the earth tremble. 
 This last was the magazine at Drewry's Bluff. 
 
 Witnessing such scenes, with a realization of 
 their significance, in the early part of our war ex- 
 
292 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 perience would, no doubt, have been hopelessly 
 demoralizing, but now the calmness and fortitude 
 with which we took it demonstrated the fact that 
 four years of such schooling had seasoned us to 
 meet unflinchingly the most desperate situations. 
 When broad daylight came we had the opportunity 
 of seeing some of the heterogeneous elements of 
 which Richmond was composed. Disaster had 
 come too suddenly to afford time beforehand for 
 the non-combatants to migrate, even if there had 
 been safe places to which to flee. 
 
 That such looking objects should have under- 
 taken to accompany an army in the field, or rather 
 into the fields, indicated what desperate chances 
 they were willing to take rather than abandon 
 themselves to a doubtful fate by remaining behind. 
 In addition to the city contingent and those who 
 garrisoned the forts where heavy ordnance only 
 was used, the line of march w^as joined by the ma- 
 rine department, which had been doing duty on the 
 river craft about Dutch Gap, Drewry's and Chaflin's 
 bluffs, etc. Altogether, it was a motley combina- 
 tion, which afforded much amusement and the usual 
 sallies of wit at each other's expense. The marine 
 element was the most striking in appearance, and 
 encumbered with enough baggage for a voyage to 
 the North Pole. In three days' time this had all 
 been discarded. 
 
 After marching day and night the two wings of 
 our army, having been separated since the previous 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 293 
 
 summer, united at Amelia Court House, about 40 
 miles from Richmond. Ours — that is, the one from 
 the north side of the river — had not been pressed 
 by the enemy up to this point. As if in recognition 
 of and to celebrate the reunion, an explosion took 
 place far too violent for an ordinary salute. Dur- 
 ing a short halt, while the road v^as filled with in- 
 fantry and artillery side by side, we felt the earth 
 heave under our feet, followed instantly by a ter- 
 rific report, and then a body of fire and flame, a 
 hundred feet in diameter, shot skyward from be- 
 3'ond an intervening copse of woods. It proved to 
 be the blowing up of sixty caissons, one hundred 
 and eighty chests of ammunition, which could not 
 be hauled farther for want of horses. For a mo- 
 ment the roar and concussion produced consterna- 
 tion. Those who were standing crouched as if for 
 something to cling to, and those sitting sprang to 
 their feet. The Crater affair at Petersburg had not 
 been forgotten, and that we should be hurled into 
 space by some infernal eruption flashed into our 
 minds. 
 
 Provisions had been ordered by General Lee over 
 the railroad from Danville to Amelia Court House 
 in readiness for the army on its arrival there. By 
 some misunderstanding, or negligence on the part 
 of the railroad management, these supplies had gone 
 on to Richmond, so that all expectation of satisfy- 
 ing hunger was now gone. Corn on the cob had 
 already been issued to the men, which, it may be 
 
294 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 presumed, was to be eaten raw, as no time nor means 
 for parching it was available. Three of these "nub- 
 bins," which had been preserved, I saw many years 
 after the war. 
 
 After trudging along, with short halts and mak- 
 ing very little progress, our battery of only two 
 guns went into park about midnight, but without 
 unhitching the horses. After being roused several 
 times from sleep to march, I concluded, after the 
 third false alarm, to lie still. When I awoke some 
 time later the battery had moved and, in the dim 
 light, I failed to find the course it had taken. Fol- 
 fowing on for some distance I came to General 
 Lee's headquarters in a farmhouse by the roadside, 
 and was informed by Capt. James Garnett, one of 
 the staff, that the battery would soon pass along the 
 road at the point w^e then were. Sitting down with 
 my back against a tree I, of course, fell asleep. 
 From this I was shortly roused by rapid firing close 
 by, and saw our wagon-train scattered and fleeing 
 across the fields, with horses at a run and hotly 
 pursued by Federal cavalry, who, with reins on their 
 horses' necks, were firing at them with repeating 
 guns. I was overlooked and passed by in the chase 
 as too small game for them. 
 
 The road over which I had passed was in the 
 form of a semi-circle, and to escape I obliqued 
 across the fields to a point I had gone over an hour 
 or tw^o before, where it crossed Sailor's Creek. 
 Along the road, ascending the hill on the south side 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 295 
 
 of the creek, I found several brigades of our in- 
 fantry, commanded by Ex-Governor Billy Smith, 
 Gen. Custis Lee and Colonel Crutchfield, halted in 
 the road and exposed to a sharp artillery fire, which, 
 notwithstanding the fact that the place was heavily 
 wooded, was very accurate and searching. Colonel 
 Crutchfield was killed here, his head being taken off 
 by a solid shot. This was not a comfortable place 
 in which to linger while waiting for the battery, but 
 comfortable places in that neighborhood seemed 
 exceedingly scarce. 
 
 Very soon my friend, Henry Wise, who was a 
 lieutenant in Huger's battalion of artillery, appeared 
 on horseback and informed me that almost all of 
 the cannoneers of his battalion had just been cap- 
 tured and that he was then in search of men to take 
 their places. I offered my services, and, following 
 the directions he gave, soon found his guns, and 
 was assigned to a number at one of them by Lieut. 
 George Poindexter, another old acquaintance of 
 Lexington. 
 
 The infantry at this part of the line was what 
 was left of Pickett's division, among whom I recog- 
 nized and chatted with other old friends of the Vir- 
 ginia Military Institute as we sat resignedly wait- 
 ing for the impending storm to burst. The Federal 
 cavalry which had passed me previously in pursuit 
 of our wagons, quartermasters, etc., was part of a 
 squadron that had gotten in rear of Pickett's men 
 and given General Pickett and staff a hot chase for 
 
296 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 some distance along the line of his command. Some 
 of their men and horses were killed in their eager- 
 ness to overhaul the General. It was perfectly evi- 
 dent that our thin line of battle was soon to be 
 assaulted, as the enemy's skirmishers were advanc- 
 ing on our front and right flank and his cannon 
 sweeping the position from our left. We were not 
 long in suspense. Almost simultaneously we were 
 raked by missiles from three directions. To have 
 offered resistance would have been sheer folly. In 
 fifteen minutes the few survivors of Pickett's im- 
 mortal division had been run over and captured, to- 
 gether with the brigades which were posted on their 
 left. 
 
 Lieutenant Wise having failed to receive any 
 other cannoneers to replace those previously cap- 
 tured, the guns, without firing a shot, were left 
 standing unlimbered. As we started in haste to re- 
 tire, he and Poindexter being mounted, expressed 
 great concern lest I, being on foot, should be cap- 
 tured. Just as they left me, however, and while 
 the air seemed filled with flying lead and iron, I 
 came upon one of the ambulance corps who was try- 
 ing to lead an unruly horse. It was a Federal cav- 
 alry horse, whose rider had been killed in pursuit 
 of General Pickett. In the horse's efforts to break 
 loose, the two saddles he was carrying had slipped 
 from his back and were dangling underneath, which 
 increased his fright. I suggested to the man that, 
 to escape capture, he had better give me the horse. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 297 
 
 as he seemed to be afraid to ride him. To this he 
 readily assented, and, with his knife, cut one saddle 
 loose, set the other on his back, and handed me the 
 halter-strap as I mounted. The terrified animal 
 without bridle or spur, was off like a flash, and in 
 a few minutes had carried me out of the melee. I 
 still have and prize the saddle. The few who es- 
 caped from this affair, known as the battle of Sail- 
 or's Creek, by retreating a mile north came in prox- 
 imity to another column of our troops marching on a 
 parallel road. 
 
 As I rode up I saw General Lee dismounted and 
 standing on a railroad embankment, intently ob- 
 serving our fleeing men, who now began to throng 
 about him. He very quietly but firmly let them 
 know that it would be best not to collect in groups ; 
 the importance of which they at once understood 
 and acted on. 
 
 Approaching night, which on previous occasions, 
 when conditions were reversed, had interfered to 
 our disadvantage, now shielded us from further 
 pursuit. It can readily be seen what demoraliza- 
 tion would follow such an exhibition of our utter 
 helplessness. But still there seemed to be no alter- 
 native but to prolong the agony, although perfectly 
 assured that we could not escape death or capture, 
 and that in a very brief time. Soon after nightfall 
 I found our battery, which had traveled over a 
 shorter and less exposed road, and thereby escaped 
 the adventures which had fallen to my lot. Our 
 
298 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 course was now toward High Bridge, which spans 
 the Appomattox River near Farmville. On we 
 toiled throughout the night, making very slow prog- 
 ress, but not halting until near noon the following 
 day. Under present conditions there were not the 
 ordinary inducements to make a halt, as food for 
 man and beast was not in evidence. I had not eaten 
 a bite for forty-eight hours. Notwithstanding this, 
 and as if to draw attention from our empty stom- 
 achs, orders came to countermarch and meet a 
 threatened attack on the line in our rear. To this 
 the two guns with their detachments promptly re- 
 sponded, reported to General Mahone and took 
 part with his division in a spirited battle at Cum- 
 berland Church. 
 
 It has been stated, by those who had opportuni- 
 ties of knowing, that Mahone's division was never 
 driven from its position in battle throughout the 
 four years of the war. True or not, it held good in 
 this case, and those of our battery who took part 
 with them were enthusiastic over the gallant fight 
 they made under circumstances that were not in- 
 spiring. There being a surplus of men to man our 
 two guns, Lieut. Cole Davis and Billy McCauley 
 procured muskets and took part with the infantry 
 sharpshooters. McCauley was killed. He was a 
 model soldier, active and wiry as a cat and tough 
 as a hickory sapling. He had seen infantry service 
 before joining our battery, and, as already men- 
 tioned, had "rammed home" one hundred and sev- 
 
Launcelot Minor 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 299 
 
 enty-five shells in the first battle of Fredericksburg". 
 Another member of our company, Launcelot 
 Minor, a boy of less than eighteen years, was shot 
 through the lungs by a ]\Iinie-ball. He was thought 
 to be dying, but was carried from the field, as he tells 
 in the following extract from a letter recently re- 
 ceived from him: "I am almost too old to begin to 
 write a history of myself, but will try to give you 
 an account of things from April 8th, 1865, to Aug- 
 ust, 1865, when I got back to my home in Albe- 
 marle County, Virginia. After the line was formed 
 at Cumberland Church, and after we had extri- 
 cated ourselves from the swamps at High Bridge, 
 I was sent to burn the remaining wagons, but was 
 soon ordered to the battery, which was in action 
 on the hill. About three or four o'clock that even- 
 ing I was shot and was taken by Bumpus and 
 Ruffin to a blacksmith-shop some distance away. I 
 was in my right mind for several hours and re- 
 member that many came to tell me good-by as they 
 left the field. Old Byrd, I remember well, and 
 Bumpus asking him if he could do anything, and 
 Byrd said, 'You dig a hole and he will be ready 
 for it by the time it is done.' 
 
 "The next thing I knew it was April 18th, and I 
 found myself on a mattress in the house of a Mrs. 
 Hobson, and a dead Yankee by my side. My clothes 
 had not been moved, but an angel woman, Miss 
 Hobson, was sticking a spoon of chicken broth into 
 my mouth. I wish I could describe this woman — 
 
300 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 for I had been dead and associated with the Heav- 
 enly Host, and thought one had followed me to 
 earth. She told me that the dead Yankee had 
 taken from my breast the note and fifty cents that 
 Bumpus had put there and replaced it with five 
 dollars in gold ; this was done, she said, the morn- 
 ing I 'came to' and he died. At the Louisville Re- 
 union, Bumpus, whom I saw for the first time since 
 the war, told me that he had written the note and 
 placed fifty cents in it, and it requested that 'who- 
 ever may find this body will please notify Mrs. Dr. 
 Charles Minor, at Charlottesville, Virginia, and 
 mark the grave and accept in token this fifty cents.' 
 The note was intact when I came to myself, but 
 instead of fifty cents it contained five dollars in 
 gold, which did valuable service in those trying 
 times. When I got home, in the latter part of 
 August, 1865, I found my mother and sisters desti- 
 tute, and brother Charles working to keep things 
 alive — no cow, no horses — only an old blind ox, 
 not fit for beef and too poor to die. I have inquired 
 diligently for the good woman who nursed me to 
 life, but could never learn anything of her nor of 
 my Yankee friend." 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 APPOMATTOX 
 
 Another night was now at hand, and while it 
 might be supposed that nothing could be added to 
 intensify the suspense there certainly was nothing 
 to allay it. Although there was little left to destroy, 
 we passed heaps of burning papers, abandoned 
 wagons, etc., along the roadsides. 
 
 As each new scene or condition in our lives gives 
 rise to some new and corresponding feeling or emo- 
 tion, our environment at this time was such as to 
 evoke sensations of dread and apprehension hitherto 
 unknown. Moving parallel with us, and extending 
 its folds like some huge reptile, was an army equip- 
 ped with the best the world could afford — three- 
 fold greater in numbers than our own — which in 
 four years had never succeeded in defeating us in 
 a general battle, but which we had repeatedly routed 
 and driven to cover. Impatient of delay in effect- 
 ing our overthrow in battle, in order to starve us 
 out, marauding bands had scoured the country, 
 leaving ashes and desolation in their wake. 
 
 That now their opportunity to pay up old scores 
 had come, we fully realized, and anticipated with 
 dread the day of reckoning. General Grant, who 
 was Commander-in-Chief of all the Federal armies, 
 
 30i 
 
302 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 and at present personally in command of the army 
 about us, was by no means regarded as a man of 
 mercy. He had positively refused to exchange 
 prisoners, thousands of whom on both sides were 
 languishing and dying in the hands of their captors. 
 It should be borne in mind, in this connection, that 
 the offers to exchange had come from the Confed- 
 erate authorities, and for the last two years of the 
 war had been invariably rejected by the Federal 
 Government. In the campaign beginning in May, 
 1864, and ending with the evacuation of Richmond, 
 Grant's army had sustained a loss greater in num- 
 ber than that of the whole army opposed to him. 
 
 Among the ranks were foreigners of every na- 
 tionality. I had seen, as prisoners in our hands, a 
 whole brigade of Germans who could not speak a 
 word of English. During the preceding winter we 
 had been confronted with regiments of our former 
 slaves. Our homes and people we were leaving 
 behind to the mercy of these hordes, as if forever. 
 
 Another and by no means unimportant consid- 
 eration was whether to remain and meet results 
 with the command, or for each man to shift for 
 himself. Setting out from Richmond on the pre- 
 ceding Sunday, with no accumulation of vigor to 
 draw on, we had passed a week with food and sleep 
 scarcely sufficient for one day ; and to cope with 
 such exigencies as now confronted us, what a part 
 the stomach does play! All in all, it w'as a situa- 
 tion of a lifetime that will ever abide in the gloomy 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 303 
 
 recesses of memory. About eight o'clock on Sun- 
 day morning, April 9, as our two guns were enter- 
 ing the little village of Appomattox, several cannon- 
 shots sounded in quick succession immediately in 
 our front. Without \\ord of command we came to 
 our last halt. 
 
 Turning out of the road we went into park, un- 
 hitched our hungry horses, and awaited develop- 
 ments. During the two preceding days several 
 written communications had passed between Gen- 
 erals Lee and Grant, of which we knew nothing. 
 Our suspense, however, was soon interrupted by the 
 appearance of a Confederate officer, accompanied 
 by a Federal officer with long, flowing yellow hair, 
 and waving a white handkerchief as they galloped 
 by. This was General Custer, of cavalry fame, and 
 the conspicuous hero and victim of the Indian mas- 
 sacre, which bore his name, in Montana ten years 
 later. 
 
 Several sharp encounters had occurred during 
 the morning, in which our men displayed tlie same 
 unflinching valor, capturing in a charge a Federal 
 major-general (Gregg) and two pieces of artillery; 
 but now all firing had ceased, and the stillness that 
 followed was oppressive. As soon as it became 
 known that General Lee had surrendered, altliough 
 for days it had been perfectly understood that such 
 a result was inevitable, there was for a time no lit- 
 tle excitement and commotion among the men. That 
 we should be subjected to abhorrent humiliation 
 
304 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 was conceived as a matter of course, and, to avoid 
 it, all sorts of efforts and plans to escape were dis- 
 cussed. The one controlling influence, however, to 
 allay such a feeling was the unbounded and unim- 
 paired confidence in General Lee. The conduct and 
 bearing of the men were characterized by the same 
 sterling qualities they had always displayed. The 
 only exhibition of petulance that I witnessed was by 
 a staff officer who bore no scars or other evidence 
 of hardships undergone, but who acquired great 
 reputation after the war. He "could not submit 
 to such degradation," etc., threw away his spurs 
 and chafed quite dramatically. When a bystander 
 suggested that we cut our way out, he objected that 
 we had no arms. "We can follow those that have." 
 was the reply, "and use the guns of those that fall!" 
 He did not accede to the proposition ; but later I 
 heard him insist that one of our drivers should let 
 him have his spurs, as he, the driver, would have 
 no further use for them; but he did not get the 
 spurs. 
 
 By noon, or soon thereafter, the terms of the 
 surrender were made known — terms so generous, 
 considerate, and unlooked-for as scarcely believed 
 to be possible. None of that exposure to the gaze 
 and exultation of a victorious foe, such as we had 
 seen pictured in our schoolbooks, or as practised by 
 conquering nations in all times. We had felt it as 
 not improbable that, after an ordeal of mortifying 
 exposure for the gratification of the military, we 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 305 
 
 would be paraded through Northern cities for the 
 benefit of jeering crowds. So, when we learned 
 that we should be paroled, and go to our homes 
 unmolested, the relief was unbounded. 
 
 Early in the afternoon General Lee, mounted on 
 "Traveler" and clad in a spotless new uniform, 
 passed along on his return from an interview with 
 General Grant. I stood close by the roadside, along 
 which many of his old soldiers had gathered, in 
 anticipation of his coming, and, in a life of more 
 than three-score years, with perhaps more than ordi- 
 nary opportunities of seeing inspiring sights, both 
 of God's and man's creation, the impression and 
 effect of General Lee's face and appearance as he 
 rode by, hat in hand, stands pre-eminent. A few 
 of the men started to cheer, but almost instantly 
 ceased, and stood in silence with the others— all 
 with heads bared. 
 
 The favorable and entirely unexpected terms of 
 surrender wonderfully restored our souls; and at 
 once plans, first for returning to our homes, and 
 then for starting life anew, afforded ample interest 
 and entertainment. One of the privileges granted 
 in the terms of surrender was the retention, by offi- 
 cers and cavalrymen, of their own horses. My re- 
 cent acquisition at Sailor's Creek had put me in 
 possession of a horse, but to retain him was the diffi- 
 culty, as I was neither officer nor cavalryman. 
 Buoyed up with the excitement of bursting shells 
 and the noise of battle, he had carried me out 
 
306 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 gamely, but, this over, there was Httle Hfe in him. I 
 transferred the saddle and bridle to a horse aban- 
 doned in the road with some artillery, and left my 
 old benefactor standing, with limbs wide apart and 
 head down. 
 
 To accomplish my purpose of going out with a 
 horse, two obstacles had first to be overcome. Be- 
 ing only a cannoneer, I was not supposed to own a 
 horse, so I must be something else. I laid the case 
 before General Pendleton, our old neighbor in Lex- 
 ington, and my former school-teacher. It was rather 
 late to give me a commission, but he at once ap- 
 pointed me a courier on his staff, and as such I was 
 paroled, and still have the valued little paper, a fac- 
 simile of which is shown opposite. 
 
 The next difficulty to be met, the horse I had 
 exchanged for was branded C.S., and, even if 
 allowed to pass then, I feared would be confiscated 
 later. There was a handsome sorrel, also branded 
 C.S., among our battery horses, to which Lieut. 
 Ned Dandridge, of General Pendleton's staff, had 
 taken a fancy. For the sorrel he substituted a big, 
 bony young bay of his own. I replaced the bay 
 with my C.S. horse, and was now equipped for 
 peace. The branded sorrel was soon taken by the 
 Federals. 
 
 The final parting of a body of men associated as 
 we had been through the trying years of what had 
 seemed an interminable war, after having endured 
 all things as we thought; having together enjoyed 
 
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UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 307 
 
 to the utmost the gaiety in camp and on the march, 
 the quick wit, the jolly jest with sharp repartee, the 
 mad rush through our border towns on the heels 
 of the fleeing invaders, with the women and chil- 
 dren wild with delight and gratitude ; the sight of 
 the mighty forces marshalling, preliminary to 
 battle ; the music of the bands ; the return 
 from prison of companions whose fate was un- 
 known; some of us to set out for homes com- 
 paratively near, some to those more or less remote ; 
 others to homes amid hostile surroundings, others 
 again whose homes had been destroyed and loved 
 ones scattered, while there stood around us the starv- 
 ing horses, our familiar and faithful friends, still 
 tied to the guns in mute dejection — was an experi- 
 ence not to be undergone unmoved. But buoyed 
 with the consciousness that we had fought a good 
 fight, continuing even after our faith was finished, 
 under two commanders to whom in military skill, 
 in nobility of character, and in purity of life, the rest 
 of the world has produced no equal ; and last but 
 not least, that the cause for which we had undergone 
 it all Avas not one we thought was right but 
 that we knciv was right. With associations 
 such as these, and attachments the depth of which 
 was realized only in later years, each to every 
 other said "good-by," and on the 11th a party, con- 
 sisting of Col. Edmund Pendleton of the Eighth 
 Louisiana Regiment (whose family resided in an 
 adjoining county), Lieut. -Col. W. T. Poague, of 
 
308 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 A. P. Hill's Artillery; Lieut. Jack Jordan, Sergt. 
 John McCauley, Private James Lewis, and myself, 
 of the Rockbridge Artillery, all mounted took the 
 road leading home, occasionally encountering a 
 Federal officer, attended by an orderly who passed 
 us in silence. From Canal street at Lynchburg, 
 along which we rode, could be seen the quiet streets 
 ascending from the river, all dreary and silent, with 
 a blue-coat here and there holding sway. Thence 
 across the James by a bridge into Amherst, where 
 we spent the night at two farm-houses and were 
 most hospitably and generously entertained. At 
 Balcony Falls our routes diverged, one after another 
 taking a straight course home. For months after 
 I reached Lexington, on the 14th, from every quar- 
 ter, singly and in pairs, others came as time per- 
 mitted, after the various detached commands had 
 laid down their arms or Northern prisons discharged 
 their emaciated inmates. The scarcity of food in 
 the community was supplemented with rations is- 
 sued from a Federal commissary in our town until 
 gardens and truck-patches could be made available. 
 After resting and fattening my bay, I sold him 
 for a good price, and was thus enabled to return to 
 Washington College and serve again under General 
 Lee. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 Under an act of the General Assembly of Vir- 
 ginia, 1898, the Camps of Confederate Veterans, 
 organized in the several cities and towns of the 
 Commonwealth, were authorized to prepare lists of 
 the citizens of their respective counties who served 
 as soldiers during the war between the States, and 
 of those belonging to such companies, and these 
 lists were to be duly recorded by the Clerks of the 
 County Courts of the counties and kept among the 
 Court Records. The following list is taken from 
 this record, and is as nearly accurate as is possible 
 at this date : 
 
 ROCKBRIDGE ARTILLERY 
 
 ROLL OF COMPANY 
 
 The enrollment of the Rockbridge Artillery be- 
 gan April 19, 1861, and by the 21st the company 
 numbered about seventy men, and was organized 
 by the election of the following officers : Captain, 
 John McCausland ; and J. Bowyer Brockenbrough, 
 Wm. McLaughlin and Wm. T. Poague, lieutenants. 
 Captain McCausland soon thereafter was made 
 lieutenant-colonel and ordered to the western part 
 
 309 
 
310 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 of the State. On the 29th of April the company 
 unanimously elected Rev. Wm. N. Pendleton cap- 
 tain. 
 
 The company left Lexington for the seat of war 
 May 10, 1861, with two small, brass six-pounders 
 obtained at the Virginia Military Institute. It was 
 regularly mustered into the Confederate service at 
 Staunton, Virginia, on May 11, and at once ordered 
 to Harper's Ferry, where it received two more guns. 
 After the First Brigade was organized, under Gen. 
 Thomas J. Jackson, the Rockbridge Artillery was 
 assigned to it, and continued a component part of 
 the Stonewall Brigade, in touch with and occupy- 
 ing the same positions with it in all its battles and 
 skirmishes up to Sharpsburg. 
 
 Upon the reorganization of the artillery, in Octo- 
 ber, 1862, the battery was assigned to the First 
 Regiment Virginia Artillery, under the command 
 of Col. J. Thompson Brown, and continued with it 
 till the close of the war. The first fight it was en- 
 gaged in, and which made a part of its history, oc- 
 curred July 2 near Hainesville, when General Pat- 
 terson crossed the Potomac and advanced on Win- 
 chester. But one piece was engaged, and this fired 
 the first shot from a Confederate gun in the Shen- 
 andoah Valley. 
 
 The battery had five captains from first to last : 
 First, John McCausland, afterward brigadier-gen- 
 eral of cavalry ; second, Rev. Wm. N. Pendleton, 
 D.D., in command from May 1, 1861, until after 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 311 
 
 the first battle of Manassas, afterward brigadier- 
 general and chief of artillery in the Army of North- 
 ern Virginia; third, Wm. McLaughlin, afterward 
 lieutenant-colonel of artillery, in command until 
 April 2, 1862; fourth, Wm. T. Poague, afterward 
 lieutenant-colonel of artillery, Army of Northern 
 Virginia, in command until after the first battle of 
 Fredericksburg ; fifth, Archibald Graham, from that 
 time until the surrender at Appomattox, at which 
 place ninety -three men and officers laid down their 
 arms. 
 
 This company had the reputation of being one 
 of the finest companies in the service. So high was 
 the intellectual quality of the men that forty-five 
 were commissioned as officers and assigned to other 
 companies in the service. Many of them reached 
 high distinction. At no time during the war did 
 this company want for recruits, but it was so popu- 
 lar that it always had a list from which it could 
 fill its ranks, which were sometimes depleted by its 
 heavy casualties and numerous promotions from its 
 roster. 
 
 The following officers and men were mustered 
 into the service of the Confederate States at Staun- 
 ton, Virginia, on the 11th day of May, 1861 : 
 
 *Captain W. N. Pendleton ; brigadier-general, chief 
 of artillery A.N.V. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 The names with a star prefixed are the men from Rock- 
 bridge County. 
 
312 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 *First Lieutenant J. B. Brockenbrough ; wounded 
 at first Manassas; captain Baltimore Artillery, 
 major of artillery A.N.V. 
 
 * Second Lieutenant Wm. McLaughlin; captain; 
 lieutenant-colonel of artillery. 
 
 *Second Lieutenant W. T. Poague; captain; lieu- 
 tenant-colonel of artillery A.N.V. ; wounded at 
 second Cold Harbor ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *First Sergeant J. McD. Alexander; lieutenant 
 Rockbridge Artillery ; entered cavalry. 
 
 *Second Sergeant J. Cole Davis; lieutenant Rock- 
 bridge Artillery; wounded at Port Republic; 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Third Sergeant Archibald Graham; lieutenant and 
 captain Rockbridge Artillery; paroled at Appo- 
 mattox. 
 
 PRIVATES 
 
 *Agnor, Jos. S. ; killed at Fredericksburg Decem- 
 ber 13, 1862. 
 
 *Ayres, Jas. ; discharged for physical disability 
 August, 1861. 
 
 *Ayres, N. B. ; deserted, went into Federal army. 
 
 *Anderson, S. D. ; killed at Kernstown March 23, 
 1862. 
 
 *Beard, John; killed at Fredericksburg December 
 13, 1862. 
 
 *Beard, W. B. ; died from effects of measles sum- 
 mer of 1861. 
 
 *Bain, Samuel. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 313 
 
 *Brockenbrough, W. N. ; corporal; transferred to 
 Baltimore Light Artillery. 
 
 *Brown, W. M. ; corporal, sergeant, lieutenant; 
 
 wounded and captured at Gettysburg. 
 *Bumpus, W. N. ; corporal ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Conner, Blain; discharged for physical disability 
 
 in spring, 186L 
 *Conner, George ; arm broken by stallion ; absent 
 
 after winter of 1861-62. 
 *Conner, Jas. A. ; wounded at Sharpsburg and 
 
 Gettysburg; took the oath in prison and joined 
 
 Federal army and fought Indians in Northwest. 
 *Conner, John C. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Coffee, A. W. 
 
 *Craig, John B. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Crosen, W. 
 *Curran, Daniel; died from disease in summer of 
 
 1862. 
 *Davis, Mark ; deserted. 
 *Davis, R. G. ; died from disease in 1861. 
 *Doran, John; wounded at Malvern Hill in 1862; 
 
 disabled. 
 *Dudley, R. M. 
 
 *Ford, Henry; discharged after one year. 
 *Ford, Jas. A. ; wounded. 
 *Gibbs, J. T., Jr. ; wounded at Port Republic June 
 
 22, 1862; died from disease. 
 *Gold, J. M. ; captured at Gettysburg and died in 
 
 prison. 
 
314 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 *Gordon, W. C. ; wounded at Fredericksburg; dis- 
 abled. 
 
 *Harris, Alex. ; captured at Gettysburg and died in 
 prison. 
 
 *Harris, Bowlin; captured at Gettysburg; kept in 
 prison. 
 
 *Hetterick, Ferdinand ; discharged after one year. 
 
 *Henry, N. S. ; corporal, sergeant ; paroled at Ap- 
 pomattox. 
 
 *Hughes, Wm. ; discharged. 
 
 *Hostetter, G. W. ; transferred to infantry. 
 
 *Johnson, Lawson; died in summer of 1861. 
 
 *Johnson, W. F. ; corporal, quartermaster sergeant ; 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Jordan, J. W. ; wounded at first Manassas ; cor- 
 poral, sergeant, lieutenant ; paroled at Appomat- 
 tox. 
 
 *Leopard, Jas. ; transferred to Carpenter's battery. 
 
 *Lewis, Henry P. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Lewis, R. P. ; transferred to cavalry in spring of 
 1862. 
 
 *Leyburn, John; Heutenant Rockbridge Artillery; 
 surgeon on privateer. 
 
 *Martin, Thomas ; wounded and captured at Gettys- 
 burg. 
 
 *McCampbell, D. A. ; died from disease in Decem- 
 ber, 1864. 
 
 *McCampbell, W. H. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *McCkier, John G. ; corporal Rockbridge Artillery; 
 transferred to cavalry. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 315 
 
 *McCorkle, J. Baxter; corporal, sergeant, lieuten- 
 ant Rockbridge Artillery ; killed at first Fred- 
 ericksburg. 
 
 *Montgomery, W. G. ; killed at first Fredericksburg. 
 
 *Moore, D. E. ; corporal, sergeant ; wounded at Win- 
 chester and at Malvern Hill; paroled at Appomat- 
 tox. 
 
 *Moore, John D. ; quartermaster sergeant ; captured 
 after Gettysburg, prisoner until close of war. 
 
 *Moore, Samuel R. ; mortally wounded at Sharps- 
 burg. 
 
 *Morgan, G. W. ; sick and absent most of the time. 
 
 *0'Rourke, Frank; wounded at Malvern Hill; de- 
 serted. 
 
 *Paxton, J. Lewis ; sergeant ; lost leg at Kernstown. 
 
 *Phillips, James. 
 
 *Preston, Frank ; lost an arm at Winchester May 
 25, 1862; captain Virginia Military Listitute 
 Company. 
 
 *Raynes, A. G. ; detailed as miller. 
 
 *Rader, D. P. ; wounded at Fredericksburg Decem- 
 ber 13, 1862. 
 
 *Rhodes, J. N. ; discharged, over age. 
 
 *Smith, Joseph S. ; transferred to cavalry; killed in 
 battle. 
 
 *Smith, S. C. ; corporal, sergeant ; paroled at Ap- 
 pomattox. 
 
 * Smith, Adam ; discharged after one year. 
 
 *Strickler, James. 
 
316 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 *Strickler, W. L. ; corporal, sergeant; paroled at 
 
 Appomattox. 
 *Silvey, James; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Tharp, Benjamin F. ; transferred to cavalry in 
 
 spring of 1862. 
 ^Thompson, John A. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Thompson, S. G. 
 *Tompkins, J. F. ; corporal; detailed in Ordnance 
 
 Department. 
 *Trevy, Jacob; wounded at Gettysburg; paroled at 
 
 Appomattox. 
 *Wallace, John; killed at Kernstown March 23, 
 
 1862. 
 *Wilson, S. A. ; discharged for physical disability 
 
 August, 1861 ; joined cavalry. 
 
 The following joined the battery after May 11, 
 1861 ; dates of enlistment being given as far as 
 known : 
 
 * Adams, Thomas T. ; enlisted 1863; discharged; 
 
 later killed in battle, 
 *Adkins, Blackburn ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Agnor, Oscar W. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Agnor, John; enlisted July 21, 1861. 
 *Agnor, Jonathan; enlisted July 29, 1861; killed at 
 
 Kernstown May 25, 1862. 
 *Agnor, Samuel S. ; enlisted fall of 1862. 
 Alexander, Edgar S. ; enlisted September 2, 1861 ; 
 
 lost an arm at Fredericksburg, 1862. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 317 
 
 Alexander, Eugene; enlisted August 23, 1861; 
 wounded at second Manassas; transferred to cav- 
 alry. 
 
 Armisted, Charles J. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Arnold, A. E. ; enlisted September 1, 1861 ; cor- 
 poral, assistant surgeon. 
 
 Bacon, Edloe P. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Bacon, Edloe P., Jr. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Baldwin, William Ludwell, paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Barger, William G. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Barton, David R. ; enlisted June 27, 1861; lieuten- 
 ant in Cutshaw's battery; killed. 
 
 Barton, Robert T. ; enlisted March 7, 1862. 
 
 Bedinger, G. R. ; July 9, 1861; transferred to in- 
 fantry; killed at Gettysburg; captain. 
 
 Bealle, Jerry T. ; enlisted November 21, 1861. 
 
 Bell, Robert S. ; enlisted November 19, 1861 ; killed 
 at Rappahannock Station. 
 
 *Black, Benjamin F. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Blain, Daniel; enlisted May 27, 1861; detailed in 
 Ordnance Department; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Blackford, L. M. ; enlisted September 2, 1861 ; ad- 
 jutant Twenty-sixth Virginia Infantry. 
 
 Bolhng, W. H. ; enhsted March 10, 1862; corporal. 
 
 Boteler, A. R., Jr. ; enlisted March 1, 1862 ; wounded 
 May 25, 1862. 
 
 Boteler, Charles P.; enlisted October 23, 1861; 
 transferred to cavalry. 
 
 Boteler, Henry ; enlisted October 10, 1861 ; corporal ; 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 
318 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Boyd, E. Holmes; enlisted June 28, 1861; trans- 
 ferred to Ordnance Department. 
 
 Brooke, Pendleton; enlisted October 28, 1861; dis- 
 charged for physical disability. 
 
 Brown, H. C. ; enhsted 1862; detailed in Signal 
 Corps. 
 
 *Bro\vn, John L. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; killed at 
 Malvern Hill. 
 
 Brown, John M. ; enlisted March 11, 1862; wounded 
 at Malvern Hill ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Bryan, Edward; enlisted November 22, 1861. 
 
 Burwell, Lewis P.; enhsted September 21, 1861; 
 transferred. 
 
 Byers, G. Newton; enlisted August 23, 1861; cor- 
 poral ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Byrd, W. H. ; enhsted August 15, 1861 ; killed at 
 Kernstown March 23, 1862. 
 
 *Byrd, William. 
 
 *Carson, William; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; corporal; 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Caruthers, Thornton; enlisted December 21, 1862. 
 
 *Chapin, W. T. 
 
 Clark, James G. ; enlisted June 15, 1861 ; transferred. 
 
 Clark, J. Gregory; enlisted July 16, 1862; trans- 
 ferred. 
 
 Cook, Richard D. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Compton, Robert K. ; enlisted July 25, 1861 ; 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 319 
 
 *Conner, Alexander; enlisted July 23, 1861; 
 wounded May 25, 1862, at Winchester; paroled at 
 Appomattox. 
 
 *Conner, Daniel; enlisted July 27, 1862. 
 
 *Conner, Fitz G. 
 
 *Conner, Henry C. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Cox, W. H. ; enlisted July 23, 1861. 
 
 *Craig, Joseph E. ; enlisted March 2, 1863. 
 
 *Crocken, Francis J.; enlisted March 21, 1862. 
 
 Dandridge, A. Stephen; enlisted 1862; paroled at 
 Appomattox. 
 
 Darnall, Andrew M. ; captured at Deep Bottom. 
 
 Darnall, Henry T. ; enHsted July 23, 1861 ; paroled 
 at Appomattox. 
 
 *Davis, Charles W. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Davis, James M. M. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Davis, John E. ; died from disease June, 1864. 
 
 *Dixon, W. H. H. ; enHsted July 23, 1861 ; wounded 
 December 13, 1862; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Dold, C. M. ; enlisted March 3, 1862; wounded at 
 Newtown ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Efifinger, W. H. ; wounded at Sharpsburg; trans- 
 ferred to engineers. 
 
 Emmett, Michael J.; enlisted June 15, 1861; 
 wounded and captured at Gettysburg. 
 
 Eppes, W. H. ; wounded September, 1862. 
 
 * Estill, W. C. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Fairfax, Randolph; enlisted August 10, 1861; 
 wounded at Malvern Hill ; killed at first Fred- 
 ericksburg. 
 
320 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Faulkner, E. Boyd; enlisted July 23, 1862; detailed 
 
 at headquarters. 
 Fishburne, C. D. ; enlisted June 21, 1861 ; sergeant; 
 
 lieutenant in Ordnance Department. 
 Foutz, Henry; enlisted September 6, 1862; killed at 
 
 first Fredericksburg. 
 Frazer, Robert; enlisted November 28, 1862; 
 
 wounded at first Fredericksburg. 
 Friend, Ben CM.; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Fuller, John; enlisted July 23, 1861; wounded at 
 
 Malvern Hill ; killed at first Fredericksburg. 
 Garnett, James M. ; enlisted July 17, 1861 ; lieuten- 
 ant on staff ; captain in Ordnance Department ; 
 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 Gibson, Henry B. ; enlisted May 13, 1862. 
 Gibson, John T. ; enlisted August 14, 1861. 
 Gibson, Robert A. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 Gilliam, William T. 
 
 Gilmer, James B. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Gilmore, J. Harvey; enlisted March 7, 1862; chap- 
 lain. 
 *Ginger, George A.; enlisted March 6, 1862; 
 
 wounded at Newtown ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Ginger, W. L. ; enlisted March 6, 1862; wounded 
 
 and captured at Gettysburg; prisoner till close of 
 
 war. 
 *Gold, Alfred; enlisted July 23, 1861; wounded at 
 
 second Fredericksburg. 
 Gooch, James T. ; transferred from engineers in 
 
 1863; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 321 
 
 *Goul, John M. ; enlisted June 14, 1861 ; chaplain 
 A.N.V. ; died of fever in service. 
 
 *Gray, O. P.; enlisted March 21, 1862; killed at 
 Kernstown March 23, 1862. 
 
 Gregory, John M. ; enlisted September 7, 1861 ; 
 wounded May 25, 1862; captain in Ordnance De- 
 partment. 
 
 *Green, Thomas; enlisted 1862; transferred. 
 
 *Green, Zach. ; enlisted 1862; transferred. 
 
 Gross, Charles; enlisted July 27, 1862. 
 
 *Hall, John F. ; enlisted July 22i, 1861 ; died near 
 Richmond, 1862. 
 
 Heiskell, J. Campbell; enlisted February 9, 1862; 
 wounded in 1864; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Heiskell, J. P.; enlisted 1862; discharged for physi- 
 cal disability. 
 
 *Herndon, Francis T. ; enlisted March 31, 1862; 
 killed at Malvern Hill. 
 
 Hitner, John K. ; enlisted March 17, 1862 ; wounded. 
 
 *Holmes, John A.; enlisted March 11, 1862. 
 
 *Houston, James Rutherford; enlisted July 23, 
 1861. 
 
 Houston. William W. ; enlisted August 10, 1861; 
 chaplain A.N.V. 
 
 Hughes, Wilham; enlisted July 23, 1861. 
 
 Hummerickhouse, John R. ; enlisted March 28, 
 1862. 
 
 Hyde, Edward H. ; enlisted March 28, 1862; pa- 
 roled at Appomattox. 
 
 Johnson, Thomas E. 
 
322 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Jones, Beverly R. ; enlisted July 3, 1861. 
 
 Kean, Otho G. ; enlisted after capture at Vicksburg; 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Kean, William C. ; enlisted fall of 1861 ; transferred. 
 
 *Knick, William; enlisted August 11, 1862; mor- 
 tally wounded at second Fredericksburg. 
 
 Lacy, Richard B. 
 
 Lacy, William S. ; enlisted March 17, 1862; de- 
 tailed in Signal Service; chaplain. 
 
 Lawson, Joseph; enlisted July 20, 1863. 
 
 Lawson, William; enlisted July 20, 1863. 
 
 Leathers, John P. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Lecky, John H. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; transferred 
 to cavalry. 
 
 Lee, Robert E., Jr.; enlisted March 26, 1862; lieu- 
 tenant on staff, and captain. 
 
 *Leech, James M. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Letcher, Samuel H. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Levvis, James P. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; wounded. 
 
 Lewis, Nicholas H. ; enlisted June 17, 1861. 
 
 *Link, David; transferred from Rice's battery. 
 
 Luke, Williamson; enlisted October 7, 1861; soon 
 transferred to cavalry. 
 
 *McAlpin, Joseph; enlisted March 3, 1862 ; mortally 
 wounded at first Fredericksburg. 
 
 *McCauley, John E. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; cor- 
 poral, sergeant; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *McCauley, Wilham H. ; transferred from infantry; 
 corporal; killed April 7, 1865. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 323 
 
 *McClintic, W. S. ; enlisted October 4, 1861 ; 
 wounded ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *McCorkle, Tazwell E. ; enlisted in Hampden-Sid- 
 ney Company in 1861 ; captured at Rich Moun- 
 tain; joined battery in 1864. 
 
 *McCorkle, Thomas E. ; enhsted March 9, 1862; 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *McCorkle, William A.; enhsted July 23, 1861; 
 paroled at x\ppomattox. 
 
 *McCrum, R. Barton; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 McGuire, Hugh H., Jr.; enlisted March 10; trans- 
 ferred to cavalry ; captain ; killed. 
 
 McKim, Robert B. ; enlisted July 6, 1861 ; killed at 
 Winchester May 25, 1862. 
 
 Macon, Lyttleton S. ; enlisted June 27, 1861 ; cor- 
 poral, sergeant ; discharged. 
 
 Magruder, Davenport D. ; enlisted March 1, 1862; 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Magruder, Horatio E. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 * Marshall, John J. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Marshall, Oscar M. ; enlisted March 6, 1862. 
 
 Massie, John Livingstone; enlisted May 15, 1861; 
 captain of artillery ; killed. 
 
 *Mateer, Samuel L. ; enhsted January 11, 1863; 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Maury, Magruder; enlisted in fall of 1861; trans- 
 ferred to cavalry. 
 
 Maury, Thompson B. ; enlisted in fall of 1861 ; de- 
 tailed in Signal Service. 
 
324 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Meade, Francis A.; enlisted November, 1862; pa- 
 roled at Appomattox. 
 
 Merrick, Alfred D. ; enlisted December 30, 1861. 
 
 Minor, Charles; enlisted November 16, 1861; be- 
 came lieutenant of engineers. 
 
 Minor, C. N. Berkeley; enlisted July 27. 1861 ; be- 
 came lieutenant of engineers. 
 
 Minor, Launcelot ; wounded at Cumberland Church. 
 
 *Moore, Edward A.; enlisted March 3, 1862; 
 wounded at Sharpsburg and twice at second Cold 
 Harbor ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Moore, John H. ; transferred from Rockbridge 
 Rifles in spring of 1861; wounded; paroled at 
 Appomattox. 
 
 *Moore, John L. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; wounded. 
 
 *Mooterspaugh, William; enlisted 1862; paroled at 
 Appomattox. 
 
 Montgomery, Ben T. ; transferred from another 
 battery ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Myers, John M. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Nelson, Francis K. ; enlisted May 17, 1861 ; trans- 
 ferred to Albemarle Light Horse. 
 
 Nelson, Kinloch ; transferred from Albemarle Light 
 Horse ; disabled -by caisson turning over on him ; 
 lieutenant Ordnance Department. 
 
 Nelson, Philip; enlisted July 27, 1861; discharged 
 by furnishing substitute. 
 
 *Nicely, George H. ; enlisted March 7, 1862; died 
 from disease, 1864. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 325 
 
 *Nicely, James W. ; enlisted Alarch 7, 1862; de- 
 serted. 
 
 *Nicely, John F. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; wounded 
 at Port Republic. 
 
 Otey, William M. ; enlisted 1862 ; transferred soon 
 thereafter. 
 
 Packard, Joseph; enlisted July 7, 1861; corporal; 
 lieutenant Ordnance Department. 
 
 Packard, Walter J. ; enlisted October 23, 1861 ; died 
 summer of 1862. 
 
 Page, Richard C. M. ; enlisted July 14, 1861 ; trans- 
 ferred ; captain ; major artillery. 
 
 Page, R. Powell; enlisted May 1, 1864; detailed 
 courier to Colonel Carter. 
 
 Paine, Henry M. 
 
 *Paine, Henry R. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; corporal, 
 sergeant ; killed at second ^^lanassas. 
 
 Paine, James A. 
 
 *Paxton, Samuel A.: enlisted Alarch 7, 1862. 
 
 Pendleton, Dudley D. ; enlisted June 19, 1861 ; cap- 
 tain and assistant adjutant-general, artillery 
 A.N.V. 
 
 *Pleasants, Robert A. ; enlisted March 3, 1863. 
 
 Pollard, James G. ; enlisted July 27, 1864; paroled 
 at Appomattox. 
 
 Porter, Mouina G. ; enlisted September 24, 1861 ; 
 detailed courier. 
 
 *Phillips, Charles ; detailed in Signal Service. 
 *Pugh, George W. ; enlisted March 6, 1862; paroled 
 at Appomattox. 
 
326 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 *Pugh, John A. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Rawlings, James M. 
 
 *Rentzell, George W. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; 
 
 wounded at Kernstown and disabled. 
 *Robertson, John W. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 Robinson, Arthur ; enlisted March 28, 1 862 ; mor- 
 tally wounded at first Fredericksburg. 
 *Root, Erastus C. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 Ruffin, Jefferson; transferred from another battery; 
 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 Rutledge, Charles A. ; enlisted November 3, 1861 ; 
 
 transferred. 
 *Sandford, James; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Saville, John; enlisted July 23, 1861; transferred 
 
 to cavalry; died in service. 
 *Shaner, Joseph F. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; wounded 
 
 at first Fredericksburg; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Shaw, Campbell A. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 * Shoulder, Jacob M. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 Singleton, William F. ; enlisted June 3, 1861 ; 
 
 wounded and captured at Port Republic. 
 *Schammerhorn, John G. 
 Smith, J. Howard; enlisted September 2, 1861; 
 
 lieutenant in Ordnance Department. 
 Smith, James P. ; enlisted July 9, 1861 ; lieutenant 
 
 and captain on staff of General Jackson. 
 Smith, James Morrison. 
 Smith, Summerfield ; enlisted September 2, 1861; 
 
 died from disease. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 327 
 
 Stuart, G. W. C. ; enlisted May 13, 1862; wounded 
 May 25, 1862; killed at second Fredericksburg. 
 *Strickler, Joseph; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 * Stuart, W. C. ; wounded at second Cold Harbor; 
 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 Swan, Minor W. ; enlisted August 15, 1863 ; paroled 
 
 at Appomattox. 
 Swan, Robert W. 
 *Swisher, Benjamin R. ; enlisted March 3, 1862 ; 
 
 paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Swisher, George W. ; enhsted March 3, 1862; 
 
 wounded May 25, 1862 ; paroled at xA.ppomattox. 
 
 * Swisher, Samuel S. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 Tate, James F. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 Taylor, Charles F. 
 
 Taylor, Stevens M. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Thompson, Ambrose; died July, 1864. 
 
 *Thompson, Lucas P.; enlisted August 15, 1861; 
 paroled at /\ppomattox. 
 
 Tidball, Thomas H. ; enlisted March 3, 1862 ; pa- 
 roled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Timberlake, Francis H. 
 
 *Tomlinson, James W. ; enlisted July 23. 1861. 
 
 Trice, Leroy F. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Trueheart, Charles W. ; enlisted October 24, 1861; 
 corporal, assistant surgeon. 
 
 Tyler, D. Gardner ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Tyler, John Alexander; enlisted April, 1865; pa- 
 roled at Appomattox. 
 
 *Van Pelt, Robert: enlisted July 23, 1861. 
 
328 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 Veers, Charles O. ; enlisted September 10, 1861; 
 transferred to cavalry soon thereafter. 
 
 *Vest, Andrew J.; enlisted July 23, 1861; dis- 
 charged. 
 
 *Wade, Thomas M. ; enlisted March 7, 1862; pa- 
 roled at Appomattox. 
 
 * Walker, George A. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; trans- 
 
 ferred to Carpenter's battery. 
 
 *Walker, James S. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; trans- 
 ferred to Carpenter's battery. 
 
 *Walker, John W. ; enlisted July 23, 1861 ; trans- 
 ferred to Carpenter's battery. 
 
 Whitt, Algernon S. ; enlisted August 8, 1861 ; cor- 
 poral ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 *White, William H. ; paroled at Appomattox. 
 
 Williams, John J.; enlisted July 15, 1861; trans- 
 ferred to Chew's battery. 
 
 * Williamson, Thomas; wounded at Gettysburg; 
 
 escaped at Appomattox with the cavalry. 
 *Williamson, William G. ; enlisted July 5, 1861 ; 
 
 captain of engineers. 
 *Wilson, Calvin. 
 *Wilson, John; enlisted July 22, 1861; prisoner 
 
 after Gettysburg; took the oath. 
 *Wiseman, William; enlisted March 10, 1862. 
 *Wilson, Samuel A.; enlisted March 3, 1862; 
 
 wounded at Gettysburg ; captured : died in prison. 
 *Wilson, William M. ; enlisted August 12, 1861 ; 
 
 corporal. 
 Winston, Robert B. ; enlisted August 25, 1861. 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 329 
 
 *Withrow, John; paroled at Appomattox. 
 *Woody, Henry; transferred from infantry, 1864; 
 
 deserted. 
 *Wright, John W. ; enhsted 1864; wounded and 
 
 disabled at Spottsylvania Court House. 
 Young, Charles E. ; enlisted March 17, 1862. 
 
 The Rockbridge Artillery took part in the follow- 
 ing engagaments : 
 
 Hainesville, July 2, 1861. 
 First Manassas, July 21, 1861. 
 Kernstown, March 23, 1862. 
 Winchester, May 25, 1862. 
 Charlestown, May, 1862. 
 Port Republic, June 8 and 9, 1862. 
 White Oak Swamp. June 30, and Malvern Hill, 
 July 1, 1862. 
 
 Cedar Run, .Vugust 9, 1862. 
 
 Second Manassas, August 28, 29 and 30, 1862. 
 
 Harper's Ferry, September 15, 1862. 
 
 Sharpsburg, September 17, 1862. 
 
 First Fredericksburg, December 13, 1862. 
 
 Second Fredericksburg, May 2 and 3, 1863. 
 
 Winchester, June 14, 1863. 
 
 Gettysburg, July 2 and 3. 1863. 
 
 Rappahannock Bridge, November 9, 1863. 
 
 Mine Run, November 27, 1863. 
 
 Spottsylvania Court House, May 12, 1864. 
 
 Cold Harbor, June 3, 1864. 
 
 Deep Bottom, July 27, 1864. 
 
330 THE STORY OF A CANNONEER 
 
 New Market Heights, September, 1864. 
 
 Fort Gilmore, 1864. 
 
 Cumberland Church, April 7, 1865. 
 
 The battery saw much service in fighting gunboats 
 on James River, and took part in many skirmishes 
 not mentioned. 
 
 The number of men, enrolled as above, is three 
 hundred and five (305), of whom one hundred and 
 seventy-three (173) were from the county of Rock- 
 bridge. Of the remainder, a large part were stu- 
 dents, college graduates, University of Virginia men, 
 and some divinity students. These, with the sturdy 
 men from among the farmers and business men of 
 Rockbridge, made up a company admirably fitted 
 for the artillery service. 
 
 The efficiency of the battery was due in no small 
 part to its capacity for rapid marching and maneu- 
 vering, and this to the care and management of the 
 horses mainly by men from this county. In the 
 spring of 1862 a large number of men was recruited 
 for the battery, whose names are not on the above 
 roll, and some of whom were engaged in the battle 
 of Kernstown. In April, 1862, while encamped at 
 Swift Run Gap, authority was given by General 
 Jackson to reorganize the battery, making three 
 companies thereof, with the view to form a battalion. 
 Immediately after two companies had been organ- 
 ized by the election of officers, the authority for mak- 
 ing three companies was revoked, and an order is- 
 
UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON 331 
 
 sued to form one company only, and giving to all 
 the men not embraced in this one company the priv- 
 ilege of selecting a company in any branch of the 
 service. A large number of men, thus temporarily 
 connected with the Rockbridge Artillery, availed 
 themselves of this privilege whose names do not 
 appear on the above roll. It would now be impossi- 
 ble to make up this list. 
 
 RECAPITULATION 
 
 Enrolled as above, three hundred and five (305). 
 
 Number from Rockbridge County, one hundred 
 and seventy-three (173). 
 
 Killed in battle, twenty-three (23). 
 
 Died of disease contracted in service, sixteen (16). 
 
 Wounded more or less severely, forty-nine (49). 
 
 Slightly wounded, names not given, about fifty 
 (50). 
 
 Discharged from service for disability incurred 
 therein, ten (10). 
 
 Took the oath of allegiance to Federal Govern- 
 ment while in prison, two (2). 
 
 Deserted, five (5). 
 
 Promoted to be commissioned officers, thirty-nine 
 
 (39). 
 
 Paroled at Appomattox, nmety-three (93). 
 
 So great was the loss of horses, there having 
 been over a hundred in this battery killed in battle, 
 that during the last year of the war they were un- 
 hitched from the guns after going into action and 
 taken to the rear for safety. 
 
631 
 

 
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