Almost four years have elapsed since the surrender of General Lee at Appomattox Court House, and as yet nothing has been presented to the world to show the prominent part taken in the Great Rebellion by the sons of Maryland. It is a glorious and important page in her honored history, and future generations seem likely to look in vain for a record of the patient suffering and heroic achievements of their forefathers when struggling for their rights against Yankee tyranny and oppression, and which was not surpassed by their sires of the Revolution of ’76.

Thus believing, the author has yielded to the importunities of many of the officers and men of the several commands that composed the young “Maryland Line,” and presents to the public a little book describing briefly its operations during those four eventful years, and to which they can refer, and by which future historians may be in a measure guided. That it is written by a feeble pen, and by one unaccustomed to such work, will be seen at a glance, and he therefore craves the indulgence of a generous people.

It is much to be regretted that the young men who went South did not organize themselves into one command; but the proper steps were not taken in time, and consequently batteries and companies of infantry and cavalry were assigned to other commands whose States were accredited with their services. Nevertheless Maryland had one representative, at least, in this little organization, and for which she has no reason to blush.

The books at the War Department contained the names of over twenty thousand Marylanders in the service, and still at no time could the “Maryland Line” be increased to the proportions of a brigade, much less a division.

One great reason for this was the fact that they were required to officer companies, regiments, and brigades of troops from other States, for, as a general thing, the young men from Maryland were of a superior order intellectually, who were actuated by patriotism alone, and not driven into the service by the conscript officer, or influenced by mercenary motives.

Thinking to contribute to the interest of this little book, the author has added a few incidents of a personal character, which, with the “Maryland Line,” he hopes will be favorably received by the Southern people, and by that portion of the people of the North from whom we received a sympathizing tear during our struggle for independence.

Baltimore, February, 1869.

THE
FIRST MARYLAND INFANTRY.

CHAPTER I.

It was towards the close of April, 1861, that several members of the Baltimore City Guard Battalion (which organization had been under arms since the memorable 19th) were sitting around the dinner table in their armory, discussing the probability of Baltimore soon being in the possession of the troops under the command of the subsequently infamous Benjamin F. Butler. Various were the opinions expressed; but it was pretty generally conceded that, to use Hawk-Eye’s expression, the city “was circumvented,” and the Maryland Militia had no longer any terrors for the doughty Butler and his legions. I had long before determined upon going South, when I could no longer serve my native State; and such was also the determination of most of those around me.

“The thing is up, boys,” said Dr. Harry Scott, Surgeon of the Guards, “and we now begin to see who is who. All seemed mighty anxious for a fight last Sunday; but, Lord, what a change has come over the spirit of their dreams! of glory and of conquest, now that the city is about to fall into the hands of the enemy. And how hard those who were most violent at first, are now striving to prove themselves the most loyal men in Baltimore. Then all were disloyal; now look at the loyal! and it pains me to see many of this very organization appear here in citizen’s dress, as though they were frightened at what they had done. There’s Fulton, of the American, out this morning in an article denouncing the outrage upon the American flag in opposing the passage of troops through the city; and it is well known to all that he was among the first and most earnest advocates of the measure. For my part, I am going South to join the Confederate army.”

“And I, and I, and I,” came from a dozen present.

“And I,” exclaimed Jim Sellman, springing to his feet and assuming an attitude that only Jim Sellman could assume. “I tell you, gentlemen, the Federal Union must not and shall not be preserved, old Hickory to the contrary, notwithstanding. Such an outrage as this coercion has never before been perpetrated upon a free people; no, not since Noah drove into the ark his monkeys, dromedaries, rhinoceroses, kangaroos, etc., etc. But then the Lord told Noah to coerce the dumb brute for the benefit of future generations; and it is the devil who tells this government to drive us back into the Union, for the benefit of Yankee cotton and boot and shoe manufacturers. I tell you it shan’t be ‘did;’ and I say again, in the language of the immortal Andrew Jackson, ‘The Federal Union must not and shall not be preserved at the expense of Southern independence,’ and I for one shall help to bust her. Follow me. I’ll be your Beauregard. I’ll lead you on to victory or to death. Keep in my foot-prints, that’s all.”

Twenty men volunteered upon the spot, whereupon the inimitable Beauregard, (for so Sellman was ever after called,) placing his dexter finger in his mouth, and imitating the popping of a champagne cork, circulated the ice-water freely, declaring vehemently it was his “treat.”

It was about the 7th of May that the party, now increased to forty men, left Baltimore by the several routes to Richmond. Upon reaching that city we met quite a number of Marylanders who had preceded us. Two companies of infantry were quickly formed, and placed under the command of Captains Edward R. Dorsey and J. Lyle Clark. A third was also started, which, upon being completed, was commanded by the gallant Capt. Wm. H. Murray.

I will not tire the reader with a description of our life at the camp of instruction, to which place we were ordered after being mustered in; nor of our quarters in the pig-pens, but lately occupied by the four-legged recruits of the fair grounds; of the countless millions of fleas that took up their quarters in closer proximity to our flesh than was agreeable; of the sweats around the race track at the double quick; no, suffice it to say, that through the exertions of our officers, in a very short time our drill and discipline rivalled that of the famous Lexington cadets, who were upon the ground, and vast were the crowds attracted by our afternoon drills and dress parades.

The 25th of June found the companies of Captains Dorsey and Murray in Winchester, to complete the organization of the First Maryland. Capt. Clark, for some reason, preferred attaching his company to the Twenty-First Virginia Regiment, a step he ever after regretted, for the regiment was sent to the wilds of West Virginia, where they saw but little service, and were compelled to endure dreadful sufferings and privations.

The companies of the regiment we met at Winchester had been organized at Harper’s Ferry, where they were for several weeks engaged in picketing Maryland Heights and other points, and through their exertions, in the evacuation of the place and destruction of the rifle works, government property of much value to us was saved that would have been otherwise destroyed by the excited and thoughtless troops, for we were yet young in the art of war.[^[1]]

[1]. The property referred to as having been saved by them from the flames which were enveloping the buildings that contained it, and fired by other troops, was seventeen thousand gun stocks, which they received permission to send to North Carolina as a testimonial of gratitude for all she had done for them.

For their services upon this occasion, General Joseph E. Johnston issued the following complimentary order:

Headquarters Winchester, }

June 22d, 1861. }

Special Order.

The Commanding General thanks Lt. Col. Steuart and the Maryland Regiment for the faithful and exact manner in which they carried out his orders of the 19th inst. at Harper’s Ferry. He is glad to learn that, owing to their discipline, no private property was injured and no unoffending citizen disturbed. The soldierly qualities of the Maryland Regiment will not be forgotten in the day of action.

By order of Gen. Jos. E. Johnston.

W. M. Whiting, Inspector General.

The First Maryland was organized and officered as follows: Colonel, Arnold Elzey; Lieutenant-Colonel, George H. Steuart; Major, Bradley T. Johnson; Acting Adjutant, Frank X. Ward.

Company A.—Captain, W. W. Goldsborough; Lieutenants, George R. Shellman, Chas. Blair and George M. E. Shearer.

Company B.—Captain, Columbus Edelin; Lieutenants, James Mullin, Thomas Costello and Jos. Griffin.

Company C.—Captain, E. R. Dorsey; Lieutenants, S. H. Stewart, R. C. Smith and William Thomas.

Company D.—Captain, James R. Herbert; Lieutenants, George Booth, Nicholas Snowden and Willie Key Howard.

Company E.—Captain, Harry McCoy; Lieutenants, John Lutts, Joseph Marriott and John Cushing. Edmund O’Brien was shortly after elected Captain, McCoy having resigned.

Company F.—Captain, Louis Smith; Lieutenants, Joseph Stewart, William Broadfoot and Thos. Holbrook.

Company G.—Captain, Willie Nicholas; Lieutenants, Alexander Cross and John Deppich.

Company H.—Captain, Wm. H. Murray; Lieutenants, George Thomas, Frank X. Ward and Richard Gilmor.

Some time after, whilst at Centreville, Company I joined us, having the following officers:

Company I.—Captain, Michael S. Robertson; Lieutenants, H. H. Bean, Hugh Mitchell and Eugene Diggs.[^[2]]

[2]. There were many changes in the regiment afterwards.

The regiment numbered over seven hundred men, and was second to none in the Confederate army. But two companies were uniformed at the time of its organization, (those from Richmond), but soon after, through the exertions of Mrs. Bradley T. Johnson, the whole command was dressed in neat, well-fitting gray uniforms.

With the exception of two companies, the regiment was armed with the deadly Mississippi rifle, which was also procured by Mrs. Johnson, through her influence with the Governor of North Carolina, of which State she was a native.

The organization had scarcely been effected when, in the afternoon of the first day of July, orders were received to cook two day’s rations and prepare to move at a moment’s notice. Our destination was for some time unknown; but it was soon whispered around that Patterson had crossed the Potomac at Williamsport with a large army, and, although vigorously attacked by a brigade under General Jackson, was driving that General before him, and advancing rapidly in the direction of Winchester. At four o’clock, we commenced the march to meet the enemy, every man full of confidence and enthusiasm. As we passed the then beautiful residence of the Hon. James M. Mason, that venerable gentleman, with his lovely family, stood in the gateway and bid us God speed. Alas, Yankee vandals have been there since; and, when last I visited the place, I found nothing but a mass of rubbish to mark the spot where once stood the stately mansion of one of Virginia’s wisest and purest statesmen.

That night the army went into camp near Bunker Hill, some ten miles from Winchester. The march was resumed early next morning, and by twelve o’clock our line of battle was formed a short distance beyond the little village of Darksville, and about five miles from the advance of Patterson’s army. To the First Maryland was assigned the post of honor, the extreme right; and, had there been occasion, most stubbornly would they have contested every inch of the ground they occupied.

The army, under the command of General Joseph E. Johnston, numbered eleven thousand men of all arms, indifferently armed and equipped, and totally unacquainted with the drill and discipline so essential to the soldier; and yet these were the very troops that a few days later hurled back the legions of McDowell from the plains of Manassas, and who now threw down the gage of battle to Patterson and his twenty-five thousand trained volunteers from the cities of the North. The material was there, and time was only required to make them the invincible troops they afterwards proved themselves on more than one hard fought battle field.

Four days we awaited the coming of the Federal army, although General Johnston wished to avoid an engagement if possible. The odds were fearful, two to one, but the troops were sanguine of success should the enemy attack us upon ground of our own choosing. But the enemy did not advance; and, fearing he was too far from Manassas, where Beauregard was daily expecting an attack from McDowell, the Confederate commander determined to fall back to Winchester, and from that place watch the movements of Patterson.

A few days after, that General advanced his army to Bunker Hill, and went into camp.

No change took place in the relative positions of the two armies until the 18th day of July, when Patterson broke camp and moved around in the direction of Charlestown.

General Johnston was quickly informed of this change of position by the ever vigilant Colonel J. E. B. Stuart, in command of the cavalry; and almost at the same hour he received a despatch from General Beauregard announcing that the enemy had attacked him at Bull Run in heavy force, and that he required assistance. Orders to march were immediately issued, and by four o’clock the last of the troops filed through the streets of Winchester. It was a silent march indeed. There were no bright smiles to greet us from the fair daughters of the town; no waving of handkerchiefs, no expression of joy; for all believed that the Confederate army was retreating from the superior forces of Patterson, and that they were soon to experience the horrors of a military despotism. And the troops partook of the same feeling, for, as yet, our destination had not been divulged to them. But few cheers were heard as they moved sullenly along the quiet streets.

We took the Millwood road, and, after marching about three miles. Col. Elzey halted the regiment and read the order to march to the assistance of Beauregard.

“You are, therefore,” he continued, “on the march to meet the enemy; and, in the hour of battle, you will remember that you are Marylanders. Every eye from across the waters of the Potomac which separates you from your homes is upon you, and all those who are dear to us are watching with anxious, beating hearts the fleshing of your maiden sword. And they shall not be disappointed, for he had better never been born who proves himself a craven when we grapple with the foeman.”

A cheer that might have been heard for miles went up from that little band of patriots; and, with flushed cheek and flashing eyes, they asked to be led against the enemy.

All that night we pressed forward, halting at intervals for a few minutes’ rest; and an hour before day we reached the Shenandoah at Berry’s Ferry, where it was determined to halt for breakfast. At seven o’clock we resumed our march, and, fording the river, crossed the mountain at Ashby’s Gap, and took the road to Piedmont, on the line of the Manassas Gap railroad, where we expected to find transportation to the scene of strife. The day’s march was a distressing one, as the heat was intolerable; but the gallant troops pressed rapidly forward, stimulated by occasional reports from the battle field.

During the day, General Johnston organized his army into brigades, which, it is strange to say, had been deferred until the very eve of battle. It was our good fortune to be placed under the command of General Kirby Smith, whose brigade was composed of the First Maryland, Colonel Elzey; Thirteenth Virginia, Col. A. P. Hill (afterwards the famous corps commander); Tenth Virginia, Colonel Gibbons, and Third Tennessee, Colonel Vaughn.

Piedmont was reached late that night by the rear of the army in the midst of a terrific thunderstorm, and, despite the pelting rain, the exhausted troops threw themselves upon the soaking ground and slept soundly until morning.

CHAPTER II.

The sun rose next day bright and beautiful, and, the scene that presented itself as we responded to reveille was animated indeed. The troops were eagerly crowding into the cars prepared to convey them to the battle field, and, from the boisterous mirth to be heard on all sides, one would have supposed them on their way to participate in some grand holiday parade instead of scenes of death and carnage.

Several regiments had been forwarded, and all were impatiently awaiting their turn, when we met with a disaster that threw a damper over all, and well nigh lost us the first battle of Manassas. The engineers of two of the trains were Yankees, who had been in the employ of the company for a long time. These men, true to their natural instincts and training, treacherously concocted a plan to collide their trains and thereby delay the troops of Johnston so much needed by Beauregard; and totally regardless of the consequences that might ensue to the hundreds of brave men placed at their mercy, consummated their wicked designs. Fortunately but few were hurt, and none killed; but an engine and train were destroyed, and the road so blockaded and injured that the utmost efforts of the large force immediately set to work failed to put it in running order before next morning.

The loss of this train was a severe blow to us, as we now had but two trains left. However, on the morning of the 21st of July these two resumed their trips, and each had made a successful run when, in making the second, the engine of the hindmost train—upon which was Kirby Smith’s brigade—broke down, and we were consequently delayed until the return of the first engine, some two hours and a half. The battle had been raging since morning, and the whole of the army should have reached Beauregard the evening before, whereas barely two-thirds had joined him at the close of the fight.

It was nearly one o’clock when we disembarked at Manassas, where we found an officer of Johnston’s staff awaiting with an order for us to push forward with all possible dispatch.

Hastily throwing off their knapsacks, the troops struck across the country in the direction of the smoke of battle and the sound of artillery, which could now be plainly seen and heard. Not a breath of air was stirring, and the heat and dust were almost suffocating; but on, on we went, sometimes slacking our pace to a walk to recover breath, but never halting until we had made four miles and were within a mile of the battle-field. Here we stopped but for a minute to allow the men to fill their canteens out of a muddy little stream, when the march was resumed at the same rapid gait, the gallant Smith at our head, encouraging us to “push on.”

As we neared the field, we knew by the rapid discharges of artillery and the incessant rattle of musketry, that the fight was being stubbornly contested. We presently began to meet the wounded, one of whom to our inquiry as to how the fight was going, answered, “Go on, boys, go on; but I’m afeared you’ll be too late, for I’m thinkin’ they’re licken of us. But go on; there’s no tellin.”

All told us the same, but encouraged us to press forward, as we “might get there in time yet.” As we drew nearer the field, the enemy were made aware of our approach by the clouds of dust we raised, and several pieces of artillery were trained upon us. The scene that presented itself as we emerged from a strip of pines was frightful indeed, and in no way calculated to encourage us to advance farther. Wagons in great numbers were coming to the rear at headlong speed, and demoralized fugitives by hundreds from the battle-field were rushing frantically by, crying out, “All is lost, all is lost; go back, or you’ll be cut to pieces; the army is in full retreat,” etc. And indeed so it seemed; for presently we met a whole regiment coming off, and, upon making inquiry for the cause, we were coolly told that “They had got somewhat tangled in the fight; and as we were whipped and retreating, they didn’t think it worth while to stay any longer.”

But amid prospects so discouraging, the command from our gallant general was ever “Forward, forward, my brave men! pay no attention to those miserable cowards and skulkers.”

The First Maryland had the right of the line, at the head of which was riding General Kirby Smith. We were still marching by the flank, when, just as the column entered a strip of woods, it was fired upon by about a dozen of the 14th Brooklyn Zouaves; and the general fell from his horse shot through the neck, and it was feared at the time fatally wounded. Corporal John Berryman, of Company C, First Maryland, fell at the fire also, with a dreadful wound through the groin. The regiment, as did the brigade, formed line of battle instinctively, and, not knowing what might be the enemy’s force, prepared for an attack.

The command now devolved upon Colonel Elzey, the senior officer, who, after waiting some minutes, and the enemy not appearing, moved the brigade obliquely through the woods to the left and front, and as we approached its edge the Federal line of battle appeared in view, which, as they perceived us, poured into our ranks a terrific volley of musketry, that took effect upon several of the men of the brigade. Private John Swisher, of Company A, First Maryland, fell from a musket ball in the head, and died soon after, being the first man from Maryland killed in actual battle.

Colonel Elzey immediately prepared to attack. Holding the Thirteenth Virginia in reserve, he formed the First Maryland, Tenth Virginia, and Third Tennessee, and under cover of a hot fire from the Newtown battery of light artillery, ordered a “charge!”

The enemy held a strong position on a ridge difficult of ascent, and immediately in front of a dense pine thicket. At least three hundred yards separated us, and the charge was to be across a wheatfield, and of course without shelter of any description. It was a desperate undertaking; but upon that charge rested the fate of the Confederate army. At the command, with one wild, deafening-yell, the Confederates emerged from the woods, and, amidst a perfect storm of bullets, the gallant fellows rushed across the field. But they never wavered nor hesitated, and, dashing up the acclivity, drove the enemy pell-mell from their strong position into the thicket in their rear.

Halting the column for a minute to reform, Elzey pressed on in pursuit; and, when we came once more into the open country, we saw before us, and for a mile down to our right, no organized force, but one dense mass of fugitives. With the successful charge of Elzey upon their right flank, the whole of the Federal army had given way, and was rushing madly in the direction of Washington. Nothing that I ever saw afterwards could compare with that panic; and, as we pressed on in pursuit, men surrendered themselves by hundreds.

It was whilst thus pursuing the enemy that President Davis and Generals Johnston and Beauregard rode up to Colonel Elzey, amid the joyful shouts of the men, and the former, with countenance beaming with excitement and enthusiasm, seizing him by the hand, and giving it a hearty shake, exclaimed: “General Elzey, you are the Blucher of the day.”

Inclining to the right, the command halted for a few minutes near the Henry House, and close by the famous Rickett’s battery, which had been captured by the Eighth Georgia infantry, after a most desperate struggle. The ground was thickly strewn with the dead and wounded of the Seventy-Ninth New York Highlanders, which gallant regiment had supported the battery. The wounded were suffering terribly for water; and our men spent every moment in attending to their wants.

A little incident occurred here which I shall relate. Among the fatally wounded was an officer who, from his uniform, we knew to be a captain. The poor fellow had been shot through the head, and was about to breathe his last. Thinking to relieve him, Captain (afterwards Colonel) Herbert unbuttoned his coat, when he discovered a pocket-book and a package of letters in one of the pockets. Taking possession of them, he attended the wounded officer until he died. Upon examining the pocket-book, he found it contained some sixty-five or seventy dollars in gold; the letters were from his wife, and proved his name to be Brown. Two years after Captain Herbert was wounded and taken prisoner upon the field of Gettysburg. He had never parted with the gold nor the letters, and when sufficiently recovered from his wounds, he caused to be inserted in the New York Herald an advertisement calling upon the widow of the deceased officer to come forward and claim the property. In due time she made her appearance, a charming Scotch woman, not, as she said for the sake of claiming the money, but to hear from his own lips all about the last moments of her husband. She had received an imperfect account of his being shot from some of his men, but wished to learn of his death. Never shall I forget the look of gratitude she gave the Captain when he finished his story, (for the author was present at the interview,) and seizing his feeble hand, while great tears stole down her beautiful cheeks, she heaped upon him a thousand blessings.

She was our constant attendant for a week afterwards, and when she left us, seemed much affected. We subsequently learned from her that a valuable and highly-prized watch that her husband had on his person when shot, had been recovered with much difficulty, one of his own men having appropriated it after his Captain’s fall.

Resuming our march, the column crossed the Stone Bridge, and took the turnpike leading to Alexandria, confident that we were to pursue the enemy to the very gates of his capital. But we were doomed to a bitter disappointment; for, after marching a mile or two, we came to a right-about, and silently retraced our steps to Manassas. Tired, hungry and dispirited, we reached our camping ground long after nightfall, and, despite a drenching rain that set in about 12 o’clock, enjoyed a refreshing sleep.

CHAPTER III.

The morning after the battle of Manassas all seemed chaos, or confusion worse confounded. The cold, disagreeable rain that had set in during the night still continued, and the troops were provided with no means to shelter themselves from the pitiless storm which raged; and to add to this discomfort, the commissary wagons could not be found, and the men were almost entirely without provisions. Staff officers were galloping in every direction, looking for regiments that had been lost on the march of the night before, and it seemed for a while as though the utmost efforts of the general officers and their assistants would never be able to restore order out of all this muddle.

All day long this state of affairs continued. We had gained a great battle, it was true, and had we continued the pursuit, the command would have remained intact to a great degree; but the demoralizing effects of countermarching an army in the moment of victory were here strongly evidenced. The impression had gained ground that an opportunity had been let slip to deal the enemy a fatal blow, and therefore dissatisfaction was expressed on every side, and more than once I heard it said that “if we had not intended following up what successes we might meet with, there was but little gained in fighting the battle.”

Towards evening something like order seemed restored, and we waited in momentary expectation of hearing the command “Forward.” But night came on, and we were still idly facing the pelting rain. Shivering, shaking, and wretched, the troops threw themselves upon the wet ground to await the morrow.

At midnight we were aroused by the rattle of the kettle-drum calling us to arms, and never did men more readily respond to the summons. An order had been received for the First Maryland and the Third Tennessee to accompany Colonel J. E. B. Stuart, with cavalry and artillery, to Fairfax Court House.

The night was intensely dark, and our progress was, therefore, necessarily slow. For hours we toiled through the deep mud, stumbling and falling over rocks, stumps and logs, and mistaking our way every mile, when at daylight we struck the turnpike leading to Alexandria, and but six miles from where we had started.

The rain had now ceased, the clouds grew lighter and lighter, and presently the wind springing up, they were sent fleeting, and dancing, and skipping across heaven’s blue face, to be seen no more, we trusted, for many days to come. Never before had the glorious sun been more heartily welcomed by suffering humanity than it was that morning as it rose with silent majesty in the eastern sky. Never before had it appeared so lovely, never risen with such stately grandeur; and, as we gazed in its full, bright face, and began to feel its warm breath envelop us, we forgot all the sufferings and privations of the past thirty-six hours, and were made as happy as we had just before been miserable.

Evidences of the enemy’s rapid retreat now appeared on every side. The first thing which we encountered was an abandoned wagon, ladened with army bread. Nothing could have been more acceptable, and the troops were bountifully supplied. A little farther a large camp was found, filled with everything conceivable that could contribute to the comfort and efficiency of an army. As we progressed, wagons in great numbers presented themselves, containing army stores, ammunition, arms, etc., while camp kettles, muskets, cartridge boxes, belts, breast-plates, etc., lined the road for miles. Broken-down buggies that had, no doubt, been abandoned by the valiant Yankee members of Congress who had started with the army, bound for Richmond, put in an occasional appearance. At one place a human arm was found that had, no doubt, been amputated in the ambulance which was conveying the sufferer to the rear in the general flight. It evidently had belonged to an officer, for it was of delicate mould and fair as woman’s, and on the little finger was an exquisitely-wrought ring, containing a brilliant and valuable diamond set.

We reached Fairfax Court House by 12 o’clock, where we also found an immense quantity of stores, especially of clothing, which at that time was much needed by the Confederate Government. Nothing could exceed the joy of the inhabitants at once more beholding the gray they loved so well; but more than once they expressed their regret that we had not arrived some hours earlier; “for,” said one of them, “four thousand Yankees left here but this morning, who would have surrendered to a corporal’s guard, and those in advance of them were, if possible, in a worse plight, utterly demoralized, and without the semblance of organization.”

A half mile beyond the village the command went into camp in a woods by the side of the turnpike, there to await orders from General Johnston, whom we supposed moving with the whole army upon Washington, and but a short distance in our rear.

Reclining upon a bundle of straw, resting my tired, aching limbs, I was joined by my first Lieutenant, Shellman, who, with face radiant with joy, informed me that he had just heard the Colonel commanding express his belief that we would surely be in front of Washington before thirty-six hours. With all my heart did I hope it might prove true; but I had my doubts. I did not like the confusion we had witnessed, and feared it would require some days to reorganize the army, and place it in a condition to assume the offensive. That it was possible to yet retrieve the great error committed on the 21st and 22d, I was inclined to believe; but that it would be done was another question; and an observation from a private soldier suggested itself to me more than once. It was made while we were retracing our steps to Manassas after the battle, when all were out of humor. “A President and two Generals,” said he, “are too many to command one army.” And subsequent events proved how correct it was.

As day after day passed by, and there appeared no indications of offensive operations being resumed, our hopes of a speedy peace vanished, and we saw nothing before us but a protracted and bloody struggle.

Rapidly the enemy reorganized and reinforced his broken and discomfited army; and in an incredibly short time the genius of McClellan had placed around Washington an army and fortifications that it would have been madness for the Confederate Generals to attack.

It was determined, however, to present to them a bold front to conceal as much as possible our own numerical inferiority, and, therefore, the Confederates were advanced until they held possession of Mason’s Hill, but five miles from Alexandria. Munson’s Hill was soon after taken also, after a slight resistance; and the Southern army was thereby placed still nearer to the National Capital.

The infantry, under the command of Colonel J. E. B. Stuart, remained some weeks at Fairfax, when it was ordered to Fairfax Station, on the line of the Orange and Alexandria railroad, there to reunite with the balance of the brigade, now commanded by General Elzey. Here we set ourselves down for a long stay, as everything indicated that hostilities would not be renewed until spring, for both governments seemed to have set to work preparing their respective armies for the desperate fighting to be then begun.

Strict and rigid discipline was sought to be enforced throughout the Confederate army; and it was then we saw the incompetency of many of our officers, and had forebodings of the disastrous results likely to accrue from the wretched system adopted by the government of electing officers to companies instead of their being appointed by the Executive after a searching examination by an experienced and competent soldier.

In a measure, the First Maryland Regiment was free from this evil, which was owing principally to the determined steps taken by Colonel Geo. H. Steuart, who had succeeded Colonel Elzey in its command. An old and experienced soldier himself, he soon saw who was competent and who was not. Some of the latter he disposed of in a summary manner, and with others he thought to bide his time. He enforced discipline to the strictest letter of the old army regulations, which, though at first very objectionable to both officers and men of his command, afterwards became popular as the good resulting therefrom developed itself.

Drill by companies was had in the morning of every favorable day, and drill in the afternoon by battalion, with dress parade in the evening. Both officers and men were required to pay the strictest attention to their clothing and person, and the slightest neglect of either would draw from him a rebuke or punishment. The most rigid sanitary regulations were adopted for the camp; and when the neat appearance and healthy condition of the men were contrasted with that of other regiments around us, the most indifferent were stimulated to exert themselves to their utmost in sustaining the commandant in his efforts to promote the health and comfort of those placed under his charge; and, therefore, from its being at first one of the most obnoxious duties which the soldier had to perform, it became one of the most pleasant.

That Colonel Steuart was popular with the regiment upon assuming command, I cannot say. In fact, I believe he was much disliked; but in less than two months he had won the love and affection of all. Where was there such a camp as that of the First Maryland? Where such drill and discipline; such healthy, rugged looking troops; such neat and soldierly fellows? Where was the regiment that could follow them on a long, weary march with that rapid, elastic step for which they were so famous? Nowhere in the Confederacy. Ever vigilant, ever watchful, ever cheerful in the discharge of their duties, they were the pride and boast of the army.

With his officers, Colonel Steuart was strict and exacting, but always kind and courteous. He established a school for their instruction in tactics, and daily they were assembled at his headquarters for recitation; and not for his commission would one of them have appeared before him unable to recite the lessons he had been instructed to get. As a body, they were as intelligent a set of men as could be found in the army. I am compelled to say, however, that there were one or two disgraceful exceptions in the number.

One of these, in particular, was a Captain Edelin, alias Lum Cooper, who had by some means been elected to the command of a fine company, composed principally of young men from Baltimore. Without even the rudiments of a common school education, holding the truth in utter contempt, and a low swaggerer, he had nothing to recommend him but his having lighted the lamps in the streets of Washington for years, and beat a drum in the war with Mexico. His conduct everywhere in the army was disgraceful in the extreme, and reflected discredit, not only upon the regiment to which he belonged, but upon the State, of which he was neither a native nor a resident. Finally, despised and avoided by all who, without knowing the man, had associated with him in the regiment, he ran the blockade, took the oath of allegiance to the Federal Government, and turned informer upon the Government of which he had been a sworn servant.

CHAPTER IV.

The fall of 1861 will ever be remembered by the survivors of the regiment, as the most pleasant experienced by them during the whole war. We had an abundance of clothing and wholesome food, whilst there was no scarcity of money with which to indulge in even some of the luxuries of life. And then the monotony of the camp was often changed to the excitement of picketing in front of the enemy on Mason’s and Munson’s Hills, in the capture of both of which the First Maryland bore a conspicuous part. In the engagement at the latter place, we lost a private of Company I killed, and Lieutenant Mitchell, of the same company, badly wounded. During these picket reliefs, we had daily encounters with the enemy, in which we invariably got the better of him. The first that occurred I will relate, as Mr. Captain Edelin then and there gave us a specimen of military skill acquired on the head of a kettle-drum in Mexico.

It was on the morning after the capture of Mason’s Hill, that Colonel Smith, the officer in command, wishing to advance his pickets as far as Clampitt’s house, a mile in front of the main body, detailed Edelin for the duty. He moved his company forward through a thicket, and in a few minutes we were startled by the rapid discharges of musketry, which led Colonel Smith to believe he had encountered a heavy force of the enemy. Captain James R. Herbert’s company and my own were immediately sent to his support. Coming up with Edelin, he informed us that he had met a regiment of infantry, but, after a stubborn fight, the enemy had retreated, carrying his dead and wounded along.

“But,” said he, “they are in the woods before us, and I must have artillery to drive them out;” and, turning to an orderly, he directed him to post off to Colonel Smith and request that officer to send him a battery forthwith.

I saw an expression of ineffable contempt and disgust spread over the face of Lieutenant Costello, of his company, who, calling me aside, informed me that the sight of but one picket had occasioned all the firing, and that by the Captain’s orders.

The courier dispatched to the commandant soon returned with the not very polite reply that “Captain Edelin was a d—d fool, and he wanted no more such crazy requests.”

“Puss in Boots,” as he was usually called, dropped his feathers instanter, but was heard to mutter something about “challenge,” “duel.” Being the senior officer, he had command of the three companies—something which neither Herbert nor myself relished in the least; and we, therefore, requested to be returned, as there was not the least likelihood of the enemy appearing in any force. Herbert’s request was granted; but I was ordered to remain where I was.

A short time after two Yankee soldiers accidentally wandered into our lines and were captured. Here was a chance for our hero to win back the good opinion of the Colonel; so, mounting a great tall horse, (he was a very little man) he, in a pompous and important manner, marched the poor, half-frightened wretches into the presence of Col. Smith, to whom he told a wonderful story of the skill and strategy he had displayed in their capture.

Being in command during his absence, and not feeling altogether satisfied with the position we held, I concluded to make a reconnoissance. Lieutenants Shearer and Costello were therefore detailed, and, with a squad of men, directed to move forward until they encountered the enemy’s pickets. In a few minutes the crack of several rifles told me they had found them. Fearing the party had perhaps fallen in with a superior force, I advanced with a few men to render assistance if required. Upon reaching them, however, I found it was but a single picket they had stumbled upon, who was shot and killed in attempting to escape.

Edelin had heard the firing, and came down the road at full speed, but, halting his horse at a safe distance, bawled out:

“Come back, come back; you’ll all git killed.”

Withdrawing my men, I rejoined the main body, where I was saluted with,

“Capting, how dare you do anythink of this kind without my orders?”

I explained to him that my purpose was to find a safer place in which to post the men, and suggested that we should move the whole command back to where I had just left.

“I shall do no sich thing,” he answered. “You never fit in Mexico, and, therefore, what in the devil do you know about plannin a military battle.”

Late in the fall the enemy in our front grew restless; and Generals Johnston and Beauregard thought it expedient to withdraw from Munson’s and Mason’s, and concentrate the whole army on the heights of Centreville, as everything indicated an advance of the immense army assembled around Washington. Therefore leaving at Munson’s a small party, with an old stove pipe mounted on cart wheels, to annoy the Federal advance, we took a last look into the streets of Alexandria, and at the detested Federal Capitol, and marched to our new quarters at Centreville.

It was with regret we left our old camp at Fairfax Station, around which lingered so many pleasant associations of the past; and our last reveille seemed to make sad the hearts of all; and the summons to fall in was not as promptly responded to as on former occasions. Never again were the hearty, joyous shouts of the Maryland boys to be heard through its now deserted streets, nor the heavy tramp and the sharp command, as the battalion performed, to astonished, gaping thousands, those intricate evolutions inimitable. No, nor the unhappy sentinel to be frightened to death by the fearful shriek of “Indians got you! Indians got you!” when it turned out only to be our good Colonel making his periodical grand rounds. And never more was the gallant Elzey to display his superb horsemanship to the fair daughters of Baltimore on a visit to the camp, but which performance, much to their disappointment and regret, was brought to an abrupt termination by the breaking of a stirrup strap. No, never, never! all is past and gone forever! Even the old guard house and the Colonel’s pen, that had ever and for so long extended to the refractory ones a hearty welcome and tender, affectionate embrace, were bid a sad, sad farewell.

Centreville, when we reached it, presented a scene of bustle and confusion. Troops were arriving in large numbers, and were striving to reach the grounds selected for the respective regiments and brigades all over the same road. At last, tired and hungry, the brigade of Elzey halted upon the very summit of one of the highest hills around the place.

The sight that presented itself from this point that night was one of the grandest I ever witnessed. Before us, as far as the eye could reach, flashed thousands upon thousands of camp fires; and spell-bound we gazed upon this grand pyrotechnic display for hours. And then the next day, and for days after, the evolutions of forty thousand troops of all arms in the plain below us, was a scene indescribably grand.

CHAPTER V.

The intelligence we received from Washington now grew every day more threatening. That McClellan, with his immense and splendidly appointed army, intended to advance upon Centreville there seemed no doubt; but whether Johnston intended to fight was by us much questioned. We were in no way prepared to meet the enemy. The army was not organized, and but imperfectly equipped. Sickness prevailed in our camp to an alarming extent; and the utmost efforts of our able commander had failed to increase his force a single man. Time must, therefore, be gained. But how? Johnston was the man for the emergency. We must present a bold and defiant front to the enemy.

Heavy details from the various regiments were, therefore, at once made to erect fortifications. Steadily the work progressed, and in a short time the heights of Centreville were crowned with what seemed at a distance most formidable works. Of siege guns we did not have one; but immense blackened logs answered the same purpose, and frowned most threateningly from many an embrasure. None but those immediately in charge were allowed to approach them; for it was well known our camp was swarming with spies. These preparations had the desired effect; and McClellan, believing the position to be impregnable, quietly settled himself down to await the coming of spring.

I will not tire the reader with details of the same every-day dull and monotonous camp-life at Centreville, but shall, as rapidly as possible, hasten on to the more exciting and interesting scenes and incidents in which the regiment participated. Suffice it to say, we remained there until late in November, when the brigade was ordered back to Manassas, there to prepare their winter quarters.

The spot selected by the Colonel on which to build our cabins was in the midst of a dense pine woods, and much sheltered from the cold blasts of winter, and where was also wood and water in abundance. By the last of December, in this heretofore lonely and deserted forest, had been reared a neat and substantial village, in which we hoped to remain undisturbed until the spring should have set in, and from whence we would once more go forth to measure our strength with the hosts that had just threatened us with annihilation.

During the months of December and January, with the exception of a little disagreeable picket duty along the line of the Orange and Alexandria railroad, and the surprise of a picket post at Sangster’s Station, nothing occurred to disturb the quiet of our winter quarters. The picket alluded to was commanded by Lieut. Richard Hough, of Company F, and in the fight which ensued, Sergeant Sheehan was badly wounded, and Lieut. Joseph Stewart and ten or twelve men captured. The Federal loss was a lieutenant killed.

The term of enlistment of the twelve months’ men was now rapidly drawing to a close, and to have an efficient army in the field when the spring campaign should open, it became necessary for the Confederate Government to take some steps to that end. An order was therefore issued some time in January, granting to all twelve months’ men who would re-enlist for the war, furloughs of from thirty to sixty days. The majority did so, and for the first time since entering the army, went home to see their families and friends.

The unwise policy of the government in having enlisted men for a less time than the war here proved itself, and for a long while after occasioned much trouble and caused much demoralization in the army of General Johnston, for bitterly did those who were compelled to remain in camp by reason of their having enlisted for the war, complain of the injustice they believed had been done them. Particularly was this the case in the First Maryland, which contained several twelve months’ companies, two of which, Companies A and B, had re-enlisted almost to a man, and gone off on furlough; the others, Companies C, H and I, preferring to remain in the field until their time was up, when many of them proposed to go into the cavalry and artillery, they having a dislike for the infantry arm of the service. However, the war men became reconciled in a measure, and it was hoped nothing more would be heard of the matter; but in this we were mistaken, as will be seen hereafter.

The Confederate army was now, owing to the depletion of regiments and brigades by furloughs, reduced to about twenty thousand men, whilst not an organized brigade could be found in the whole command. Of this condition of things the Federal authorities were soon apprised, and therefore, in the early part of March, 1862, an advance upon Manassas by the whole army under McClellan was determined upon. Having no facilities for the transportation of the immense quantities of stores gathered there, and unable to resist the overwhelming force of McClellan, there was no alternative left Johnston but to destroy his supplies and withdraw the army to the south bank of the Rappahannock. It was a sad necessity, and as the troops were guided on their way for many weary miles by the lurid flames from their burning buildings that seemed to lick the very heavens, all felt that the first battle of the war had proved more disastrous as a victory than would have been a defeat. There was no pretension to organization, and what had been but a few months before an organized and victorious army, now presented the appearance of an ungovernable mob, and entirely at the mercy of the enemy, should he have the enterprise and energy to pursue it.

Fortunately, however, McClellan contented himself with occupying our deserted quarters at Manassas, thereby enabling us to reassemble and reorganize in a manner our demoralized and straggling troops upon the Rappahannock. Therefore, when soon after that General retraced his steps and prepared to move around to Yorktown, from whence he had determined to advance upon Richmond, Johnston had under his command quite a respectable army with which to reinforce the little band of heroes under Magruder, showing so bold a front to the hosts of the Federal General. But it was also necessary to leave troops behind to watch the movements of McDowell, who still remained at Manassas with a large army, and to this duty the division of Ewell was assigned. It was, perhaps at that time, the finest and best organized division in the army, and was comprised of Elzey’s, Trimble’s and Dick Taylor’s brigades, with artillery and cavalry.

From the opposite banks of the river the two commands narrowly watched each other, and exchanged an occasional shot until the evening of the 19th of April, when orders to “pack up” were given, and in the midst of a drenching rain, we took up our line of march for Gordonsville along the Orange and Alexandria railroad.—For three days the cold, chilly rain continued, and for three days the troops, destitute of provisions, toiled over the uneven surface of the railroad’s bed before the command reached its destination, cold, hungry and dispirited.

We were allowed to remain here several days to rest and recruit, when one bright, beautiful day, orders were received by General Ewell for his command to cross the Blue Ridge and join Jackson, who was then encamped at Swift Run Gap. Nothing could have exceeded the joy of the troops at this unexpected order, for we had supposed ourselves destined to reinforce the army of Johnston in the swamps of the Chickahominy. To be with Jackson, then, the great and glorious Jackson, in the beautiful Valley of Virginia, was a pleasure unexpected, and it was, therefore, with light hearts and elastic step that we left our camp at Gordonsville. The march was made by easy stages, and in a few days, about nine o’clock in the evening, from the mountain’s summit, his camp-fires were descried away down in the plain below us. No more stupid hours in camp, if you please. We now belong to Jackson’s army, and if laurels were to be won, we felt that they would surely be ours. Already visions of shattered and beaten armies, of prisoners innumerable, of captured camps filled with the good things with which we had been for so long unacquainted, flitted before us, and thus thinking, and thus trusting, we descended the mountain sides and threaded our way through the camps of the heroes of Kearnstown, and went into bivouac a short distance beyond, at Conrad’s store.

At the first sound of the reveille next morning, every man sprang nimbly to his feet. They wanted to see Jackson, to talk with his troops over the great battle they had so recently fought, and more than all, to discuss the prospects before us, and, if possible, ascertain our destination; but, to our utter amazement, when we turned our faces to where we had passed his army the evening previous, nothing met our gaze but the smouldering embers of his deserted camp-fires. We rubbed our eyes and looked again and again, loth to believe our sense of vision. But gone he was, and whither and for what no one could tell. Quietly, in the dead of night, he had arisen from his blanket, and calling his troops around him, with them had disappeared.

For more than two weeks his whereabouts remained a mystery, and various were the conjectures as to what had become of him, when one day there came the news of Milroy’s defeat at McDowell, more than one hundred miles away. Swiftly he had traversed the steep ranges of mountains that separated him from his prey, and with irresistible fury had hurled his legions upon the astonished foe in his mountain fastness and routed him with heavy loss, and was even now on his return, and within two days’ march of us. General Ewell was ordered to join him at once near Luray, and on the 16th of May we encamped at Columbia Bridge on our way thither.

It was the next day that the term of enlistment of Company C, First Maryland, expired, and the men clamored for an immediate discharge, which, under the circumstances, was reluctantly given by Colonel Bradley T. Johnson, who had succeeded to the command by the promotion of Colonel Steuart to the rank of brigadier general, and ordered to organize the Maryland Line. And here again the discontent that had prevailed at Manassas among the men enlisted for the war broke out afresh. They declared they had enlisted for twelve months only, and that if the muster rolls had it otherwise they had been grossly deceived by their officers. The dissatisfaction grew more apparent every hour, and when, on the 18th day of May, we marched to join General Jackson, the men were almost in a state of mutiny.

It was on the banks of the Shenandoah, the 21st of May, that we first caught sight of the glorious soldier as he dashed along the lines with hat off, and bowing right and left in acknowledgment of the vociferous cheers that went up from his enthusiastic army.

Our camp that night was within a mile of Luray, and here we were destined to part with the gallant Elzey, who had so long commanded us, and who had led us to our first victory. As I have said, Colonel Steuart had been promoted and ordered to organize and command the Maryland Line, of which the First Maryland and Baltimore Light Artillery were to form the nucleus. For the present, however, Colonel Johnson was in command, as General Steuart had been temporarily assigned to a brigade of cavalry. Never shall I forget General Elzey’s emotion as he drew the regiment up in line for the last time, and with tears rolling down his war-worn cheeks, thanked them for the honor they had helped to confer upon him at Manassas.

CHAPTER VI.

On the evening of the 22d, the army, about twelve thousand strong, went into camp within an easy day’s march of Front Royal, where, rumor had it, was stationed a considerable force of the enemy. Here the dissatisfaction that had so long existed in the First Maryland broke out into open mutiny, and the majority of the men in the war companies threw down their arms and demanded an immediate discharge. It was in vain that General Steuart and Colonel Johnson expostulated with them upon their disgraceful conduct, but they declared they had served out their term of enlistment, and would serve no longer, and when next morning we resumed our march, nearly one-half the regiment was disarmed and under guard. The affair was kept concealed from General Jackson, as it was still hoped the men would return to reason, for it was not calculated to impress him very favorably with the troops from whom he expected so much.

Brig. Gen. GEO. H. STEUART.

A halt was made about five miles from Front Royal, and whilst resting ourselves by the wayside, an aid-de-camp was observed to dash up to Colonel Johnson and hand him a dispatch. It took him but an instant to acquaint himself with its contents, when, turning to his command, in a voice tremulous with suppressed anger and with a face flushed with mortification and shame, called it to “attention.”

“I have just received an order from General Jackson that very nearly concerns yourselves,” he said, “and I will read it to you:”

“Colonel Johnson will move the First Maryland to the front with all dispatch, and in conjunction with Wheat’s battalion attack the enemy at Front Royal. The army will halt until you pass.

Jackson.”

“You have heard the order, and I must confess are in a pretty condition to obey it. I will have to return it with the endorsement upon the back that ‘the First Maryland refuses to meet the enemy, though ordered by General Jackson.’ Before this day I was proud to call myself a Marylander, but now, God knows, I would rather be known as anything else. Shame on you to bring this stigma upon the fair fame of your native State—to cause the finger of scorn to be pointed at those who confided to your keeping their most sacred trust—their honor and that of the glorious old State. Marylanders you call yourselves. Profane not that hallowed name again, for it is not yours. What Marylander ever before threw down his arms and deserted his colors in the presence of the enemy, and those arms, and those colors, too, placed in your hands by a woman? Never before has one single blot defaced her honored history. Could it be possible to conceive a crime more atrocious, an outrage more damnable? Go home and publish to the world your infamy. Boast of it when you meet your fathers and mothers, brothers, sisters and sweethearts. Tell them it was you who, when brought face to face with the enemy, proved yourselves recreants, and acknowledged yourselves to be cowards. Tell them this, and see if you are not spurned from their presence like some loathsome leper, and despised, detested, nay, abhorred by those whose confidence you have so shamefully betrayed; you will wander over the face of the earth with the brand of ‘coward,’ ‘traitor,’ indelibly imprinted upon your foreheads, and in the end sink into a dishonored grave, unwept for, uncared for, leaving behind as a heritage to your posterity the scorn and contempt of every honest man and virtuous woman in the land.”

The Colonel’s address, of which I have given the reader but a faint idea, was delivered with much feeling and listened to with close attention, and scarcely had he concluded when a wild yell broke the painful stillness that had prevailed, and a simultaneous rush was made for the ordnance wagon by those to whom he had just administered so scathing a rebuke. Never before, perhaps, had they seized their arms with such avidity, or buckled on their equipments with greater rapidity.

“Now, sir,” they cried out, “lead us against the enemy, and we will prove to you that we are not cowards, and that neither have we forgotten these arms were placed in our hands by a woman.”

“Forward!” was the command, and at the double-quick the regiment passed along the whole army amid the most deafening cheers. “We are going to have some work cut out now, boys, for the Marylanders are going to the front,” could be heard on all sides as we moved along, and every man inwardly determined that work should be cut out if material could be found.

On the right of the army we joined Wheat with his battalion of Louisianians, and with them moved swiftly upon the doomed Federals holding Front Royal. We approached within a mile of the town, but saw no signs of the enemy. “Another disappointment,” ran down the line, but the next moment two or three frightened soldiers in blue broke cover from a picket post, and fled in the direction of the village. They were pursued by several mounted men, and speedily overtaken and brought back. Upon being questioned, they told us that they belonged to the First Maryland, and that the force in town consisted of that regiment, two companies of Pennsylvanians, two pieces of artillery, and a squadron of cavalry, the latter having joined them that very day, all under the command of Colonel John R. Kenly, who did not dream that Jackson was within fifty miles of him. So at last we had met the much boasted Yankee First Maryland, and although greatly outnumbered, we were ready to take up the gage of battle so defiantly thrown down to us some time before. First Maryland against First Maryland! It was, indeed, a singular coincidence.

We approached the town rapidly, and entered the main street before the enemy were aware of our approach. For a minute they resisted our advance, and a sharp exchange of musketry shots ensued. They were quickly driven out, however, with the loss of several in killed, wounded and prisoners.

The whole command had now taken the alarm, and assembled behind their artillery, which was posted on a hill that commanded the town and its approaches. Dashing through the streets, we were soon in the open country, when the companies commanded by Captains Nicholas, Herbert and Goldsborough were deployed as skirmishers, with Wheat on the left, the whole being under the command of Lieutenant Colonel E. R. Dorsey (who had reached that rank by reason of seniority upon the promotion of Elzey and Steuart), whilst Colonel Johnson commanded the reserves.

The enemy now opened his artillery with great precision, and his shell began to tell in our ranks. Nothing daunted, however, the gallant fellows moved steadily forward, and reached the very foot of the hill upon which he was posted. From there the fight was stubbornly waged for at least two hours, with no apparent advantage on either side. In the meantime the troops of Jackson were moving to the right and left to envelop the enemy and cut off his retreat. Kenly saw the movement, and determined to withdraw his forces and cross the river (immediately in his rear) if possible. On his right was the turnpike bridge, and on his left, in our front, was the long and high trestle-work of the Manassas Gap Railroad. Dorsey divined his purpose, and, as the enemy commenced to fall back, immediately ordered a charge along the whole line. With a yell the men responded to the command, and the long line of skirmishers pressed forward in pursuit. The fight would have terminated then and there had not the Louisiana battalion stumbled upon the enemy’s camp, and bent on plunder, the threats and entreaties of their officers were for some time in vain, and when they were at length prevailed upon to move forward, it was found the enemy in their front, with artillery and cavalry, had escaped over the bridge. Not so in front of the Maryland command. The enemy were closely pressed to the river’s bank, where, finding it impossible to escape across the trestle-work, they threw down their arms in a body. By this time a heavy force of cavalry had forded the river some distance below, and charging the remainder of Kenly’s command, which was rapidly retreating up the turnpike, captured it almost to a man, not, however, without meeting with a desperate resistance, in which many were killed and wounded on both sides.

Thus ended the battle of Front Royal, if it can be so termed, and in which Marylander met Marylander for the first time in the war. It has been said Kenly’s command had fought a vastly superior force of the Confederates, whereas it was a much inferior one, which, however did not compel him to withdraw from the position he had taken in front of the town, but the flank movement by heavy bodies of our troops did, and it was then we pressed our advantage. The actual number of assailants prior to his recrossing the river with what remained of his command, did not exceed four hundred men. And it has been more than once asserted, also, that Colonel Kenly did not offer the spirited resistance to the Confederate advance expected of him, and that there was no reason why he should have lost his command. This is doing him injustice. He fought his troops like the brave man that he is, and Commissary Banks can thank him for being instrumental in saving the little he did from the wreck of his army at Strasburg and Winchester. He committed one great, inexcusable error, however, in not having his cavalry scouts and pickets out, but it is said they reached him but an hour or two before our attack, although he had called for them several days before. If this be true, he deserves no blame or censure for his misfortune at Front Royal.

The morning after the fight, when the prisoners were drawn up in line, it was truly amusing to see the men of the two Maryland regiments greet each other. “Why, if there ain’t my brother Bill;” “And there’s my cousin Jim,” could be heard, whilst nearly all recognized old friends and acquaintances, whom they greeted cordially, and divided with them the rations which had just changed hands.

The kindest attention was shown the wounded officers and men, the former being paroled, and allowed to accept the invitation of the citizens to accompany them to their homes, where they were provided with all they required. And whilst we were thus treating our enemies in the field, the cowardly ruffians in Baltimore, who had remained at home, were brutally assaulting every citizen there suspected of sympathizing with the people of the South in their struggle for independence, because some poltroon, who had deserted his companions at the first fire, reported they had been murdered in cold blood to a man after having surrendered themselves.

The officers of the First Maryland Confederate called upon those of the First Maryland Federal, and offered them any assistance in their power, and in some instances it was thankfully accepted. Colonel Kenly was quite badly wounded, by either a pistol ball or a sabre cut, in the head, and at the time that I saw him appeared to be suffering much mental depression, caused by his misfortune. His wound he seemed to care but little for; but, as he paced the floor, would, from time to time, bend over his adjutant, Tarr, who was desperately wounded, and gaze anxiously in his face.

CHAPTER VII.

On the morning of the 24th Ewell took up the line of march for Winchester, Jackson having moved on Strasburg the evening before. That night we encamped on the banks of the Opequon, six miles from our destination. Here we were ordered to cook some rations, and be ready to move at midnight upon Banks, whom we intended to attack at daylight.

Long before the sun had risen on the morning of the 25th, the commands of Jackson and Ewell were in line of battle about two miles from the town, the former to the left of the Valley turnpike, the latter joining him on the right. Skirmishers were thrown out, and cautiously, at early dawn, through the dense fog that prevailed, the Confederate line advanced.

In front of a portion of Ewell’s line the First Maryland was deployed, which, after proceeding a short distance, encountered the enemy’s skirmishers, who fell back at our approach. About the same time was heard the spattering of musketry in the direction of Jackson, which told us he, too, had them in his front.

The fog had now become so dense as to make it impossible to see twenty steps in any direction; and Colonel Johnson therefore thought it advisable to assemble his skirmish line, as we had entirely lost sight of our line of battle, and did not know but we might be enveloped by the enemy. Quietly the men were drawn in, and the regiment lay down in an orchard and concealed itself behind a board fence, to await the lifting of the fog.

For an hour everything was still as death, when, the fog rising somewhat, a column of the enemy was revealed lying behind a stone wall about three hundred yards in our front, with his right flank resting toward us, and totally unconscious of our close proximity. They were apparently intent on watching something before them; and presently, to our horror, there emerged from the fog the Twenty-First North Carolina regiment, marching directly upon the stone wall, and altogether ignorant of the ambuscade there awaiting. Scarcely two hundred yards separated them, and in a minute the poor fellows would be in the fatal trap. Like ourselves, they had become separated from the main body and lost their way; but, unlike ourselves, had failed to exercise the precaution to ascertain where they were before advancing.

There was nothing on earth we could do to warn them of their danger. Oh! it was a sad, sickening sight, to see them thus unconsciously marching straight into the jaws of death. On, on they go, and nearer and nearer they approach the treacherous fence, behind which they expect to shelter themselves. They are but forty yards from it.

“Can nothing be done for them?” I heard from more than one around me.

No; too late; too late; and the next instant the long line of blue rise from their cover; there is an instant’s pause, and then comes a deafening volley of musketry, and the deadly minnie by hundreds are sent tearing and crashing through the Confederate columns. The slaughter was appalling, and the survivors fled to the rear in the utmost confusion.

But they were avenged; for just then the gallant Griffin, of the Baltimore Light Artillery, espied them, and training the guns of his splendid battery upon the fence, he raked it from one end to the other, sending the enemy flying to a safer position nearer the town.

On the left Jackson was now hotly engaged, whilst, with the exception of his artillery, Ewell is unaccountably idle. Why could he not swing the right of his division around in the rear of the town, thereby enveloping the enemy and cutting off his retreat, whilst he at the same time attacked those who appeared only in front of his left, for there was no enemy on our right, and Jackson was more than a match for those with whom he was contending? No, he is awaiting orders from Jackson, as he afterwards did from Lee at Gettysburg, and the opportunity is lost.

The fog had now entirely disappeared, and on the hill’s side to the left of us were the contending forces of Jackson and Banks engaged in a desperate struggle. For an hour the fight raged, of which we were silent but unwilling spectators. At length Jackson’s reserves reached him, a little late, but in time, taking into consideration their long march from Strasburg that night, and he immediately prepared for a charge. The enemy was also hurrying forward reinforcements to resist the onset he knew was coming.

Dick Taylor’s and three Virginia brigades were thrown into position to make the charge; and it was a grand sight as, with a yell, they moved forward at the double quick.

“I shall wait for orders no longer, but will join in that charge if I live!” exclaimed Colonel Johnson, quickly swinging himself into the saddle. “Forward, double quick,” was the command, and the next instant we were dashing across the country in the direction of the enemy.

Jackson’s right was not more than four hundred yards to the left of us, and therefore Johnson thought by moving diagonally and at a rapid pace we would join him almost at the instant he should strike the enemy.

Steadily, in the face of a deadly fire, the Confederate column advances, leaving in its wake scores of dead and wounded; but never halting, never hesitating, it hurls itself upon the enemy with irresistible fury, rending, tearing, and grinding them to pieces. Closely pursued the survivors fled towards Winchester, and pursued and pursuers entered the town simultaneously. The First Maryland passed down Loudoun street, and, pressing on, capturing prisoners at every step, did not halt until it reached the Taylor Hotel, opposite which we found two large storehouses on fire, filled with medical stores. Colonel Johnson quickly detached a portion of the regiment to suppress the flames, while he at the same time ordered a company to surround and search the hotel for the notorious Dave Strother, or “Porte Crayon,” who a citizen informed us was there. The flames were speedily extinguished, but fortunately for Strother he had been gone about five minutes, or I am inclined to think much of his “Personal Recollections” would have treated of Libby and Belle Isle.

In obedience to the orders of Banks the town had been set on fire in several places, and men and women were rushing frantically through the streets appealing to the troops to save them from the dreadful calamity that seemed so imminent. Their appeals were not in vain; and in a short time the flames were everywhere extinguished, except near the depot, where several large warehouses had been fired, and which were totally consumed with their contents. Had the troops of Jackson been one half hour later this ancient and once thriving town would have been only a mass of smouldering ruins.

The defeat of the enemy was complete; but owing to the apathy of Ewell and the wretched disposition of our cavalry very many of them effected their escape, carrying with them most of their artillery and a large wagon train. As it was, however, we captured an immense amount of stores of every description, and about four thousand prisoners.

The joy of the citizens of Winchester at once more having the protection of the Confederate troops, knew no bounds, and as we filed through the streets in pursuit of the enemy, provisions and delicacies in abundance were lavished upon us, while more than one of our young fellows came in for an earnest embrace from the matron of some well-grown household. Indeed, Colonel Johnson himself received one of these favors. Now, the Colonel was regarded one of the handsomest men in the First Maryland, and having dismounted from his horse in an unguarded moment, was espied and singled out by an old lady of Amazonian proportions, just from the wash tub, who, wiping her hands and mouth on her apron as she approached, seized him around the neck with the hug of a bruin, and bestowed upon him half a dozen kisses that were heard by nearly every man in the command; and when at length she relaxed her hold the Colonel looked as though he had just come out of a vapor bath.

“How do you like that, Colonel?” I heard Captain Willie Nicholas ask, who, convulsed with laughter, had been watching the performance.

Drawing forth his handkerchief and wiping from his face the profuse perspiration that covered it, the Colonel replied:

“I shouldn’t have cared; but, d—— it, she smells so strong of rosin soap, and I never could bear the stuff.”

That night the First Maryland went into camp close by the Winchester and Martinsburg turnpike, and about four miles from the former town. Upon the call of the roll but one man was found missing, Lieutenant Colonel Dorsey, who had been severely wounded through the right shoulder after entering the town.

On the morning of the 26th orders were received to move to Martinsburg, and there collect the large amount of stores abandoned by the enemy. Two or three days were consumed in this duty, after which we rejoined the main body of the army, encamped near Charlestown.

General Jackson’s movements since the battle of Winchester had much puzzled his troops, and entirely confounded the enemy.

“Surely,” we reasoned, “he is not going to cross over into Maryland with the handful of men under his command, for McDowell would quickly compel him to return, and then it would be too late to escape Fremont, who will certainly come down from West Virginia with his army of twenty-five thousand men.”

Our situation seemed a critical one; but then Jackson was with us, and with him nothing seemed impossible.

The day after our arrival at Charlestown General George H. Steuart was ordered to take the First Maryland and two batteries of artillery and attack the enemy’s camp on Bolivar Heights, while a small force was also directed to make a demonstration from the Shenandoah Heights upon Harper’s Ferry.

It now became apparent to all that the whole movement of Jackson from Winchester was a feint, but for what purpose we were entirely at a loss to conjecture. Little did we then dream of the splendid combinations General Lee had formed for the relief of Richmond, the principal moves in which had been intrusted to Jackson, the first of which he was executing.

Our batteries opened upon the enemy posted on Bolivar Heights about ten o’clock in the morning, and continued the fire without intermission until late in the afternoon, when his guns were silenced, and it became evident he had abandoned the heights. The infantry then crossed over and took possession of his camp, which was found entirely deserted. As soon as we were perceived the batteries upon the Maryland Heights and at Barber’s house opened their fire, without effect, however, and our object having been accomplished, after helping ourselves to the bountiful meal we found on the fire, we retired, and went into camp near Halltown.

The next day found us retracing our steps to Winchester, everything betokening haste, but no confusion. It soon became known to us that Fremont was rapidly approaching Strasburg from Franklin, and that a force under Shields was moving to the same point to intercept Jackson should he attempt to escape down the Valley. It seemed almost impossible for us to get away, encumbered as we were with four thousand prisoners and over two thousand wagons, most of which were ladened with the spoils captured from Banks; but Jackson had calculated it all, and he knew what his troops could do.

All day long we toiled on, and at dusk the rear of the army (of which we were part) passed through Winchester; but with what different feelings and with what a different reception from that of a week before. Then it was amid the exultant shouts of the overjoyed citizens; now it was in sorrow and silence, for it was well known that the victorious army of yesterday was in full retreat to-day. Without a word the troops moved through the almost deserted streets, and all felt a relief when we once more reached the open country.

On, on, we pushed, through a drenching rain; and when at last, away in the night, exhausted, and unable to go farther, the men threw themselves down to rest upon the damp ground, it was found we had made thirty-six miles since morning.

CHAPTER VIII.

Hungry and but little refreshed, we resumed the march at daylight next morning. When six miles from Strasburg the sound of artillery in our front told us how narrow had been our escape. It was the gallant General Charlie Winder contesting a mountain pass with Fremont until the army, with its long train, should pass. We now felt comparatively safe, our greatest fear having been that Fremont would pass the defile before we could throw troops into it. Of Shields we had no fear, as our rapid marching had thrown him far in our rear, and he could not possibly overtake us. Fisher’s Hill was reached late that evening, and all danger being past, the men were allowed some time to rest.

Six miles more to make that night, and then we should be compelled to go supperless to bed: for the commissary wagon had stuck in the creek at Newtown, and we had but little doubt it had fallen into the hands of the enemy. It was all the fault of Commissary Captain John Howard, who would insist upon placing in it a barrel of whisky and three barrels of molasses, besides the regiment’s regular rations.

Tired and broken down from the excessive marching of the past few days, the men were but little disposed to go farther, and when the command to “fall in” was given it was but indifferently obeyed. The delay thereby occasioned was, however, productive of good results, for presently the sound of a wagon was heard approaching from the direction we had just come, and in a moment more the missing commissary wagon came in sight, in charge of private George Bush, of Company A. Colonel Johnson’s countenance underwent a wonderful change, as did that of every man in the regiment. Looking stern, however, he demanded to know of Bush “why he had been straggling?”

“Why you see, Colonel,” he replied, “my feet were kind o’ sore, and I couldn’t cotch up; so I seed this here wagon stuck in the mud, and knowd it belonged to us; and you see I knowd as you know what was in it, and so I says to myself, ‘Them ar Yanks shan’t have her;’ and so I confisticated that are team; but it couldn’t pull it nary inch. So you see, Colonel, as the crackers and meat wasn’t very heavy, but the whisky and merlasses wor, so you see, Colonel, there was no alternation but ter empty her out.”

“Empty her out, sir,” interrupted the Colonel, in a voice of thunder, and with a countenance black as midnight; “empty her out, you rascal? Why didn’t you save a part of the contents, at least?”

“And so I did, sir. The meat and crackers wor ondispensable; but you see, Colonel, them ere people about Newtown are mighty poor, and you know, sir, I always wor kind o’ good-hearted, and then them merlasses and the barrel of whisky wor so tarnal heavy”—

“And you gave them the whisky and the molasses?” roared the Colonel.

“Now, Colonel,” said Bush, “you must really excuse me this time if I gave them all”—

“All?” interrupted the Colonel.

“Yes, sir; all the superfluity but the barrel of whisky.”

“Bush, you are a bad soldier,” said the Colonel, “and shall have a week’s extra guard duty for wasting ‘them merlasses,’ as you call it, though, under the circumstances, I might have done the same. But it won’t do to encourage such extravagance in a well-disciplined command. Captain Howard, knock the bung out of that barrel and give each of the men a stiff drink, while you will take care and reserve an extra one for the officers.”

It is needless to say the order was obeyed with alacrity, and the six miles were made in quick time to the song of “Oh, let us be joyful!”

Our camp that night was about midway between Strasburg and Woodstock. At midnight we were awakened from our sound slumbers by the rattle of small arms in the direction of the former place, and shortly after a broken and disordered mass of cavalry came dashing into our camp, riding everything down that came in their way, and yelling at the top of their voices that the enemy was upon us.

Convinced that we were in more danger of bodily harm from the cowardly cavalrymen than from the enemy, we turned out en masse and drove them from the ground, and the last we saw of them they were making their way at the top of their horses’ speed towards Woodstock. It afterwards turned out that they had encountered a number of the broken down men, and mistaking each other for enemies, in the dark, a fight had ensued, in which the cavalrymen were routed.

Early next morning we resumed our march, the First Maryland being in the rear of the infantry, with orders to support the cavalry and artillery under Generals George H. Steuart and Turner Ashby, who were keeping the enemy’s advance in check.

When within a mile or two of Woodstock, Fremont’s cavalry, under Colonel Percy Wyndham, dashed upon the cavalry under Stewart and scattered it in every direction. It was in vain that gallant officer endeavored to rally the frightened troopers; but the harder he swore the faster they rode, until they came upon the First Maryland in the streets of Woodstock.

“Get out of the way! get out of the way! the enemy are upon you!” they called out at the top of their voices, as they dashed madly through the town.

But Colonel Johnson, not understanding such tactics, coolly wheeled his regiment across the street, and, charging them with the bayonet, drove them back in the direction from whence they came. Some were rallied by the General, who had by this time come up; but the majority took to the fields, and made good their escape from both friends and foes.

In this disgraceful affair we came near losing two pieces of the Baltimore Light Artillery. Entirely deserted by the cavalry supporting them, they were at the mercy of the enemy; but the brave Griffin, although surrounded, drove his guns through their ranks, and bore his pieces off in triumph.

These skirmishes were of daily occurrence as the Confederate army marched leisurely in the direction of Staunton. By burning bridges along our route we were enabled to retard the enemy’s advance, and by easy marches to rest and refresh our men and keep the wagon train and prisoners well up.

Finally, in the afternoon of the 5th of June, the army reached Harrisonburg, where we received intelligence that made the stoutest of us tremble. The turnpike bridge across the Shenandoah had been destroyed, and having no pontoons it was impossible to cross as the stream was very high and rapid.

Any other man but Jackson would have given up in despair, and we should have been lost. Not so with him. There was still another bridge that spanned the river at Port Republic, and thither he determined to march, over roads indescribable. Diverging to the left, therefore, about a mile from Harrisonburg, he took the road to Port Republic, and, after marching a mile or two, went into camp for the night, the enemy occupying Harrisonburg.

The next morning, the 6th day of June,—a day that will ever be remembered by us—the enemy’s videttes were within rifle-shot upon the hills behind us. He was following us closely; and it was evident we would be compelled to fight before reaching the river. Slowly we retired, the enemy as slowly following.

In this way we marched about four miles, when Ashby, in command of the rear guard, determined to give his persistent foe a little turn up. Placing his men in the woods by the side of the road he quietly awaited the attack. Catching sight of the man he had for days been endeavoring to “bag,” the dashing Wyndham charged at the head of his New Jersey troops; but, alas! he had reckoned without his host, for a counter charge ordered by the brave Ashby, and made with irresistible impetuosity, overthrew Wyndham, and scattered his Jersey Blues to the four winds. The pursuit was continued until Ashby was nearly up with their advanced infantry, the Pennsylvania Bucktails, who were encamped about two miles from Harrisonburg. Gathering up his prisoners, among whom was Wyndham himself, he fell back to the infantry, determined upon attacking this body, for he deemed their capture an easy matter. Alas! it was a sad, sad mistake, and cost many valuable lives, and among them the incomparable Ashby himself.

Contrary to his own judgment, General Ewell yielded to General Ashby’s earnest solicitations, and furnished him with three regiments of infantry with which to attack and surprise the enemy’s advance. The regiments selected for the work were the First Maryland and Fifty-Eighth and Forty-Fourth Virginia. So fearful was General Ewell that some disaster would befall the expedition that he accompanied it himself. The troops moved with the utmost caution through the dense woods for about three miles, when they were halted, and the companies of Captains Herbert and Nicholas thrown forward as skirmishers. These were under the command of Ashby, closely followed by the main body under command of Ewell. In a few minutes the rattle of musketry in our front told us that the enemy had been found, and the Fifty-Eighth was immediately sent in, when the fight became very severe, the contending forces not being over fifty yards apart. For about fifteen minutes the conflict continued, when the Fifty-Eighth broke and came to the rear in great confusion. The Forty-Fourth was then sent forward, and appeared to be faring but little better, when General Ewell, who had been in the thickest of the fight and exposed to much danger, dashed up to Colonel Johnson and called out, “Charge, Colonel, charge, and end this matter!” For some minutes we had been suffering from the enemy’s fire, and the order was therefore gladly obeyed. Steadily the regiment moved through the woods to the attack, guided by the firing, for not one of the foemen could be seen. At length, feeling that he was within striking distance, Johnson gave the command, “Forward, double quick,” and with a yell our fellows dashed up the hill which shielded the enemy from our view; but, as we gained its crest, a terrible volley was poured into our very faces, and the regiment reeled and staggered, for Johnson was down struggling to disengage himself from his dying horse, and some twenty of the officers and men had fallen. The pause was but momentary, however, for collecting themselves the brave fellows rushed furiously upon the enemy, and, reserving their fire until they were within twenty paces of them, poured into their ranks so destructive a volley that the survivors broke and attempted to reach their main body. In this but few succeeded, as they were compelled to recross an open field, about four hundred yards wide, and all the while subjected to our fire, which was delivered with the utmost coolness and precision.

Our loss in this unfortunate fight was severe, for besides the many brave officers and men in the three little regiments, we had to mourn the death of the chivalrous Ashby, the idol of the army. Early in the conflict, while urging his men forward, and exposing himself most recklessly, a ball passed through his body, and he fell dead.

Brig. Gen. BRADLEY T. JOHNSON.

When the news of the death of this Christian gentleman and glorious soldier became known to the army, a universal wail went up, and strong men wept like children, for truly they had lost one they dearly loved. Never more was his clarion voice to be heard as he led his fierce legions in the headlong charge. Never more the piercing gray eye to sparkle as he dashed with lightning speed through the ranks of the foemen, dealing death blows at every stride, avenging his people’s wrongs and the death of a basely-murdered brother.

The First Maryland had many of its noblest spirits to mourn for, and among them the gallant Captain N. S. Robertson, Lieutenant Nicholas Snowden, and privates Beatty, Schleigh, Harris, and others whose names I do not remember. The loss of the enemy was very severe. Their commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Kane, with several of his officers and many of the men were wounded and prisoners in our hands, and, to use Kane’s own words, “hardly a dozen of the command escaped.”

Sadly, as the dusk of evening came on, we gathered together our dead, and the wounded of both sides who could bear removal, and mournfully retraced our steps, and near midnight lay down to rest beside our cold, inanimate companions.

As we lay there we could not but think how many of us would in a few hours be with them, sleeping our last sleep; and the next morning, as we listened to the reveille, we thought it might be our last, for our dead comrades had heard it but yesterday. Such is the uncertainty of a soldier’s life.

In a little churchyard attached to Union Church, near Cross Keys, we dug the one grave that was to contain all that was left of them, and in their uniforms, wrapt in their blankets, we lay them down to rest. Theirs was the burial they would have most wished—a soldier’s burial.

CHAPTER IX.

Sullenly, as the foe advanced, we fell back in the direction of Port Republic, determined, when attacked by Fremont’s overwhelming army, to fight to the last man. At length we halted at Cross Keys, and made preparations to pass our wagons and prisoners over the crazy old bridge, which afforded us the only means of escaping the destruction which threatened us. Therefore, forming his army in line of battle on the morning of the 8th of June, to keep Fremont in check, Jackson moved his prisoners upon the bridge, but scarcely had the first of them crossed when they were surprised by a squadron of Shields’ cavalry, that dashed into the town of Port Republic, and who speedily captured the guard and released the prisoners. Indeed, General Jackson himself narrowly escaped. Hastening back, however, he brought forward a body of cavalry, and charging them in turn recaptured not only all he had lost, but many of the enemy beside. From the prisoners he learned that Shields was rapidly approaching with a large force from McDowell’s army, and they expressed themselves confident that we would be crushed between him and Fremont.

Things looked gloomy enough, it was true, but such was the confidence of the troops in Jackson that our situation caused little or no uneasiness. Quickly detaching his own division from the line of battle he had formed in front of Fremont, he placed it in position to hold Shields in check, and at the same time cover the passage of the bridge, whilst Ewell, with his little division of five thousand men, was to fight Fremont’s twenty-five thousand. Thus when the battle commenced the Confederate lines presented the singular spectacle of two armies standing back to back, facing a foe in front and rear, and but three miles apart.

About ten o’clock the enemy moved to the attack upon Ewell in beautiful order, and first struck his left, which was barely a skirmish line of the First Maryland supporting Griffin’s Baltimore Battery. On came the enemy until they had arrived within a hundred yards of us, when the deadly fire from our Mississippi rifles and the grape and canister from Griffin drove them back in confusion. Again they advanced and took position about three hundred yards distant, when they opened upon us a most terrible fire from the Belgium gun. Fortunately we were posted in a skirt of woods, and were well protected from their fire. For hours this desperate conflict continued, the enemy making repeated attempts to penetrate our line, but every assault was repelled with heavy loss to the assailants. And during those precious hours Jackson was accomplishing his purpose of passing his trains and provisions over the old bridge.

All day long Ewell fought on with the same troops and held the same line of battle, for there were none to relieve those first put in, and these the enemy were unable to drive one foot. The odds were fearful indeed—five to one; but we were desperate men, fighting for our lives and liberties. At length relief came to us in the declining day; and how anxiously, we watched the sun go down that evening, for we were well nigh worn out from seven hour’s incessant fighting. At dark the firing almost entirely ceased, and we still held the ground we did in the morning, and Jackson’s trains were safely over the river.

The loss of the First Maryland in this engagement was severe, although we fought mostly under cover of the woods, but so terrible was the enemy’s fire that it was almost impossible to expose for an instant any part of the body without being struck. It is strange to say not a single man was killed outright, though we had more than thirty wounded out of one hundred and seventy-five men; several of whom, however, afterwards died. In this fight General George H. Steuart, who was in command of the Maryland line, was desperately wounded in the breast by a grape shot, and General Elzey, who commanded the left, was wounded in the leg.

Late that night, leaving our fires brightly burning to deceive the enemy, we stealthily moved from before them and commenced to cross the bridge, and by daylight the last man had reached the longed-for shore, and Jackson was safe. As the last foot left it, the bridge was fired in many places, and having been filled with combustible material, was almost instantly enveloped in flames. Great indeed must have been the surprise and chagrin of the “great explorer,” as at daylight he beheld the lurid flames and dense black smoke that ascended high up to heaven, and heralded to him the escape of the wily foe he had believed inextricably within his toils.

But our work was not yet done; for six thousand men and a battery of artillery of Shields’ command, under General Tyler, held a strong position right in our path, and must be disposed of. They had been silent spectators of the passage of the bridge, never offering to molest us in the least, and Jackson had refrained from attacking them until he had escaped from his more powerful antagonist. But now they must be got rid of, and for that purpose General Dick Taylor and his Louisiana and two Virginia brigades were moved down the river side, and a vigorous attack made upon the enemy’s position. They were repulsed, however, with heavy loss, but a second attempt proved more successful, and the enemy was driven from his position with terrible slaughter, and the battery captured. In this engagement, which was of but two hours’ duration, the enemy lost over two thousand in killed and wounded, besides nearly a thousand prisoners.

During the latter part of the battle of Port Republic Fremont’s army remained drawn up on the opposite bank of the river, unable to render any assistance to the unfortunate Tyler, and to whose destruction they were silent spectators. The battle over though, and whilst the Confederates were burying the dead and succoring the wounded of both sides, the brutal Fremont, wild with disappointment, opened his batteries upon the ambulance and burial parties, which fire killed many of his own wounded people, and compelled us to leave the balance on the field uncared for, and his dead unburied.

The battle of Port Republic closed Jackson’s Valley Campaign, for Fremont finding it useless to attempt to cope with his wily antagonist in his mountain fastness, retired in the direction of Winchester.

Never in his previous or subsequent campaigns did Jackson’s military genius and daring show to greater advantage than in this of the Valley of Virginia. In less than six weeks he had beaten the army of Milroy, destroyed that of Banks, baffled that of Fremont, and annihilated that of Tyler, and all with less than twelve thousand men; besides capturing from the enemy millions worth of stores, &c.

From General Ewell’s official report of the Valley Campaign we take the following highly complimentary extract:

“The history of the Maryland regiment, gallantly commanded by Colonel Bradley T. Johnson during the campaign of the Valley, would be the history of every action from Front Royal to Cross Keys. On the 6th, near Harrisonburg, the Fifty-Eighth Virginia Regiment was engaged with the Pennsylvania “Bucktails,” the fighting being close and bloody. Colonel Johnson came up with his regiment in the hottest period, and by a dashing charge in flank drove the enemy off with heavy loss, capturing Lieutenant-Colonel Kane, commanding. In commemoration of this gallant conduct I ordered one of the captured “Bucktails” to be appended as a trophy to their flag. The action is worthy of acknowledgment from a higher source, more particularly as they avenged the death of the gallant General Ashby who fell at the same time. Four color bearers were shot down in succession, but each time the colors were caught before reaching the ground, and were finally borne by Corporal Daniel Shanks to the close of the action.

“On the 8th instant at Cross Keys they were opposed to three of the enemy’s regiments in succession.”

General Jackson, also, in his official report of the Valley Campaign, thus speaks of the First Maryland’s participation in the battle of Harrisonburg:

“Apprehending that the Federals would make a more serious attack, Ashby called for an infantry support. The brigade of General George H. Steuart was accordingly ordered forward. In a short time the Fifty-Eighth Virginia Regiment became engaged with a Pennsylvania Regiment called the Bucktails, when Colonel Johnson of the First Maryland Regiment coming up in the hottest period of the fire, charged gallantly into its flank, and drove the enemy with heavy loss from the field, capturing Lieutenant-Colonel Kane, commanding. In this skirmish our infantry loss was seventeen killed, fifty wounded and three missing. In this affair General Turner Ashby was killed. An official report is not an appropriate place for more than a passing notice of the distinguished dead; but the close relation which General Ashby bore to my command for most of the past twelve months will justify me in saying that as a partisan officer I never knew his superior. His daring was proverbial; his power of endurance almost incredible; his tone of character heroic, and his sagacity almost intuitive in divining the purpose and movement of the enemy.”

CHAPTER X.

On the afternoon and evening of the 9th, Jackson leisurely moved his almost exhausted troops up the mountain until he reached its summit, where he went into camp to afford rest to his men after their arduous campaign.

But there was work yet to be done, though the nature of which we were then totally ignorant. Jackson could not long remain idle, and three days after the battle of Port Republic found us moving down the mountain’s side in the direction of Weir’s Cave, where we again went into camp, and were given to understand that our stay would be a long one. But the veterans of Jackson’s division, who knew him best, shook their heads, and were heard to say, “with Jackson a long stay means a short one, with plenty of marching and fighting ahead, now mark it.” And so it proved in this instance, as will be seen.

The day after our arrival at Weir’s Cave, the First Maryland was ordered to Staunton to muster out companies H and I, whose terms of service had expired, and also to muster in a new company just arrived from Richmond under command of Captain Barry.

Before our departure General Ewell issued the following General Order complimenting the command upon their gallant bearing at Harrisonburg, and directing that one of the buck’s tail captured by them in that battle, should be appended to their colors:

Headquarters Third Division.

General Orders, No. 30.

In commemoration of the gallant conduct of the First Maryland Regiment on the 6th of June, when led by Colonel Bradley T. Johnson they drove back with loss the “Pennsylvania Bucktail Rifles” in the engagement near Harrisonburg, Rockingham County, Virginia, authority is given to have one of the captured “bucktails” (the insignia of the Federal Regiment,) appended to the color-staff of the First Maryland Regiment.

By order of Maj. Gen. Ewell.

James Barbur, A. A. G.

The farewell at Staunton with our comrades of companies H and I was a most affecting one. For more than a year we had shared the privations of the camp and the march, had stood shoulder to shoulder on more than one bloody field, and had learned to love each other as only a soldier can love his companion.

Our new company was composed principally of young men from the lower counties of Maryland, and was a fine body, although totally inexperienced. Captain Barry himself was an old soldier, having served in Mexico with considerable distinction.

From what we saw at Staunton, we were led to believe our stay would be a short one, for large bodies of troops were arriving from Richmond, and we did not doubt for a moment but we were destined up the valley after Fremont, and perhaps for the invasion of Maryland. How great our mistake, and the transportation of these very troops was intended to convey that same impression to the enemy, and thereby keep McDowell from uniting with McClellan, while Lee carried out his great plan of raising the siege of Richmond with Jackson’s assistance.

And it succeeded; for the authorities at Washington were quickly apprised of the fact, and instead of sending McClellan the reinforcements he so earnestly plead for, they withheld them to repel the audacious Jackson, should he dare to cross the Potomac, which they did not doubt was his intention.

Suddenly, however, about the 22d of June, the whole army was put in motion, and marching to Staunton, took the immense trains that had been for some time quietly assembling there. Of our destination at first we had not the slightest conception, but that we were moving in the direction of Richmond was evident. Could anything have befallen General Lee? suggested itself, for everything indicated haste. By the time we had reached Frederickshall, however, it was generally understood we were destined to reinforce Lee, who, rumor had it, intended to surprise McClellan if possible in his fortifications. This was the terminus of the trip by rail, and disembarking we took the road by way of Ashland.

On the afternoon of the 26th, whilst marching rapidly, some four or five miles to the left of Mechanicsville, we were startled by heavy volleys of musketry and the roar of artillery coming from that direction. It was then I heard General Ewell, who was riding close by, exclaim, “that’s the programme! that’s the programme! I think we have them now!” It was but a few minutes after that the first Maryland, in the advance, encountered the enemy, and a sharp fight ensued. We drove them before us, however, for some distance, when we unexpectedly found ourselves in the presence of a heavy column, and were obliged to halt until our main body came up. During this time the utmost confusion seemed to prevail within the enemy’s lines, and shortly after we had discovered them they commenced to move precipitately to the rear.

That McClellan was surprised and utterly confounded, was now apparent, and that the next day would initiate a bloody fight no one doubted. As night was upon us, we determined to go into camp, not however until we had taken every precaution to guard against a surprise. The fighting at Mechanicsville still continued, and away in the night we could hear the rattle of musketry and see the explosion of shells.

The morning of the 27th June broke bright and beautiful, and long before the sun had risen the troops were on the march to attack the enemy. The men were in high spirits, and the rivalry was intense between those who had served with Jackson in the Valley and the reinforcements which had reached us at Staunton, among which was Hood’s Texans, who were that day to win a name that will live forever.

We had marched but a few miles when a large body of troops were observed in motion to our right, and as General Jackson had received no notice that any Confederates would move in that direction, he very naturally supposed them to be the enemy, and immediately prepared to receive them, for they were coming directly towards us. Still fearful there might be some mistake, he withheld his artillery fire, but threw an occasional shell in their midst to discover if possible who they were. At the first shot they deployed their skirmishers with the most beautiful precision, and advanced across the open field with great regularity, whilst the heavy columns of infantry moved upon us, closed en masse under cover of a wood. A fearful tragedy was now about to be enacted, and was only averted by the daring of Lieutenant George Booth, acting Adjutant of the First Maryland. From the first he had maintained they were our troops, whilst most of the officers, including General Jackson, were of the opinion they were not. The uniforms of the skirmishers were darker than we had ever before seen, and most of them wore white gaiters, something entirely unknown in the army of Jackson. Nearer and nearer they approached, and in a minute more we knew the mass of infantry must debouche into the plain, when the hand of friend would unwittingly be raised against friend. At this moment Lieutenant Booth, unable longer to restrain himself, without orders, dashed spurs into his horse, and at the risk of being shot to pieces, rode at full speed in the direction of the advancing skirmishers. We watched him with breathless anxiety until he reached the line, where halting a moment in conference with one of the officers, he wheeled his horse and galloped back to inform us it was Branch’s division of North Carolinians, which had lost its way. It was a great relief, and we congratulated each other when we met upon the timely discovery.

This affair, however, delayed us at least an hour, and we had no time to spare. Onward, then, we pressed, our advance occasionally skirmishing with the enemy, until we reached a dense pine forest, and here our troubles commenced. The guides were, or seemed to be, ignorant of the roads, and more than once we had to retrace our steps. Jackson was furious, and for the first time I saw him out of humor. Long before this he should have begun the fight, and here he was some distance from the field. Finally, however, we extricated ourselves, and soon after, about three o’clock in the afternoon, heavy skirmishing, and the occasional roar of artillery in our front, told us we were up with the enemy and developing his position.

As we neared the field the artillery and infantry fire increased in volume, and it was evident that the advanced troops of Jackson were hotly engaged, as were those of Hill on our right. Steadily the rattle of musketry swelled as Jackson forwarded reinforcements, until it became almost deafening. But as hour after hour passed, and that awful fire did not recede, he began to show symptoms of uneasiness. Upon his success on the left depended everything. Should he fail the splendidly conceived plans of General Lee would fail also, and Richmond would be at the mercy of the invader. Was it a wonder, then, that he rode nervously to and fro, and appeared for the first time to fear that the gods of battle had forsaken him? Every eye was upon the great chieftain as he galloped along the lines of the troops held in reserve, and the anxious expression upon that heretofore immovable countenance was observable to all.

“General Elzey,” said he, riding up to that gallant officer, “move your brigade forward; this officer will show you to where you are most needed,” at the same time pointing to a member of his staff who, all covered with dust and the smoke of battle, had just ridden up.

“Good bye, Captain,” exclaimed the brave Captain William Shearer, of the Winchester Boomerangs in the Thirteenth Virginia, and a dear friend. “I hope to see you soon again;” and as his command filed by the poor fellow pressed my hand for the last time; for, alas, in a few minutes the brigade was cut to pieces, and he was carried from the field with a fatal wound in the head. And here, too, fell its heroic commander, Elzey, with a fearful wound through the face; and the dashing McDonald, of his staff, shot dead while performing prodigies of valor.

As these disasters came thick and fast, and the enemy seemed to defy his utmost efforts, the right hand of Jackson was more frequently extended towards heaven, as though invoking the aid of the great invisible Being there, and his horse moved more rapidly as he impatiently spurred through the ranks awaiting intelligence from the front.

“There goes Hood’s Texans!” exclaimed Colonel Johnson, as that splendid command, the last of our reserves, commenced to move. “If they fail, God help us;” and we all felt the truth of the observation.

The little First Maryland was now left all alone, for having been detached from Scott’s Virginia brigade after the battle of Port Republic, and to which we had been attached temporarily; we were not expected to take much part in the heavy fighting, but were reserved principally for skirmish duty.

“Colonel Johnson will remain where he is, and arrest all stragglers from the field,” was the order of General Jackson, as he put spurs to his horse and rode towards the front.

“I will until after you get out of sight, Mr. Jackson, but no longer,” the Colonel muttered.

“And neither would I, Johnson,” exclaimed a gentleman in citizen’s clothes, who at that moment threw himself from a much jaded horse and advanced to his side. “I came here for my first fight, and it has got to be with the Maryland boys.”

Turning around what was my surprise to recognize in the person of our visitor Mr. George Kyle, (afterwards Major Kyle,) who had ridden from Richmond to be one of its defenders.

“Here, boys,” he continued, “I have some letters for you from home, just arrived by blockade-runner, and as they may be the last you will ever receive, I would advise you to lose no time in reading them;” and he commenced distributing to the eager troops the large package of letters in his possession. As he did so the musketry fire redoubled in intensity, and from the yell which followed we knew the Texans had grappled with the foe.

The Maryland Line in the Confederate States Army.

THE
MARYLAND LINE
IN THE
Confederate States Army.

Dedication.

CONTENTS

Introduction.

THE
FIRST MARYLAND INFANTRY.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

The Maryland Line in the Confederate States Army.

THEMARYLAND LINEIN THEConfederate States Army.

Dedication.

CONTENTS

Introduction.

THEFIRST MARYLAND INFANTRY.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

THE
MARYLAND LINE
IN THE
Confederate States Army.

THE
FIRST MARYLAND INFANTRY.