LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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