Confederate soldier's letters, speeches, and memories of Second Manassas
235 Confederate Veteran August 1893.
…he (AP Hill) seemed to me the very personification of the genius of battle, the very beau ideal of the soldier. At second Manassas, during the crisis of the struggle for the famous railroad cut, Hill sent a staff officer to inquire of brave old Maxey Gregg how he was getting on. " Tell him," said the old hero, " that our ammunition is exhausted, but rocks are very plentiful, and we will hold our position with them until we can get ammunition." Sending his staff and couriers to fill their haversacks and pockets with cartridges and distribute them to the men, Hill himself galloped to the line and excited the wildest enthusiasm as his clarion voice rang out: " Good for you, boys! Give them the rocks and the bayonet, and hold your position and I will soon have ammunition and reinforcements for you."
184 Confederate Veteran June 1894.
KILLED TWO ARTILLERYMEN WITH HIS SABRE.
Joshua Brown, who was of the 2d Kentucky Cavalry) writes: New York, April 7, 1894 I give you an incident of the second battle of Manassas, in which the Colonel of the 1st Virginia Infantry killed two Federal artillerymen with his sabre, as it was told me by an eye witness:
When orders reached Longstreet's Corps it moved forward, forcing an almost impregnable, though illy defended, pass of the Bull Run range, and marching all day, part of the time under heavy artillery fire. The men occupied in the evening the position assigned them on the field of the second Manassas. They remained in position until about three o'clock the next day, when Corse's Brigade, Kemper's Division, was ordered to charge the enemy's line and take a battery which was very annoying. Tired with the monotony of long suspense, at the order the men sprung forward with irresistible alacrity, broke the hostile line, and carried the battery on a run.
Here occurred an act of gallantry worthy of note. The field officers of the brigade, so destructive was the fire of the enemy's sharpshooters to all mounted men, had been ordered to dismount, and all had done so save Gen. Corse and the commander of the 1st Virginia Infantry, Col. F. G. Skinner. When the regiment got within twenty or thirty yards of the guns the Colonel dashed ahead of them into the midst of the hostile battery and cut down one gunner just as he seized the lanyard of a gun heavily charged with grape, which would have been fearfully destructive to his men. Col. Skinner carried the heaviest sabre in the army except that of a Prussian friend, Von Borke, of "Jeb" Stuart's Staff. The Federal gunner was cut through his collar bone, and his head almost severed from his body, hence the Colonel's reputation with the Army of Northern Virginia of having severed a a man's head at a single blow. Immediately after this an artilleryman seized the bridle of the Colonel's horse, checked him up and fired a pistol in his face. The Colonel turned his face to one side in time to escape with a slight wound on his ear. His assailant dodged to escape the sabre, but the heavy weapon passed under his shoulder and through his heart, and the man was dead before he fell to the ground. This is probably the only instance in battle where Federals were killed by the sword of a Confederate infantry officer. When the Colonel's men picked him up, he having been shot through the right side, the ball shattering in its course three ribs and the breast bone, the first words he uttered were, "Didn't old Fox (his horse) behave splendidly?" To show how close was the action, in addition to the above wounds mentioned, his left arm was struck between the elbow and the wrist by an explosive ball which broke both bones. This incident is mentioned in the report of Gen. Corse.
I went down on Staten Island from the city to see the old gentleman the other day, and found him very feeble, being now in his 81st year. He is living with his son in law, Capt. Thomas G. Green. When I told him I had heard of this incident the old fire was fanned to flame in his bosom, and as he raised himself from his couch his eyes flashed, and he seemed to feel that he was mounted upon his old charger again leading his men to fame. Col. Skinner is a perfect type of those few remaining highly cultivated, elegant and courtly gentlemen of the old Southern school.
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Editor note: The following “Letter of Oct. 3, 1862, to " Charming Nellie " recounts the start of Longstreet’s attack on Pope’s left on the afternoon of Aug. 30. J. B. Polley, of Texas writes to Nellie,
“It was not until tour o'clock on the evening of the 30th that our brigade again sought the foe. The same meadow was to cross, the same skirt of timber to pass through. As the Fourth emerged from the latter, the Fifth New York Battery, commanded by Captain Curran, and stationed on a commanding eminence on the other side of a deep hollow, devoted its whole attention to us, and to show our appreciation of the courtesy, we made directly for it. A Federal regiment between us and the battery fired one volley at us and fled as fast as legs could carry them. Another regiment that had been placed in a pine thicket immediately in rear of the battery as a support to it followed suit, but undismayed, gallant Capt. Curran fired his guns until every artillerist was shot down, and he himself fell as he was in the very act of sending into our huddled ranks a charge of grape and canister that would have sent the half of us to kingdom come. A braver spirit than his never dwelt in the breast of man. " You would never have captured my battery," said he, as at his request a Texan laid him under one of the guns and placed a knapsack under his head, " if my supports had been men instead of cowards." We fully agreed with him.
Looking up the hill, a strange and ghastly spectacle met our eyes. An acre of ground was literally covered with the dead, dying, and wounded of the Fifth New York Zouaves, the variegated colors of whose peculiar uniform gave the scene the appearance of a Texas hillside in spring, painted with wild flowers of every hue and color. Not fifty of the Zouaves escaped whole. One of their lieutenants, who had lost an arm, told me that they were in the second line of the breastworks which the Fourth Texas had carried at Gaines' Mill a month before, that in the mad retreat of the first line of Federals they had been swept away, and that, on learning the position in the Confederate line occupied by our brigade here at Second Manassas, they had made a special request to Gen. Pope to be permitted to confront us on the 30th, and regain the laurels lost at Gaines' Mill. There they met the Fourth Texas and suffered ignominious defeat. At Second Manassas they came face to face for a minute only with the Fifth Texas, and suffered practical annihilation.
The Zouaves, it seems, were posted just under the crest of the hill, and a hundred feet from the edge of the timber, and fired the moment the heads of the Texans showed above the crest. Of course they aimed too high, and before they could reload the Texans poured such a well directed and deadly volley into their closely formed ranks that half of them sank to the ground, and the balance wheeled and ran. Not waiting to reload, the Texans rushed after the fugitives, and, clubbing their muskets, continued the work of destruction until every enemy in sight was left prone upon the ground. Then, as Gen. Hood said, the Fifth Texas " slipped its bridle and went wild." Had they not been recalled, they would have gone right on to the Potomac. That night I was aroused from deep slumber by the sound of merriment. Rising to a sitting posture, I asked my disturber: " What in the name of common sense are you laughing about at this ungodly hour, Jim?" "About those d Zouaves," said he. " You know that Belgian rifle with a bore almost as big as a cannon that I showed you this morning. Well, I was with the Fifth when it struck those fancy dressed fellows. I didn't shoot when the balance did, but just waited until the scoundrels got well huddled together as they ran down the hill, and, getting about twenty of them in line, I put my gun to the back of the nearest one and pulled the trigger, and d if I don't believe I killed the whole Posse Comitatus." Honestly, I shuddered with horror and disgust. The idea of such bloodthirstiness as would permit a man to laugh over the slaughter of so many men is repulsive.
I am not writing history, Charming Nellie, only endeavoring to paint a few scattering lights and shadows of this terrible war. The anecdote I have just told is a darker shadow than usual, so let me lighten it by another: Jim Ferris, of the Fifth Texas, found himself at Second Manassas in a dilapidated condition externally. The legs of his pants lacked several inches of the proper length, and in the absence Of a pair of socks his ankles were lacerated and bleeding. While running wild with his regiment when it " slipped the bridle " on the 30th, it occurred to him that he might readily supply deficiencies in his wardrobe by administering on the estate of a dead Yankee. A pair of leggins to button around the calves of his legs would answer his purposes admirably.
Being a very large man himself, only the body of a large man could be depended upon to supply Jim's need, and in the search for such a one he wandered to and fro over the silent field of the dead un til, awed by the solemnity of his surroundings, cold chills began to run down his back at the least noise, and he expected every minute to encounter a ghost. Finally he found a corpse of apparently suitable size, and, hastily turning back from its legs the oilcloth which covered it from head to foot, began with no gentle hand to unbutton a leggin. At the first jerk the supposed deadest of all the many dead flung the oil cloth from his head, and, rising to a sitting posture, exclaimed: "Great God alive, man! Don't rob me before I am dead, if you please!" In horrified amazement, Jim sprang twenty feet at one bound, but, knowing no ghost would speak so sensibly, natural politeness prompted instant apology. " Indeed, Mr. Yankee," said he, in the most gentle and winning tone that he could assume, " I hadn't the least idea you were alive, or I never would have been guilty of the discourtesy of disturbing you. Please pardon me, and let me know what I can do to make amends for my rudeness." " I would like to have a drink of water," said the revived corpse. " Take my canteen, sir," rejoined Jim, instantly offering it, " and please oblige me by keeping it, I can easily get another." After this experience, Jim decided that, rather than risk waking another corpse, he would do without leggins, but on his way to camp he came across a stalwart form lying at full length on the ground, and at the very first glance saw that here could be obtained the needed leggins. No mistake must be made, though, and so, laying his hand on the shoulder of the Yankee, he gave it a shake, and asked: " Say, mister, are you dead or alive?" There was no response, and next morning Jim Ferris strutted about the camp in a magnificent pair of linen leggins.” - 220 Confederate Veteran July 1896.
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Editor note: The November 1896 issue of Confederate Veteran contained a clarification about the identity of the “Capt. Curran” in Polley’s letter:
“REMINISCENSES BY MISS SUE MONROE.
The Capt. "Curran," mentioned by J. B. Polley in one of his letters to "Charming Nellie," was Capt. Mark Kerns, of Chambersburg, Penn., who commanded a battery in a Pennsylvania regiment of artillery. His guns were some distance in advance of those on the hill in the pines east of Young's branch. When he was wounded, the few that were with. him put him and two other wounded men on the guns and wheeled to run, but just then the horses were shot, the two men were thrown off, one killed, the other disappeared. Capt. Kerns was mortally wounded in the side and taken to a place down on Young's branch near a large oak tree and every attention paid him. There was a large red silk handkerchief folded and placed on the wound. The next day, Sunday, Col. Carter, of the Fourth Texas Regiment, had to leave. He saw that Capt. Kerns could not live and left his overcoat for him to be buried in. The coat had staff officer's buttons on it. Capt. Kerns was buried under the large oak tree. His military books that were captured were sent to his mother. Someone gave his field glass to Gen. Hood. Capt. Kerns was a graduate of West Point. His mother was from Loudoun County, Virginia. She was opposed to his entering the army. He received a flesh wound during the seven days fight before Richmond, and had just gotten back to his command in time for the second Manassas. His stepfather was Dr. Samuel B. Fisher, a Reformed minister and editor.”
Editor note: Not to be deterred, Mr. Polley defends his story in the December 1896 issue…
“COMRADE POLLEY ANSWERS MISS MONROE'S COMMENT.
With all deference to Miss Sue Monroe, I venture to doubt whether her information concerning the battery and its captain captured by the Fourth Texas at Second Manassas, is as accurate as mine. Obviously, she speaks of one occurrence, I of another. For the officer whom I called Capt. Curran, of the Fifth New York Battery, was mortally wounded in the second day's engagement just as he was in the act of firing his gun. After the battle ceased, some of our men offered to remove him to the field hospital, but, saying that he knew he had but a few hours to live and wanted to die by his guns, he declined their aid. I was within fifty feet of him when he fell, and I know he made no effort to escape, either before or after be was wounded. Some of his men did attempt to carry off a caisson, but the horses were shot down. My version of the story except as to the name of my hero and that of the battery is corroborated by Messrs. Southerland and Hughes of my company, as to the names. I got them from my journal written almost contemporaneously with the occurrence.”
Editor note: It may be that Polley is correct and they are relating two different men. John Hennessy’s Return to Bull Run identifies a Capt Kerns in command of a battery of Pennsylvania artillery who did indeed fall in a manner related by Miss Monroe. Polley’s “Capt Curran” may have been part of Hazlett’s Battery posted on a rise behind the positions of the 5th and 10th NY.
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VISITING MANASSAS BATTLEFIELD.
Mrs. J. E. Alexander, a member of the Mary Custis Lee Chapter, United Daughters of the Confederacy, writes from. Alexandria, Va.:
“Our Chapter has taken a holiday for the summer months and many of our members are out of town. Disappointed in not being able to attend the Reunion at Richmond, we compromise by a trip over the Manassas battlefield, and, after reading the VETERAN, concluded that our trip might interest some of your readers.
On the 4th of July a party of eight, well equipped for a drive, left the home of Col. J. T. Leachman for a trip over the First and Second Manassas battlefields. We proceeded to the "Cut" on the line of the old Manassas railroad, where so many of the Federals lost their lives, then to the monument erected on the Dogan farm to their dead, around by the Sudley Church, which was a conspicuous place during the first battle. The old church, which was then a shelter for the dead and dying, has given place to a new building where the Gospel of Peace is proclaimed every Sabbath. From here we went to the "Stone House," then to the "Henry" hill, where we were met by Mr. Henry, now eighty six years of age, whose step is faltering and hair white, but whose mind is as clear as the sunlight.
We received a Virginia gentleman's welcome. Under Mr. Henry's guidance we visited the points of interest on this part of the field. The first tablet that came to view was a large board bearing the following: "On this spot General T. J. Jackson was shot in the hand and received the name of 'Stonewall!"' A short distance further we saw this: "On these spots Generals Bee and Bartow fell." Bartow's comrades erected a monument, bearing his last words: "They have killed me, boys, but never give up the field". This has been destroyed gradually by relic gatherers, until nothing is left but the base.
When we saw that in such a short distance two of our noble Generals gave their lives for the cause, and as we stood and viewed the fields covered with grain then ripe for the reaper, we felt that we were standing on sacred soil, remembering that every foot of ground on that hill was fought for and held by the boys who wore the gray, and that here many a precious soul returned to God who gave it.
With tears in our eves we returned to the "Henry" house, with the vision of Jackson before us and the carnage on the hill that we had seen just thirty five years ago. A child then, is it strange that these memories can never be effaced?
The old Henry house is gone and a new one is in its place, the only occupants Mr. Henry and his faithful old servant Bailey. Mr. Henry is well known to all our Alexandria veterans, for he taught many of them. Just back of the house is a monument erected to the Federal dead. It is a tall shaft of brown sandstone, but it, too, is falling into decay.
When the time came for refreshments, with a party of friends from Kansas, we spread our dinner on the grass not far from the graves of Mrs. Judith Henry and her daughter, mother and sister of Mr. Henry. It will be recalled that the mother was killed during the first battle by a piece of shell.
With our trophies of pine burrs from the trees where Jackson, Bee and Bartow stood, we left the "Henry" hill and went to Bull Run bridge, and there memory again carried us back to the 18th of July, 1861, when we first heard cannonading, which was at Blackburn's ford.
Standing there, looking at the high bluff and the fine bridge we thought of the retreat when the scene was so different, then was turmoil, strife and blood now peace and quiet reigns.
Afterward, we turned our faces homeward, stopping on the way at the cemetery near Groveton, where our dead are buried. The hand of time has been busy, the fences are down, the grass has grown tall and rank over the graves of the 500 men who sleep here. Most of them are from our own Southland. In this cemetery stands a white slab to the memory of "James Jerman Palmer, son of Dr. Jno. S. and Esther Simmons Palmer. Born in Charleston County. South Carolina, May 25, 1840. Killed in the Second Manassas battle, August 20, 1862, a private in the Spartan Rifles and Regiment of Palmetto Sharp Shooters."
His white tomb tone stands as a lonely sentinel over his 500 comrades who lost their lives in the first and second battles of Manassas.
With the mountains as the background and the golden sun just bidding good night to earth, kissing with its last rays the lonely watcher in the hillside cemetery, we leave the scene, with the thought Sleep on until the last roll is called and the last trump shall sound, when the dead shall come from the swamps of Chickahominy, from the heights of Gettysburg, from the lovely cemeteries in our cities and the lonely cemetery on the Manassas field, but be it our duty, women of the South, to keep their graves green while we live, and leave the work as a valued heritage to our children.” Confederate Veteran, Nov 1896.
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WILLIAM SINGLETON. BY CAPT. R. J. HANCOCK, CO. D, NINTH LA. REGIMENT, A. N. V.
Private "Billy" Singleton, Company D, Ninth Louisiana Regiment, was born and reared in Bossier Parish, La. His mother had a small farm upon which she cultivated corn and cotton. They were good and honest people. Singleton spent much of his time in fishing and hunting. He was an expert shot, and could kill a wild turkey flying or a deer running with a rifle. Before he was twenty years old he had joined Company D, of the Ninth Louisiana Regiment, was in the Army of Northern Virginia, and participated in the Valley Campaign under Stonewall Jackson and Gen. Dick Taylor. From the Valley he went with the army to the battles around Richmond.
After the battles around Richmond, Singleton went to Cedar Run, and thence to Second Manassas. It was at this Second Manassas battle that his command, while fighting in a railroad cut, exhausted all their ammunition. They called for two volunteers to go back to the ordnance wagon for more supplies. Singleton and Pinckney Lyon went back, and each got a lot of cartridges. During this interval the brigade held at bay and killed many of the enemy by throwing rocks, of which there was an abundant supply in the newly laid bed of the railroad cut. When the men started back, the enemy saw "what was up," and began shooting at them. Stonewall Jackson was sitting on "Old Sorrell" at the edge of a woods and saw the men running in the face of the enemy's bullets. He kept his hand raised as in prayer until both of them reached the cut unhurt. A Confederate yell went up, and it is needless to say that the line of battle was held.
After the battle was over, victory being perched upon the Confederate flag, Singleton, while passing over the battlefield, found a light gum cloth with a hole through the middle of it. Thinking the cloth would serve to keep off the rain, he folded it up and put it in his pocket. He had carried it only a few days when at the battle of Chantilly a thunderstorm came up while he was on the skirmish line. He had the oilcloth over him, and it reached nearly to his knees. While the skirmish line was advancing, Singleton came to a small, narrow field which was practically surrounded by woods. Just as he entered the field from the west Gen. Phil Kearney entered it from the east. Evidently he mistook Singleton for a Federal soldier. Singleton saw that it was a Northern officer from the uniform. They both advanced until within a few yards of each other, when Kearney asked in a brusque way: "To what regiment do you belong?" As he did so, Singleton raised his rifle and, coming to a "ready," told Kearney that he belonged to the Ninth Louisiana Regiment, and that he (Kearney) must surrender, otherwise he would be shot. Kearney dropped his head for a moment as if in a deep study, said nothing, and then, wheeling his horse, threw himself upon the horse's neck and started to run. Singleton fired, and Kearney fell dead. Singleton notified the ambulance corps that he had killed a Yankee officer, and went on skirmishing. About nine o'clock that night he was sitting around a camp fire making a cup of coffee which he had captured at Manassas, when a comrade passing by said that some one had killed a Northern officer without ever touching him. Singleton asked if the officer was a one armed man. The comrade replying in the affirmative, Singleton said that he had shot the officer, and told where the wound could be found. He was correct. The bullet had penetrated within, along the spinal column and lodged at the base of the skull. It may be well to state that Singleton was the only man who fired at Kearney, and it was done before sunset. Confederate Veteran November 1906. 498
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SIDNEY VIRGIL PATRICK.
Born May 13, 1842, at Cornersville, Tenn., S. V. Patrick. who was a faithful Confederate soldier, died at the home of his mother, in Galveston, Tex., April 23, 1907. He became ill early in December previous, but attended faithfully his duties until a few days previous to his death. He had been United States Inspector of Customs through appointment by President Cleveland during his first administration. The remains were taken by his son, his only surviving child, to Double Bayou, Chambers County. Tex., for interment by the side of his wife.
Comrade Patrick was a nephew of Gen. Preston Smith, who was killed at Chickamauga September 20, 1862. He and his brother (now dead) both served under General Smith. The mother, yet living, is a sister of General Smith, and she has living two daughters (Mrs. W. W. Gregory and Mrs. J. M. Foster) and a son (J. E. Patrick), all natives of Tennessee.
A correspondent of the Galveston News writes of him:
Virge belonged to Company E, 5th Texas, organized by Col. John D. Rogers. He was one of the first volunteers, was faithful to the last, and laid down his gun only when Lee surrendered. He was one of the best and truest men and one of the most reliable soldiers I ever knew. He never shirked the slightest duty either in camp or on the field. During the four years I was with him in Virginia I don't remember to have ever seen him 'rattled' or excited. He took things as they came, and was apparently indifferent whether the thing was to build a camp fire or charge a battery.
I give an incident that illustrates his coolness and courage. At Second Manassas, after we had driven all that were left of the New York Zouaves across Bull Run Creek, we were ordered to charge a battery stationed on the hill that was playing the mischief with us. Just about this time there was a bunch of zouaves ahead of us going as rapidly as they could. In crossing the creek their big zouave pants had got full of water, and their legs looked like balloons. We were shooting at them, and one little fellow seemed to receive more than his share of attention, for he got several shots through his pants. He was not crippled, however, for he went up the hill like a rabbit, and at every jump the water squirted like one of those garden fountain hoses. It was a funny sight, but most of us were too scared to see the fun of it just then. Not so with Virge. I looked at him, and he was laughing fit to kill himself. We charged so close to the guns that when they were discharged we could feel the heat from them in our faces.
In the hottest part of the work I glanced at Virge again. and he was evidently thinking of that zouave and his waterworks, for he was grinning and apparently enjoying the memory of it. After we had taken the battery and had halted for a breathing spell, the first words he said were: 'Say, did you see that Yankee?' He was as cool and free from excitement and enjoyed the funny side of the thing as much as he would have done had the scene taken place in a theater and he had been one of the spectators. 322 Confederate Veteran July 1907.
I need not follow Hood and his brigade to Malvern Hill, Second Manassas, Boonsboro, and Antietam, to recount their bravery, their endurance, and their glory, but report a lively incident near Manassas, Hood's men had marched all night without sleep, and on this occasion, going into bivouac on a slope of a hill, they fell exhausted and asleep as soon as they touched the ground. In the midst of the stillness and darkness then prevailing some one kicked over an empty barrel, and it went rolling and bounding down the hill toward the Texans in their almost deathlike slumber. At the same moment an old gray mare dashed up the hill, loaded with kettles, tin cups, and frying pans, making an unearthly clatter, at which the Texans, victorious at Cold Harbor and Malvern Hill, sprang to their feet, deserted their guns, ran over and leveled a well built fence, and rushed ahead several hundred yards before they awoke sufficiently to recover their wits and boldly march back, convulsed with laughter. This incident gave rise to a song well known by the Texan soldiers namely, "The Old Gray Mare Came Tearing Out of the Wilderness." - “GEN. J. B. HOOD.” ADDRESS TO CAMP BEAUREGARD, U. S. C. V., NEW ORLEANS, BY HENRY E. ELDER. 415 Confederate Veteran September 1910.
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A LOST FLAG. BY J. M. FINLEY, ATHENS, LA.
On August 30, 1862, while entering the Second Manassas battle, E. W. Ray, color bearer of the 14th Alabama Regiment, asked me to take his flag should he be shot. We were cousins and the best of friends, and, being in the same company and regiment, I readily consented to do so. Ray was severely wounded in the thick of the fight. A comrade seized the flag and bore it some twenty paces forward, and fell. I then raised it to the breeze, calling out: "Come on, boys!" I soon found myself in a serious predicament. Having outrun our fighting line, I soon found with frightful amazement that I was within about forty yards of the enemy's line, while our company was three times that distance to my rear. What to do was a most absorbing thought. To advance meant capture, to retreat meant shame, and likely death, with a shot in the back. I realized that only a bold front would help the situation, so I waved the old tattered flag at the enemy, calling out: "If you want to shoot any one, shoot me." I still believe this proved my salvation. I was met by one man with gun in hand who said: "There they are, go ahead." I ordered him to ground arms and go to my rear, which he did. Another in their line threw up his hands. I called out to him, promising protection. While he was passing me for the rear my men closed around me, and I kept them from shooting him.
From the Second Manassas battle I bore the flag of the 14th Alabama to Sharpsburg, where on September 17 I was wounded while trying to lead a charge against the Federal forces. When wounded I pitched the flag forward and retired. Our men fell back at this juncture, leaving the flag to the Federals. I should like to hear from any one who wit nessed the flag incident at Second Manassas. I have been informed that the Federals would return the flag to the man who last carried it.
[The capture of these Federal soldiers seemed so incredible that Comrade Finley was asked explicitly about it, and replied that the atmosphere was very smoky at the time and the two men mentioned evidently wanted to surrender. He says that on another occasion in battle in a wood six Yankees jumped behind a tree where he was sheltered, and he took them alone. They wished to surrender.] 346 Confederate Veteran July 1911
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Editor note: The November 1896 issue of Confederate Veteran contained a clarification about the identity of the “Capt. Curran” in Polley’s letter:
“REMINISCENSES BY MISS SUE MONROE.
The Capt. "Curran," mentioned by J. B. Polley in one of his letters to "Charming Nellie," was Capt. Mark Kerns, of Chambersburg, Penn., who commanded a battery in a Pennsylvania regiment of artillery. His guns were some distance in advance of those on the hill in the pines east of Young's branch. When he was wounded, the few that were with. him put him and two other wounded men on the guns and wheeled to run, but just then the horses were shot, the two men were thrown off, one killed, the other disappeared. Capt. Kerns was mortally wounded in the side and taken to a place down on Young's branch near a large oak tree and every attention paid him. There was a large red silk handkerchief folded and placed on the wound. The next day, Sunday, Col. Carter, of the Fourth Texas Regiment, had to leave. He saw that Capt. Kerns could not live and left his overcoat for him to be buried in. The coat had staff officer's buttons on it. Capt. Kerns was buried under the large oak tree. His military books that were captured were sent to his mother. Someone gave his field glass to Gen. Hood. Capt. Kerns was a graduate of West Point. His mother was from Loudoun County, Virginia. She was opposed to his entering the army. He received a flesh wound during the seven days fight before Richmond, and had just gotten back to his command in time for the second Manassas. His stepfather was Dr. Samuel B. Fisher, a Reformed minister and editor.”
Editor note: Not to be deterred, Mr. Polley defends his story in the December 1896 issue…
“COMRADE POLLEY ANSWERS MISS MONROE'S COMMENT.
With all deference to Miss Sue Monroe, I venture to doubt whether her information concerning the battery and its captain captured by the Fourth Texas at Second Manassas, is as accurate as mine. Obviously, she speaks of one occurrence, I of another. For the officer whom I called Capt. Curran, of the Fifth New York Battery, was mortally wounded in the second day's engagement just as he was in the act of firing his gun. After the battle ceased, some of our men offered to remove him to the field hospital, but, saying that he knew he had but a few hours to live and wanted to die by his guns, he declined their aid. I was within fifty feet of him when he fell, and I know he made no effort to escape, either before or after be was wounded. Some of his men did attempt to carry off a caisson, but the horses were shot down. My version of the story except as to the name of my hero and that of the battery is corroborated by Messrs. Southerland and Hughes of my company, as to the names. I got them from my journal written almost contemporaneously with the occurrence.”
Editor note: It may be that Polley is correct and they are relating two different men. John Hennessy’s Return to Bull Run identifies a Capt Kerns in command of a battery of Pennsylvania artillery who did indeed fall in a manner related by Miss Monroe. Polley’s “Capt Curran” may have been part of Hazlett’s Battery posted on a rise behind the positions of the 5th and 10th NY.
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VISITING MANASSAS BATTLEFIELD.
Mrs. J. E. Alexander, a member of the Mary Custis Lee Chapter, United Daughters of the Confederacy, writes from. Alexandria, Va.:
“Our Chapter has taken a holiday for the summer months and many of our members are out of town. Disappointed in not being able to attend the Reunion at Richmond, we compromise by a trip over the Manassas battlefield, and, after reading the VETERAN, concluded that our trip might interest some of your readers.
On the 4th of July a party of eight, well equipped for a drive, left the home of Col. J. T. Leachman for a trip over the First and Second Manassas battlefields. We proceeded to the "Cut" on the line of the old Manassas railroad, where so many of the Federals lost their lives, then to the monument erected on the Dogan farm to their dead, around by the Sudley Church, which was a conspicuous place during the first battle. The old church, which was then a shelter for the dead and dying, has given place to a new building where the Gospel of Peace is proclaimed every Sabbath. From here we went to the "Stone House," then to the "Henry" hill, where we were met by Mr. Henry, now eighty six years of age, whose step is faltering and hair white, but whose mind is as clear as the sunlight.
We received a Virginia gentleman's welcome. Under Mr. Henry's guidance we visited the points of interest on this part of the field. The first tablet that came to view was a large board bearing the following: "On this spot General T. J. Jackson was shot in the hand and received the name of 'Stonewall!"' A short distance further we saw this: "On these spots Generals Bee and Bartow fell." Bartow's comrades erected a monument, bearing his last words: "They have killed me, boys, but never give up the field". This has been destroyed gradually by relic gatherers, until nothing is left but the base.
When we saw that in such a short distance two of our noble Generals gave their lives for the cause, and as we stood and viewed the fields covered with grain then ripe for the reaper, we felt that we were standing on sacred soil, remembering that every foot of ground on that hill was fought for and held by the boys who wore the gray, and that here many a precious soul returned to God who gave it.
With tears in our eves we returned to the "Henry" house, with the vision of Jackson before us and the carnage on the hill that we had seen just thirty five years ago. A child then, is it strange that these memories can never be effaced?
The old Henry house is gone and a new one is in its place, the only occupants Mr. Henry and his faithful old servant Bailey. Mr. Henry is well known to all our Alexandria veterans, for he taught many of them. Just back of the house is a monument erected to the Federal dead. It is a tall shaft of brown sandstone, but it, too, is falling into decay.
When the time came for refreshments, with a party of friends from Kansas, we spread our dinner on the grass not far from the graves of Mrs. Judith Henry and her daughter, mother and sister of Mr. Henry. It will be recalled that the mother was killed during the first battle by a piece of shell.
With our trophies of pine burrs from the trees where Jackson, Bee and Bartow stood, we left the "Henry" hill and went to Bull Run bridge, and there memory again carried us back to the 18th of July, 1861, when we first heard cannonading, which was at Blackburn's ford.
Standing there, looking at the high bluff and the fine bridge we thought of the retreat when the scene was so different, then was turmoil, strife and blood now peace and quiet reigns.
Afterward, we turned our faces homeward, stopping on the way at the cemetery near Groveton, where our dead are buried. The hand of time has been busy, the fences are down, the grass has grown tall and rank over the graves of the 500 men who sleep here. Most of them are from our own Southland. In this cemetery stands a white slab to the memory of "James Jerman Palmer, son of Dr. Jno. S. and Esther Simmons Palmer. Born in Charleston County. South Carolina, May 25, 1840. Killed in the Second Manassas battle, August 20, 1862, a private in the Spartan Rifles and Regiment of Palmetto Sharp Shooters."
His white tomb tone stands as a lonely sentinel over his 500 comrades who lost their lives in the first and second battles of Manassas.
With the mountains as the background and the golden sun just bidding good night to earth, kissing with its last rays the lonely watcher in the hillside cemetery, we leave the scene, with the thought Sleep on until the last roll is called and the last trump shall sound, when the dead shall come from the swamps of Chickahominy, from the heights of Gettysburg, from the lovely cemeteries in our cities and the lonely cemetery on the Manassas field, but be it our duty, women of the South, to keep their graves green while we live, and leave the work as a valued heritage to our children.” Confederate Veteran, Nov 1896.
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WILLIAM SINGLETON. BY CAPT. R. J. HANCOCK, CO. D, NINTH LA. REGIMENT, A. N. V.
Private "Billy" Singleton, Company D, Ninth Louisiana Regiment, was born and reared in Bossier Parish, La. His mother had a small farm upon which she cultivated corn and cotton. They were good and honest people. Singleton spent much of his time in fishing and hunting. He was an expert shot, and could kill a wild turkey flying or a deer running with a rifle. Before he was twenty years old he had joined Company D, of the Ninth Louisiana Regiment, was in the Army of Northern Virginia, and participated in the Valley Campaign under Stonewall Jackson and Gen. Dick Taylor. From the Valley he went with the army to the battles around Richmond.
After the battles around Richmond, Singleton went to Cedar Run, and thence to Second Manassas. It was at this Second Manassas battle that his command, while fighting in a railroad cut, exhausted all their ammunition. They called for two volunteers to go back to the ordnance wagon for more supplies. Singleton and Pinckney Lyon went back, and each got a lot of cartridges. During this interval the brigade held at bay and killed many of the enemy by throwing rocks, of which there was an abundant supply in the newly laid bed of the railroad cut. When the men started back, the enemy saw "what was up," and began shooting at them. Stonewall Jackson was sitting on "Old Sorrell" at the edge of a woods and saw the men running in the face of the enemy's bullets. He kept his hand raised as in prayer until both of them reached the cut unhurt. A Confederate yell went up, and it is needless to say that the line of battle was held.
After the battle was over, victory being perched upon the Confederate flag, Singleton, while passing over the battlefield, found a light gum cloth with a hole through the middle of it. Thinking the cloth would serve to keep off the rain, he folded it up and put it in his pocket. He had carried it only a few days when at the battle of Chantilly a thunderstorm came up while he was on the skirmish line. He had the oilcloth over him, and it reached nearly to his knees. While the skirmish line was advancing, Singleton came to a small, narrow field which was practically surrounded by woods. Just as he entered the field from the west Gen. Phil Kearney entered it from the east. Evidently he mistook Singleton for a Federal soldier. Singleton saw that it was a Northern officer from the uniform. They both advanced until within a few yards of each other, when Kearney asked in a brusque way: "To what regiment do you belong?" As he did so, Singleton raised his rifle and, coming to a "ready," told Kearney that he belonged to the Ninth Louisiana Regiment, and that he (Kearney) must surrender, otherwise he would be shot. Kearney dropped his head for a moment as if in a deep study, said nothing, and then, wheeling his horse, threw himself upon the horse's neck and started to run. Singleton fired, and Kearney fell dead. Singleton notified the ambulance corps that he had killed a Yankee officer, and went on skirmishing. About nine o'clock that night he was sitting around a camp fire making a cup of coffee which he had captured at Manassas, when a comrade passing by said that some one had killed a Northern officer without ever touching him. Singleton asked if the officer was a one armed man. The comrade replying in the affirmative, Singleton said that he had shot the officer, and told where the wound could be found. He was correct. The bullet had penetrated within, along the spinal column and lodged at the base of the skull. It may be well to state that Singleton was the only man who fired at Kearney, and it was done before sunset. Confederate Veteran November 1906. 498
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SIDNEY VIRGIL PATRICK.
Born May 13, 1842, at Cornersville, Tenn., S. V. Patrick. who was a faithful Confederate soldier, died at the home of his mother, in Galveston, Tex., April 23, 1907. He became ill early in December previous, but attended faithfully his duties until a few days previous to his death. He had been United States Inspector of Customs through appointment by President Cleveland during his first administration. The remains were taken by his son, his only surviving child, to Double Bayou, Chambers County. Tex., for interment by the side of his wife.
Comrade Patrick was a nephew of Gen. Preston Smith, who was killed at Chickamauga September 20, 1862. He and his brother (now dead) both served under General Smith. The mother, yet living, is a sister of General Smith, and she has living two daughters (Mrs. W. W. Gregory and Mrs. J. M. Foster) and a son (J. E. Patrick), all natives of Tennessee.
A correspondent of the Galveston News writes of him:
Virge belonged to Company E, 5th Texas, organized by Col. John D. Rogers. He was one of the first volunteers, was faithful to the last, and laid down his gun only when Lee surrendered. He was one of the best and truest men and one of the most reliable soldiers I ever knew. He never shirked the slightest duty either in camp or on the field. During the four years I was with him in Virginia I don't remember to have ever seen him 'rattled' or excited. He took things as they came, and was apparently indifferent whether the thing was to build a camp fire or charge a battery.
I give an incident that illustrates his coolness and courage. At Second Manassas, after we had driven all that were left of the New York Zouaves across Bull Run Creek, we were ordered to charge a battery stationed on the hill that was playing the mischief with us. Just about this time there was a bunch of zouaves ahead of us going as rapidly as they could. In crossing the creek their big zouave pants had got full of water, and their legs looked like balloons. We were shooting at them, and one little fellow seemed to receive more than his share of attention, for he got several shots through his pants. He was not crippled, however, for he went up the hill like a rabbit, and at every jump the water squirted like one of those garden fountain hoses. It was a funny sight, but most of us were too scared to see the fun of it just then. Not so with Virge. I looked at him, and he was laughing fit to kill himself. We charged so close to the guns that when they were discharged we could feel the heat from them in our faces.
In the hottest part of the work I glanced at Virge again. and he was evidently thinking of that zouave and his waterworks, for he was grinning and apparently enjoying the memory of it. After we had taken the battery and had halted for a breathing spell, the first words he said were: 'Say, did you see that Yankee?' He was as cool and free from excitement and enjoyed the funny side of the thing as much as he would have done had the scene taken place in a theater and he had been one of the spectators. 322 Confederate Veteran July 1907.
I need not follow Hood and his brigade to Malvern Hill, Second Manassas, Boonsboro, and Antietam, to recount their bravery, their endurance, and their glory, but report a lively incident near Manassas, Hood's men had marched all night without sleep, and on this occasion, going into bivouac on a slope of a hill, they fell exhausted and asleep as soon as they touched the ground. In the midst of the stillness and darkness then prevailing some one kicked over an empty barrel, and it went rolling and bounding down the hill toward the Texans in their almost deathlike slumber. At the same moment an old gray mare dashed up the hill, loaded with kettles, tin cups, and frying pans, making an unearthly clatter, at which the Texans, victorious at Cold Harbor and Malvern Hill, sprang to their feet, deserted their guns, ran over and leveled a well built fence, and rushed ahead several hundred yards before they awoke sufficiently to recover their wits and boldly march back, convulsed with laughter. This incident gave rise to a song well known by the Texan soldiers namely, "The Old Gray Mare Came Tearing Out of the Wilderness." - “GEN. J. B. HOOD.” ADDRESS TO CAMP BEAUREGARD, U. S. C. V., NEW ORLEANS, BY HENRY E. ELDER. 415 Confederate Veteran September 1910.
A LOST FLAG. BY J. M. FINLEY, ATHENS, LA.
On August 30, 1862, while entering the Second Manassas battle, E. W. Ray, color bearer of the 14th Alabama Regiment, asked me to take his flag should he be shot. We were cousins and the best of friends, and, being in the same company and regiment, I readily consented to do so. Ray was severely wounded in the thick of the fight. A comrade seized the flag and bore it some twenty paces forward, and fell. I then raised it to the breeze, calling out: "Come on, boys!" I soon found myself in a serious predicament. Having outrun our fighting line, I soon found with frightful amazement that I was within about forty yards of the enemy's line, while our company was three times that distance to my rear. What to do was a most absorbing thought. To advance meant capture, to retreat meant shame, and likely death, with a shot in the back. I realized that only a bold front would help the situation, so I waved the old tattered flag at the enemy, calling out: "If you want to shoot any one, shoot me." I still believe this proved my salvation. I was met by one man with gun in hand who said: "There they are, go ahead." I ordered him to ground arms and go to my rear, which he did. Another in their line threw up his hands. I called out to him, promising protection. While he was passing me for the rear my men closed around me, and I kept them from shooting him.
From the Second Manassas battle I bore the flag of the 14th Alabama to Sharpsburg, where on September 17 I was wounded while trying to lead a charge against the Federal forces. When wounded I pitched the flag forward and retired. Our men fell back at this juncture, leaving the flag to the Federals. I should like to hear from any one who wit nessed the flag incident at Second Manassas. I have been informed that the Federals would return the flag to the man who list carried it.
[The capture of these Federal soldiers seemed so incredible that Comrade Finley was asked explicitly about it, and replied that the atmosphere was very smoky at the time and the two men mentioned evidently wanted to surrender. He says that on another occasion in battle in a wood six Yankees jumped behind a tree where he was sheltered, and he took them alone. They wished to surrender.] 346 Confederate Veteran July 1911
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HENRY W. EVANS.
Henry Evans was working near Sylvarena, Smith County, Miss., when the War of the States began, and joined the first company raised in that county, the "Defenders," by Capt. W. H. Hardy, now of Pass Christian, Miss. The company, about eighty strong, was ordered to rendezvous at Corinth, Mi s., late in May, 1861. It arrived at Corinth on June 2, and was made Company H, l6th Mississippi Regiment, with Carnot Posey as colonel. The regiment remained at Corinth, drilling daily, till after the first battle of Manassas, when it was ordered to Virginia and became part of Crittenden's Brigade, then at Centerville. General Crittenden was transferred to a command in East Tennessee, and General Trimble became commander of the brigade.
The l6th Mississippi participated in every campaign of the Army of Northern Virginia and in most of the great battles. It was in Ewell's Division, under Stonewall Jackson, in the Shenandoah Valley Campaign, the most wonderful campaign of the whole war, in which General Jackson defeated three armies, each of which was stronger in men and munitions of war than his own, commanded by Generals Banks, Fremont, and Shields. He defeated General Banks in the battles of Luray and Winchester and drove his demoralized army across the Potomac River.
In all the battles of Jackson's noted campaign H. W. Evans participated. He was also in the battles of Second Manassas, Harper's Ferry, Sharpsburg, and Gettysburg, and in the campaign on the lower Potomac, the Wilderness, Chancellorsville, and Appomatox. When the second battle of Manassas was over and his command, tired and hungry, lay down to sleep on the battlefield at eleven o'clock at night, he went back by permission to the field hospital to learn the fate of Lieut. T. J. Hardy, his brother in law, who was shot down in the first charge and borne by the litter bearers from the field, with instructions to return early next morning. In returning just after daylight in the mist of the morning he came suddenly upon a squad of Yankee soldiers in a thicket, who appeared to be lost and bewildered. He crept up near them and, presenting his gun, boldly demanded their surrender, stating that he would kill the first man who attempted to raise his gun, that his regiment was near by, and they were inside our lines and could not possibly escape. They laid down their arms, and he marched them (seventeen in number, half a mile and turned them over to the colonel of his regiment, who sent them back under guard to where the large number of prisoners taken were being guarded. He was specially mentioned in the report of the colonel and commended for his bravery. He never desired promotion, but accepted the non commissioned office of second sergeant. He preferred the position of private, and his conduct had much to do with making his company one of the best in that famous army of brave patriots.
As a citizen he was honest, industrious, and patriotic. He had nearly completed his seventy fifth year and never had a lawsuit, nor had he ever testified in court for or against any one. Death came to him at his home, near Macon, Miss., on January 34, 1912. 238 Confederate Veteran May 1912
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Confederate artillerist Mercer Otey, of San Francisco, wrote his remembrances of Second Bull Run to the June 1889 issue of the Confederate Veteran magazine:
In July, 1862, my commission in the provisional army of the Confederate States having expired by limitation, I turned my face toward Virginia and enlisted for the second time in the Rockbridge Artillery, having reached the battery just after the disastrous defeat of Maj. Gen. John Pope on August 9. This occurred near Gordonsville, and is known as the battle of Cedar Mountain, Slaughter's Mountain, Cedar Creek, or Southwest Mountain. The movement on Richmond having been thwarted, Stonewall Jackson commenced his celebrated flank movement that turned Pope immediately to protect his rear along the Rapidan River. It was at this critical moment when President Lincoln, ignorant of Pope's whereabouts or his plans, telegraphed him to know where his headquarters were. "Bombastes Furioso Pope," as he was nicknamed by his old army comrades, replied that his headquarters were in the saddle, where they should be.
It was in this movement, and shortly after I had enrolled in the battery as a private, that I witnessed a sight that clung to me for many a long year. Five Confederate deserters who had been recaptured in the mountains of West Virginia had been tried by court martial, convicted, and sentenced to be shot. It was their second offense, and no palliating circumstances could be offered. The old Stonewall Brigade, to which they belonged, was drawn up in a three sided square, the five men, blindfolded, knelt at the head of five pits, the firing squad, half of whose guns contained blank and the remainder ball cartridges, stood at twenty paces distant, a solemn silence pervaded the scene, while the August sun blazed down on that band of veterans of many a bloody battle. They had braved death on half a score of fields, and cared little for cannon's roar or musketry rattle, but now it was different, their nerves were not strung to that tension that is caused by the excitement of battle, and which generally superinduces indifference. This looked so cold, so deliberate, almost murder, but the discipline of an army must be maintained. The commanding officer gave the command: "Make ready! take aim! fire!" and the jive bodies fell to earth, while the red, hot blood spurted out and trickled in little pools at their side. Immediately the whole brigade was placed in motion and marched by the dead bodies of their erstwhile comrades. My knees grew weak and the tears came gushing to my eyes as I remembered that far away in their mountain homes perchance some loved mothers and babes would watch in vain the return of these men who had sacrificed honor and life for their sakes.
August 27 we reached Bristow's Station, near Manassas Junction, and it was amusing to see a lot of Pennsylvania Dutch cavalry charge at our troops. I use the word "at" advisedly, for they seldom got within thirty or forty yards of us when, realizing we were not a guerrilla band, they would attempt a retreat, which generally resulted in their being unhorsed, for, of all riders, they were the worst I ever saw. Reaching Manassas Junction, we found a large depot of supplies, consisting of provisions of all kinds and an immense supply of fixed ammunition. The former we confiscated, and set fire to the latter. While thus engaged we were attacked by a brigade of infantry that had been rushed from Washington posthaste by rail to protect these very stores. It turned out to be Tyler's Brigade, and it was amusing the way we chased them for three miles with only the Rockbridge Battery. It was a running fight which our infantry could not keep up with. We would unlimber our guns as soon as we could find a favorable position, and, going into battery, bang away at the bluecoats until they found a protecting ridge, when off we would start again for another position. But when the prisoners we captured learned they were confronted by the Stonewall Brigade how they did stare, wondering if that body of men were ubiquitous for they had learned a day or two previously in Washington from their public papers that Stonewall Jackson had been annihilated by John Pope at Cedar Mountain! They imagined it only a guerrilla band, Mosby's or Ashby's, operating on Pope's line of communications, and were thunderstruck when confronted with the veterans of the Valley of Virginia, the Stonewall Brigade, that three months before had in three days crushed three different columns of their chosen commanders (Banks, Milroy, and Shields) at Front Royal and sent the former flying in full retreat down the Shenandoah Valley. Well did they merit the title of Jackson's "foot cavalry," for they appeared when and where least expected. Why, it has been often asked, was Jackson never defeated? Because his men never knew when they were, if ever, whipped. They followed their great leader blindly, unhesitatingly, and confidently.
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
Overwhelming odds counted for naught with them if "old Jack" said the word
they would have marched, as they did on many an occasion,
Into the jaws of death,
Into the gates of hell.
I never saw such fanatic faith as they exhibited in following him. Frequently a shout or a cheer would be heard away down the column, and it always proved to be either "Old Jack" trotting by or a Molly cottontail that the boys had disturbed in its nap and was scampering to more secure quarters.
After having fired the immense train of ammunition that had been sidetracked at Manassas Junction in twenty or thirty box cars, awaiting John Pope's fixing head or hind quarters, our column about dusk moved toward the old stamping ground of July, 1861. That night's march of seven miles was about the weariest I can remember, and it seemed interminable. Ten hours to cover seven miles what in the world was the matter? We could hear no firing. The only sound that greeted our ears was the continuous discharge of those car loads of ammunition that was being destroyed. "Old Jack is powerful cautious all of a sudden," remarked one of our gunners at my side. Hour after hour he felt his way in front, while we poor, weary, foot sore followers fell fast asleep in the fence corners, only to be aroused by a prod from the bayonet of the rear guard. When morning came and we began to look around we discovered where we were, occupying the battlefield of Bull Run of July, 1861, but in reversed position i. e., we now holding that line of battle the Federals held the year before. We also began to understand old Jack's delay. He was waiting for that doughty old dog of war, Longstreet, to force Thoroughfare Gap and join him for a final battle with John Pope. All that day we lay exposed and expecting to be crushed by the superior force that almost surrounded us, while away off we could hear the dull boom of battle as Longstreet under Lee was gradually drawing nearer to our assistance.
What were the Federal commanders thinking of to permit this junction of two corps d'armee, Longstreet and Jackson, Lee's left and right hands? But how "Old Tack" did maneuver us around and what a bold front he made, and the hot fighting we had to do to maintain our position! I think it was on Friday, August 29, we were in battery in a clump of trees, banging away with our twenty pound Parrotts at a column that was moving across an open plateau a mile or more away. It was a pretty sight, a solid column of a full division closed in mass. I could see the glint of glittering guns in the sun flashes. Capt. McLaughlin, of the battery, was watching keenly to measure the distance and the time of flight necessary for a shell to reach that mass. Suddenly turning to Lieuts. Poague and Graham he ordered the shell cut with certain seconds' flight. Instantly No. 5 of the first section (every man at the gun has his number, and is so addressed in action) brought the necessary shell, duly cut, and it was driven home by No. 1. Sergt, Payne trained the gun, and we breathlessly awaited the result of Capt. McLaughlin's observation through his field glass. Presently he called out: "A trifle short, Sergeant." A second shell started on its flight. Ah! Hurrah! With naked eye we can see the effect. The column separated like a swarm of bees as shell after shell was planted in their midst, exploding as designed. Later on we learned from prisoners that it was Maj. Gen. Irwin McDowell's. However, a protecting ridge soon gave them immunity from us.
In a few brief minutes, just as we had squatted ourselves under the shady oaks for a short respite, up rode Lieut. Col. Sandy Pendleton, of Gen. Jackson's staff, and saluting Capt. McLaughlin stated it was the Major General's instruction that he at once report his battery to Gen. Stephen D. Lee, commanding the battalion of artillery at Groveton, a little farther down the line. We reluctantly arose from our resting place, and away we dashed. We knew that something was coming. There had been too much of a hushed stillness hanging in the atmosphere. It was a "subdued breathing spell before giants locked for the deadly embrace." Plans were nearly matured, and the moment had arrived for the death struggle. On reporting to Gen. Stephen D. Lee we found he had four other crack batteries awaiting our arrival before going into action at Groveton, the apex of the angle of our line of battle. Soon we had unlimbered and were in position. Hark! hist! a puff of white smoke and a shriek of shell whistled by, then another, and another. "We are in for warm work," I remarked to Bob Compton, who held his thumb over the vent as I rammed the charge home to the gun chamber. Robert E. Lee, Jr., the son of our noble leader, had the lanyard, and Serg. Payne trained the gun for the first shot. The distance was not so much a factor as it was two or three hours since. We were at close range say one thousand yards and our five batteries were pitted against five Federal batteries. We were going to have a duel. Capt. McLaughlin, commanding the battery, was earnestly discussing distances with his two lieutenants, William Poague and Archie Graham. Presently the bugler sounded: "Fire by battery." Reader, do you know what that means? It means the imps of death and destruction are about to commence the carnival of blood. It means fire and load, and fire and load, as fast as you can till you are dead or defeated or your enemy is. An artillerist as a rule doesn't have time to reflect, consequently he can't catch time to get scared when he is in action, he has too much dependent on him. He hears the shriek of shell and shrapnel or the plunging and ricocheting of solid shot, but if they don't cut him down, he keeps right along in his duty according to his number, unless, as it sometimes occurs, he is commanded to take another number owing to death or disability of the other. When I look back and recall that artillery duel on August 29, 1862, I can't realize what I was spared for. Neither can I understand how any of us escaped that three or more hours of death dealing missiles. When I recall the grimy, powder stained faces and tattered and torn young artillerymen who fought there like demons, I can hardly associate them with the same elegant and courtly students and cadets of a few short months before. Look at Myrick, Minor, Macon, and others, standing there all covered with axle grease and tar, the white skin peeping through the threadbare blouse that hasn't been off their backs since we left our baggage at Cedar Mountain three weeks ago. See how oblivious they are to everything save serving the gun to which they are attached! Do they expect to get from this fight alive? Do you imagine they give the matter of life or death one passing thought? No! The reality is only apparent when a solid shot struck our esteemed Serg. Payne and tore a great hole in his right knee, then when ordered to bear him to the rear three of us supporting him in a blanket, placed him beneath the shade of a peach tree, where in less than ten minutes his spirit winged its flight to happier realms. There, too, beneath the same tree lay Willie Preston, of the Rockbridge Rifles, wounded to the death, his life's blood ebbing away! Poor boy! So young, so gifted, so beloved! Maybe the sweet songs that his mother, Mrs. Margaret J. Preston, gave to the world were tinged by the memory of that youth whom she offered as the oblation of her heart.
Our comrade dead, we were once more at the battery, but the fierce fire had crippled us sadly, and it was not many minutes when "Old Jack," riding up, lifted his old gray cap, and, complimenting us, ordered us retired, Our lines being well established, the culmination of the day's work finds Pope in full retreat by three o'clock of the afternoon. As we drove our guns across the open plateau in front of a little piece of ground sheltered by timber we passed over heaps on heaps of red coated zouaves who seemed to have suffered very heavily at this point, for 'twas immediately there where the command known as the Irish Battalion, one company being led by Capt. Lewis Randolph, their ammunition being exhausted, took refuge in a railroad cut, and for hours fought with rocks and clubbed guns. But Pope's army was shattered and in full retreat for Chantilly, where the next day the 30th they made a final stand. Chantilly was the name of the beautiful Stewart residence, one of the old colonial families noted for its hospitality and all that adorns gentlemen of culture and refinement.
The Federals were well handled and fought gallantly to cover a retreat, losing one of their most cherished leaders, Maj. Gen. Phil Kearney, who, being in a stooping posture on his horse, was shot in reverse while riding from our line of battle. It was always a moment of regret when we heard of the death of any of the old army officers, as we entertained the opinion of them that a soldier feels for a foeman worthy of his steel.
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Letter from Captain Hovey, Company K WESTBORO TRANSCRIPT
Sept. 6, 1862.
Company K, 13th Regiment, has at length passed the fiery ordeal of battle, and two perhaps more, of our townsmen, have died that the nation might live.
The following letter from Captain Hovey, [pictured] stating the casualties in Company K, was received here on Wednesday:
Centerville, Va., Aug 31, 1862.
Hon. J. F. B. Marshall – Dear sir:
I have just time to report briefly the condition of Company K, after the unfortunate battle of yesterday. My men behaved nobly, and did all that men could do. The 13th was exposed to a deadly cross fire so severe that the wonder is we brought out any men alive.
I report as follows, according to a roll call I (illegible – stained or torn).
KILLED
Privates – Hollis H. Fairbanks, Thomas Copeland.
WOUNDED
Ord. Sergeant A. T. Rice, calf of leg.
Sergeant Wm. Cordwell, shoulder, slight.
Corporal W. W. Cushman, shoulder.
Private J. A. Blackmer, in hand.
Private W. W. Day, in hand.
Private Wm. H. Forbush, in hand.
Private Alden Lovell, in arm.
Private W. H. Wilson, not known how wounded.
NOT ACCOUNTED FOR, BUT SUPPOSED TO BE UNINJURED.
Sergeant W.W. Fay.
Musician J. E. Bradford
Privates – John Copeland, E.C. Dockham, C.M. Fay, George H. Gates, A.E. Chamberlin, G. R. Parker, H. C. Ross, W. Wheeler.
Our brigade was all broken up, and we fell back to this place to re-form. I came in this morning with eleven men of mine, that I picked up last night, and I found the remains of the regiment here.
Every company has suffered, some worse than mine; but we all ought to be thankful to God that so many of us were spared. For one, I never expected to come out of that deadly cross-fire alive. Some very narrowly escaped, - having their canteens and haversacks shot through. Some of the men were especially plucky in joining fresh regiments and renewing the fight. I deeply regret that we did not hold the field, so that we could bury the dead and mark the graves; but the fortunes of war prevented.
The wounded of Company K are all doing well, and I hope to go forward and find the graves of Fairbanks and Copeland, which I think the hospital attendants will mark. Every thing is being done for the wounded that can be done. Verily, the 13th has received the baptism of fire, but we are strong and hopeful.
In haste, yours truly,
Chas. H. Hovey.
…he (AP Hill) seemed to me the very personification of the genius of battle, the very beau ideal of the soldier. At second Manassas, during the crisis of the struggle for the famous railroad cut, Hill sent a staff officer to inquire of brave old Maxey Gregg how he was getting on. " Tell him," said the old hero, " that our ammunition is exhausted, but rocks are very plentiful, and we will hold our position with them until we can get ammunition." Sending his staff and couriers to fill their haversacks and pockets with cartridges and distribute them to the men, Hill himself galloped to the line and excited the wildest enthusiasm as his clarion voice rang out: " Good for you, boys! Give them the rocks and the bayonet, and hold your position and I will soon have ammunition and reinforcements for you."
184 Confederate Veteran June 1894.
KILLED TWO ARTILLERYMEN WITH HIS SABRE.
Joshua Brown, who was of the 2d Kentucky Cavalry) writes: New York, April 7, 1894 I give you an incident of the second battle of Manassas, in which the Colonel of the 1st Virginia Infantry killed two Federal artillerymen with his sabre, as it was told me by an eye witness:
When orders reached Longstreet's Corps it moved forward, forcing an almost impregnable, though illy defended, pass of the Bull Run range, and marching all day, part of the time under heavy artillery fire. The men occupied in the evening the position assigned them on the field of the second Manassas. They remained in position until about three o'clock the next day, when Corse's Brigade, Kemper's Division, was ordered to charge the enemy's line and take a battery which was very annoying. Tired with the monotony of long suspense, at the order the men sprung forward with irresistible alacrity, broke the hostile line, and carried the battery on a run.
Here occurred an act of gallantry worthy of note. The field officers of the brigade, so destructive was the fire of the enemy's sharpshooters to all mounted men, had been ordered to dismount, and all had done so save Gen. Corse and the commander of the 1st Virginia Infantry, Col. F. G. Skinner. When the regiment got within twenty or thirty yards of the guns the Colonel dashed ahead of them into the midst of the hostile battery and cut down one gunner just as he seized the lanyard of a gun heavily charged with grape, which would have been fearfully destructive to his men. Col. Skinner carried the heaviest sabre in the army except that of a Prussian friend, Von Borke, of "Jeb" Stuart's Staff. The Federal gunner was cut through his collar bone, and his head almost severed from his body, hence the Colonel's reputation with the Army of Northern Virginia of having severed a a man's head at a single blow. Immediately after this an artilleryman seized the bridle of the Colonel's horse, checked him up and fired a pistol in his face. The Colonel turned his face to one side in time to escape with a slight wound on his ear. His assailant dodged to escape the sabre, but the heavy weapon passed under his shoulder and through his heart, and the man was dead before he fell to the ground. This is probably the only instance in battle where Federals were killed by the sword of a Confederate infantry officer. When the Colonel's men picked him up, he having been shot through the right side, the ball shattering in its course three ribs and the breast bone, the first words he uttered were, "Didn't old Fox (his horse) behave splendidly?" To show how close was the action, in addition to the above wounds mentioned, his left arm was struck between the elbow and the wrist by an explosive ball which broke both bones. This incident is mentioned in the report of Gen. Corse.
I went down on Staten Island from the city to see the old gentleman the other day, and found him very feeble, being now in his 81st year. He is living with his son in law, Capt. Thomas G. Green. When I told him I had heard of this incident the old fire was fanned to flame in his bosom, and as he raised himself from his couch his eyes flashed, and he seemed to feel that he was mounted upon his old charger again leading his men to fame. Col. Skinner is a perfect type of those few remaining highly cultivated, elegant and courtly gentlemen of the old Southern school.
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Editor note: The following “Letter of Oct. 3, 1862, to " Charming Nellie " recounts the start of Longstreet’s attack on Pope’s left on the afternoon of Aug. 30. J. B. Polley, of Texas writes to Nellie,
“It was not until tour o'clock on the evening of the 30th that our brigade again sought the foe. The same meadow was to cross, the same skirt of timber to pass through. As the Fourth emerged from the latter, the Fifth New York Battery, commanded by Captain Curran, and stationed on a commanding eminence on the other side of a deep hollow, devoted its whole attention to us, and to show our appreciation of the courtesy, we made directly for it. A Federal regiment between us and the battery fired one volley at us and fled as fast as legs could carry them. Another regiment that had been placed in a pine thicket immediately in rear of the battery as a support to it followed suit, but undismayed, gallant Capt. Curran fired his guns until every artillerist was shot down, and he himself fell as he was in the very act of sending into our huddled ranks a charge of grape and canister that would have sent the half of us to kingdom come. A braver spirit than his never dwelt in the breast of man. " You would never have captured my battery," said he, as at his request a Texan laid him under one of the guns and placed a knapsack under his head, " if my supports had been men instead of cowards." We fully agreed with him.
Looking up the hill, a strange and ghastly spectacle met our eyes. An acre of ground was literally covered with the dead, dying, and wounded of the Fifth New York Zouaves, the variegated colors of whose peculiar uniform gave the scene the appearance of a Texas hillside in spring, painted with wild flowers of every hue and color. Not fifty of the Zouaves escaped whole. One of their lieutenants, who had lost an arm, told me that they were in the second line of the breastworks which the Fourth Texas had carried at Gaines' Mill a month before, that in the mad retreat of the first line of Federals they had been swept away, and that, on learning the position in the Confederate line occupied by our brigade here at Second Manassas, they had made a special request to Gen. Pope to be permitted to confront us on the 30th, and regain the laurels lost at Gaines' Mill. There they met the Fourth Texas and suffered ignominious defeat. At Second Manassas they came face to face for a minute only with the Fifth Texas, and suffered practical annihilation.
The Zouaves, it seems, were posted just under the crest of the hill, and a hundred feet from the edge of the timber, and fired the moment the heads of the Texans showed above the crest. Of course they aimed too high, and before they could reload the Texans poured such a well directed and deadly volley into their closely formed ranks that half of them sank to the ground, and the balance wheeled and ran. Not waiting to reload, the Texans rushed after the fugitives, and, clubbing their muskets, continued the work of destruction until every enemy in sight was left prone upon the ground. Then, as Gen. Hood said, the Fifth Texas " slipped its bridle and went wild." Had they not been recalled, they would have gone right on to the Potomac. That night I was aroused from deep slumber by the sound of merriment. Rising to a sitting posture, I asked my disturber: " What in the name of common sense are you laughing about at this ungodly hour, Jim?" "About those d Zouaves," said he. " You know that Belgian rifle with a bore almost as big as a cannon that I showed you this morning. Well, I was with the Fifth when it struck those fancy dressed fellows. I didn't shoot when the balance did, but just waited until the scoundrels got well huddled together as they ran down the hill, and, getting about twenty of them in line, I put my gun to the back of the nearest one and pulled the trigger, and d if I don't believe I killed the whole Posse Comitatus." Honestly, I shuddered with horror and disgust. The idea of such bloodthirstiness as would permit a man to laugh over the slaughter of so many men is repulsive.
I am not writing history, Charming Nellie, only endeavoring to paint a few scattering lights and shadows of this terrible war. The anecdote I have just told is a darker shadow than usual, so let me lighten it by another: Jim Ferris, of the Fifth Texas, found himself at Second Manassas in a dilapidated condition externally. The legs of his pants lacked several inches of the proper length, and in the absence Of a pair of socks his ankles were lacerated and bleeding. While running wild with his regiment when it " slipped the bridle " on the 30th, it occurred to him that he might readily supply deficiencies in his wardrobe by administering on the estate of a dead Yankee. A pair of leggins to button around the calves of his legs would answer his purposes admirably.
Being a very large man himself, only the body of a large man could be depended upon to supply Jim's need, and in the search for such a one he wandered to and fro over the silent field of the dead un til, awed by the solemnity of his surroundings, cold chills began to run down his back at the least noise, and he expected every minute to encounter a ghost. Finally he found a corpse of apparently suitable size, and, hastily turning back from its legs the oilcloth which covered it from head to foot, began with no gentle hand to unbutton a leggin. At the first jerk the supposed deadest of all the many dead flung the oil cloth from his head, and, rising to a sitting posture, exclaimed: "Great God alive, man! Don't rob me before I am dead, if you please!" In horrified amazement, Jim sprang twenty feet at one bound, but, knowing no ghost would speak so sensibly, natural politeness prompted instant apology. " Indeed, Mr. Yankee," said he, in the most gentle and winning tone that he could assume, " I hadn't the least idea you were alive, or I never would have been guilty of the discourtesy of disturbing you. Please pardon me, and let me know what I can do to make amends for my rudeness." " I would like to have a drink of water," said the revived corpse. " Take my canteen, sir," rejoined Jim, instantly offering it, " and please oblige me by keeping it, I can easily get another." After this experience, Jim decided that, rather than risk waking another corpse, he would do without leggins, but on his way to camp he came across a stalwart form lying at full length on the ground, and at the very first glance saw that here could be obtained the needed leggins. No mistake must be made, though, and so, laying his hand on the shoulder of the Yankee, he gave it a shake, and asked: " Say, mister, are you dead or alive?" There was no response, and next morning Jim Ferris strutted about the camp in a magnificent pair of linen leggins.” - 220 Confederate Veteran July 1896.
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Editor note: The November 1896 issue of Confederate Veteran contained a clarification about the identity of the “Capt. Curran” in Polley’s letter:
“REMINISCENSES BY MISS SUE MONROE.
The Capt. "Curran," mentioned by J. B. Polley in one of his letters to "Charming Nellie," was Capt. Mark Kerns, of Chambersburg, Penn., who commanded a battery in a Pennsylvania regiment of artillery. His guns were some distance in advance of those on the hill in the pines east of Young's branch. When he was wounded, the few that were with. him put him and two other wounded men on the guns and wheeled to run, but just then the horses were shot, the two men were thrown off, one killed, the other disappeared. Capt. Kerns was mortally wounded in the side and taken to a place down on Young's branch near a large oak tree and every attention paid him. There was a large red silk handkerchief folded and placed on the wound. The next day, Sunday, Col. Carter, of the Fourth Texas Regiment, had to leave. He saw that Capt. Kerns could not live and left his overcoat for him to be buried in. The coat had staff officer's buttons on it. Capt. Kerns was buried under the large oak tree. His military books that were captured were sent to his mother. Someone gave his field glass to Gen. Hood. Capt. Kerns was a graduate of West Point. His mother was from Loudoun County, Virginia. She was opposed to his entering the army. He received a flesh wound during the seven days fight before Richmond, and had just gotten back to his command in time for the second Manassas. His stepfather was Dr. Samuel B. Fisher, a Reformed minister and editor.”
Editor note: Not to be deterred, Mr. Polley defends his story in the December 1896 issue…
“COMRADE POLLEY ANSWERS MISS MONROE'S COMMENT.
With all deference to Miss Sue Monroe, I venture to doubt whether her information concerning the battery and its captain captured by the Fourth Texas at Second Manassas, is as accurate as mine. Obviously, she speaks of one occurrence, I of another. For the officer whom I called Capt. Curran, of the Fifth New York Battery, was mortally wounded in the second day's engagement just as he was in the act of firing his gun. After the battle ceased, some of our men offered to remove him to the field hospital, but, saying that he knew he had but a few hours to live and wanted to die by his guns, he declined their aid. I was within fifty feet of him when he fell, and I know he made no effort to escape, either before or after be was wounded. Some of his men did attempt to carry off a caisson, but the horses were shot down. My version of the story except as to the name of my hero and that of the battery is corroborated by Messrs. Southerland and Hughes of my company, as to the names. I got them from my journal written almost contemporaneously with the occurrence.”
Editor note: It may be that Polley is correct and they are relating two different men. John Hennessy’s Return to Bull Run identifies a Capt Kerns in command of a battery of Pennsylvania artillery who did indeed fall in a manner related by Miss Monroe. Polley’s “Capt Curran” may have been part of Hazlett’s Battery posted on a rise behind the positions of the 5th and 10th NY.
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VISITING MANASSAS BATTLEFIELD.
Mrs. J. E. Alexander, a member of the Mary Custis Lee Chapter, United Daughters of the Confederacy, writes from. Alexandria, Va.:
“Our Chapter has taken a holiday for the summer months and many of our members are out of town. Disappointed in not being able to attend the Reunion at Richmond, we compromise by a trip over the Manassas battlefield, and, after reading the VETERAN, concluded that our trip might interest some of your readers.
On the 4th of July a party of eight, well equipped for a drive, left the home of Col. J. T. Leachman for a trip over the First and Second Manassas battlefields. We proceeded to the "Cut" on the line of the old Manassas railroad, where so many of the Federals lost their lives, then to the monument erected on the Dogan farm to their dead, around by the Sudley Church, which was a conspicuous place during the first battle. The old church, which was then a shelter for the dead and dying, has given place to a new building where the Gospel of Peace is proclaimed every Sabbath. From here we went to the "Stone House," then to the "Henry" hill, where we were met by Mr. Henry, now eighty six years of age, whose step is faltering and hair white, but whose mind is as clear as the sunlight.
We received a Virginia gentleman's welcome. Under Mr. Henry's guidance we visited the points of interest on this part of the field. The first tablet that came to view was a large board bearing the following: "On this spot General T. J. Jackson was shot in the hand and received the name of 'Stonewall!"' A short distance further we saw this: "On these spots Generals Bee and Bartow fell." Bartow's comrades erected a monument, bearing his last words: "They have killed me, boys, but never give up the field". This has been destroyed gradually by relic gatherers, until nothing is left but the base.
When we saw that in such a short distance two of our noble Generals gave their lives for the cause, and as we stood and viewed the fields covered with grain then ripe for the reaper, we felt that we were standing on sacred soil, remembering that every foot of ground on that hill was fought for and held by the boys who wore the gray, and that here many a precious soul returned to God who gave it.
With tears in our eves we returned to the "Henry" house, with the vision of Jackson before us and the carnage on the hill that we had seen just thirty five years ago. A child then, is it strange that these memories can never be effaced?
The old Henry house is gone and a new one is in its place, the only occupants Mr. Henry and his faithful old servant Bailey. Mr. Henry is well known to all our Alexandria veterans, for he taught many of them. Just back of the house is a monument erected to the Federal dead. It is a tall shaft of brown sandstone, but it, too, is falling into decay.
When the time came for refreshments, with a party of friends from Kansas, we spread our dinner on the grass not far from the graves of Mrs. Judith Henry and her daughter, mother and sister of Mr. Henry. It will be recalled that the mother was killed during the first battle by a piece of shell.
With our trophies of pine burrs from the trees where Jackson, Bee and Bartow stood, we left the "Henry" hill and went to Bull Run bridge, and there memory again carried us back to the 18th of July, 1861, when we first heard cannonading, which was at Blackburn's ford.
Standing there, looking at the high bluff and the fine bridge we thought of the retreat when the scene was so different, then was turmoil, strife and blood now peace and quiet reigns.
Afterward, we turned our faces homeward, stopping on the way at the cemetery near Groveton, where our dead are buried. The hand of time has been busy, the fences are down, the grass has grown tall and rank over the graves of the 500 men who sleep here. Most of them are from our own Southland. In this cemetery stands a white slab to the memory of "James Jerman Palmer, son of Dr. Jno. S. and Esther Simmons Palmer. Born in Charleston County. South Carolina, May 25, 1840. Killed in the Second Manassas battle, August 20, 1862, a private in the Spartan Rifles and Regiment of Palmetto Sharp Shooters."
His white tomb tone stands as a lonely sentinel over his 500 comrades who lost their lives in the first and second battles of Manassas.
With the mountains as the background and the golden sun just bidding good night to earth, kissing with its last rays the lonely watcher in the hillside cemetery, we leave the scene, with the thought Sleep on until the last roll is called and the last trump shall sound, when the dead shall come from the swamps of Chickahominy, from the heights of Gettysburg, from the lovely cemeteries in our cities and the lonely cemetery on the Manassas field, but be it our duty, women of the South, to keep their graves green while we live, and leave the work as a valued heritage to our children.” Confederate Veteran, Nov 1896.
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WILLIAM SINGLETON. BY CAPT. R. J. HANCOCK, CO. D, NINTH LA. REGIMENT, A. N. V.
Private "Billy" Singleton, Company D, Ninth Louisiana Regiment, was born and reared in Bossier Parish, La. His mother had a small farm upon which she cultivated corn and cotton. They were good and honest people. Singleton spent much of his time in fishing and hunting. He was an expert shot, and could kill a wild turkey flying or a deer running with a rifle. Before he was twenty years old he had joined Company D, of the Ninth Louisiana Regiment, was in the Army of Northern Virginia, and participated in the Valley Campaign under Stonewall Jackson and Gen. Dick Taylor. From the Valley he went with the army to the battles around Richmond.
After the battles around Richmond, Singleton went to Cedar Run, and thence to Second Manassas. It was at this Second Manassas battle that his command, while fighting in a railroad cut, exhausted all their ammunition. They called for two volunteers to go back to the ordnance wagon for more supplies. Singleton and Pinckney Lyon went back, and each got a lot of cartridges. During this interval the brigade held at bay and killed many of the enemy by throwing rocks, of which there was an abundant supply in the newly laid bed of the railroad cut. When the men started back, the enemy saw "what was up," and began shooting at them. Stonewall Jackson was sitting on "Old Sorrell" at the edge of a woods and saw the men running in the face of the enemy's bullets. He kept his hand raised as in prayer until both of them reached the cut unhurt. A Confederate yell went up, and it is needless to say that the line of battle was held.
After the battle was over, victory being perched upon the Confederate flag, Singleton, while passing over the battlefield, found a light gum cloth with a hole through the middle of it. Thinking the cloth would serve to keep off the rain, he folded it up and put it in his pocket. He had carried it only a few days when at the battle of Chantilly a thunderstorm came up while he was on the skirmish line. He had the oilcloth over him, and it reached nearly to his knees. While the skirmish line was advancing, Singleton came to a small, narrow field which was practically surrounded by woods. Just as he entered the field from the west Gen. Phil Kearney entered it from the east. Evidently he mistook Singleton for a Federal soldier. Singleton saw that it was a Northern officer from the uniform. They both advanced until within a few yards of each other, when Kearney asked in a brusque way: "To what regiment do you belong?" As he did so, Singleton raised his rifle and, coming to a "ready," told Kearney that he belonged to the Ninth Louisiana Regiment, and that he (Kearney) must surrender, otherwise he would be shot. Kearney dropped his head for a moment as if in a deep study, said nothing, and then, wheeling his horse, threw himself upon the horse's neck and started to run. Singleton fired, and Kearney fell dead. Singleton notified the ambulance corps that he had killed a Yankee officer, and went on skirmishing. About nine o'clock that night he was sitting around a camp fire making a cup of coffee which he had captured at Manassas, when a comrade passing by said that some one had killed a Northern officer without ever touching him. Singleton asked if the officer was a one armed man. The comrade replying in the affirmative, Singleton said that he had shot the officer, and told where the wound could be found. He was correct. The bullet had penetrated within, along the spinal column and lodged at the base of the skull. It may be well to state that Singleton was the only man who fired at Kearney, and it was done before sunset. Confederate Veteran November 1906. 498
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SIDNEY VIRGIL PATRICK.
Born May 13, 1842, at Cornersville, Tenn., S. V. Patrick. who was a faithful Confederate soldier, died at the home of his mother, in Galveston, Tex., April 23, 1907. He became ill early in December previous, but attended faithfully his duties until a few days previous to his death. He had been United States Inspector of Customs through appointment by President Cleveland during his first administration. The remains were taken by his son, his only surviving child, to Double Bayou, Chambers County. Tex., for interment by the side of his wife.
Comrade Patrick was a nephew of Gen. Preston Smith, who was killed at Chickamauga September 20, 1862. He and his brother (now dead) both served under General Smith. The mother, yet living, is a sister of General Smith, and she has living two daughters (Mrs. W. W. Gregory and Mrs. J. M. Foster) and a son (J. E. Patrick), all natives of Tennessee.
A correspondent of the Galveston News writes of him:
Virge belonged to Company E, 5th Texas, organized by Col. John D. Rogers. He was one of the first volunteers, was faithful to the last, and laid down his gun only when Lee surrendered. He was one of the best and truest men and one of the most reliable soldiers I ever knew. He never shirked the slightest duty either in camp or on the field. During the four years I was with him in Virginia I don't remember to have ever seen him 'rattled' or excited. He took things as they came, and was apparently indifferent whether the thing was to build a camp fire or charge a battery.
I give an incident that illustrates his coolness and courage. At Second Manassas, after we had driven all that were left of the New York Zouaves across Bull Run Creek, we were ordered to charge a battery stationed on the hill that was playing the mischief with us. Just about this time there was a bunch of zouaves ahead of us going as rapidly as they could. In crossing the creek their big zouave pants had got full of water, and their legs looked like balloons. We were shooting at them, and one little fellow seemed to receive more than his share of attention, for he got several shots through his pants. He was not crippled, however, for he went up the hill like a rabbit, and at every jump the water squirted like one of those garden fountain hoses. It was a funny sight, but most of us were too scared to see the fun of it just then. Not so with Virge. I looked at him, and he was laughing fit to kill himself. We charged so close to the guns that when they were discharged we could feel the heat from them in our faces.
In the hottest part of the work I glanced at Virge again. and he was evidently thinking of that zouave and his waterworks, for he was grinning and apparently enjoying the memory of it. After we had taken the battery and had halted for a breathing spell, the first words he said were: 'Say, did you see that Yankee?' He was as cool and free from excitement and enjoyed the funny side of the thing as much as he would have done had the scene taken place in a theater and he had been one of the spectators. 322 Confederate Veteran July 1907.
I need not follow Hood and his brigade to Malvern Hill, Second Manassas, Boonsboro, and Antietam, to recount their bravery, their endurance, and their glory, but report a lively incident near Manassas, Hood's men had marched all night without sleep, and on this occasion, going into bivouac on a slope of a hill, they fell exhausted and asleep as soon as they touched the ground. In the midst of the stillness and darkness then prevailing some one kicked over an empty barrel, and it went rolling and bounding down the hill toward the Texans in their almost deathlike slumber. At the same moment an old gray mare dashed up the hill, loaded with kettles, tin cups, and frying pans, making an unearthly clatter, at which the Texans, victorious at Cold Harbor and Malvern Hill, sprang to their feet, deserted their guns, ran over and leveled a well built fence, and rushed ahead several hundred yards before they awoke sufficiently to recover their wits and boldly march back, convulsed with laughter. This incident gave rise to a song well known by the Texan soldiers namely, "The Old Gray Mare Came Tearing Out of the Wilderness." - “GEN. J. B. HOOD.” ADDRESS TO CAMP BEAUREGARD, U. S. C. V., NEW ORLEANS, BY HENRY E. ELDER. 415 Confederate Veteran September 1910.
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A LOST FLAG. BY J. M. FINLEY, ATHENS, LA.
On August 30, 1862, while entering the Second Manassas battle, E. W. Ray, color bearer of the 14th Alabama Regiment, asked me to take his flag should he be shot. We were cousins and the best of friends, and, being in the same company and regiment, I readily consented to do so. Ray was severely wounded in the thick of the fight. A comrade seized the flag and bore it some twenty paces forward, and fell. I then raised it to the breeze, calling out: "Come on, boys!" I soon found myself in a serious predicament. Having outrun our fighting line, I soon found with frightful amazement that I was within about forty yards of the enemy's line, while our company was three times that distance to my rear. What to do was a most absorbing thought. To advance meant capture, to retreat meant shame, and likely death, with a shot in the back. I realized that only a bold front would help the situation, so I waved the old tattered flag at the enemy, calling out: "If you want to shoot any one, shoot me." I still believe this proved my salvation. I was met by one man with gun in hand who said: "There they are, go ahead." I ordered him to ground arms and go to my rear, which he did. Another in their line threw up his hands. I called out to him, promising protection. While he was passing me for the rear my men closed around me, and I kept them from shooting him.
From the Second Manassas battle I bore the flag of the 14th Alabama to Sharpsburg, where on September 17 I was wounded while trying to lead a charge against the Federal forces. When wounded I pitched the flag forward and retired. Our men fell back at this juncture, leaving the flag to the Federals. I should like to hear from any one who wit nessed the flag incident at Second Manassas. I have been informed that the Federals would return the flag to the man who last carried it.
[The capture of these Federal soldiers seemed so incredible that Comrade Finley was asked explicitly about it, and replied that the atmosphere was very smoky at the time and the two men mentioned evidently wanted to surrender. He says that on another occasion in battle in a wood six Yankees jumped behind a tree where he was sheltered, and he took them alone. They wished to surrender.] 346 Confederate Veteran July 1911
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Editor note: The November 1896 issue of Confederate Veteran contained a clarification about the identity of the “Capt. Curran” in Polley’s letter:
“REMINISCENSES BY MISS SUE MONROE.
The Capt. "Curran," mentioned by J. B. Polley in one of his letters to "Charming Nellie," was Capt. Mark Kerns, of Chambersburg, Penn., who commanded a battery in a Pennsylvania regiment of artillery. His guns were some distance in advance of those on the hill in the pines east of Young's branch. When he was wounded, the few that were with. him put him and two other wounded men on the guns and wheeled to run, but just then the horses were shot, the two men were thrown off, one killed, the other disappeared. Capt. Kerns was mortally wounded in the side and taken to a place down on Young's branch near a large oak tree and every attention paid him. There was a large red silk handkerchief folded and placed on the wound. The next day, Sunday, Col. Carter, of the Fourth Texas Regiment, had to leave. He saw that Capt. Kerns could not live and left his overcoat for him to be buried in. The coat had staff officer's buttons on it. Capt. Kerns was buried under the large oak tree. His military books that were captured were sent to his mother. Someone gave his field glass to Gen. Hood. Capt. Kerns was a graduate of West Point. His mother was from Loudoun County, Virginia. She was opposed to his entering the army. He received a flesh wound during the seven days fight before Richmond, and had just gotten back to his command in time for the second Manassas. His stepfather was Dr. Samuel B. Fisher, a Reformed minister and editor.”
Editor note: Not to be deterred, Mr. Polley defends his story in the December 1896 issue…
“COMRADE POLLEY ANSWERS MISS MONROE'S COMMENT.
With all deference to Miss Sue Monroe, I venture to doubt whether her information concerning the battery and its captain captured by the Fourth Texas at Second Manassas, is as accurate as mine. Obviously, she speaks of one occurrence, I of another. For the officer whom I called Capt. Curran, of the Fifth New York Battery, was mortally wounded in the second day's engagement just as he was in the act of firing his gun. After the battle ceased, some of our men offered to remove him to the field hospital, but, saying that he knew he had but a few hours to live and wanted to die by his guns, he declined their aid. I was within fifty feet of him when he fell, and I know he made no effort to escape, either before or after be was wounded. Some of his men did attempt to carry off a caisson, but the horses were shot down. My version of the story except as to the name of my hero and that of the battery is corroborated by Messrs. Southerland and Hughes of my company, as to the names. I got them from my journal written almost contemporaneously with the occurrence.”
Editor note: It may be that Polley is correct and they are relating two different men. John Hennessy’s Return to Bull Run identifies a Capt Kerns in command of a battery of Pennsylvania artillery who did indeed fall in a manner related by Miss Monroe. Polley’s “Capt Curran” may have been part of Hazlett’s Battery posted on a rise behind the positions of the 5th and 10th NY.
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VISITING MANASSAS BATTLEFIELD.
Mrs. J. E. Alexander, a member of the Mary Custis Lee Chapter, United Daughters of the Confederacy, writes from. Alexandria, Va.:
“Our Chapter has taken a holiday for the summer months and many of our members are out of town. Disappointed in not being able to attend the Reunion at Richmond, we compromise by a trip over the Manassas battlefield, and, after reading the VETERAN, concluded that our trip might interest some of your readers.
On the 4th of July a party of eight, well equipped for a drive, left the home of Col. J. T. Leachman for a trip over the First and Second Manassas battlefields. We proceeded to the "Cut" on the line of the old Manassas railroad, where so many of the Federals lost their lives, then to the monument erected on the Dogan farm to their dead, around by the Sudley Church, which was a conspicuous place during the first battle. The old church, which was then a shelter for the dead and dying, has given place to a new building where the Gospel of Peace is proclaimed every Sabbath. From here we went to the "Stone House," then to the "Henry" hill, where we were met by Mr. Henry, now eighty six years of age, whose step is faltering and hair white, but whose mind is as clear as the sunlight.
We received a Virginia gentleman's welcome. Under Mr. Henry's guidance we visited the points of interest on this part of the field. The first tablet that came to view was a large board bearing the following: "On this spot General T. J. Jackson was shot in the hand and received the name of 'Stonewall!"' A short distance further we saw this: "On these spots Generals Bee and Bartow fell." Bartow's comrades erected a monument, bearing his last words: "They have killed me, boys, but never give up the field". This has been destroyed gradually by relic gatherers, until nothing is left but the base.
When we saw that in such a short distance two of our noble Generals gave their lives for the cause, and as we stood and viewed the fields covered with grain then ripe for the reaper, we felt that we were standing on sacred soil, remembering that every foot of ground on that hill was fought for and held by the boys who wore the gray, and that here many a precious soul returned to God who gave it.
With tears in our eves we returned to the "Henry" house, with the vision of Jackson before us and the carnage on the hill that we had seen just thirty five years ago. A child then, is it strange that these memories can never be effaced?
The old Henry house is gone and a new one is in its place, the only occupants Mr. Henry and his faithful old servant Bailey. Mr. Henry is well known to all our Alexandria veterans, for he taught many of them. Just back of the house is a monument erected to the Federal dead. It is a tall shaft of brown sandstone, but it, too, is falling into decay.
When the time came for refreshments, with a party of friends from Kansas, we spread our dinner on the grass not far from the graves of Mrs. Judith Henry and her daughter, mother and sister of Mr. Henry. It will be recalled that the mother was killed during the first battle by a piece of shell.
With our trophies of pine burrs from the trees where Jackson, Bee and Bartow stood, we left the "Henry" hill and went to Bull Run bridge, and there memory again carried us back to the 18th of July, 1861, when we first heard cannonading, which was at Blackburn's ford.
Standing there, looking at the high bluff and the fine bridge we thought of the retreat when the scene was so different, then was turmoil, strife and blood now peace and quiet reigns.
Afterward, we turned our faces homeward, stopping on the way at the cemetery near Groveton, where our dead are buried. The hand of time has been busy, the fences are down, the grass has grown tall and rank over the graves of the 500 men who sleep here. Most of them are from our own Southland. In this cemetery stands a white slab to the memory of "James Jerman Palmer, son of Dr. Jno. S. and Esther Simmons Palmer. Born in Charleston County. South Carolina, May 25, 1840. Killed in the Second Manassas battle, August 20, 1862, a private in the Spartan Rifles and Regiment of Palmetto Sharp Shooters."
His white tomb tone stands as a lonely sentinel over his 500 comrades who lost their lives in the first and second battles of Manassas.
With the mountains as the background and the golden sun just bidding good night to earth, kissing with its last rays the lonely watcher in the hillside cemetery, we leave the scene, with the thought Sleep on until the last roll is called and the last trump shall sound, when the dead shall come from the swamps of Chickahominy, from the heights of Gettysburg, from the lovely cemeteries in our cities and the lonely cemetery on the Manassas field, but be it our duty, women of the South, to keep their graves green while we live, and leave the work as a valued heritage to our children.” Confederate Veteran, Nov 1896.
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WILLIAM SINGLETON. BY CAPT. R. J. HANCOCK, CO. D, NINTH LA. REGIMENT, A. N. V.
Private "Billy" Singleton, Company D, Ninth Louisiana Regiment, was born and reared in Bossier Parish, La. His mother had a small farm upon which she cultivated corn and cotton. They were good and honest people. Singleton spent much of his time in fishing and hunting. He was an expert shot, and could kill a wild turkey flying or a deer running with a rifle. Before he was twenty years old he had joined Company D, of the Ninth Louisiana Regiment, was in the Army of Northern Virginia, and participated in the Valley Campaign under Stonewall Jackson and Gen. Dick Taylor. From the Valley he went with the army to the battles around Richmond.
After the battles around Richmond, Singleton went to Cedar Run, and thence to Second Manassas. It was at this Second Manassas battle that his command, while fighting in a railroad cut, exhausted all their ammunition. They called for two volunteers to go back to the ordnance wagon for more supplies. Singleton and Pinckney Lyon went back, and each got a lot of cartridges. During this interval the brigade held at bay and killed many of the enemy by throwing rocks, of which there was an abundant supply in the newly laid bed of the railroad cut. When the men started back, the enemy saw "what was up," and began shooting at them. Stonewall Jackson was sitting on "Old Sorrell" at the edge of a woods and saw the men running in the face of the enemy's bullets. He kept his hand raised as in prayer until both of them reached the cut unhurt. A Confederate yell went up, and it is needless to say that the line of battle was held.
After the battle was over, victory being perched upon the Confederate flag, Singleton, while passing over the battlefield, found a light gum cloth with a hole through the middle of it. Thinking the cloth would serve to keep off the rain, he folded it up and put it in his pocket. He had carried it only a few days when at the battle of Chantilly a thunderstorm came up while he was on the skirmish line. He had the oilcloth over him, and it reached nearly to his knees. While the skirmish line was advancing, Singleton came to a small, narrow field which was practically surrounded by woods. Just as he entered the field from the west Gen. Phil Kearney entered it from the east. Evidently he mistook Singleton for a Federal soldier. Singleton saw that it was a Northern officer from the uniform. They both advanced until within a few yards of each other, when Kearney asked in a brusque way: "To what regiment do you belong?" As he did so, Singleton raised his rifle and, coming to a "ready," told Kearney that he belonged to the Ninth Louisiana Regiment, and that he (Kearney) must surrender, otherwise he would be shot. Kearney dropped his head for a moment as if in a deep study, said nothing, and then, wheeling his horse, threw himself upon the horse's neck and started to run. Singleton fired, and Kearney fell dead. Singleton notified the ambulance corps that he had killed a Yankee officer, and went on skirmishing. About nine o'clock that night he was sitting around a camp fire making a cup of coffee which he had captured at Manassas, when a comrade passing by said that some one had killed a Northern officer without ever touching him. Singleton asked if the officer was a one armed man. The comrade replying in the affirmative, Singleton said that he had shot the officer, and told where the wound could be found. He was correct. The bullet had penetrated within, along the spinal column and lodged at the base of the skull. It may be well to state that Singleton was the only man who fired at Kearney, and it was done before sunset. Confederate Veteran November 1906. 498
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SIDNEY VIRGIL PATRICK.
Born May 13, 1842, at Cornersville, Tenn., S. V. Patrick. who was a faithful Confederate soldier, died at the home of his mother, in Galveston, Tex., April 23, 1907. He became ill early in December previous, but attended faithfully his duties until a few days previous to his death. He had been United States Inspector of Customs through appointment by President Cleveland during his first administration. The remains were taken by his son, his only surviving child, to Double Bayou, Chambers County. Tex., for interment by the side of his wife.
Comrade Patrick was a nephew of Gen. Preston Smith, who was killed at Chickamauga September 20, 1862. He and his brother (now dead) both served under General Smith. The mother, yet living, is a sister of General Smith, and she has living two daughters (Mrs. W. W. Gregory and Mrs. J. M. Foster) and a son (J. E. Patrick), all natives of Tennessee.
A correspondent of the Galveston News writes of him:
Virge belonged to Company E, 5th Texas, organized by Col. John D. Rogers. He was one of the first volunteers, was faithful to the last, and laid down his gun only when Lee surrendered. He was one of the best and truest men and one of the most reliable soldiers I ever knew. He never shirked the slightest duty either in camp or on the field. During the four years I was with him in Virginia I don't remember to have ever seen him 'rattled' or excited. He took things as they came, and was apparently indifferent whether the thing was to build a camp fire or charge a battery.
I give an incident that illustrates his coolness and courage. At Second Manassas, after we had driven all that were left of the New York Zouaves across Bull Run Creek, we were ordered to charge a battery stationed on the hill that was playing the mischief with us. Just about this time there was a bunch of zouaves ahead of us going as rapidly as they could. In crossing the creek their big zouave pants had got full of water, and their legs looked like balloons. We were shooting at them, and one little fellow seemed to receive more than his share of attention, for he got several shots through his pants. He was not crippled, however, for he went up the hill like a rabbit, and at every jump the water squirted like one of those garden fountain hoses. It was a funny sight, but most of us were too scared to see the fun of it just then. Not so with Virge. I looked at him, and he was laughing fit to kill himself. We charged so close to the guns that when they were discharged we could feel the heat from them in our faces.
In the hottest part of the work I glanced at Virge again. and he was evidently thinking of that zouave and his waterworks, for he was grinning and apparently enjoying the memory of it. After we had taken the battery and had halted for a breathing spell, the first words he said were: 'Say, did you see that Yankee?' He was as cool and free from excitement and enjoyed the funny side of the thing as much as he would have done had the scene taken place in a theater and he had been one of the spectators. 322 Confederate Veteran July 1907.
I need not follow Hood and his brigade to Malvern Hill, Second Manassas, Boonsboro, and Antietam, to recount their bravery, their endurance, and their glory, but report a lively incident near Manassas, Hood's men had marched all night without sleep, and on this occasion, going into bivouac on a slope of a hill, they fell exhausted and asleep as soon as they touched the ground. In the midst of the stillness and darkness then prevailing some one kicked over an empty barrel, and it went rolling and bounding down the hill toward the Texans in their almost deathlike slumber. At the same moment an old gray mare dashed up the hill, loaded with kettles, tin cups, and frying pans, making an unearthly clatter, at which the Texans, victorious at Cold Harbor and Malvern Hill, sprang to their feet, deserted their guns, ran over and leveled a well built fence, and rushed ahead several hundred yards before they awoke sufficiently to recover their wits and boldly march back, convulsed with laughter. This incident gave rise to a song well known by the Texan soldiers namely, "The Old Gray Mare Came Tearing Out of the Wilderness." - “GEN. J. B. HOOD.” ADDRESS TO CAMP BEAUREGARD, U. S. C. V., NEW ORLEANS, BY HENRY E. ELDER. 415 Confederate Veteran September 1910.
A LOST FLAG. BY J. M. FINLEY, ATHENS, LA.
On August 30, 1862, while entering the Second Manassas battle, E. W. Ray, color bearer of the 14th Alabama Regiment, asked me to take his flag should he be shot. We were cousins and the best of friends, and, being in the same company and regiment, I readily consented to do so. Ray was severely wounded in the thick of the fight. A comrade seized the flag and bore it some twenty paces forward, and fell. I then raised it to the breeze, calling out: "Come on, boys!" I soon found myself in a serious predicament. Having outrun our fighting line, I soon found with frightful amazement that I was within about forty yards of the enemy's line, while our company was three times that distance to my rear. What to do was a most absorbing thought. To advance meant capture, to retreat meant shame, and likely death, with a shot in the back. I realized that only a bold front would help the situation, so I waved the old tattered flag at the enemy, calling out: "If you want to shoot any one, shoot me." I still believe this proved my salvation. I was met by one man with gun in hand who said: "There they are, go ahead." I ordered him to ground arms and go to my rear, which he did. Another in their line threw up his hands. I called out to him, promising protection. While he was passing me for the rear my men closed around me, and I kept them from shooting him.
From the Second Manassas battle I bore the flag of the 14th Alabama to Sharpsburg, where on September 17 I was wounded while trying to lead a charge against the Federal forces. When wounded I pitched the flag forward and retired. Our men fell back at this juncture, leaving the flag to the Federals. I should like to hear from any one who wit nessed the flag incident at Second Manassas. I have been informed that the Federals would return the flag to the man who list carried it.
[The capture of these Federal soldiers seemed so incredible that Comrade Finley was asked explicitly about it, and replied that the atmosphere was very smoky at the time and the two men mentioned evidently wanted to surrender. He says that on another occasion in battle in a wood six Yankees jumped behind a tree where he was sheltered, and he took them alone. They wished to surrender.] 346 Confederate Veteran July 1911
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HENRY W. EVANS.
Henry Evans was working near Sylvarena, Smith County, Miss., when the War of the States began, and joined the first company raised in that county, the "Defenders," by Capt. W. H. Hardy, now of Pass Christian, Miss. The company, about eighty strong, was ordered to rendezvous at Corinth, Mi s., late in May, 1861. It arrived at Corinth on June 2, and was made Company H, l6th Mississippi Regiment, with Carnot Posey as colonel. The regiment remained at Corinth, drilling daily, till after the first battle of Manassas, when it was ordered to Virginia and became part of Crittenden's Brigade, then at Centerville. General Crittenden was transferred to a command in East Tennessee, and General Trimble became commander of the brigade.
The l6th Mississippi participated in every campaign of the Army of Northern Virginia and in most of the great battles. It was in Ewell's Division, under Stonewall Jackson, in the Shenandoah Valley Campaign, the most wonderful campaign of the whole war, in which General Jackson defeated three armies, each of which was stronger in men and munitions of war than his own, commanded by Generals Banks, Fremont, and Shields. He defeated General Banks in the battles of Luray and Winchester and drove his demoralized army across the Potomac River.
In all the battles of Jackson's noted campaign H. W. Evans participated. He was also in the battles of Second Manassas, Harper's Ferry, Sharpsburg, and Gettysburg, and in the campaign on the lower Potomac, the Wilderness, Chancellorsville, and Appomatox. When the second battle of Manassas was over and his command, tired and hungry, lay down to sleep on the battlefield at eleven o'clock at night, he went back by permission to the field hospital to learn the fate of Lieut. T. J. Hardy, his brother in law, who was shot down in the first charge and borne by the litter bearers from the field, with instructions to return early next morning. In returning just after daylight in the mist of the morning he came suddenly upon a squad of Yankee soldiers in a thicket, who appeared to be lost and bewildered. He crept up near them and, presenting his gun, boldly demanded their surrender, stating that he would kill the first man who attempted to raise his gun, that his regiment was near by, and they were inside our lines and could not possibly escape. They laid down their arms, and he marched them (seventeen in number, half a mile and turned them over to the colonel of his regiment, who sent them back under guard to where the large number of prisoners taken were being guarded. He was specially mentioned in the report of the colonel and commended for his bravery. He never desired promotion, but accepted the non commissioned office of second sergeant. He preferred the position of private, and his conduct had much to do with making his company one of the best in that famous army of brave patriots.
As a citizen he was honest, industrious, and patriotic. He had nearly completed his seventy fifth year and never had a lawsuit, nor had he ever testified in court for or against any one. Death came to him at his home, near Macon, Miss., on January 34, 1912. 238 Confederate Veteran May 1912
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Confederate artillerist Mercer Otey, of San Francisco, wrote his remembrances of Second Bull Run to the June 1889 issue of the Confederate Veteran magazine:
In July, 1862, my commission in the provisional army of the Confederate States having expired by limitation, I turned my face toward Virginia and enlisted for the second time in the Rockbridge Artillery, having reached the battery just after the disastrous defeat of Maj. Gen. John Pope on August 9. This occurred near Gordonsville, and is known as the battle of Cedar Mountain, Slaughter's Mountain, Cedar Creek, or Southwest Mountain. The movement on Richmond having been thwarted, Stonewall Jackson commenced his celebrated flank movement that turned Pope immediately to protect his rear along the Rapidan River. It was at this critical moment when President Lincoln, ignorant of Pope's whereabouts or his plans, telegraphed him to know where his headquarters were. "Bombastes Furioso Pope," as he was nicknamed by his old army comrades, replied that his headquarters were in the saddle, where they should be.
It was in this movement, and shortly after I had enrolled in the battery as a private, that I witnessed a sight that clung to me for many a long year. Five Confederate deserters who had been recaptured in the mountains of West Virginia had been tried by court martial, convicted, and sentenced to be shot. It was their second offense, and no palliating circumstances could be offered. The old Stonewall Brigade, to which they belonged, was drawn up in a three sided square, the five men, blindfolded, knelt at the head of five pits, the firing squad, half of whose guns contained blank and the remainder ball cartridges, stood at twenty paces distant, a solemn silence pervaded the scene, while the August sun blazed down on that band of veterans of many a bloody battle. They had braved death on half a score of fields, and cared little for cannon's roar or musketry rattle, but now it was different, their nerves were not strung to that tension that is caused by the excitement of battle, and which generally superinduces indifference. This looked so cold, so deliberate, almost murder, but the discipline of an army must be maintained. The commanding officer gave the command: "Make ready! take aim! fire!" and the jive bodies fell to earth, while the red, hot blood spurted out and trickled in little pools at their side. Immediately the whole brigade was placed in motion and marched by the dead bodies of their erstwhile comrades. My knees grew weak and the tears came gushing to my eyes as I remembered that far away in their mountain homes perchance some loved mothers and babes would watch in vain the return of these men who had sacrificed honor and life for their sakes.
August 27 we reached Bristow's Station, near Manassas Junction, and it was amusing to see a lot of Pennsylvania Dutch cavalry charge at our troops. I use the word "at" advisedly, for they seldom got within thirty or forty yards of us when, realizing we were not a guerrilla band, they would attempt a retreat, which generally resulted in their being unhorsed, for, of all riders, they were the worst I ever saw. Reaching Manassas Junction, we found a large depot of supplies, consisting of provisions of all kinds and an immense supply of fixed ammunition. The former we confiscated, and set fire to the latter. While thus engaged we were attacked by a brigade of infantry that had been rushed from Washington posthaste by rail to protect these very stores. It turned out to be Tyler's Brigade, and it was amusing the way we chased them for three miles with only the Rockbridge Battery. It was a running fight which our infantry could not keep up with. We would unlimber our guns as soon as we could find a favorable position, and, going into battery, bang away at the bluecoats until they found a protecting ridge, when off we would start again for another position. But when the prisoners we captured learned they were confronted by the Stonewall Brigade how they did stare, wondering if that body of men were ubiquitous for they had learned a day or two previously in Washington from their public papers that Stonewall Jackson had been annihilated by John Pope at Cedar Mountain! They imagined it only a guerrilla band, Mosby's or Ashby's, operating on Pope's line of communications, and were thunderstruck when confronted with the veterans of the Valley of Virginia, the Stonewall Brigade, that three months before had in three days crushed three different columns of their chosen commanders (Banks, Milroy, and Shields) at Front Royal and sent the former flying in full retreat down the Shenandoah Valley. Well did they merit the title of Jackson's "foot cavalry," for they appeared when and where least expected. Why, it has been often asked, was Jackson never defeated? Because his men never knew when they were, if ever, whipped. They followed their great leader blindly, unhesitatingly, and confidently.
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
Overwhelming odds counted for naught with them if "old Jack" said the word
they would have marched, as they did on many an occasion,
Into the jaws of death,
Into the gates of hell.
I never saw such fanatic faith as they exhibited in following him. Frequently a shout or a cheer would be heard away down the column, and it always proved to be either "Old Jack" trotting by or a Molly cottontail that the boys had disturbed in its nap and was scampering to more secure quarters.
After having fired the immense train of ammunition that had been sidetracked at Manassas Junction in twenty or thirty box cars, awaiting John Pope's fixing head or hind quarters, our column about dusk moved toward the old stamping ground of July, 1861. That night's march of seven miles was about the weariest I can remember, and it seemed interminable. Ten hours to cover seven miles what in the world was the matter? We could hear no firing. The only sound that greeted our ears was the continuous discharge of those car loads of ammunition that was being destroyed. "Old Jack is powerful cautious all of a sudden," remarked one of our gunners at my side. Hour after hour he felt his way in front, while we poor, weary, foot sore followers fell fast asleep in the fence corners, only to be aroused by a prod from the bayonet of the rear guard. When morning came and we began to look around we discovered where we were, occupying the battlefield of Bull Run of July, 1861, but in reversed position i. e., we now holding that line of battle the Federals held the year before. We also began to understand old Jack's delay. He was waiting for that doughty old dog of war, Longstreet, to force Thoroughfare Gap and join him for a final battle with John Pope. All that day we lay exposed and expecting to be crushed by the superior force that almost surrounded us, while away off we could hear the dull boom of battle as Longstreet under Lee was gradually drawing nearer to our assistance.
What were the Federal commanders thinking of to permit this junction of two corps d'armee, Longstreet and Jackson, Lee's left and right hands? But how "Old Tack" did maneuver us around and what a bold front he made, and the hot fighting we had to do to maintain our position! I think it was on Friday, August 29, we were in battery in a clump of trees, banging away with our twenty pound Parrotts at a column that was moving across an open plateau a mile or more away. It was a pretty sight, a solid column of a full division closed in mass. I could see the glint of glittering guns in the sun flashes. Capt. McLaughlin, of the battery, was watching keenly to measure the distance and the time of flight necessary for a shell to reach that mass. Suddenly turning to Lieuts. Poague and Graham he ordered the shell cut with certain seconds' flight. Instantly No. 5 of the first section (every man at the gun has his number, and is so addressed in action) brought the necessary shell, duly cut, and it was driven home by No. 1. Sergt, Payne trained the gun, and we breathlessly awaited the result of Capt. McLaughlin's observation through his field glass. Presently he called out: "A trifle short, Sergeant." A second shell started on its flight. Ah! Hurrah! With naked eye we can see the effect. The column separated like a swarm of bees as shell after shell was planted in their midst, exploding as designed. Later on we learned from prisoners that it was Maj. Gen. Irwin McDowell's. However, a protecting ridge soon gave them immunity from us.
In a few brief minutes, just as we had squatted ourselves under the shady oaks for a short respite, up rode Lieut. Col. Sandy Pendleton, of Gen. Jackson's staff, and saluting Capt. McLaughlin stated it was the Major General's instruction that he at once report his battery to Gen. Stephen D. Lee, commanding the battalion of artillery at Groveton, a little farther down the line. We reluctantly arose from our resting place, and away we dashed. We knew that something was coming. There had been too much of a hushed stillness hanging in the atmosphere. It was a "subdued breathing spell before giants locked for the deadly embrace." Plans were nearly matured, and the moment had arrived for the death struggle. On reporting to Gen. Stephen D. Lee we found he had four other crack batteries awaiting our arrival before going into action at Groveton, the apex of the angle of our line of battle. Soon we had unlimbered and were in position. Hark! hist! a puff of white smoke and a shriek of shell whistled by, then another, and another. "We are in for warm work," I remarked to Bob Compton, who held his thumb over the vent as I rammed the charge home to the gun chamber. Robert E. Lee, Jr., the son of our noble leader, had the lanyard, and Serg. Payne trained the gun for the first shot. The distance was not so much a factor as it was two or three hours since. We were at close range say one thousand yards and our five batteries were pitted against five Federal batteries. We were going to have a duel. Capt. McLaughlin, commanding the battery, was earnestly discussing distances with his two lieutenants, William Poague and Archie Graham. Presently the bugler sounded: "Fire by battery." Reader, do you know what that means? It means the imps of death and destruction are about to commence the carnival of blood. It means fire and load, and fire and load, as fast as you can till you are dead or defeated or your enemy is. An artillerist as a rule doesn't have time to reflect, consequently he can't catch time to get scared when he is in action, he has too much dependent on him. He hears the shriek of shell and shrapnel or the plunging and ricocheting of solid shot, but if they don't cut him down, he keeps right along in his duty according to his number, unless, as it sometimes occurs, he is commanded to take another number owing to death or disability of the other. When I look back and recall that artillery duel on August 29, 1862, I can't realize what I was spared for. Neither can I understand how any of us escaped that three or more hours of death dealing missiles. When I recall the grimy, powder stained faces and tattered and torn young artillerymen who fought there like demons, I can hardly associate them with the same elegant and courtly students and cadets of a few short months before. Look at Myrick, Minor, Macon, and others, standing there all covered with axle grease and tar, the white skin peeping through the threadbare blouse that hasn't been off their backs since we left our baggage at Cedar Mountain three weeks ago. See how oblivious they are to everything save serving the gun to which they are attached! Do they expect to get from this fight alive? Do you imagine they give the matter of life or death one passing thought? No! The reality is only apparent when a solid shot struck our esteemed Serg. Payne and tore a great hole in his right knee, then when ordered to bear him to the rear three of us supporting him in a blanket, placed him beneath the shade of a peach tree, where in less than ten minutes his spirit winged its flight to happier realms. There, too, beneath the same tree lay Willie Preston, of the Rockbridge Rifles, wounded to the death, his life's blood ebbing away! Poor boy! So young, so gifted, so beloved! Maybe the sweet songs that his mother, Mrs. Margaret J. Preston, gave to the world were tinged by the memory of that youth whom she offered as the oblation of her heart.
Our comrade dead, we were once more at the battery, but the fierce fire had crippled us sadly, and it was not many minutes when "Old Jack," riding up, lifted his old gray cap, and, complimenting us, ordered us retired, Our lines being well established, the culmination of the day's work finds Pope in full retreat by three o'clock of the afternoon. As we drove our guns across the open plateau in front of a little piece of ground sheltered by timber we passed over heaps on heaps of red coated zouaves who seemed to have suffered very heavily at this point, for 'twas immediately there where the command known as the Irish Battalion, one company being led by Capt. Lewis Randolph, their ammunition being exhausted, took refuge in a railroad cut, and for hours fought with rocks and clubbed guns. But Pope's army was shattered and in full retreat for Chantilly, where the next day the 30th they made a final stand. Chantilly was the name of the beautiful Stewart residence, one of the old colonial families noted for its hospitality and all that adorns gentlemen of culture and refinement.
The Federals were well handled and fought gallantly to cover a retreat, losing one of their most cherished leaders, Maj. Gen. Phil Kearney, who, being in a stooping posture on his horse, was shot in reverse while riding from our line of battle. It was always a moment of regret when we heard of the death of any of the old army officers, as we entertained the opinion of them that a soldier feels for a foeman worthy of his steel.
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Letter from Captain Hovey, Company K WESTBORO TRANSCRIPT
Sept. 6, 1862.
Company K, 13th Regiment, has at length passed the fiery ordeal of battle, and two perhaps more, of our townsmen, have died that the nation might live.
The following letter from Captain Hovey, [pictured] stating the casualties in Company K, was received here on Wednesday:
Centerville, Va., Aug 31, 1862.
Hon. J. F. B. Marshall – Dear sir:
I have just time to report briefly the condition of Company K, after the unfortunate battle of yesterday. My men behaved nobly, and did all that men could do. The 13th was exposed to a deadly cross fire so severe that the wonder is we brought out any men alive.
I report as follows, according to a roll call I (illegible – stained or torn).
KILLED
Privates – Hollis H. Fairbanks, Thomas Copeland.
WOUNDED
Ord. Sergeant A. T. Rice, calf of leg.
Sergeant Wm. Cordwell, shoulder, slight.
Corporal W. W. Cushman, shoulder.
Private J. A. Blackmer, in hand.
Private W. W. Day, in hand.
Private Wm. H. Forbush, in hand.
Private Alden Lovell, in arm.
Private W. H. Wilson, not known how wounded.
NOT ACCOUNTED FOR, BUT SUPPOSED TO BE UNINJURED.
Sergeant W.W. Fay.
Musician J. E. Bradford
Privates – John Copeland, E.C. Dockham, C.M. Fay, George H. Gates, A.E. Chamberlin, G. R. Parker, H. C. Ross, W. Wheeler.
Our brigade was all broken up, and we fell back to this place to re-form. I came in this morning with eleven men of mine, that I picked up last night, and I found the remains of the regiment here.
Every company has suffered, some worse than mine; but we all ought to be thankful to God that so many of us were spared. For one, I never expected to come out of that deadly cross-fire alive. Some very narrowly escaped, - having their canteens and haversacks shot through. Some of the men were especially plucky in joining fresh regiments and renewing the fight. I deeply regret that we did not hold the field, so that we could bury the dead and mark the graves; but the fortunes of war prevented.
The wounded of Company K are all doing well, and I hope to go forward and find the graves of Fairbanks and Copeland, which I think the hospital attendants will mark. Every thing is being done for the wounded that can be done. Verily, the 13th has received the baptism of fire, but we are strong and hopeful.
In haste, yours truly,
Chas. H. Hovey.
