Читать книгу Uncle Daniel's Story Of "Tom" Anderson, and Twenty Great Battles - John McElroy - Страница 7

“There were some loyal men in that community, and before leaving Saco, Tom had raised a full company. When the day came for them to leave, they marched with the flag presented to them by the ladies of the town proudly waving, and with drum and fife making all the noise possible. There was no more disturbance there, except in secret. The 'secesh' element murdered several soldiers afterwards, and continued secretly hostile to the success of our army. In a few days after this Tom had recruited another company. There seemed then to be an immediate demand for a regiment, with a brave and daring officer, at the Capital, for some reason not then made known. Tom was ordered to have his four companies mustered in, and, attached to six already in camp; he was commissioned Colonel, and the regiment was numbered the—— Indiana Infantry Volunteers. Tom Anderson looked the soldier in every respect. He was five feet eleven, straight as an arrow, well-built, large, broad shoulders, black eyes and hair, and martial in his bearing.

“He placed his family in my charge. The next day after Tom had left (Peter Lyon, my son, having gone before him with the recruits), my wife, Mary, Jennie, the three children and myself, were all on the porch, when a tall man, fully six feet, rather fine looking, made his appearance at the gate, and asked if that was where Daniel Lyon lived. As I answered in the affirmative, he opened the gate and walking in, saluted us all with:

“'How do you do? Do you not recognize me? I am James Lyon.'

“I sprang to him and grasped his hand, his mother threw her arms around his neck and wept for joy, the other women greeted him heartily, and the little children rushed to him. Although they had never seen him before, they knew he was some one they were glad to see, as their fathers and uncles, whom they knew, were gone from them. We all sat down and the Doctor, as I must call him (being a physician by profession), gave us some of his experiences of the last few weeks. When he received my letter and commenced getting ready to leave, the people of Winchester suspected him of preparing to go North to aid the Union, and so they threw his drugs into the street, destroyed his books, and made him leave town a beggar. He walked several miles, and finally found an old friend, who loaned him money enough to get to my place.”

Mr. Reeves, who was of the party, said:

“I have been through all that and more, too. I had to leave my wife and family, and was almost riddled with bullets besides; but it is all past now.”

“I have been greatly interested, Uncle Daniel,” said Dr. Adams, “and am taking down all you say in shorthand, and intend to write it up.”

“The next day,” continued Uncle Daniel, “the newspapers had telegrams stating that the troops at Columbus and other places had been ordered to the East for active operations. I said to Dr. James that he must stay with the family while I went to Washington, as I wanted to see the President on matters of importance. The truth was, I wanted to see David and Harvey, as well as the President. I started the next morning, after telling the women and children to be of good cheer.

“When I reached Washington I found the army had moved to the front, and was daily expecting an engagement, but I could not understand where. I at once visited the President, to whom I was well known, and told him my desire, which was to see my sons. He promptly gave me a note to the Provost-Marshal, which procured me a pass through the lines. That night I was in the camp of my son David, who, you remember, was a Colonel. After our greeting we sat down by his camp chest, upon which was spread his supper of cold meat, hard crackers and coffee, the whole lighted by a single candle inserted in the shank of a bayonet which was stuck in the ground. While enjoying the luxury of a soldier's fare I told him all about the family, his own in particular. Harvey enjoyed the things said of him by the children which I repeated. The Colonel, however, seemed thoughtful, and did not incline to very much conversation. Looking up with a grave face he said to me:

“'Father, to-morrow may determine the fate of the Republic. I am satisfied that a battle, and perhaps a terrible one, will be fought very near here.'”

'I asked him about the armies, and he replied that we had a very large army, but poorly drilled and disciplined; that the enemy had the advantage in this respect. As to commanding officers, they were alike on both sides, with but little experience in handling large armies. He suggested that we retire to rest, so that we could be up early, but urged me to stay at the rear, and not go where I would be exposed. To this I assented. Soon we retired to our couches, which were on the ground, with but one blanket apiece and no tent over us. I did not sleep that night. My mind was wandering over the field in anticipation of what was to occur.

Early next morning I heard the orders given to march in the direction of the gaps. Wagons were rolling along the road, whips were cracking, and teamsters in strong language directing their mules; artillery was noisy in its motion; the tramp of infantry was steady and continuous; cavalrymen were rushing to and fro. I started to the rear, as my son had directed, and ate my breakfast as I rode along. About 10 o'clock I heard musket shots, and soon after artillery; then the musketry increased. I listened for awhile. Troops were rushing past me to the front. As I was dressed in citizen's clothes, the boys would occasionally call out to me, 'Old chap, you had better get back;' but I could not. I was moved forward by some strong impulse, I knew not what, and finally found myself nearing the front with my horse on the run. Soon I could see the lines forming, and moving forward into the woods in the direction of the firing, I watched closely for my son's command, and kept near it, but out of sight of the Colonel, as I feared he would be thinking of my being in danger, and might neglect his duty. The battle was now fully opened—the artillery in batteries opening along the line, the infantry heavily engaged, the cavalry moving rapidly to our flanks. Steadily the line moved on, when volley after volley rolled from one end of the line to the other. Now our left was driven back, then the line adjusted and advanced again. The rebel left gave way; then the center. Our cavalry charged, and our artillery was advanced. A shout was heard all along the line, and steadily on our line moved. The rebels stubbornly resisted, but were gradually giving way. The commanding General rode along the line, encouraging all by saying:

“'The victory is surely ours, Press forward steadily and firmly; keep your line closed up;' and to the officers, 'Keep your commands well in hand.'

“He felt that he had won the day. For hours the battle went steadily on in this way. I rode up and down the line watching every movement. I took position finally where I could see the enemy. I never expected to see officers lead their men as the rebels did on that day. They would rally their shattered ranks and lead them back into the very jaws of death. Many fell from their horses, killed or wounded; the field was strewn with the dead and dying; horses were running in different directions riderless. I had never seen a battle, and this was so different from what I had supposed from reading, I took it for granted that, both sides being unacquainted with war, were doing many things not at all military. I learned more about it afterward, however. From an eminence, where I had posted myself, I could see a large column of fresh troops filing into the plain from the hills some miles away. They were moving rapidly and coming in the direction of the right flank of our army. I at once rode as fast as I could to the left, where my son was inline, and for the first time that day showed myself to him. He seemed somewhat excited when he saw me, and asked: 'In Heaven's name what are you doing here?'

“I said: 'Never mind me, I am in no danger.'

“I then told him what I had seen, and he at once sent an orderly, with a note to the General commanding. In a short time, however, we heard the assault made on our right. It was terrific. Our troops gave way and commenced falling back. The alarm seemed to go all along the line, and a general retreat began without orders. Soon the whole army was leaving the field, and without further resistance gave away the day. The rebel army was also exhausted, and seemed to halt, in either joy or amazement, at the action of our forces.

“Just as our army retired I found a poor young officer wounded. I let him take my horse, thinking that I could walk as fast as the army could march. I came to the place formerly occupied by my son's regiment. There I found quite a number of wounded men, and my young son Harvey trying to help one of his comrades from the field.

“Neither army was then in sight. I heard the sound of horses' hoofs; looked up, and saw a cavalry troop coming. I supposed it to be our own, and did not move. They dashed up where we were, and Col. Hunter, in command, drew his sabre and cut my dear boy down. I caught him as he fell, his head being cleft open. I burst out loudly in grief, and was seized as a prisoner. I presume my dress and gray hair saved my life. I was torn from my son and made to walk some three miles, to the headquarters of Gen. Jones, who heard my story about my adventure and my dead boy. He at once released me and sent an officer with me to that part of the field where my dead child lay.

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“I shall ever respect Gen. Jones. He is still living, and respected highly for his great soldierly qualities. I walked on the line of our retreat until I came up with a man driving an ambulance. I took him back with me and brought my son away from the field to the camp of his brother, whom I found in great distress about Harvey, but he was not aware of what had befallen him. I pointed to the ambulance, he looked and saw him lying there dead. He fell on my neck and accused himself for having brought the young boy away from home to encounter the perils of war. I was going to take his body back to his mother, but the Colonel said:

“'No; bury him like a soldier on the battlefield.'

“So I gave way, and we buried him that night in the best manner we could. He now lies in the cemetery at Arlington. My sorrow was great then, but I am past it all now, and can grieve no more.”

Col Bush here interrupted, saying:

“'Uncle Daniel, you made a narrow escape. My heavens! to think of a father carrying his young son dead from the battlefield, slain by an enemy in such a villainous and dastardly way.”

“What a blow to a father,” said Dr. Adams. “Uncle Daniel, this Colonel was a demon to strike down a youth while assisting a wounded comrade. He deserved to be killed.”

“Yes, it would seem so. I felt just as you do, and my son David uttered many imprecations against him. But, you see, we forgave all these men and acquited them of all their unholy deeds. Col. Hunter has become a very prominent man since the war, and now holds a high position in one of the Southern States. You know, in the South, the road to high position since the war has been through the rebel camps.”

“Yes, yes! Uncle Daniel, that is true. Not so, however, with us in the North. The road to high position here is not through the Union camps, but through wealth and the influence of what is called elegant society, where no questions are asked as to how or where you got your money, so you have it.”

“It does seem so, Doctor, now; but it was not so in our earlier days. I am sorry to confess that this change has taken place.

“After going through the scenes of this battle, now called the battle of the 'Gaps,' and burying my son, I felt for the time as if I could have no heart in anything the only thought on my mind was how to break the sad news to his mother. The Colonel said he would keep the name from the list of the dead until I could return home to be with the mother, so as to console her in her grief. I bade my son, the Colonel, farewell. There he stood, quiet and erect, the great tears rolling down his cheeks. I commenced my sad journey alone. In going to Washington I overtook straggling detachments, teams without drivers, and found on the road general waste of army materials, and equipage of all kinds in large quantities. Arriving in Washington, everything was in great confusion. The old General then in command of all the forces was dignified and martial in his every look and movement, but evidently much excited. There was no danger, however, as both armies were willing to stand off without another trial of arms for the present. I saw the President and told him what I had witnessed, as well as my misfortune. I advised that no movement of our forces be again attempted without further drilling and better discipline, as I was sure good training would have prevented the disaster of that day. On my way home I was oppressed with grief, causing many inquiries of me as to my distress, which only made it necessary for me to repeat my sad story over and over again until I reached Allentown. My friends, there was the great test of my strength and manhood. How could I break this to my wife? They had all heard the news of the battle, and were in sorrow over our country's misfortune. On entering the gate all rushed out on the porch to welcome me back, eager for news; but my countenance told the sad story. The Doctor was the first to speak:

“'We know about the battle, father,' said he; 'but your face tells me something has happened to the boys. What is it?'

“Sarah and the women stood as pale as death, but could not speak. Then I broke down, but tried to be as calm as I could, and said:

“'Our dear Harvey is killed.'

“My wife fell upon my neck and sobbed and cried aloud in despair until I thought her heart would break. The children ran out to their mother, crying:

“'Oh! mother, what is the matter? Is papa hurt? Is he shot?'

“They screamed, and the scene was one that would have melted the strongest heart. James stood and gazed on the scene. When all 'became somewhat calm, my wife was tenderly placed in bed, and Jennie, after hearing that the Colonel was safe, staid with her. To the others I related my experience on the battlefield, and the death of Harvey, his burial, my capture and release, my arrival at and departure from Washington, and all up to the time I reached home. The saddest time I ever spent in my life was during the long, weary hours of that night; the attempt to reconcile my wife to our sad fate, the fears expressed by the wives of the Colonel and Tom, the questions of the children, and their grief and sobs for their Uncle Harvey—they all loved him dearly; he had petted them and played with them frequently, entertaining them in a way that children care so much for. Many days my wife was confined to her bed, the Doctor keeping close watch over her. Weeks of sadness and gloom in our household passed before we seemed to take the matter as a part of what many would have to experience in this dreadful and wicked attempt to destroy the peace and happiness of our people. In the meantime, Col. Tom Anderson (as he was now a Colonel), and my son Peter, who had been made a Captain in Col. Anderson's regiment, came home to see us, and tried to make it as pleasant for us as could be done under the circumstances. When Peter heard of Harvey's death, through Col. Anderson, he was very much affected and wept bitterly.

“'That dream haunts me,' he said, 'by day and by night. I know my fate so well.'

“This amazed the Colonel, and he asked Peter what he meant by this nonsense.

“'I know,' said Peter, 'but—'

“'But what?' asked the Colonel.

“'Nothing,' replied Peter, and the conversation on that subject dropped for the time being.

“The visit of Col. Tom and Capt. Peter, as we now out of courtesy called them, made the time pass much more pleasantly. Col. Tom and the Doctor, both being good conversationalists, kept the minds of the family as much away from the battle of the Gaps as possible. The Doctor having lived in Virginia and Col. Anderson in Mississippi, their conversation naturally turned on the condition of the South. The Doctor said 'there are in Virginia many Union men, but they were driven into secession by the aggressiveness and ferocity of those desiring a separation from the Government.

“'Those people are opposed to a Republican form of Government, and if they succeed in gaining a separation and independence, sooner or later they will take on the form of the English Government. They now regard the English more favorably than they do the Northern people, and the most surprising thing to me is to see the sentiment in the North in favor of the success of this (the Southern) rebellion. True, it is confined to one political party, but that is a strong party in the North as well as the South.

“'One of the dangers that will confront us is the tiring out of our Union people at some stage of the war, and following on that the success by the sympathizers with the rebellion in the elections North. If this can be brought about it will be done. This is part of the Southern programme, and they have their men selected in every Northern State.'”

“'I have heard this discussed frequently, and their statements as to the assurances that they have from all over the North—in New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Illinois, and so on. In Ohio, their chief adviser from the North, Mr. Valamburg, resides. Such men as “Dan” Bowen and Thos. A. Stridor, both very influential and prominent men, are regarded as ready to act in concert with them at any moment. Should that party succeed, with such men as I have mentioned as leaders, the independence of the Confederacy would at once be acknowledged, on the ground that we have failed to suppress the rebellion, and that a further continuance of the war would only prove an absolute failure; and I fear that our Northern peacemakers would then cry “peace! peace!” and acquiesce in this outrage upon our Republic and our Christian civilization,” 'Yes,' replied Col. Tom; 'but, Doctor—there is a feature preceding that which should be carefully considered. I fear, since I have heard what is going on here, that these Northern secessionists and sympathizers will organize in our rear and bring on war here at home. I was ordered to the Capital to watch this movement. They are organizing all around us. I was about to be mobbed near here for trying to raise troops for the Union army. Thos. A. Strider, of whom you spoke, is doing everything he can to discourage enlistments. He speaks of the Republican President as “a tyrant and this war as an unholy abolition war,” and people listen to him. He has been considered a kind of oracle in this State for many years, as you know.'

“Just then Jennie returned from the post-office with two letters from Col. David—one to her and one to the Doctor. This concluded the conversation between Col. Tom and the Doctor. Jennie's letter gave her a more complete description of the battle of the Gaps than any he had heretofore sent. He spoke of my appearance on the ground and the tragic death of Harvey. The household assembled and listened with great attention, except my wife, who went weeping to her room, as she could not hear of her boy without breaking down, wondering why it was her fate to be so saddened thus early in the contest. The Doctor opened his letter and found that the Assistant Surgeon of Col. David's regiment had died from a wound received at the battle of the Gaps, and the Governor of Ohio had commissioned Dr. James Lyon Assistant Surgeon at the request of the Colonel. He was directed to report to his regiment at once. This was very gratifying to the Doctor, as he felt inclined to enter the service.

When his mother heard this she again grew very melancholy, and seemed to think her whole family were, sooner or later, to enter the army and encounter the perils and vicissitudes of war. The next morning the Doctor bade us all good-by, and left for the army of the East. The visit of Col. Anderson and Pefer helped to distract our attention from the affliction which was upon us. Peter, however, was very quiet and seemed in a deep study most of the time. His mother finally asked him if he had thought of her dream, saying it troubled her at times. He smiled, and answered:

“'Mother, I think this war will interpret it. You know there is nothing in dreams,' thus hoping to put her mind at rest by his seeming indifference; but he afterwards told Col. Anderson his interpretation.”

Dr. Adams here asked Uncle Daniel if he knew Peter's interpretation.

“Yes; it was certainly correct, and so it will appear to you as we proceed in this narrative, should you wish to hear me through.”

“My dear sir, I have never been so interested in all my life, and hope you will continue until you tell us all. I am preserving every sentence.”

“The day passed off quietly, and next morning Col. Anderson and Peter left for their command. Mary was brave; she gave encouragement to her husband and all others who left for the Union army. She was very loyal, and seemed to be full of a desire to see the Union forces succeed in every contest. In fact, the letter of her brother to her husband seemed to arouse her almost to desperation; she went about quietly, but showed determination in every movement. She taught her little daughter patriotism and devotion to the cause of our country, and religiously believed that her husband would yet make his mark as a gallant and brave man. She gave encouragement to my good wife Sarah, and to Jennie, Col. David's wife. She told me afterwards, out of the hearing of the others, that she hoped every man on the Union side would enter the army and help crush out secession forever.”

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