Читать книгу The Maryland Line in the Confederate States Army - W. W. Goldsborough - Страница 8

Table of Contents

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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