Part 22 (2/2)

Three-quarters of a mile away the white tents of Custer's camp looked like weird specters in the moonlight. Scarcely a sound was heard. A solemn stillness reigned, broken only by the tread of the single sentry, pacing his beat in front of headquarters. Inside, the staff and brigade escort were sleeping. Finally, a little before midnight, I turned in, telling the guard to awaken me at once, should there be firing in front, and to so instruct the relief.

I cannot give the exact time; it may be I did not know it at the time; but it was before daylight that the sentinel awoke me. Not having undressed, I was out in an instant, and listening, heard scattering shots. They were not many, but enough to impel me to a quick resolve.

Rousing the nearest staff officer, I bade him have the command ready to move at a moment's notice.

In an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time, the order was executed. The tents were struck, the artillery horses attached to the gun carriages and caissons, and the cavalry horses saddled. No bugle call was sounded. The firing grew heavier, and from the hill where Custer was, rang out on the air the shrill notes of Foght's bugle, telling us that our old commander had taken the alarm. Rosser had attacked the pickets at the fords and was driving them in. He had done the same on one or two mornings before, but there was an unwonted vigor about this attack that boded mischief.

The federal cavalry had, however, recovered from their earlier habit of being ”away from home” when Rosser called. They were always ”in” and ready and willing to give him a warm reception. He found that morning that both Merritt and Custer were ”at home.” In a moment, a staff officer from General Merritt dashed up with orders to take the entire brigade to the support of the picket line. Moving out rapidly, we were soon on the ground. The Seventh Michigan had made a gallant stand alone, and when the brigade arrived, the enemy did not see fit to press the attack, but contented himself with throwing a few sh.e.l.ls from the opposite bank which annoyed us so little that Martin did not unlimber his guns.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHARLES R. LOWELL]

A heavy fog had by this time settled down upon the valley. The first streaks of dawn began to appear, and it soon became evident that the cavalry attack upon the right flank was but a feint and that the real danger was in another quarter. Far away to the left, for some time, volleys of musketry had been heard. With the roll of musketry was intermingled, at intervals, the boom of cannon, telling to the practiced ear, the story of a general engagement. The sounds increased in volume and in violence, and it was no difficult matter to see that the union forces were falling back for, farther and farther to the left and rear, were heard the ominous sounds. From the position we occupied no infantry line of battle was to be seen.

Soon after the Michigan brigade had taken its position at the front, Colonel Charles R. Lowell rode up at the head of the Reserve brigade.

Colonel Lowell was a young man, not much past his majority, and looked like a boy. He was a relative of James Russell Lowell, and had won distinction as colonel of the Second Ma.s.sachusetts cavalry. He had succeeded Merritt as commander of the Reserve brigade. He had a frank, open face, a manly, soldierly bearing, and a courage that was never called in question. He was a graduate of Harvard, not of West Point, though he had been a captain in the Sixth United States cavalry.

Colonel Lowell informed me that his orders were to support the Michigan men if they needed support. No help was needed at that time. I told him so. The enemy had been easily checked and, at the moment, had become so quiet as to give rise to the suspicion that he had withdrawn from our front, as indeed he had. A great battle was raging to the left, and in response to the suggestion that the army seemed to be retreating, he replied:

”I think so,” and after a few moments reflection, said:

”I shall return” and immediately began the countermarch.

I said to him: ”Colonel, what would you do if you were in my place?”

”I think you ought to go too” he replied and, presently, turning in his saddle, continued: ”Yes, I will take the responsibility to give you the order,” whereat, the two brigades took up the march toward the point where the battle, judging from the sound, seemed to be in progress. How little either of us realized that Lowell was marching to his death. It was into the thickest of the fight that he led the way, Michigan willingly following.[38]

A startling sight presented itself as the long cavalry column came out into the open country overlooking the battle-ground. Guided by the sound, a direction had been taken that would bring us to the pike as directly as possible and at the same time approach the union lines from the rear. This brought us out on a commanding ridge north of Middletown.

This ridge as it appears to a partic.i.p.ant looking at it from memory, runs to and across the pike. The ground descends to the south a half mile, or more, then gradually rises again to another ridge about on a line with Middletown. The confederate forces were on the last named ridge, along which their batteries were planted, and their lines of infantry could be seen distinctly. Memory may have lost something of the details of the picture, but the outlines remain as vivid, now as then.

The valley between was uneven, with spots of timber here and there and broken into patches by fences, some of them of stone.

The full scope of the calamity which had befallen our arms burst suddenly into view. The whole battle field was in sight. The valley and intervening slopes, the fields and woods, were alive with infantry, moving singly and in squads. Some entire regiments were hurrying to the rear, while the confederate artillery was raining shot and sh.e.l.l and spherical case among them to accelerate their speed. Some of the enemy's batteries were the very ones just captured from us. It did not look like a frightened or panic stricken army, but like a disorganized ma.s.s that had simply lost the power of cohesion. A line of cavalry skirmishers[39]

formed across the country was making ineffectual efforts to stop the stream of fugitives who had stolidly and stubbornly set their faces to the rear. Dazed by the surprise in their camps, they acted like men who had forfeited their self-respect. They were chagrined, mortified, mad at their officers and themselves--demoralized; but, after all, more to be pitied than blamed.

But all these thousands, hurrying from the field, were not the entire army. They were the Eighth corps and a part of the Nineteenth only, a fraction of the army. There, between ourselves and the enemy--between the fugitives and the enemy--was a long line of blue, facing to the front, bravely battling to stem the tide of defeat. How grandly they stood to their work. Neither shot nor sh.e.l.l nor volleys of musketry could break them. It was the old Sixth corps--the ”ironsides” from the Potomac army, who learned how to fight under brave John Sedgwick.

Slowly, in perfect order, the veterans of the Wilderness and Spottsylvania were falling back, contesting every inch of the way. One position was surrendered only to take another. There was no wavering, no falling out of ranks, except of those who were shot down. The next morning, one pa.s.sing over the ground where those heroes fought, could see where they successively stood and breasted the storm by the dead men who lay in line where they had fallen. There were two or three lines of these dead skirmishers. The official record shows that the Sixth corps on that day lost 255 men killed and 1600 wounded.

The two brigades had reached a point where the entire field was in view, and were in position to resume their relation to the line of battle, whenever the scattered fragments of the army could be a.s.sembled and formed for an organized resistance to the enemy.

In the meantime it had been decided to ma.s.s all the cavalry on the left of the line, opposite to where it had been in the morning. The order came from General Merritt to continue the march in that direction, and the long column led by Lowell turned its head toward the left of the Sixth corps[40] and formed on the other side of the pike. Moving across, parallel with the line which had been taken up by that corps, the cavalry was exposed to a galling fire of artillery. One sh.e.l.l took an entire set of fours out of the Sixth Michigan. Not a man left the ranks. The next set closed up the gap. Custer was already there, having been transferred from right to left while the two brigades of the First division were out on the picket line. Crossing the pike, we pa.s.sed in front of his division. It was formed in line of brigades, each brigade in column of regiments, mounted. It is needless to say that they were faced toward the enemy. Custer, himself, was riding along the front of his command, chafing like a caged lion, eager for the fray. Devin, with Taylor's battery had been there for some time and, under the personal direction of General Merritt, had been most gallantly resisting the advance of the victorious enemy. The Michigan brigade took position in front of Custer, Martin's battery next the pike. Lowell with the Reserve brigade was stationed still farther in advance toward Middletown. The Sixth corps made its final stand on the prolongation of the cavalry alignment and from that moment the attacks of the enemy were feeble and ineffective, the battle resolving itself, for the time being, into an artillery duel in which Martin's battery took a prominent part.

It could not have been much later than nine o'clock when the two brigades of cavalry arrived. Their coming was opportune. Who can say how much it had to do in stopping the further progress of Early's attack?

It is now known that Early dreaded a flanking movement by the body of horse which he saw ma.s.sing in front of his right flank. The gallant Lowell, who so bravely did his duty and who exhibited in every stage of the battle the highest qualities of leaders.h.i.+p, a few hours after his arrival on the left laid down his life for the cause he so valiantly served. He was killed by a bullet from the gun of a sharpshooter in Middletown. He did not live to make a report and the story never has been told officially of how he marched from right to left at Cedar Creek.

Sheridan had not yet come up, but after his arrival, which he states in his memoirs was not later than ten o'clock, Custer was moved to the right flank, arriving in time to thwart a threatened flanking movement by Gordon and Kershaw. It is evident that every strategic attempt of the enemy, save the morning surprise, was checkmated by the union cavalry and, it must be remembered, that it was the absence of cavalry on the left which rendered the morning surprise possible.

The First division was now all together with General Merritt personally in command. A part of Lowell's brigade, dismounted, was posted well to the front, the Michigan brigade, mounted, in its rear. While in this position, having occasion to ride up into the battery to speak to Captain Martin, a sharpshooter in Middletown took a shot at us. The bullet narrowly missed the captain and buried itself in my horse's shoulder. Unlike the sh.e.l.l at Winchester, this wound disabled the old fellow, so that he had to go to the rear and give way to a temporary remount,--furnished by the commanding officer of the First Michigan,--much to the regret of the old hero, for he was a horse who loved the excitement of battle and relished its dangers.

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