Chapter IX: The Advance to Bull Run

The excitement around the hotel was for a time intense, and not only the Zouaves, but also the Goreville Volunteers had all they could do to restore order and thus prevent further bloodshed. Many of the Union men were in favor of burning the Marshall House to the ground, but other counsel prevailed and the building was spared.

It may be added here that later on Colonel Ellsworth’s body was sent on to New York, where the funeral services were among the largest and most imposing ever witnessed in that city. The funeral of Jackson was also well attended, and each man was looked upon as a martyr by those whose side he happened to represent.

The death of Ellsworth was a shock to Louis. It was the first soldier he had heard of being slain, and he shuddered when, later on, he gazed at the cold, set face of the dashing Zouave, whose striking uniform of red, blue, and yellow had made him more dashing than ever. It was the lad’s first taste of grim war--and there was much still in store.

The Zouaves having taken complete possession of Alexandria, the Goreville Volunteers were sent back to their old quarters at Washington, to remain there for a possible call from the upper Potomac. It was during this wait that Louis one day came almost face to face with President Lincoln, who was inspecting the remnant of the army, in company with General Scott. The sad, earnest face of the President impressed him greatly, and he could not help but think of what a tremendous responsibility now rested on the shoulders of the nation’s chief executive.

“He’s got more of a load than I would like to carry,” said he to Harry Bingham. “With so many thousands of eyes upon him, he can’t afford to make a mismove.”

“You are right, Louis. I would rather be a private in the ranks.”

“If I was President I would soon end this war,” blustered Jerry Rowe, who had heard the remarks.

“Would you, indeed, Jerry?” answered Louis, curiously. “How could you do it?”

“Never mind--I’d do it, and that’s enough for you to know,” and Jerry stalked off, fearful of being pinned down to some plan of campaign.

“Jerry is a cooler,” murmured Harry. “He is a coward at heart, yet how he does love to brag!”

“Benny Bruce was complaining to me about him,” said Louis. “He says Jerry is picking at him whenever the chance offers. Jerry always did love to tease the little fellows.”

“He ought to have his head punched for it,” concluded Harry.

Having taken possession of Arlington Heights, the Union troops at once began to build fortifications there and soon the danger that had threatened Washington was past. Close at hand were the beautiful grounds of Mount Vernon, where Washington had lived, but these were not touched during the entire war, both North and South considering the ground as sacred.

The Goreville Volunteers were not left in Washington long. More troops from New York, New Jersey and Down East had arrived, and on one bright day in May the brigade moved across the river and went into camp in an orchard near Arlington Heights. Not far away was Arlington House, the homestead of the Lee family. The Lees had deserted the beautiful abode, and it was now the headquarters of General Sanford, commander of the Army in Virginia.

“It seems a shame to destroy all these beautiful places,” remarked Louis one day, when he and Harry Bingham were off duty and were strolling around in the confines of the camp. “Just look at this orchard. It looks as if a cyclone had struck it.”

“This is bad enough,” replied Harry. “But supposing the rebs had come up and shelled Washington, wouldn’t it have been worse to have the Capitol and the White House and other buildings laid in ruins?”

“Oh, I’m not comparing the two, Harry. But think how long it took to get this orchard growing like this. If we stay here another month every tree will be ruined--if not cut up for firewood.”

“We won’t stay here much longer. The authorities in Washington are growing too impatient to do something,” concluded Harry Bingham.

Late in May, Brigadier-General Irwin McDowell, of the regular army, took command, General Sanford being transferred. The coming of this hero of the Mexican War was an event, and the inspection and drill which followed was not soon forgotten by the boys in blue. From henceforth strict military discipline prevailed, and every soldier had to “toe the mark” in earnest.

Yet week after week went by and the army did not move. It was known the Confederates were growing stronger and stronger in their position at Manassas Junction and along Bull Run, and many of the soldiers wondered why something was not done.

“Boys, don’t you know it takes a lot of time to get everything in readiness for such an immense army as this?” said Captain Paulding one day, by way of explanation. “Think of the thousands of horses required for the wagons and batteries, the immense stock of rations, and hundreds of other things. Why, you must remember that the moving of such a body of men as we have here is like an exodus. But we’ll march before long, never fear.”

Fourth of July was spent in camp in a lusty manner, the soldiers celebrating as much as their means allowed. In the evening bonfires blazed forth on every hand, making the vast camping-field as bright as day. There were orations, sham battles, and some of the boys in blue got up a minstrel show and an amateur circus, at both of which the fun was uproarious. It was like the comedy which precedes the tragic in a melodrama.

At last, on the sixteenth of July, came the orders to break camp. The army had been divided into five grand divisions, each division moving forward by a different route. Soon every highway leading towards Fairfax Court House, Centerville, and Manassas Junction was filled with tramping soldiers, dashing cavalry, fifers and drummers and bands of music, with hundreds upon hundreds of heavy batteries plowing their way along through the dirt, and followed by thousands of provision and sutlers’ wagons, and ambulances; and last of all the carriages of politicians and others who were curious to see what was going to take place now the North was about to strike her first regular blow at the Confederacy.

“My gracious, I had no idea that there were so many of us!” murmured Louis to Harry, as they stood in the ranks, waiting for their turn to move, and watching regiment after regiment of their comrades march by, with colors flying and every face full of hope and determination. “We ought to conquer by sheer force of numbers, if nothing else.”

“They’ll have just as many men,” declared Moses Blackwell. “It’s a bloody struggle we have afore us, mark the words.”

Louis had expected a fatiguing advance of fifteen or twenty miles, and he was rather surprised when, early in the afternoon, their company entered Fairfax Court House and they were ordered into camp for the night. The advance along the road had been made with caution, and although it was known the Confederates had outposts located along the routes these advance guards had fallen back as the boys in blue marched forward.

Fairfax Court House was but a small town, and the majority of the inhabitants were thoroughly scared at the arrival of so many troops.

Many of the men were away, in the service of the enemy, and the women viewed the appearance of each new soldier with much misgivings.

“Spare me and you can take all I have!” wailed one old lady to Louis, as he appeared at her kitchen door for a pail of water. “Oh, do not kill me!”

“Madam, I’m not going to touch you,” answered the youth, more than half-amused. “I came in to see if you would be kind enough to give me a bucket of water.”

At this the old lady stared, thinking she had not heard aright.

“You--you only want some water?” she faltered, trying vainly to recover.

“That is all, madam--unless you have some cookies you are keeping for our boys. We never refuse those, you know,” and Louis smiled.

“I declare, I reckon you ain’t so fierce as I took you to be.”

“I’m only a soldier boy, trying to do my duty. Can I have the water?”

“Certainly! certainly! Take all you want. I haven’t any cookies, as you call ’em. But I’ve got some eggs, just laid--you can have them if you want ’em.”

“Thank you, madam, I’ll take them with pleasure. But remember, I don’t demand them. We have strict orders to demand nothing.”

“Oh, it’s all right. You can have ’em, even if you are a Northerner. I see you’re nothing but a boy, and I have a boy in the army--on our side--and I reckon he’d like a fresh-laid egg now an’ then,” and she ran off to bring back eight large, white eggs tied up in a bit of cotton cloth. That evening Louis, Harry and several of the others of their “crowd” enjoyed the freshest omelet they had had since leaving home.

But some of the soldiers, be it said to their discredit, were not as considerate as Louis had been. Thinking themselves in the enemy’s country, they plundered a number of houses, threatened the inmates, and in two cases buildings were set on fire and destroyed. During the evening a number of the thoughtless ones arrayed themselves in some stolen female wearing apparel, and thus masqueraded, paraded about until stopped by the officers.

From Fairfax Court House the army moved slowly the next day towards Centerville. They were now but a few miles from Bull Run, and although the Goreville Volunteers were not yet called into action, yet the distant sounds of firearms told that no longer was everything “quiet along the line.” On the day following a fierce fight took place between a portion of General Tyler’s division and the enemy entrenched at a spot called Blackburn’s Ford, and in this encounter nineteen of the boys in blue were killed and twice as many wounded. This was really the opening of the great battle of Bull Run. The Union soldiers found they could make no advance, and accordingly it was decided to wait several days until the entire army could be brought into position for a simultaneous attack. Additional supplies were also needed, and these did not arrive when expected. At last came the orders to go forward.

“Now for bloody war, my boy!” cried Moses Blackwell to Louis. “Ye’ll git enough of it now, see if ye don’t.”

It was early Sunday morning. The soldiers were to have moved at two o’clock, but it was nearly sunrise before the Goreville Volunteers were in motion; and the day promised to be a scorcher.

Little Benny Bruce beat his drum loudly, his eyes glistening brightly, for the spirit of war seemed to be a part of his very nature. Seeing Benny so brave, Louis could not help but look at Jerry Rowe. The boaster was pale and his fishy eyes were full of uncertainty. The next twenty-four hours were well calculated to sift the cowards from those who were truly brave.

To go into all of the details of the great battle of Bull Run would be both impossible and apart from my purpose in writing this story of personal adventures on both sides of the great conflict. Suffice it, then, to say that the attack on the Confederate forces was begun between six and seven in the morning at a place known as the Stone Bridge, and from that hour the battle kept on steadily until the middle of the afternoon. By this time both sides had sustained heavy losses and were worn out, but the arrival of a large body of fresh Confederate troops under General Johnston put new life into those who marched under the Stars and Bars, and they attacked the Union men with such increased vigor that nothing could stand before them. By sundown the Union men were in full retreat for Washington, and thinking the fresh Confederate force much larger than it really was the retreat degenerated into what was practically a panic.

But Louis thought of none of these things as he marched forward mile after mile in the blazing sun. The dust on the road was several inches deep, and a heavy battery traveling just in front of the Goreville Volunteers kicked up such a dust that the lad was all but blinded. He was glad enough when the orders came to turn to the left and enter a by-road leading through a heavy woods.

“Halt!” The command came full and clear along the line of soldiers stretched out among the trees and brush. A clearing was just ahead and on the opposite side of this could be seen a number of hastily constructed breastworks, and the glitter of two brass cannons. The order to halt had hardly come when the cannons boomed forth, and a mass of grapeshot came tearing through the thickets, clipping off branches of trees and tops of brush and sending half a dozen dead and dying to earth.

“Oh, I’m killed!” yelled Jerry Rowe, falling back. But it was only a cut-away branch which had struck him. Somebody laughed, and then every gun was clutched closer, as the order came to charge. Louis was in battle at last!

There is no denying the fact that his heart was in his throat. To move forward under fire for the first time in one’s life is no light thing. He looked at Harry on one side of him and saw the pale, set face. Then he got a dig in the ribs from Moses Blackwell, who was on the other side.

“Can’t die but once, Louis. Hurrah fer the Stars and Stripes! Down with the rebels!”

The cry was taken up on all sides. An answering call came back: “Here they come! Down with the Yankees!” And then came a blaze from a long line of rifles, and two of the Goreville Volunteers went down to their deaths before being permitted to strike even one blow in the cause for which they had enlisted.

“Take aim! Fire!” came the command from Captain Paulding, and steadying himself, Louis aimed his gun straight at one of the enemy and pulled the trigger. The death of two men he knew well had nerved him for the deed, and he saw the Confederate throw up his hands and fall back, shot through the shoulder.

“Forward again, boys! Forward! We must gain those breastworks!” came the cries. Away they went, out of the woods, to confront that deadly fire again. Three went down, wounded, and the men were ordered to “close up.” The smoke now became thick and in the midst of this the brass cannons spoke again, but the shots were too high and did no damage.

Louis now found himself at the edge of the breastworks, with Harry and Moses Blackwell still beside him. Close at hand was Nathan Hornsby, and with a quick leap the Pennsylvania farmer was on the mound of dirt and brush, and Louis scrambled after him. Others followed in rapid succession and the breastworks were taken.

But not for long. With a wild yell the Confederates rallied and bore down upon their enemy. The brass cannons had been hauled away and the open field became the ground for a fierce hand-to-hand conflict. Louis tried to keep close to his friends, but in the mêlée this was impossible, and in a minute more he found himself alone and in the very midst of the enemy!