by James Devine
Wool took in the noise and seemed to calmly accept that he had been outflanked again. “Send word to the 2nd Ohio. They are to swing to the left and meet whatever advance comes across the field.” He turned to another aide. “Who’s behind Ohio? 1st Pennsylvania? Tell its commander to swing in behind. We must stop the Rebel advance and reestablish contact with the 2nd Division!”
Roberdeau’s Brigade---mostly hard, first-generation Mississippians, Alabamans and tough natives of the Louisiana bayous---had marched to war bringing their trusty Kentucky Long Rifles. The Long Rifles were not favored by the ‘Old Army’ because of reliability issues with groove-clogging and weight of ammunition, but in the hands of men familiar with the weapon, they could be shockingly effective at longer distances than the standard smooth-bore, muzzle-loading USBAA musket. That’s why the poor 2nd Vermont had been mowed down before it scarcely knew it was under attack.
Now these tough frontiersmen had moved past the groaning, bleeding wreckage of the 2nd Vermont. While the Alabamans on the west end of the line and most of Major Bassett’s Mississippians unleashed their fire into the 2nd Division’s stunned 1st Ontario, speeding up the collapse of that Division, the 2nd Louisiana sighted the Ohioans.
“General, we have to move back! Look…the main Rebel line has reformed and is moving this way!”
Wool turned slowly in the saddle and looked back. A Confederate force had coalesced out of the confusion on the forward slope and was now cresting the hill. In minutes, his command would be facing fire from two directions…
He looked at his remaining staff. “Let’s get down this hill and back to the Springs. We’ve got to find General Kearny and the 2nd Division’s staff.” They swept right to pass the retreating 5th New York and rode down onto the field in time to be caught in the turmoil caused by the Louisianans’ second volley.
If 1st Pennsylvania’s commander ever got the word to reinforce the 2nd Ohio’s defense, he either could not or would not comply: the Pennsylvanians, their eyes on the Run and apparent safety, brushed passed the Ohio line and headed west to the ford. The Ohio regiment, after absorbing the crippling Long Rifle fire, turned to discover blue uniforms racing, not to their aid, but past them. They joined the parade.
“Come on boys, do your duty, turn around and fight!” General Wool was frantically lashing out with his sword, screaming at running men who paid him no heed. His flag sergeant was down in the melee, though no one later could recall whether he had been hit or simply thrown from his terrified horse. At any rate, a staff lieutenant now grabbed the stanchion with one hand and pulled on Wool’s horse’s reins with his other.
“General, you have to get out of h…”
Wool was suddenly airborne, the blue sky raining black dirt and clumps of grass. He hit the ground with a hard thud and lay stunned. A black-beard was looking down on him with sad, sympathetic eyes. “Are ye all right, Gin’rl? That was some bounce ye took.”
A second blast exploded near by and Black Beard fell protectively over him. “The damn Rebels seem to have got cannon to the crest… And I wonder what happened to our’s?”
Wool rose to his knees and looked back at the crest. A new set of flags was visible, motionless in the sun, among the party of horsemen occupying the ground he had just abdicated. At least one full battery was now setting up to fire. He looked around: Shreds of his flag were visible on a blood stained body that no longer connected to a head. None of his staff were near. The grizzled black-bearded sergeant: “Aye, Gin’rl. That shot took your gang direct. I was watchin’. One moment yer ridin’ glorious fast. Next moment, yer flyin’ through the air…
“Ken ye walk, Gin’rl? Tis’ a ways to the stream, but we’ve no choice. Can’t stay here, and yer horse seems to have made his own arrangements…” Another blast from the crest and iron whistled overhead. Sgt. Black Beard pulled Wool to his feet. “Time to go, Gin’rl. While they’re busy reloadin’.”
They began to run, two more apparently anonymous men in dusty blue, desperately seeking the supposed safety of the Run. But both were over 40 and their days of sprinting were long past. Huffing, puffing, choking on dust and smoke from muskets, long rifles and cannon, they fell back before they were halfway to the stream. Dizzy, disoriented, they veered to their left…and right into the path of exuberant Rebs screaming their bloodcurdling yell.
“Give ‘em the cold steel!”
Wool heard the shout in a daze. I’m a dead man.
“Don’t stick’em, they’re unarmed!” A long, lean man, sergeant’s chevrons visible on his sleeve, pushed through the line of privates, some grinning, some snarling at their Yankee prisoners.
Wool felt himself shoved roughly to the ground, then felt Black Beard’s considerable weight atop him again. The Sergeant boomed his brogue: “Aye, boys, ye’ve got us. We’ll not be putting up a fight! We’ve had enough for one day…”
“That’s right, boys. Let ‘em be.”
The weight was suddenly gone and Wool climbed to his knees. Dust and the beat of hoofs signaled the arrival of officers. Wool looked up to see a small party of riders under a thick red and white bar banner. An officer whose golden hair poured out of his grey hat grinned down at him from behind an equally golden mustache. His eyes widened as he took in the cut and design of the dirty blue uniform.
“Well, well. I say: what the bloody hell do we have here?” The officer---Wool could see that if the CSA had retained Dominion insignia he was a major---edged his horse up against him before pulling off the hat and sweeping it cavalier-style across his chest. He turned and waved the hat in a salute to his men. The English accent again incongruously issued from behind the droopy gold mustache:
“Well done, lads. It would appear the 2nd Mississippi has bagged ourselves a bloody general!”
___________
New Market-Warrenton Road
1:30 p.m.:
The 1st Delaware was that rare Dominion unit today: a volunteer regiment that did not go to pieces under a surprise Rebel attack. The Delaware boys stepped in and around the dying 2nd New Jersey and hit back at the Virginia Brigade with an uncoordinated volley that held the Virginians on the east side of the road, even if it did little serious damage.
Their commander, a lawyer from Wilmington, urged his men back off the road and successfully hooked his lead company to the left flank of the 1st Illinois. Watching from the big hill across the road, Colonel Lee quietly acknowledged the feat with a slight nod of his head. A fine piece of soldiering. That man knows his business.
But Robert also knew his business. He could see that the Dominion advance across Ball’s Ford had ceased. In fact he could see that part of the force was retreating back across the Ford. Those people in front are now isolated on the slope of their hill…
Robert had his buglers call out a cease-fire. He turned to an aide: “Pass the word: Reform the regiments. Restore the battle-line.” He turned to another aide. “Lieutenant, kindly have the 2nd, when reformed, swing out to the left and ask Major Barksdale to swing the 3rd out on the right as well.”
He sat on Marlborough looking through his field glasses before turning to his second-in-command: “Those are two wounded regiments over there. We will cross this road and if necessary squeeze them as if in a bear hug, until we are attacking from three sides.”
Captain Applegate looked nervously towards the ford. “But if the enemy should re-cross the ford, Sir? They will hit our right flank…”
Lee glanced quickly to his right and shook his head. “There will be no further advance from Ball’s Ford, Ross. They are confused and disorganized back there. No, sir. Our enemy is here, in front of us. We will hit him here.”
___________
The Captain of the 1st Illinois was sitting on the hill watching the Rebel maneuvers with interest when the Wilmington lawyer/commander turned up.
“Captain, see where the road curves out a ways back there? That sort of bend? Well, Captain…that’s where I found Colonel Halas a few minutes ago. He’s blee
ding to death. And there was a major with him. One of the men said he’s the commander of the 1st Illinois. Or, I should say, was. Got one in the side of the chin. Took most of his jaw away…
The Captain closed his eyes, his right hand reflexively reaching to rub his own long, lean jaw. It was the 1st Sergeant who spoke: “Well, Captain, ‘pears you’re in command now. Those Rebs are reforming. They’ll be crossing the road and on us any time now…?”
The Captain sighed and looked at Delaware. “Major, you’re the ranking officer. Your orders, Sir?”
The Major from Wilmington had his hat off and was running his hand through his thin brown hair: “Let’s see what they try, Captain. But I don’t see how our martyrdom would save the day for the Dominion, anyway. We’ll defend this hill, but if they look to overrun us, we’ll surrender.” He turned to the Sergeant. “How many you guess are forming up over there?”
“About three regiments, give or take a few. Probably 16, 1700 men…”
“And we’ve about half that left.”
Drum rolls from across the road caught their attention. The grey troops were up and moving in a thick wave. The lawyer from Wilmington and the two Illinois men could see the two flanks begin to curl around each side of their position as the Southern wave came up to the road. The Rebel line was now on the grass below them.
The Captain turned. “This is suicide, Major. Even if we cut down their first line, they’ll be on us before we can reload…”
Nodding, the Major said simply: “I concur.” He turned to the 1st Sergeant, while pulling a big white handkerchief from his back pocket. “Sergeant, if you will…” The Sergeant quickly speared it with the blade attached to his musket and waved it high in the air.
___________
Watching from his hill, Robert saw the white flag he had prayed for go up. “Have the buglers sound halt!” Within seconds the grey wave came to a standstill. He spurred Marlborough and trotted down the hill, followed by Captain Applegate. They crossed through the ranks of the men and came up and over the road. Now he reined Marlborough to a halt in front of his line and waited.
From their position on the slope the Major from Delaware and the Illinois Captain had seen the Southern commander advance. “Well, Captain, ever surrender before? No, me neither. Guess we’ll both find out how it feels...” With a gesture, the Major indicated for the Captain to accompany him. “Damn, look at him on that horse. Looks like a monument…”
The Southern commander saluted as the two Dominion officers reached him. “I am Lt. Col. Robert Lee, 1st Virginia Infantry. I also have with me today the 2nd and 3rd Virginias. Am I correct to assume your flag indicates the desire to capitulate?”
The Major nodded. “That’s about right, Colonel. You outnumber us 2-to-1 and pretty much can flank us from both sides. Doesn’t seem much reason to negotiate…”
Robert nodded. “Agreed. If you’ll surrender your swords and side-arms, we can begin the process of disarming your men, Major…”
“Major Bayard, Colonel. James A. Bayard, Jr., 1st Delaware. And this is Captain, err…” He turned to the Captain from Illinois. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I don’t believe we were ever properly introduced…”
“Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln, 1st Illinois. At your service, Major.” He turned his lanky frame to the Southerner. “And at your’s, Colonel Lee.”
___________
Dominion Lines
Field East of Henry Hill
2:30 p.m.:
General Worth came out to look for himself. His men had barricaded behind rocks, boulders, fallen trees and anything else they could place in front of them when the drive had stalled in mid-morning.
It’s actually a solid position, in and of itself, even in the face of all that damn artillery…
But Worth knew the strategic situation had rendered his tactically sound line vulnerable. The collapse of I Corps somewhere west of the Warrenton Pike---by now he knew that the Rebels not only held Matthews Hill but were apparently across Bull Run at Sudley Springs---and the non-appearance of his own left prong from Ball’s Ford had isolated the remainder of his Corps. The II was in essence caught in a huge pocket; when the Rebels on Matthews Hill consolidated their position and moved up, they might actually trap him against the Run itself!
The General was proud of the performance of his Corps; at least, the portions of it north of Ball’s. They had been giving as good as they had gotten from the Rebels in front of them---prisoners had identified the enemy as A.S. Johnston’s Corps---but they couldn’t make any headway in the face of the massed artillery on that damn Henry Hill…
He turned to his 1st Division commander, the Maryland Senator Ezekiel Chambers, a decorated veteran of Jackson’s Lower Louisiana campaign. “Our own fight is a stalemate, General. They have too damn much artillery on that damn hill for us to advance, and we’re too well protected and have too much artillery of our own for Johnston to successfully counter-attack.” He paused as his other Division commander, the tough Regular Edwin ‘Bull’ Sumner, came up.
“But the enemy is in control of Matthews Hill and, apparently, the area west of it. If they can get a force across the Run up there, they could close this pocket we’re in… Colonel Sumner, what word from Ball’s Ford?”
The big man with the close-cropped hair shook his sweaty head in disgust as he saluted. “My 2nd Brigade got thrown back, Sir. Most of it was already across and marching towards the fight when they were hit by a sizeable Rebel force, maybe a full brigade, that came out of nowhere from the southeast.” He paused and kicked at the dirt in dismay and embarrassment.
“The 2nd Jersey took the brunt of it. They’re finished. Along with Colonel Halas, the Brigade commander. He’s dead, and so is the commander of the lead regiment, Major Parker of the 1st Illinois. The 2nd Pennsylvania and the 1st Rhode Island are safe back north of the Ford.” He paused again. “But the Illinois boys and the 1st Delaware were cut off. Word is they surrendered to this Reb force.”
“And where is this enemy brigade now?”
“I had Captain Wilder out looking for Halas’ brigade, Sir. He reported back a few minutes ago that two or more regiments coming up from the southeast have hooked up with Johnston. And that a large group of prisoners is being herded back towards the Manassas-Sudley road…”
“Your missing Illinois and Delaware troops…”
“Looks that way, General.” Sumner paused again. “One other thing, Sir. Wilder got a look at the Reb officer leading the hook-up with Johnston’s men. Says it was Robert Lee…”
Worth shook his head in disgust but got immediately back to business: “Two, maybe three more regiments, maybe as much as a small brigade; Johnston’ll wrap them around our left flank, reinforce what he’s already got there. That side of the pocket’s hemmed in.
“No gentlemen, we can’t stay here. If the Rebels get across the Run west of us in force, they can march down and surround us.” He slapped his left thigh with his gauntlets. “We have to disengage; pull back in the direction of the Pike and see if we can make a stand at Centerville. If we can beat the enemy to the Centerville heights, we’ll be all right, at least for now.”
He glanced toward the sky. Thick black clouds were rolling in from the west, blocking out the sun. “Looks like a storm’s moving in.” His smile was without mirth: “Trust the weather to break the day of the damn battle…”
Worth turned and summoned an aide. “Get Colonel Buford up here.” He turned back to his deputies. “We’ll disengage under cover of the guns. Buford should have enough ammunition left to keep up a steady fire and pin the Rebels down till we’re back across.”
He looked at the two division commanders. “Start pulling your brigades out once Buford opens up. But keep the lead elements of your advance this morning in place on the northern bank of the Run as long as possible, at least until the artillery can pull out.” He looked hard at Chambers and Sumner, who were both nodding their understanding of the orders.
“This redeploym
ent could easily turn into a rout. If it does, we stand the risk of losing the whole Army…and maybe Georgetown, too. Your lead regiments proved themselves this morning, but disengaging under fire is the toughest battle problem in the book. The future of the Dominion may depend on how well you execute it… Any questions?”
Chambers: “None, General. But let’s not forget that the survivors from I Corps are already on the Pike, behind the line the Regulars threw up in front of the Bridge.”
“Well, get them moving. Who’s in charge up there?”
“The 1st Brigade commander is down. Colonel Savage of the 2nd New York is in command now.”
“We need some cavalry up there and we’ll need some below Lewis Ford, gentlemen. Can you see to it, Bull? Good. General Chambers, make sure Savage has the I Corps people moving. And let him know he’ll have cavalry to screen his overall movement. He’ll be alone on the Pike till we meet up at the original jumping off point.” Worth shook his head. “Then it’ll be a race back to the Centerville heights…”
___________
CSA Headquarters
Henry Hill
4:20 p.m.:
With the renewed Dominion artillery barrage came the rain. Buckets of it fell in minutes, accompanied by a massive thunder-and-lightening storm. Zach Taylor wasn’t sure what had his men more frightened---the cannon fire or the lightening---but he had an idea what the Dominions were up to:
“Colonel Johnston, the resumption of heavy cannonading means one of two things: either the enemy is preparing to advance; or is retreating. What, Sir, is your opinion?”
Albert Sidney Johnston, standing alongside the Commanding General under a makeshift shelter hastily erected when the storm first appeared in the distance, squinted northward. “It does not appear they are advancing, Sir.”
