A CANNONEER UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON - Part 3

A Militiaman

THE RETREAT--CEDAR CREEK--GENERAL ASHBY--SKIRMISHES--McGAHEYSVILLE

The next dawn brought a raw, gloomy Sunday. We found the battery a mile or two from the battlefield, where we lay all day, thinking, of course, the enemy would follow up their victory; but this they showed no inclination to do. On Monday we moved a mile or more toward our old camp--Buchanan. On Tuesday, about noon, we reached Cedar Creek, the scene of one of General Early's battles more than two years afterward, 1864. The creek ran through a narrow defile, and, the bridge having been burned, we crossed in single file, on the charred timbers, still clinging together and resting on the surface of the water. Just here, for the first time since Kernstown, the Federal cavalry attacked the rear of our column, and the news and commotion reached my part of the line when I was half-across the stream. The man immediately in front of me, being in too much of a hurry to follow the file on the bridge-planks, jumped frantically into the stream. He was fished out of the cold waters, shoulder deep, on the bayonets of the infantry on the timbers.

We found our wagons awaiting us on top of a high hill beyond, and went into camp about noon, to get up a whole meal, to which we thought we could do full justice. But, alas! alas! About the time the beans were done, and each had his share in a tin plate or cup, "bang!" went a cannon on the opposite hill, and the shell screamed over our heads. My gun being a rifled piece, was ordered to hitch up and go into position, and my appetite was gone. Turning to my brother, I said, "John, I don't want these beans!" My friend Bedinger gave me a home-made biscuit, which I ate as I followed the gun. We moved out and across the road with two guns, and took position one hundred yards nearer the enemy. The guns were unlimbered and loaded just in time to fire at a column of the enemy's cavalry which had started down the opposite hill at a gallop. The guns were discharged simultaneously, and the two shells burst in the head of their column, and by the time the smoke and dust had cleared up that squadron of cavalry was invisible. This check gave the wagons and troops time to get in marching order, and after firing a few more rounds we followed.

As we drove into the road again, I saw several infantrymen lying horribly torn by shells, and the clothes of one of them on fire. I afterward heard amusing accounts of the exit of the rest of the company from this camp. Quartermaster "John D." had his teams at a full trot, with the steam flying from the still hot camp-kettles as they rocked to and fro on the tops of the wagons. In a day or two we were again in Camp Buchanan, and pitched our tents on their old sites and kindled our fires with the old embers. Here more additions were made to the company, among them R. E. Lee, Jr., son of the General; Arthur A. Robinson, of Baltimore, and Edward Hyde, of Alexandria. After a few nights' rest and one or two square meals everything was as gay as ever.

An hour or two each day was spent in going through the artillery manual. Every morning we heard the strong, clear voice of an infantry officer drilling his men, which I learned was the voice of our cousin, James Allen, colonel of the Second Virginia Regiment. He was at least half a mile distant. About the fourth or fifth day after our return to camp we were ordered out to meet the enemy, and moved a few miles in their direction, but were relieved on learning that it was a false alarm, and countermarched to the same camp. When we went to the wagons for our cooking utensils, etc., my heavy double blanket, brought from home, had been lost, which made the ground seem colder and the stalks rougher. With me the nights, until bedtime, were pleasant enough. There were some good voices in the company, two or three in our mess; Bedinger and his cousin, Alec Boteler, both sang well, but Boteler stammered badly when talking, and Bedinger kept him in a rage half the time mocking him, frequently advising him to go back home and learn to talk. Still they were bedfellows and devoted friends. I feel as if I could hear Bedinger now, as he shifted around the fire, to keep out of the smoke, singing:

"Though the world may call me gay, yet my feelings I smother, For thou art the cause of this anguish--my mother."

* * * * *

A thing that I was very slow to learn was to sit on the ground with any comfort; and a log or a fence, for a few minutes' rest, was a thing of joy. Then the smoke from the camp-fires almost suffocated me, and always seemed to blow toward me, though each of the others thought himself the favored one. But the worst part of the twenty-four hours was from bedtime till daylight, half-awake and half-asleep and half-frozen. I was, since Kernstown, having that battle all over and over again.

I noticed a thing in this camp (it being the first winter of the war), in which experience and necessity afterward made a great change. The soldiers, not being accustomed to fires out-of-doors, frequently had either the tails of their overcoats burned off, or big holes or scorched places in their pantaloons.

Since Jackson's late reverse, more troops being needed, the militia had been ordered out, and the contingent from Rockbridge County was encamped a few miles in rear of us. I got permission from our captain to go to see them and hear the news from home. Among them were several merchants of Lexington, and steady old farmers from the county. They were much impressed with the accounts of the battle and spoke very solemnly of war. I had ridden Sergeant Baxter McCorkle's horse, and, on my return, soon after passing through Mt. Jackson, overtook Bedinger and Charley Boteler, with a canteen of French brandy which a surgeon-friend in town had given them. As a return for a drink, I asked Bedinger to ride a piece on my horse, which, for some time, he declined to do, but finally said, "All right; get down." He had scarcely gotten into the saddle before he plied the horse with hat and heels, and away he went down the road at full speed and disappeared in the distance.

This was more kindness than I had intended, but it afforded a good laugh. Boteler and the brandy followed the horseman, and I turned in and spent the night with the College company, quartered close by as a guard to General Jackson's headquarters. I got back to camp the next afternoon, Sunday. McCorkle had just found his horse, still saddled and bridled, grazing in a wheat-field.

From Camp Buchanan we fell back to Rude's Hill, four miles above Mt. Jackson and overlooking the Shenandoah River. About once in three days our two Parrott guns, to one of which I belonged, were sent down to General Ashby, some ten miles, for picket service to supply the place of Chew's battery, which exhausted its ammunition in daily skirmishes with the enemy. Ashby himself was always there; and an agreeable, unpretending gentleman he was. His complexion was very dark and his hair and beard as black as a raven. He was always in motion, mounted on one of his three superb stallions, one of which was coal-black, another a chestnut sorrel, and the third white. On our first trip we had a lively cannonade, and the white horse in our team, still bearing the stains of blood from the Kernstown carnage, reared and plunged furiously during the firing. The Federal skirmish line was about a mile off, near the edge of some woods, and at that distance looked very harmless; but when I looked at them through General Ashby's field-glass it made them look so large, and brought them so close, that it startled me. There was a fence between, and, on giving

the glass a slight jar, I imagined they jumped the fence; I preferred looking at them with the naked eye. Bob Lee volunteered to go with us another day (he belonged to another detachment). He seemed to enjoy the sport much. He had not been at Kernstown, and I thought if he had, possibly he would have felt more as did I and the white horse.

On our way down on another expedition, hearing the enemy were driving in our pickets, and that we would probably have some lively work and running, I left my blanket--a blue one I had recently borrowed--at the house of a mulatto woman by the roadside, and told her I would call for it as we came back. We returned soon, but the woman, learning that a battle was impending, had locked up and gone. This blanket was my only wrap during the chilly nights, so I must have it. The guns had gone on. As I stood deliberating as to what I should do, General Ashby came riding by. I told him my predicament and asked, "Shall I get in and get it?" He said, "Yes, certainly." With the help of an axe I soon had a window-sash out and my blanket in my possession. From these frequent picket excursions I got the name of "Veteran." My friend Bolling generously offered to go as my substitute on one expedition, but the Captain, seeing our two detachments were being overworked, had all relieved and sent other detachments with our guns.

From Rude's Hill about fifty of us recruits were detailed to go to Harrisonburg--Lieutenant Graham in command--to guard prisoners. The prisoners were quartered in the courthouse. Among them were a number of Dunkards from the surrounding country, whose creed was "No fight." I was appointed corporal, the only promotion I was honored with during the war, and that only for the detailed service. Here we spent a week or ten days, pleasantly, with good fare and quarters. Things continued quiet at the front during this time.

The enemy again advanced, and quite a lively cavalry skirmish was had from Mt. Jackson to the bridge across the Shenandoah. The enemy tried hard to keep our men from burning this bridge, and in the fray Ashby's white horse was mortally wounded under him and his own life saved by the daring interposition of one of his men. His horse lived to carry him out, but fell dead as soon as he had accomplished it; and, after his death, every hair was pulled from his tail by Ashby's men as mementoes of the occasion.

Jackson fell back slowly, and, on reaching Harrisonburg, to our dismay, the head of the column filed to the left, on the road leading toward the Blue Ridge, thus disclosing the fact that the Valley was to be given up a prey to the enemy. Gloom was seen on every face at feeling that our homes were forsaken. We carried our prisoners along, and a miserable-looking set the poor Dunkards were, with their long beards and solemn eyes. A little fun, though, we would have. Every mile or so, and at every cross-road, a sign-post was stuck up, "Keezletown Road, 2 miles," and of every countryman or darky along the way some wag would inquire the distance to Keezletown, and if he thought we could get there before night.

By dawn next morning we were again on the march. I have recalled this early dawn oftener, I am sure, than any other of my whole life. Our road lay along the edge of a forest, occasionally winding in and out of it. At the more open places we could see the Blue Ridge in the near distance. During the night a slight shower had moistened the earth and leaves, so that our steps, and even the wheels of the artillery, were scarcely heard. Here and there on the roadside was the home of a soldier, in which he had just passed probably his last night. I distinctly recall now the sobs of a wife or mother as she moved about, preparing a meal for her husband or son, and the thoughts it gave rise to. Very possibly it helped also to remind us that we had left camp that morning without any breakfast ourselves. At any rate, I told my friend, Joe McAlpin, who was quite too modest a man to forage, and face a strange family in quest of a meal, that if he would put himself in my charge I would promise him a good breakfast.

In a few miles we reached McGaheysville, a quiet, comfortable little village away off in the hills. The sun was now up, and now was the time and this the place. A short distance up a cross-street I saw a motherly-looking old lady standing at her gate, watching the passing troops. Said I, "Mac, there's the place." We approached, and I announced the object of our visit. She said, "Breakfast is just ready. Walk in, sit down at the table, and make yourselves at home." A breakfast it was--fresh eggs, white light biscuit and other toothsome articles. A man of about forty-five years--a boarder--remarked, at the table, "The war has not cost me the loss of an hour's sleep." The good mother said, with a quavering tone of voice, "I have sons in the army."

Eleven Days in the Militia - Part 3

A. Militiaman

Sunday, September 14. 

Went down town with Dr. B. to look after something to replenish our depleted commissary stores. The Doctor was acquainted with a family named Feger, in Walnut Street, near the river, whose son was a student of medicine, and suggested a call. We accordingly visited them, and were kindly provided with a good meal and a quantity of cigars.

The young student conducted us to a bakery, where we laid in a supply of crackers. Returned to camp. 

Our company had been attached to the Second Regiment of Militia, as Company "G." The Colonel was John L. Wright, of Columbia. There were ten companies, mostly full, from Columbia, West Chester, Reading, Pottsville, and Lancaster City and County. 

The First Regiment, commanded by Colonel Henry McCormick, and containing companies from Harrisburg, Philadelphia, and Chester and Lebanon counties, had already been sent off down the Cumberland Valley Railroad to Chambersburg. At 11 o'clock we received marching orders for the same place, and about 1-½ P.M. the regiment proceeded out to near Camp Curtin and got aboard a train of freight cars, which had been provided with seats for the transportation of troops. 

A long delay, with the explanation of which we were not furnished, ensued; but about 3 the train started. A halt of an hour or more was made in town. A tremendous and enthusiastic crowd was out to see us off. Moved over the Long Bridge and stopped another half hour west of the Susquehanna. Chambersburg, our destination, was fifty-two miles distant. 

Passed successively through Mechanicsburg, Carlisle, and Shippensburg, at each of which places short stops were made. Were struck with the great natural beauty of the Cumberland Valley region. Crowds of people came out to the stations to meet us, and black and white, old and young, all joined in the heartiest demonstrations of welcome. 

Were also greeted from the houses and roadsides all along the line by people waving their handkerchiefs and swinging their hats. At Mechanicsburg a whole girls' school was out to see us. This was a specially engaging sight to some of our number, who thought that that village would be a good place to camp. 

At Carlisle I met Mr. R.S., whom I knew. The elite of the town were at the station, and S. pointed out to me the leading beauties of the place--I mean the ladies. 

Soldiers of a day, we already began, in the midst of these inspiring scenes, to feel like real veterans. Between stops the men beguiled the time singing, jesting, smoking, etc., and every one was in the best possible humor. Private T.H., among the rest, favored the company with a curious song in Pennsylvania Dutch called "Babbel Maul," which performance his delighted auditors compelled him frequently to repeat. 

It was generally agreed that the most desirable way of marching was by railroad. 

Dusk deepened into night, and at about 9 o'clock Chambersburg was reached. Proceeded a mile or two below the town, when the train halted in a wood brightly illuminated with camp-fires, and resonant with the cheers of soldiers. 

Disembarked and went into camp. Rigged the tents, built fires, mounted the large cooking kettles with which we had been furnished at Harrisburg, boiled coffee and got our supper--"grub" is the military term for it. 

No news of any account from Maryland. My two comrades of the night before and myself constructed a sort of crib with fence rails put up between adjoining trees, and, after a smoke, laid ourselves up in it to sleep. The arrangement worked well, and we slept comfortably in this rustic bedstead until 5 A.M.

ELEVEN DAYS IN THE MILITIA - Part 2

A. MILITIAMAN

Saturday, September 13. According to orders, the company met at the rendezvous at 10 o'clock A.M. equipped for the march. The morning had been busily occupied in getting ready for the departure. The leave-taking with our friends had not been unmingled with feelings of solemnity, in view of the possibility that we might never see them again. The day was fine, and a large crowd of people congregated in the streets to see us off. On Penn Square, in front of the Provost Marshal's office, at the old Bell mansion, the pavement was blocked, as it had been for several days past, with applicants for exemption from the draft. The medical examinations were then in progress. We marched to the lower depot, headed by a band, and accompanied by the crowd. The company itself was wholly unprovided with music of any sort. Left by the regular morning passenger train for Harrisburg. In another car there was also a militia company from Pottsville, commanded by Captain David A. Smith, which had left home the same morning. All the men were in good spirits. Some amusement was afforded by a comparison of our accoutrements. The majority of the company were unarmed, and the only insignia of a regular military organization were the swords and sashes of the officers. The news by the morning papers still continued exciting. The army was said to be preparing to engage the rebels in Maryland, as no time was to be lost in checking

their advance.

The trip was without incident. Arriving at Harrisburg at 1-½ P.M., we were formed and marched to the State Capitol grounds. A scene of great activity was here presented. The people seemed everywhere to be flocking to arms. The Governor and the Adjutant-General were personally superintending the organization of the militia. Secretary Slifer and Colonel A.K. McClure were also actively engaged in the same work. We were much relieved to find that we were to be furnished with arms and equipments by the State, as our force was far from effective in its present shape. At the State Arsenal, on the Capitol grounds, we were supplied with Springfield muskets, knapsacks, haversacks, and canteens. Delivered up our old guns to be returned home. The muskets and bayonets, on first introduction, were handled with some curiosity. As there were no scabbards provided for the latter, the bayonets had to be carried fixed to the pieces. Of ammunition there was none on hand at present, but it was stated that a supply would be sent after us. Nothing was said about swearing us into service. The day was likely to be consumed in regimental organization, and it was probable we should not get off before the morrow. Some of our men had expected to meet the rebels before night. Fortunately for us, we still had some eighty miles the advantage of them.

The first charge was upon our bags of provisions. My haversack had been bountifully stocked by my good landlady at home, Mrs. B., whose liberality as a provider and kindness of heart will always be held in grateful remembrance by her guests. The foresight of the Governor in mentioning in his proclamation the subject of rations, was generally commended, as little or nothing eatable seemed to be obtainable in this town since its occupation as a militia camp.

Our company was assigned quarters on the east side of the Capitol grounds, upon the lawn in the rear of the public buildings. Passed the afternoon in watching the arrival of several additional companies, strolling around the Park, and looking through the Capitol buildings. Several of us climbed the stairway to the dome. Another charge on the haversacks about 5 P.M. Began to wonder where or how we were to pass the night. Our efficient Quartermaster, L.M.; at length solved the problem. He procured a lot of shelter tents, which were distributed, and the work of setting them up commenced. A little straw was brought from somewhere and put in for a bottom. Took a stroll through the town in the evening with Messrs. G., E., S., and others, visiting the railroad depots, which were just then scenes of particular activity. Stopped on the way at a lager beer saloon, which powerfully recalled home associations. Returned to the grounds and answered to roll-call about 10 P.M. Crawled into a tent with Dr. B. and J.R.K. A regiment or two was encamped around us. No military rules were as yet promulgated, and it was very evident that none were to be observed that night. Chaos reigned supreme. Singing, speech-making, and practical jokes of all kinds filled in the hours usually devoted to sleep, while the arrival of fresh companies, from time to time, appeared to stimulate the orgies as the night advanced. Slept a couple of hours, and until 2 A.M., when the general discomforts of the situation moved me to seek more desirable quarters. Reconnoitred the outskirts of the camp, and found a large covered coach just outside the grounds, which I got into, and having wrapped myself in my blanket, slept tolerably for several hours. The night was quite cool, and these new accommodations proved comfortable only by comparison. Got out at daylight, washed my face at a pump, answered to roll-call, and then consulted my bag of provisions. This first night's experience in "camp" suggests how few and simple are the wants of man in a military state.

A Woman's Wartime Journal During Sherman's March Through Georgia - Part 2

Dolly Sumner Lunt (Mrs. Thomas Burge)

JULY 23, 1864.

I have been left in my home all day with no one but Sadai. Have seen nothing of the raiders, though this morning they burned the buildings around the depot at the Circle [Social Circle, a near-by town]. I have sat here in the porch nearly all day, and hailed every one that passed for news. Just as the sun set here Major Ansley and family came back. They heard of the enemy all about and concluded they were as safe here as anywhere. Just before bedtime John, our boy, came from Covington with word that the Yankees had left. Wheeler's men were in Covington and going in pursuit. We slept sweetly and felt safe.

* * * * *

SUNDAY, JULY 24, 1864.

No church. Our preacher's horse stolen by the Yankees. This raid is headed by Guerrard and is for the purpose of destroying our railroads. They cruelly shot a George Daniel and a Mr. Jones of Covington, destroyed a great deal of private property, and took many citizens prisoners.

* * * * *

JULY 27, 1864.

Major Ansley and family have remained. We are feeling more settled and have begun to bring to light some of the things which we had put away.

* * * * *

JULY 28, 1864.

I rose early and had the boys plow the turnip-patch. We were just rising from breakfast when Ben Glass rode up with the cry: "The Yankees are coming. Mrs. Burge, hide your mules!" How we were startled and how we hurried the Major to his room! [The Yankees did not come that day, but it was thought best to send Major Ansley away. He left at 2 A.M.]

* * * * *

JULY 29, 1864.

Sleepless nights. The report is that the Yankees have left Covington for Macon, headed by Stoneman, to release prisoners held there. They robbed every house on the road of its provisions, sometimes taking every piece of meat, blankets and wearing apparel, silver and arms of every description. They would take silk dresses and put them under their saddles, and many other things for which they had no use. Is this the way to make us love them and their Union? Let the poor people answer whom they have deprived of every mouthful of meat and of their livestock to make any! Our mills, too, they have burned, destroying an immense amount of property.

ELEVEN DAYS IN THE MILITIA - Part 1

A MILITIAMAN

After the reverses to our arms at the disastrous battles of the Second Bull Run and Centreville, in the latter part of August, 1862, and the retrograde movements of the Union forces in Virginia in consequence, the purpose of the enemy to follow up his advantage by endeavoring to take the Capital, invade the Middle States, and thus strike terror into the hearts of the people of the North, became immediately apparent. In the early part of September, war meetings were being held in Pennsylvania to raise the quota of the State in lieu of the draft then impending, in pursuance of the requisition of the President of the United States for three hundred thousand men. The Reserves had been called away to succor the hard-pressed army of McClellan, and the borders were left wholly unprotected at the inviting season of harvest. As a measure of precaution against the impending danger, Governor Curtin on the 4th of September issued a proclamation recommending the immediate formation of volunteer companies throughout the State, in conformity with existing militia laws, for home defence, and suggesting the closing of all places of business at 3 o'clock P.M. daily, in order to afford due opportunity for drill and preparation. On the next day, Mayor David McKnight of Reading, who was acting in that capacity in the place of Mayor Joel B. Wanner, then in the field as Major of the 128th Regiment of Pennsylvania Volunteers, also issued a manifesto, in pursuance of the spirit of the Governor's proclamation, requiring the assemblage of the citizens at certain places designated within their respective wards, for the organization of companies, and also the holding of daily drills from 4 to 6 P.M.

On the 5th, the rebel army under General Lee, comprising a force estimated at eighty thousand infantry, eight thousand cavalry, and one hundred and fifty pieces of artillery, crossed the Potomac at or near the Point of Rocks, and entered Frederick. Among its division commanders were Magruder, Walker, Anderson, A.P. Hill, Stuart, Longstreet, Ewell, and Stonewall Jackson. With the occupation of Maryland, matters reached an alarming crisis, and the imminent danger to Pennsylvania became at once evident. The boldness and celerity of the enemy's movements suggested the necessity for prompt action on the part of the State authorities. On the 10th of September, the Governor, acting under the direction of the President of the United States, issued another proclamation, as Commander-in-Chief of the militia, designated as General Order No. 35, calling on all the able-bodied men of the State to organize for its defence, and be ready to march to Harrisburg at an hour's notice, subject to his order. The companies were directed to be filled in accordance with the army standards of the United States, and as it was stated that the call might be sudden, the officers and men were required to provide themselves with the best arms they could procure, with at least sixty rounds of suitable ammunition, good stout clothing, uniform or otherwise; boots, blankets, and haversacks. The order further stipulated that the organizations would be held in service for such time only as the pressing emergency for the State defence might continue.

On the morning of the 11th, the rebel cavalry under Stuart entered Hagerstown, the southern terminus of the Cumberland Valley Railroad, six miles from the Pennsylvania line, the main body being about two-and-a-half miles behind, at Funkstown. The army of McClellan had in the meantime advanced to Poolesville. As soon as this intelligence reached Harrisburg, the Governor at 4 o'clock on the afternoon of that day issued General Order No. 36, calling into immediate service fifty thousand of the freemen of Pennsylvania, under the terms of the proclamation of the previous day, to repel the rebel invasion.

Immediately after the publication of the proclamation of Wednesday, September 10th, the work of forming militia companies in Reading was begun in earnest, the efforts that had been previously made in that direction not having been attended with much practical result. In the evening, the court-house bell was rung, and the building was rapidly filled. Mayor McKnight presided over the meeting. Dispatches were read indicating the approach of the enemy to the borders, and resolutions were adopted to organize companies forthwith in each of the wards. Many went directly from the meeting to the different places of rendezvous, and enrolled themselves for the State defence. There was not at the time a single full military company in Reading, all the troops enlisted for stated terms of service having already gone to the front. The night was one of much activity and excitement. Drilling was done in Penn Square to the inspiring accompaniment of fife and drum, which gave the town a decidedly warlike appearance. This exercise was continued daily and nightly until the militia had marched, and at no period during the entire war did the military enthusiasm of the people reach a greater height.

In the instruction of the troops, the manual of arms had to be omitted, for there were no guns. Officers had been hastily selected, and the commands in most cases given to experienced soldiers, whose services were in sudden and great demand. The fidelity of the men was accepted without any suggestion of the test of an oath. The companies recruited rapidly, and were not long in filling up to the standard. Their evolutions, which were conducted to a large extent in the open square, under the cover of darkness, were at times edifying to witness. As the battalions marched with sturdy tread up and down on either side of the central market-houses, collisions would now and then derange the symmetry of the forces. Frequent resort to unmilitary language on the part of the commanders was necessary to bring up the laggard platoons, and movements were habitually executed for which no precedent could have been found in either Scott or Hardee. But it was patriotism and not tactics that was uppermost in the minds of all, and trifling imperfections of military discipline were, for the moment at least, sunk out of sight in the sense of common danger.

Arms of all kinds were in urgent demand. Rifles and shot-guns, single and double-barreled, old and new; pistols of all designs, long and short, ancient and modern, together with some other unclassified implements of war, were brought out from their hiding-places, hastily cleaned and put in working order. Some of the men, when equipped for the march, were walking armories of miscellaneous weapons. The hardware stores were invaded in search of powder, shot, and ball. A gum blanket, with which in most cases an army blanket, or in default thereof, a pair of ordinary bed blankets, were rolled up; a haversack of canvas or oil-cloth, hastily put together at the saddler's, a tin cup, knife and fork and spoon, made up the rest of the equipment.

But it was the composition of the forces which lent to them their chief dignity and formed their most notable feature. There was no volunteering by proxy. No one at all able to contemplate military service thought of stopping to suggest the duty of his neighbor. Each felt the personal application of the call, and even to doubt one's fitness for duty was to expose himself to suspicion. All claims of business, public or private responsibilities, or professional or official duty had to yield to the necessities of the hour. Every interest was alike threatened, and no balancing of individual excuses could for a moment be tolerated. The women nobly seconded the appeal to arms, and assisted in the work of preparation. Personal and social distinctions were levelled, and in response to roll-call there appeared the lawyer, the physician, the preacher, the magistrate, the banker, the merchant, the manufacturer, and the railway official in his multifarious forms, side by side with the humbler civilian--all animated with patriotic zeal in the common cause.

Mayor McKnight, who subsequently himself joined a company named in his honor and commanded by Captain Nathan M. Eisenhower, on the 11th sent William M. Baird, Esq., to Harrisburg to keep the home authorities informed as to the arrangements for the calling out and reception of the Reading militia. On the evening of the 12th, Mr. Baird telegraphed that the companies should hold themselves in readiness to march, and a little later communicated an order from headquarters to Captain Franklin S. Bickley, who was in charge of the first company organized, and the only one then ready, for his command to leave for Harrisburg the next morning by the first train.

This company had its rendezvous in the second story of the building at the southwest corner of Fifth and Washington streets. Its roll originally contained 94 names, but the number of men who actually marched was but 64. Sergeant William H. Strickland was left behind to recruit the company up to the standard, and afterwards brought a few additional men to Chambersburg. The commanding officers were all of them men of some experience in military affairs, and proved themselves worthy of their positions. Captain Bickley had been a commissioned officer in the Pennsylvania Reserves; First Lieutenant Lewis H. Wunder was a veteran of the Mexican War; and Second Lieutenant Charles H. Richards, though never in actual service, had had a long connection with the militia before the war. In the ranks of the company were a few old soldiers, who were generally to be recognized by the coolness of their bearing.

At this point it will be appropriate to give the names of the seven companies which were raised in Reading, or its immediate vicinity, and left in response to the Governor's call, with the dates of marching and their regimental assignments. Several other companies were in course of organization in the city and county, but the emergency had passed before they were ready to respond to the call:--

Fifth Ward Guards, Captain F.S. Bickley, 70 men, Company G, 2d Regiment; September 13.

Nicolls Guards, Captain Charles H. Hunter, 104 men, Company E, 11th Regiment; September 15.

McKnight Guards, Captain Nathan M. Eisenhower, 95 men, Company I, 11th Regiment; September 15.

Liberty Fire Zouaves, Captain William Geiger, 70 men, Company G, 20th Regiment; September 17.

M'Lean Guards, Captain Samuel Harner, 45 men, Company H, 20th Regiment; September 17.

Halleck Infantry, Captain Frederick S. Boas, 92 men, Company I, 20th Regiment; September 17.

Berks County Cavalry, Captain Samuel L. Young, 67 men, Independent; September 17.

At a meeting of Captain Bickley's Company, held on the evening of the 12th, the marching order was read, and it was directed that the company meet at the armory at 10 o'clock the next morning in readiness to leave. Its subsequent movements during the campaign are detailed in the journal which follows, and to which what has already preceded is but a necessary preliminary.

A Woman's Wartime Journal During Sherman's March Through Georgia - Part 1

Dolly Sumner Lunt (Mrs. Thomas Burge)

JULY 22, 1864.

[The day of the battle of Atlanta]

We have heard the loud booming of cannon all day. Mr. Ward [the overseer] went over to the burial of Thomas Harwell, whose death I witnessed yesterday. They had but just gone when the Rev. A. Turner, wife, and daughter drove up with their wagons, desiring to rest awhile. They went into the ell [a large back room] and lay down, I following them, wishing to enjoy their company. Suddenly I saw the servants running to the palings, and I walked to the door, when I saw such a stampede as I never witnessed before. The road was full of carriages, wagons, men on horseback, all riding at full speed. Judge Floyd stopped, saying: "Mrs. Burge, the Yankees are coming. They have got my family, and here is all I have upon earth. Hide your mules and carriages and whatever valuables you have."

Sadai [Mrs. Burge's nine-year-old daughter] said:

"Oh, Mama, what shall we do?"

"Never mind, Sadai," I said. "They won't hurt you, and you must help me hide my things."

I went to the smoke-house, divided out the meat to the servants, and bid them hide it. Julia [a slave] took a jar of lard and buried it. In the meantime Sadai was taking down and picking up our clothes, which she was giving to the servants to hide in their cabins; silk dresses, challis, muslins, and merinos, linens, and hosiery, all found their way into the chests of the women and under their beds; china and silver were buried underground, and Sadai bid Mary [a slave] hide a bit of soap under some bricks, that mama might have a little left. Then she came to me with a part of a loaf of bread, asking if she had not better put it in her pocket, that we might have something to eat that night. And, verily, we had cause to fear that we might be homeless, for on every side we could see smoke arising from burning buildings and bridges.

Major Ansley, who was wounded in the hip in the battle of Missionary Ridge, and has not recovered, came with his wife, sister, two little ones, and servants. He was traveling in a bed in a small wagon. They had thought to get to Eatonton, but he was so wearied that they stopped with me for the night. I am glad to have them. I shall sleep none to-night. The woods are full of refugees.

A CANNONEER UNDER STONEWALL JACKSON - Part 2

ENTERING THE SERVICE - MY FIRST BATTLE - BATTLE OF KERNSTOWN

Jackson's first engagement took place at Hainesville, near Martinsburg, on July 2, one of the Rockbridge Artillery guns firing the first hostile cannon-shot fired in the Valley of Virginia. This gun is now in the possession of the Virginia Military Institute, and my brother David fired the shot. Before we knew that Jackson was out of the Valley, news came of the battle of First Manassas, in which General Bee conferred upon him and his brigade the soubriquet of "Stonewall," and by so doing likened himself to "Homer, who immortalized the victory won by Achilles."

In this battle the Rockbridge Artillery did splendid execution without losing a man, while the infantry in their rear, and for their support, suffered dreadfully. The College company alone (now Company I of the Fourth Virginia Regiment) lost seven killed and many wounded.

In August it was reported that a force of Federal cavalry was near the White Sulphur Springs, on their way to Lexington. Numbers of men from the hills and mountains around gathered at Collierstown, a straggling village in the western portion of the county, and I spent the greater part of the night drilling them in the town-hall, getting news from time to time from the pickets in the mountain-pass. The prospect of meeting so formidable a band had doubtless kept the Federals from even contemplating such an expedition.

The winter passed drearily along, the armies in all directions having only mud to contend with.

Since my failure to leave with the College company it had been my intention to join it the first opportunity; but, hearing it would be disbanded in the spring, I enlisted in the Rockbridge Artillery attached to the Stonewall Brigade, and with about fifty other recruits left Lexington March 10, 1862, to join Jackson, then about thirty miles south of Winchester. Some of us traveled on horseback, and some in farm-wagons secured for the purpose. We did not create the sensation we had anticipated, either on leaving Lexington or along the road; still we had plenty of fun. I remember one of the party--a fellow with a very large chin, as well as cheek--riding up close to a house by the roadside in the door of which stood a woman with a number of children around her, and, taking off his hat, said, "God bless you, madam! May you raise many for the Southern Confederacy."

We spent Saturday afternoon and night in Staunton, and were quartered in a hotel kept by a sour-looking old Frenchman. We were given an abominable supper, the hash especially being a most mysterious-looking dish. After retiring to our blankets on the floor, I heard two of the party, who had substituted something to drink for something to eat, discussing the situation generally, and, among other things, surmising as to the ingredients of the supper's hash, when Winn said, "Bob, I analyzed that hash. It was made of buttermilk, dried apples, damsons and wool!"

The following day, Sunday, was clear and beautiful. We had about seventy miles to travel along the Valley turnpike. In passing a stately residence, on the porch of which the family had assembled, one of our party raised his hat in salutation. Not a member of the family took the least notice of the civility; but a negro girl, who was sweeping off the pavement in front, flourished her broom around her head most enthusiastically, which raised a general shout.

We arrived at Camp Buchanan, a few miles below Mount Jackson, on Monday afternoon. I then, for the first time since April, 1861, saw my brother John. How tough and brown he looked! He had been transferred to the Rockbridge Artillery shortly before the first battle of Manassas, and with my brother David belonged to a mess of as interesting young men as I ever knew. Some of them I have not seen for more than forty years. Mentioning their names may serve to recall incidents connected with them: My two brothers, both graduates of Washington College; Berkeley Minor, a student at the University of Virginia, a perfect bookworm; Alex. Boteler, student of the University of Virginia, son of Hon. Alex. Boteler, of West Virginia, and his two cousins, Henry and Charles Boteler, of Shepherdstown, West Virginia; Thompson and Magruder Maury, both clergymen after the war; Joe Shaner, of Lexington, Virginia, as kind a friend as I ever had, and who carried my blanket for me on his off-horse at least one thousand miles; John M. Gregory, of Charles City County, an A. M. of the University of Virginia. How distinctly I recall his large, well-developed head, fair skin and clear blue eyes; and his voice is as familiar to me as if I had heard it yesterday. Then the brothers, Walter and Joe Packard, of the neighborhood of Alexandria, Virginia, sons of the Rev. Dr. Packard, of the Theological Seminary, and both graduates of colleges; Frank Preston, of Lexington, graduate of Washington College, who died soon after the war while professor of Greek at William and Mary College, a whole-souled and most companionable fellow; William Bolling, of Fauquier County, student of University of Virginia; Frank Singleton, of Kentucky, student of University of Virginia, whom William Williamson, another member of the mess and a graduate of Washington College, pronounced "always a gentleman." Williamson was quite deaf, and Singleton always, in the gentlest and most patient way, would repeat for his benefit anything he failed to hear. Last, and most interesting of all, was George Bedinger, of Shepherdstown, a student of the University of Virginia.

There were men in the company from almost every State in the South, and several from Northern States. Among the latter were two sons of Commodore Porter, of the United States Navy, one of whom went by the name of "Porter-he," from his having gone with Sergeant Paxton to visit some young ladies, and, on their return, being asked how they had enjoyed their visit, the sergeant said, "Oh, splendidly! and Porter, he were very much elated."

Soon after my arrival supper was ready, and I joined the mess in my first meal in camp, and was astonished to see how they relished fat bacon, "flap-jacks" and strong black coffee in big tin cups. The company was abundantly supplied with first-rate tents, many of them captured from the enemy, and everybody seemed to be perfectly at home and happy.

I bunked with my brother John, but there was no sleep for me that first night. There were just enough cornstalks under me for each to be distinctly felt, and the ground between was exceedingly cold. We remained in this camp until the following Friday, when orders came to move.

We first marched about three miles south, or up the Valley, then countermarched, going about twenty miles, and on Saturday twelve miles farther, which brought us, I thought, and it seemed to be the general impression, in rather close proximity to the enemy. There having been only a few skirmishes since Manassas in July, 1861, none of us dreamed of a battle; but very soon a cannon boomed two or three miles ahead, then another and another. The boys said, "That's Chew's battery, under Ashby."

Pretty soon Chew's battery was answered, and for the first time I saw and heard a shell burst, high in the air, leaving a little cloud of white smoke. On we moved, halting frequently, as the troops were being deployed in line of battle. Our battery turned out of the pike and we had not heard a shot for half an hour. In front of us lay a stretch of half a mile of level, open ground and beyond this a wooded hill, for which we seemed to be making. When half-way across the low ground, as I was walking by my gun, talking to a comrade at my side, a shell burst with a terrible crash--it seemed to me almost on my head. The concussion knocked me to my knees, and my comrade sprawling on the ground. We then began to feel that we were "going in," and a most weakening effect it had on the stomach.

I recall distinctly the sad, solemn feeling produced by seeing the ambulances brought up to the front; it was entirely too suggestive. Soon we reached the woods and were ascending the hill along a little ravine, for a position, when a solid shot broke the trunnions of one of the guns, thus disabling it; then another, nearly spent, struck a tree about half-way up and fell nearby. Just after we got to the top of the hill, and within fifty or one hundred yards of the position we were to take, a shell struck the off-wheel horse of my gun and burst. The horse was torn to pieces, and the pieces thrown in every direction. The saddle-horse was also horribly mangled, the driver's leg was cut off, as was also the foot of a man who was walking alongside. Both men died that night. A white horse working in the lead looked more like a bay after the catastrophe. To one who had been in the army but five days, and but five minutes under fire, this seemed an awful introduction.

The other guns of the battery had gotten into position before we had cleared up the wreck of our team and put in two new horses. As soon as this was done we pulled up to where the other guns were firing, and passed by a member of the company, John Wallace, horribly torn by a shell, but still alive. On reaching the crest of the hill, which was clear, open ground, we got a full view of the enemy's batteries on the hills opposite.

In the woods on our left, and a few hundred yards distant, the infantry were hotly engaged, the small arms keeping up an incessant roar. Neither side seemed to move an inch. From about the Federal batteries in front of us came regiment after regiment of their infantry, marching in line of battle, with the Stars and Stripes flying, to join in the attack on our infantry, who were not being reinforced at all, as everything but the Fifth Virginia had been engaged from the first. We did some fine shooting at their advancing infantry, their batteries having almost quit firing. The battle had now continued for two or three hours. Now, for the first time, I heard the keen whistle of

the Minie-ball. Our infantry was being driven back and the Federals were in close pursuit.

Seeing the day was lost, we were ordered to limber up and leave. Just then a large force of the enemy came in sight in the woods on our left. The gunner of the piece nearest them had his piece loaded with canister, and fired the charge into their ranks as they crowded through a narrow opening in a stone fence. One of the guns of the battery, having several of its horses killed, fell into the hands of the enemy. About this time the Fifth Virginia Regiment, which, through some misunderstanding of orders, had not been engaged, arrived on the crest of the hill, and I heard General Jackson, as he rode to their front, direct the men to form in line and check the enemy. But everything else was now in full retreat, with Minie-balls to remind us that it would not do to stop. Running back through the woods, I passed close by John Wallace as he lay dying. Night came on opportunely and put an end to the pursuit, and to the taking of prisoners, though we lost several hundred men. I afterward heard Capt. George Junkin, nephew of the Northern college president, General Jackson's adjutant, say that he had the exact number of men engaged on our side, and that there were 2,700 in the battle. The enemy's official report gave their number as 8,000. Jackson had General Garnett, of the Stonewall Brigade, suspended from office for not bringing up the Fifth Regiment in time.

It was dusk when I again found myself on the turnpike, and I followed the few indistinct moving figures in the direction of safety. I stopped for a few minutes near a camp-fire, in a piece of woods, where our infantry halted, and I remember hearing the colored cook of one of their messes asking in piteous tones, over and over again, "Marse George, where's Marse Charles?" No answer was made, but the sorrowful face of the one interrogated was response enough. I got back to the village of Newtown, about three miles from the battlefield, where I joined several members of the battery at a hospitable house. Here we were kindly supplied with food, and, as the house was full, were allowed to sleep soundly on the floor. This battle was known as Kernstown.

President Lincoln's Gettysburg Address

Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, given November 19, 1863 on the battlefield near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, USA

 Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation: conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

 Now we are engaged in a great civil war. . .testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated. . . can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.

 We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that this nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

 But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . . we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

 It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . . that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . . that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom. . . and that government of the people. . .by the people. . .for the people. . . shall not perish from this earth.