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The Charlie Dickison Dispatch is a publication of the Sgt. Charlie Dickison Camp 534, Sons of Confederate Veterans. The newsletter is published monthly, except December and is free to members of the camp. To submit material for publication or to contact the editor, write Thomas L. Walden Jr., 106 Riverside Ave. Satsuma, Florida 32189 or email to tankman230@yahoo.com
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CALENDAR OF EVENTS
2. Monday, April 21, 2008 @ 7pm – Regular Meeting
3. May 2nd thru 4th, 2008 @ 6:30 Floridia Division Reunion Held in Ocala, Florida
4. Monday, May 19th 2008 @ 7pm – Regular Meeting
March 15, 16, 2008. Fort Cooper Days. Fort Cooper State Park, Inverness, Florida. From 9am to 4pm. Pre-Civil War 1830 to 1840 era event. Second Seminole War battle reenactments twice daily at 11am and 2pm. Living History demonstrations. Period Arts and Crafts. Entertainment, food and refreshments. General admission Adult $5 child 6 to 17 $1, under 6 free. The park is located at 3100 S. Old Floral City Road. For more information contact Dianne Drye at Dianne.Drye@dep.state.fl.us
March 28, 29, 30, 2008. (New Date) The15th annual Battle at Narcoossee Mill. St. Cloud Fla. southeast of Orlando by Kissimmee. Sponsored by the Jacob Summerlin Camp #1516 Sons of Confederate Veterans. The Battlefield is on 150 acres of open and wooded land on the shore of East Lake Tohopekaliga. The event host will be checking coggins papers for horses at the registration desk. There are no sutler or re-enactor fees. Friday, the 24th, is education day which begins at 9:00am; re-enactors are needed to provide demonstrations. A lunch will be provided for volunteers assisting with the school program. There will be a ladies tea and military ball on Saturday. Take Hwy 192 (Irlo Bronson Hwy) to Hwy 15. Go 2mi North on Hwy 15, look for the park sign. Another way to get there (from the North) is to take I-4 to the toll road 528 (Beachline Expressway) go east and get off on Hwy 15 exit (Narcoossee Road) go South on Hwy 15. Another way if you are coming from the Florida Turnpike, get off at exit #244 and go east on Hwy 192 through St. Cloud, then turn North on Hwy 15 (Narcoossee Road). GPS position: N28.16.448 W081.15.020 Contact the SCV Camp at http://www.jacobsummerlin.org/ or Chris Hall at chgalenhall@aol.com for more information, pre-registration at http://www.jacobsummerlin.org/ed2007.pdf
April 11, 12, 13, 2008. Ft. Clinch. 8th annual ladies encampment at Ft. Clinch. Join the ladies for a weekend of workshops, speakers and discussions geared towards expanding your knowledge, improving your impression and fellowshipping with other ladies in the hobby. Camp onsite in authentic barracks. Full registration details will be available in the Civilian reenactor area at the Olustee event or contact Diane Gleason at bzquiltn@aol.com or Ryan Blocker at blocker1974@yahoo.com GPS position: N30.41.834 W081.26.113
April 12, 13, 2008. Parrish Train Raid (southwest Florida). The Parrish Train Raid is definitely a one of a kind event. This a small event with two short battles per day, one at 11am and one at 2pm. Well, not really battles but attacks on the train as it passes. The train stops and is boarded by the Federals or Confederates and "captured" or the attackers are driven off by the soldiers on the train. Reenactors in period dress will be allowed to ride the train free. There will be time to interact with the public both on and off the train if you like. Artillery, Cavalry, Infantry and civilians are invited. Confederates will camp to the north near the wood line and Federals to the south near the wood line (firewood and water will be provided). Driving directions: Follow I-275 south until it hits I-75. Parrish is easy to find. From south Fla. take I-75 north to Ellenton like you are going to Gamble Plantation. Instead of turning to the west, turn east on Hwy 301 to the town of Parrish. From Lakeland, go south on Highway 37 (It dead ends in to Highway 62). Turn west or right on Highway 62 toward Parrish. When you hit Highway 301, turn right and immediately right into the Post Office. The train stop is right behind the Post Office. From Orlando, come Highway 17 south to just south of Bowling Green. Turn west on Highway 62 and take it all the way to 301. Preregistration is appreciated but not required. For further information Contact Barry King at king75thovi@aol.com
April 18, 19, 20, 2008. The Anclote River Raid – You are invited to Jay B
Starkey Wilderness Park in New Port Richey FL. Friday: School Day beginning at
9:30 am, guides and stations please meet at sutlers row at 9 am. Saturday:
Ladies Tea 11am All are welcome. 8pm Ball Celebration Saturday night, All are
welcome. Sunday: Church Services; Kids events to follow Services; 2pm Battle
Sat. & Sun.; Cabins and Campsites are available. Reservations cannot be taken
till November, 2pm is check in on the day of arrival. Cabin must be paid for 30
days in advance. Email
AncloteRiverRaid@Yahoo.com to reserve, they will be accepted in date
orders.. Only four Bounties are available for Artillery.
Email
AncloteRiverRaid@Yahoo.com Sutlers must pre-register,
must have period correct tents and merchandise and are subject to
approval; Cavalry – Ideal grounds with 14 miles of riding trails, corral will
be available early. Coggins papers on all animals are required to be shown at
registration. Living History Demonstrations throughout the weekend. In town
gun fights, skirmishes all day, pickets are suggested to be posted. We welcome
suggestions to enhance the experience. Thanks To the Park and Recreations
Dept., Friends of the Park and SWFWMD. Park will be open to all for set up
Wednesday. Gate Key needs to be acquired at registration. DIRECTIONS: From
NORTH of New Port Richey: 75 S to SR 52 Right; To Moon Lake Road make Left; to
Starkey Blvd, at stop light make Left and next left is Wilderness Park, the Park
Entrance; From SOUTH of New Port Richey: 75 N to SR 56 at exit go Left; Several
Miles and past Gunn Hwy to Starkey Blvd. at stop light make Right/ North; aprox
6 miles North to Wilderness Park - Jay B Starkey Wilderness Park Entrance, turn
Right. For information,
email
AncloteRiverRaid@Yahoo.com
April 25, 26, 27, 2008. Battle of Fairview Church. South
Carolina. School day Friday, April 25th, 500 students are expected. Your help
is needed at school day. Civilians, home front, infantry, artillery and cavalry
welcome. Battle and military skirmish on Saturday. Drill demonstrations,
memorial service and more. For information contact John Vaughn at
aocvaughn@aol.com website
http://www.butlerguards.com/fairview
May 2, 3, 4, 2008 (New date). Annual Federal Garrison at Ft. Clinch State Park. This event is sponsored by the CSO and is held on the same weekend as the Shrimp Festival in Fernandina Beach. Barracks accommodation provided, meals and the opportunities for first person interpretation of the Civil War (Federal) in exchange for a participants fee of $12.00 and agreement to help tell the story of Ft. Clinch and garrison duty in 1864. You can participate in fully authentic presentations, particularly during the candlelight tour after dark. Period correct camps can be set up right outside the fort. There is an area for modern camping but it is best to make advance reservations for a spot. Civilian impressions are encouraged as "townspeople or refugees (Federal Sympathizers) from Jacksonville". There will be plenty of "off duty" time to go to town and enjoy some “civilian” entertainment. For more information, contact F. Lee Bledsoe, Vice President of the CSO for Ft. Clinch at Bledsoel@bellsouth.net
Notes from Your Editor
Our Meeting in February
The meeting opened with the pledge and salutes the Confederate flag. Ronnie Fowler introduced a Maxie Mehaffey from Salt springs that will be joining camp 534 he is from Salt springs. His ancestors are many and he is going in under Wilkinson family line, Ronnie said Maxie's ancestors read like a fine pedigree. There were two more prospective members that came to see our camp and they love to see reenactments they are father and son both named Vincent but didn't get their last names.
There was a run down of the new officers names read and their positions. Our 5th brigade commander, Jay Cross, was called to the front to present certificates to the new officers and then the swearing in ceremony began.
We didn’t have a camera sadly to film it. The adopt a highway clean up was brought up saying we need to have a clean up day. However someone said they didn’t see our SCV sign on Hwy. 17 where it was previously. Jay Cross said that his camp had the same problem and if you don’t contact them to let them know when you plan to clean up or if have had not contact with The Adopt a Highway program they may remove your clubs sign. Exum is to call and inquire about it and see if they took it down and how to get it restored again. He will let us know what he finds out and then we can plan a clean up day. Ed Harper reported on the battle of Olustee, he was the only 534 member to attend this yrs battle. He said they didn’t see any SCV recruiting booth and that we may need to go there next year to give info out. The Blue and Gray seemed to run the reenactment and there were not as many confederates as before. The discussion led to purchasing a Wall tent to use at Horselanding as well as at Olustee event. Everyone seemed to like the idea. It was said we will vote for activities we plan to be in and not say yes, then don’t show up to help work it. The 5th brigade is sponsoring the Confederate memorial day to be held on April 26 in St. Augustine at the Confederate Square at 11:00 am, Commander Jan Parham and the local W. W. Lorring 1316 camp are hosting this ceremony with flowers, flag ceremony and speeches. All are invited to attend. Reminder about the St Patrick’s Day parade to be held in Savannah Ga. on March 17 was brought up by Jay Cross. He told of how great they were treated and how many took photos etc while they were there last year. The contact person is Tim Whipple of the Ebenezer Rifles SCV Camp 1901 is the contact person. (912) 574-1863 or jalagi25@yahoo.com
Come and show your support for your commander and officers and the New Officer that take Office at our Meetings.
Commander: Exum Bardin Adjutant: Thomas Walden
1st Lt. Commander Kevin Sapp 2nd Lt. Commander Leroy Zetrouer
Chaplain: Rev. Erle Prevatt Asst. Chaplain Lerroy Zetrouer
Recruiter: Edward Harper Historian/Sgt. at Arms: Ronnie Fowler
Newsletter Editor: Thomas Walden Camp Webmaster Thomas Walden
A Woman's Recollections of
Antietam
by
Mary Bedinger Mitchell
SEPTEMBER, 1862, was in
the skies of the almanac, but August still reigned in ours; it was hot and
dusty. The railroads in the Shenandoah Valley had been torn up, the bridges had
been destroyed, communication had been made difficult, and Shepherdstown,
cornered by the bend of the Potomac, lay as if forgotten in the bottom of
somebody's pocket. We were without news or knowledge, except when some chance
traveler would repeat the last wild and uncertain rumor that he had heard. We
had passed an exciting summer. Winchester had changed hands more than once; we
had been "in the Confederacy” and out of it again, and were now waiting, in an
exasperating state of ignorance and suspense, for the next move in the great
game.
It was a saying with us that Shepherdstown was just nine miles from
everywhere. It was, in fact, about that distance from Martinsburg and Harper's
Ferry --- oft-mentioned names --- and from Williamsport, where the armies so
often crossed, both to and from Maryland, it was off the direct road between
those places and lay, as I said, at the foot of a great sweep in the river, and
five miles from the nearest station on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad. As no
trains were running now, this was of little consequence ; what was more
important was that a turnpike road --- unusually fine for that region of stiff,
red clay --- led in almost a straight line for thirty miles to Winchester on the
south, and stretched northward, beyond the Potomac, twenty miles to Hagerstown.
Two years later it was the scene of "Sheridan's ride." Before the days of steam
this had been part of the old posting-road between the Valley towns and
Pennsylvania, and we had boasted a very substantial bridge. This had been burned
early in the war, and only the massive stone piers remained; but a mile and a
half down the Potomac was the ford, and the road that led to it lay partly above
and partly along the face of rocky and precipitous cliffs and stony, and
especially in one place, around the foot of "Mount Misery," was very steep and
difficult for vehicles. It was, moreover, entirely commanded by the hills on the
Maryland side, but it was the ford over which some part of the Confederate army
passed every year and in 1863 was used by the main body of infantry on the way
to Gettysburg. Beyond the river were the Cumberland Canal and its Willow-fringed
tow-path, from which rose the soft and rounded outlines of the hills that from
their farther slopes looked down upon the battle-field of Antietam. On clear
days we could see the fort at Harper's Ferry without a glass, and the flag
flying over it, a mere speck against the sky, and we could hear the gun that was
fired every evening at sunset.
Shepherdstown's only access to the river was through a narrow gorge, the
bed of a small tributary of the Potomac, that was made to do much duty as it
slipped cheerily over its rocks and furnished power for several mills and
factories, most of them at that time silent. Here were also three or four stone
warehouses, huge empty structures, testifying mutely that the town had once had
a business. The road to the bridge led through this cleft, down an indescribably
steep street skirting the stream's ravine to whose sides the mills and factories
clung in most extraordinary fashion; but it was always a marvel how anything
heavier than a wheelbarrow could be pulled up its tedious length, or how any
vehicle could be driven down Without plunging into the water at the bottom.
In this odd little borough, then, we were waiting "developments,"
hearing first that "our men" were coming, and then that they were not coming,
when suddenly, on Saturday, the 13th of September, early in the morning, we
found ourselves surrounded by a hungry horde of lean and dusty tatterdemalions,
who seemed to rise from the ground at our feet. I did not know where they came
from, or to whose command they belonged; I have since been informed that General
Jackson recrossed into Virginia at Williamsport, and hastened to Harper's Ferry
by the shortest roads. These would take him some four miles south of us, and our
haggard apparitions were perhaps a part of his force. They were stragglers, at
all events, ---professional, some of them, but some worn out by the incessant
strain of that summer. When I say that they were hungry, I convey no impression
of the gaunt starvation that looked from their cavernous eyes. All day they
crowded to the doors of our houses' With always the same drawling complaint: "
I've been a-marchin' an' a-fight- in' for six weeks steady, and I ain't had
n-a-r-thin' to eat'cept green apples an' green cawn, an' I wish you'd please to
gimme a bite to eat."
Their looks bore out their statements, and when they told us they had
"clean gin out," we believed them, and went to get what we had. They could be
seen afterward asleep in every fence corner, and under every tree, but after a
night's rest they "pulled themselves together" somehow and disappeared as
suddenly as they had come. Possibly they went back to their commands; possibly
they only moved on to repeat the same tale elsewhere. I know nothing of numbers,
nor what force was or was not engaged in any battle, but I saw the troops march
past us every summer for four years, and I know something of the appearance of a
marching army, both Union and Southern. There are always stragglers, of course,
but never before or after did I see anything comparable to the demoralized state
of the Confederates at this time. Never were want and exhaustion more visibly
put before my eyes, and that they could march or fight at all seemed incredible.
As I remember the next morning---it was Sunday, September 14th---we were
awakened by heavy firing at two points on the mountains. We were expecting the
bombardment of Harper's Ferry, and knew that Jackson was before it. Many of our
friends were with him, and our interest there was so intense that we sat
watching the bellowing and smoking Heights' for a long time, before we became
aware that the same phenomena were to be noticed in the north. From our windows
both points could be observed, and we could not tell which to watch more keenly.
We knew almost nothing except that there was fighting, that it must be very
heavy, and that our friends were surely in it somewhere, but whether at South
Mountain or Harper's Ferry we had no means of discovering. member how the day
wore on, how we staid at the Windows until we could not endure the suspense; how
we walked about and came back to them; and how finally, when night fell, it
seemed cruel and preposterous to go to bed still ignorant of the result.
Monday afternoon, about 2 or 3 o'clock, when we were sitting about in
disconsolate fashion, distracted by the contradictory rumors, our negro cook
rushed into the room with eyes shining and face working with excitement. She had
been down in " de ten-acre lot to pick a few years of cawn," and she had seen a
long train of wagons coming up from the ford, and " dey is full of wounded men,
and de blood running outen dem dat deep," measuring on her outstretched arm to
the shoulder. This horrible picture sent us flying to town, where we found the
streets already crowded, the people all astir, and the foremont wagons, of what
seemed an endless line, dis- charging their piteous burdens. The scene speedily
became ghastly, but fortunately we could not stay tere were no preparations, no
accommodations---the men could not be left in the street---what was to be done?
A Federal soldier once said to me, "I was always sorry for your wounded;
they never seemed to get any care." The remark was extreme, but there was much
justice in it. There was little mitigation of hardship to our unfortunate
armies. We were fond of calling them Spartans, and they were but too truly
called upon to endure a Spartan system of neglect and privation. They were
generally ill-fed and ill-cared for. It would have been possible at this time,
one would think, to send a courier back to inform the town and bespeak what
comforts it could provide for the approaching wounded; but here they were,
unannounced, on the brick pavements, and the first thing was to find roofs to
cover them. Men ran for keys and opened the shops, long empty, and the unused
rooms; other people got brooms and stirred up the dust of ages; then swarms of
children began to appear with bundles of hay and straw, taken from anybody's
stable. These were hastily disposed in heaps, and covered with blankets---the
soldiers' own, or blankets begged or borrowed. On these improvised beds the
sufferers were placed, and the next question was how properly to dress their
wounds. No surgeons were to be seen. A few men, detailed as nurses, had come,
but they were incompetent, of course. Our women set bravely to work and washed
away the blood or stanched it as well as they could, where the jolting of the
long rough ride had disarranged the hasty binding done upon the battle-field.
But what did they know of wounds beyond a cut finger, or a boil ? Yet they
bandaged and bathed, with a devotion that went far to make up for their
inexperience. Then there was the hunt for bandages. Every housekeeper ransacked
her stores and brought forth things new and old. I saw one girl, in despair for
a strip of cloth, look about helplessly, and then rip off the hem of her white
petticoat. The doctors came up, by and by, or I suppose they did, for some
amputating was done---rough surgery, you may be sure. The women helped, holding
the instruments and the basins, and trying to soothe or strengthen. They stood
to their work nobly; the emergency brought out all their strength to meet it.
One girl who had been working very hard helping the men on the
sidewalks, and dressing wounds afterward in a close, hot room, told me that at
one time the sights a last were fearful) so overcame her that she could only
stagger to the staircase, where she hung, half conscious, over the banisters,
saying to herself, " Oh, I hope if I faint some one will kick me into a corner
and let me lie there!” She did not faint, but went back to her work in a few
moments, and through the whole of what followed was one of the most
indefatigable and useful. She was one of many; even children did their part.
It became a grave question how to feed so many unexpected guests. The
news spread rapidly, and the people from the country neighborhoods came pouring
in to help, expecting to stay with friends who had already given up every spare
bed and every inch of room where beds could be put up. Virginia houses are very
elastic, but ours were strained to their utmost. Fortunately some of the
farmers' wives had been thoughtful enough to bring supplies of linen, and some
bread and fruit, and when our wants became better known other contributions
flowed in; but when all was done it was not enough.
We worked far into the night that Monday, went to bed late, and rose
early next morning. Tuesday brought fresh wagon-loads of wounded, and would have
brought despair, except that they were accompanied by an apology for a
commissariat. Soon more reliable sources of supply were organized among our
country friends. Some doctors also arrived, who---with a few honorable
exceptions---might as well have staid away. The remembrance of that worthless
body of officials stirs me to wrath. Two or three worked conscientiously and
hard, and they did all the medical work, except what was done by our own town
physicians. In strong contrast was the conduct of the common men detailed as
nurses. They were as gentle as they knew how to be, and very obliging and
untiring. Of course they were uncouth and often rough, but with the wounded
dying about us every day, and with the necessity that we were under for the
first few days, of removing those who died at once that others not yet quite
dead might take their places, there was no time to be fastidious; it required
all our efforts to be simply decent, and we sometimes failed in that.
We fed our men as well as we could from every available source, and
often had some difficulty in feeding ourselves. The townspeople were very
hospitable, and we were invited here and there, but could not always go, or
hesitated, knowing every house was full. I remember once, that having
breakfasted upon a single roll and having worked hard among sickening details,
about 4 o'clock I turned wolfishly ravenous and ran to a friend's house down the
street. When I got there I was almost too faint to speak, but my friend looked
at me and disappeared in silence, coming back in a moment with a plate of hot
soup. What luxury! I sat down then and there on the front doorstep and devoured
the soup as if I had been without food for a week.
It was known on Tuesday that Harper's Ferry had been taken, but it was
growing evident that South Mountain had not been a victory. We had heard from
some of our friends, but not from all, and what we did hear was often most
unsatisfactory and tantalizing. For instance, we would be told that some one
whom we loved had been seen standing with his battery, had left his gun an
instant to shake hands and send a message, and had then stepped back to
positivilian informant had come away for safety, and the smoke of conflict had
hidden battery and all from view. As night drew nearer, whispers of a great
battle to be fought the next day grew louder, and we shuddered at the prospect,
for battles had come to mean to us, as they never had before, blood, wounds, and
death.
On the 17th of September cloudy skies looked down upon the two armies
facing each other on the fields of Maryland. It seems to me now that the roar of
that day began with the light, and all through its long and dragging hours its
thunder formed a background to our pain and terror. If we had been in doubt as
to our friends' whereabouts on Sunday, there was no room for doubt now. There
was no sitting at the windows now and counting discharges of guns, or watching
the curling smoke. We went about our work with pale faces and trembling hands,
yet trying to appear composed for the sake of our patients, who were much
excited. We could hear the incessant explosions of artillery, the shrieking
whistles of the shells, and the sharper, deadlier, more thrilling roll of
musketry; while every now and then the echo of some charging cheer would come,
borne by the wind, and as the human voice pierced that demoniacal clangor we
would catch our breath and listen, and try not to sob, and turn back to the
forlorn hospitals, to the suffering at our feet and before our eyes, while
imagination fainted at thought of those other scenes hidden from us beyond the
Potomac.
On our side of the river there were noise, confusion, dust; throngs of
stragglers; horsemen galloping about; wagons blocking each other, and teamsters
wrangling; and a continued din of shouting, swearing, and rumbling, in the midst
of which men were dying, fresh wounded arriving, surgeons amputating limbs and
dressing wounds, women going in and out with bandages, lint, medicines, food. An
ever-present sense of anguish, dream, pity, and, I fear, hatred---these are my
recollections of Antietam.
When night came we could still hear the sullen guns and hoarse,
indefinite murmurs that succeeded the day's turmoil. That night was dark and
lowering and the air heavy and dull. Across the river innumerable camp-fires
were blazing, and we could but too well imagine the scenes that they were
lighting. We sat in silence, looking into each other's tired faces. There were
no impatient words, few tears; only silence and a drawing close together, as if
for comfort. We were almost hopeless, yet clung with desperation to the thought
that we were hoping. But in our hearts we could not believe that anything human
could have escaped from that appalling fire. On Thursday the two armies lay idly
facing each other, but we could not be idle. The wounded continued to arrive
until the town was quite unable to hold all the disabled and suffering. They
filled every building and overflowed into the country round, into farm-houses,
barns, corn-cribs, cabins,---wherever four walls and a roof were found together.
Those able to travel were sent on to Winchester and other towns back from the
river, but their departure seemed to make no appreciable difference. There were
six churches, and they were all full; the Odd Fellows' Hall, the Freemasons',
the little Town Council room, the barn-like place known as the Drill ivate
houses after their capacity, the shops and empty buildings, the
school-houses,---every inch of space, and yet the cry was for room.
The unfinished Town Hall had stood in naked ugliness for many a long
day. Somebody threw a few rough boards across the beams, placed piles of straw
over them, laid down single planks to walk upon, and lo, it was a hospital at
once. The stone warehouses down in the ravine and by the river had been passed
by, because low and damp and undesirable as sanitariums, but now their doors and
windows were thrown wide, and, with barely time allowed to sweep them, they were
all occupied,--- even the "old blue factory," an antiquated, crazy, dismal
building of blue stucco that peeled off in great blotches, which had been shut
up for years, and was in the last stages of dilapidation.
On Thursday night we heard more than usual sounds of disturbance and
movement, and in the morning we found the Confederate army in full retreat.
General Lee crossed the Potomac under cover of the darkness, and when the day
broke the greater part of his force---or the more orderly portion of it---had
gone on toward Kearneysville and Leetown. General McClellan followed to the
river, and without crossing got a battery in position on Douglas's Hill, and
began to shell the retreating army and, in consequence, the town. What before
was confusion grew worse; the retreat became a stampede. The battery may not
have done a very great deal of execution, but it made a fearful noise. It is
curious how much louder guns sound when they are pointed at you than when turned
the other way ! And the shell, with its long-drawn screeching, though no doubt
less terrifying than the singing minie-ball, has a way of making one's hair
stand on end. Then, too, every one who has had any experience in such things,
knows how infectious fear is, how it grows when yielded to, and how' when you
once begin to run, it soon seems impossible to run fast enough; whereas, if you
can manage to stand your ground, the alarm lessens and sometimes disappears.
Some one suggested that yellow was the hospital color, and immediately
everybody who could lay hands upon a yellow rag hoisted it over the house. The
whole town was a hospital; there was scarcely a building that could not with
truth seek protection under that plea, and the fantastic little strips were soon
flaunting their ineffectual remonstrance from every roof-tree and chimney. When
this specific failed the excitement became wild and ungov- ernable. It would
have been ludicrous had it not produced so much suffering. The danger was less
than it seemed, for McClellan, after all, was not bombarding the town, but the
army, and most of the shells flew over us and exploded in the fields; but aim
cannot be always sure, and enough shells fell short to convince the terrified
citizens that their homes were about to be battered down over their ears. The
better people kept some outward coolness, with perhaps a feeling of "noblesse
oblige"- but the poorer classes acted as if the town were already in a blaze,
and rushed from their houses with their families and household goods to make
their way into the country. The road was thronged, the streets blocked; men were
vociferating, women crying, children screaming; wagons, ambulances, guns,
caissons' horsemen, footmen, all mingled---nand jammed together---in one
struggling, shouting mass. The negroes were the worst, and With faces of a
ghastly ash-color, and staring eyes' they swarmed into the fields, carrying
their babies, their clothes, their pots and kettles, fleeing from the wrath
behind them. The comparison to a hornet's nest attacked by boys is not a good
one, for there was no "fight" shown; but a disturbed ant-hill is altogether
inadequate. They fled widely and camped out of range, nor would they venture
back for days.
Had this been all, we could afford to laugh now, but there was another
side to the picture that lent it an intensely painful aspect. It was the
hurrying crowds of wounded. Ah me ! those maimed and bleeding fugitives ! When
the firing commenced the hospitals began to empty. All who were able to pull one
foot after another, or could bribe or beg comrades to carry them, left in haste.
In vain we implored them to stay; in vain we showed them the folly, the suicide,
of the attempt; in vain we argued, cajoled, threatened, ridiculed; pointed out
that we were remaining and that there was less danger here than on the road.
There is no sense or reason in a panic. The cannon were bellowing upon Douglas's
Hill, the shells whistling and shrieking, the air full of shouts and cries; we
had to scream to make ourselves heard. The men replied that the "Yankees" were
crossing; that the town was to be burned; that we could not be made prisoners,
but they could; that, anyhow, they were going as far as they could walk, or be
carried. And go they did. Men with cloths about their heads went hatless in the
sun, men with cloths about their feet limped shoeless on the stony road; men
with arms in slings, without arms, with one leg, with bandaged sides and backs;
men in ambulances, wagons, carts, wheelbarrows, men carried on stretchers or
supported on the shoulder of some self-denying comrade---all who could crawl
went, and went to almost certain death. They could not go far, they dropped off
into the country houses, where they were received with as much kindness as it
was possible to ask her; but their wounds had become inflamed, their frames were
weakened by fright and over-exertion: erysipelas, mortification, gangrene set
in; and long rows of nameless graves still bear witness to the results.
Our hospitals did not remain empty. It was but a portion who could get
off in any manner, and their places were soon taken by others, who had remained
nearer the battle-field, had attempted to follow the retreat, but, having
reached Shepherdstown, could go no farther. We had plenty to do, but all that
day we went about with hearts bursting with rage and shame, and breaking with
pity and grief for the needless, needless waste of life. The amateur nurses all
stood firm, and managed to be cheerful for the sake of keeping their men quiet,
but they could not be without fear. One who had no thought of leaving her post
desired to send her sister a mere child---out of harm's way. She, therefore,
told her to go to their home, about half a mile distant, and ask their mother
for some yellow cloth that was in the house, thinking, of course, that the
mother would never permit the girl to come back into the town. But she
miscalculated. The child accepted the commission as a sacred trust, forced her
way out over the crowded road, where the danger was to the town itself, reached
home, and made her request. The house had its own flag flying, for it was
directly in range and full of wounded. Perhaps for this reason the mother was
less anxious to keep her daughter with her; perhaps in the hurry and excitement
she allowed herself to be persuaded that it was really necessary to get that
strip of yellow flannel into Shepherdstown as soon as possible. At all events,
she made no difficulty, but With streaming tears kissed the girl, and saw her
set out to go alone, half a mile through a panic-stricken rabble, under the fire
of a battery and into a town whose escape from conflagration was at best not
assured. To come out had been comparatively easy, for she was going with the
stream. The return was a different matter. The turbulent tide had now to be
stemmed. Yet she managed to work her way along, now in the road, now in the
field, slipping between the wagon wheels, and once, at least, crawling under a
stretcher. No one had noticed her coming out, she was but one of the crowd; and
now most were too busy With their own safety to pay much heed to anything else.
Still, as her face seemed alone set toward the town, she attracted some
attention. One or two spoke to her. Now it was, "Look-a here, little gal! don't
you know you're a-goin' the wrong way?" One man looked at the yellow thing she
had slung across her shoulder and said, with an approving nod: "That's right,
that's right; save the wounded if ye kin." She meant to do it, and finally
reached her sister, breathless but triumphant, with as proud a sense of duty
done as if her futile errand had been the deliverance of a city.
I have said that there was less danger than appeared, but it must not be
supposed that there was none. A friend who worked chiefly in the old blue
factory had asked me to bring her a bowl of gruel that come one had promised to
make for one of her patients. I had just taken it to her, and she was walking
across the floor with the bowl in her hands, when a shell crashed through a
corner of the wall and passed out at the opposite end of the building, shaking
the rookery to its foundations, filling the room With dust and plaster, and
throwing her upon her knees to the floor. The wounded screamed, and had they not
been entirely unable to move, not a man would have been left in the building.
But it was found that no one was hurt, and things proceeded as before. I asked
her afterward if she was frightened. She said yes, when it was over, but her
chief thought at the time was to save the gruel, for the man needed it, and it
had been very hard to find any one composed enough to make it. I am glad to be
able to say that he got his gruel in spite of bombs. That factory was struck
twice. A school-house, full of wounded, and one or two other buildings were hit,
but I believe no serious damage was done.
On Saturday morning there was a fight at the ford. The negroes were
still encamped in the fields, though some, finding that the town was yet
standing, ventured back on various errands during the day. What we feared were
the stragglers and hangers-on and nondescripts that circle round an army like
the great buzzards we shuddered to see wheeling silently over us. The people
were still excited, anticipating the Federal crossing and dreading a repetition
of the bombardment or an encounter in the streets. Some parties of Confederate
cavalry rode through, and it is possible that a remained drawn up in readiness
on one of the hills during the morning, but I remember no large force of troops
at any time on that day.
About noon, or a little after, we were told that General McClellan's
advance had been checked, and that it was not believed he would attempt to cross
the river at once---a surmise that proved to be correct. The country grew more
composed. General Lee lay near Leetown, some seven miles south of us, and
General McClellan rested quietly in Maryland. On Sunday we were able to have
some short church services for our wounded, cut still shorter, I regret to say,
by reports that the " Yankees " were crossing. Such reports continued to harass
us, especially as we feared the capture of our friends, who would often ride
down to see us during the day, but who seldom ventured to spend a night so near
the river. We presently passed into debatable land, when we were in the
Confederacy in the morning, in the Union after dinner, and on neutral ground at
night. We lived through a disturbed and eventful autumn, subject to continual
"alarms and excursions," but when this Saturday came to an end, the most trying
and tempestuous week of the war for Shepherdstown was over.
Source: Battles and Leaders
of the Civil War
Descendants of the Confederate Officers Corps
Ancestor Information Form
1. Name:__________________________________________________________
Address:_________________________________________________________
City:________________ State:_______________________ Zip:______
Phone: (_______) _______ - ______________
2. Affiliation:______________________________________________________
3. Ancestor’s Name:________________________________________________
4. Ancestor’s Rank:________________________________________________
5. Ancestor’s Unit:_________________________________________________
6. Ancestor’s Period of service:_______________________________________
7. Applicants Relationship to their Confederate Officer:
____________________________________________________
8. If more than one officer ancestor please list separately (only one lapel pin and affidavit issued per
member): _________________________________________________________________________
9. I_____________________________________________ am a member in good standing
Signature
of______________________, hereby attests the foregoing to be a true and complete statement of
my Confederate ancestors service and my relationship to same.
10. Signed this_______________ day of _______________ (month) _______________ year
11. Accepted by_________________________________________________________ on this
_______________ day of ______________ (Month) _______________ year.
Please make checks payable in the amount of $35.00 to:
The Sons of Confederate Veterans, Florida Division Inc.
Please forward your Ancestor Information form and check to:
Descendants of the Confederate Officers Corps
160 Laguna Ct.
St. Augustine, FL 32086
The 38th Annual Florida Division Reunion
Ocala, Florida — May 2 — 4, 2008
Ramada Inn and Conference Center
Ocala, Florida
(352) 732-3131
Number Attending Total _____________---
Registration Fee: Members Only
If Postmarked By April 15th _________X $25.00 $_________
After April 15th __________X $30.00 $_________
SCV Division Awards Luncheon: _________X $15.00 $_________
Division Banquet: _________X $25.00 $_________
Total Remitted: $_________
Please Indicate Your Banquet Meal Choice
Number of Meals
Roast Beef Bordelaise __________
Lemon Pepper Chicken __________
NAME & TITLE: (please print clearly) ______________________________________________
ADDRESS: ______________________________________________
______________________________________________
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PHONE NUMBER: ______________________________________________
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Please Mail Registration Form & Check to: Jim Davis
160 Laguna Ct.
When booking reservations be sure to mention that your with the SCV. St. Augustine, Fl 32086
THE YEAR OF PRESIDENT JEFFERSON DAVIS
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