CHAPTER XIII.--THE OTHER SIDE OF WAR.
In Washington, on the twentieth of July, 1861, expectation ran high.A decisive, and it was hoped a final blow was to be struck on thefollowing day. Large numbers of troops had passed through the city andbeen massed thirty miles away. A great battle was imminent. Both armieshad recently won small victories. Both were jubilant. For the most partthe soldiers in these two opposing camps were raw recruits. They sangand joked and played tricks on each other. To both, war was a merename yet, a painted glory, a sabred, gold-laced parade before admiring,cheering crowds. The Confederates knew every step of the ground. Totheir opponents it was an unknown land into which they had been marched;rugged, broken country, the like of which the most of them had neverbefore seen. Raw and untried they were on both sides, but the lack ofknowledge of the topography--of the location of pass and defile, of fordand of stream--gave to the Union troops (when they had deigned to thinkof it at all) a certain feeling of insecurity and uneasiness. Still noone doubted for a moment the outcome. The battle would be fought andwon, and glory would be carried home on every Union bayonet. Civiliansdrove out to camp from the city, and from distant hilltops were preparedto witness the battle. A martial display like this may not be seenthrough field-glasses every day. Early in the day cannonading hadbeen heard. More citizens started for the scene of action. There wereintervals of comparative silence, and then again the boom of cannon andthe rattle of muskets told the distant audience that hostilities wereon--that neither side had finally yielded. Later a number of citizensdrove furiously across the Long Bridge with the news that the Northerntroops were retreating toward the city. Then word came that they hadrallied, but citizens deserted their posts of observation and roderapidly toward town. They reported the Southern troops as fightingfiercely, but it was thought they were about to yield. They couldnot hold out much longer against the murderous fire of the Union men.Suddenly a flying horseman with livid face and white lips sped throughthe streets. It was a messenger from the front! He was making straightto the White House! The Northern troops were in full retreat! Peoplelooked at each other in dismay. Surely they would rally! They wouldnot come to the city! They were only foiling back! They would form andattack again! People told each other these things and turned pale. Thestreets began to be filled with returning civilians. No one stopped.Every one pushed on toward home or to the Capitol. Another foam-fleckedhorse dashed in. The rider had on a uniform, dirty, begrimed and wet.
"The Northern troops have broken ranks! They are fleeing, horse andfoot, in one mass of disorganized panic-stricken humanity, pursued by amurderous fire from a jubilant, victory-intoxicated enemy! The officerscould not rally them! It is a panic!" No need to question the facts.Look at the distant hills. Watch the approaches. See the successionof dispatch bearers fly past to the White House! "It is only a retreat!They will rally!" called back one rider only to be contradicted by thenext. "It is not a retreat! It is a panic! They have broken ranks. Menare flying madly. Guns, ammunition, everything that hinders speed havebeen thrown away! Each man is flying to save himself! Washington is indanger!"
The climax had indeed come. The dismay knew no bounds. What next?Must the President escape? Where should he go? If he left, what couldCongress do? Must all fly? Where? Would the enemy invade Washington? Wasthe Northern army really so disorganized, so demoralized? In the nameof God! what could it all mean? People all asked questions. There was noone to answer them--no one but the stragglers who began to come in. Werethe brave fellows who had so gallantly and cheerfully marched out notbrave after all? Were they outnumbered? Were there no reinforcements?What was the solution? They had not long to wait. A handful ofhorsemen, shame-faced and hesitant, then worn out and hard-driven teamsbegan to appear at the far end of the Long Bridge. All Washington tookto its housetops. Anxious faces watched for some approaching line. Nonecame; but the Long Bridge was gorged with a struggling mass of horse,foot and ordnance. There was no pretense of a line of march. Each manfled by and for himself. Twilight saw the streets filled with men insoiled and torn uniform; uniform which had but just marched out freshand resplendent. Sullen replies greeted questions.
"By God, we didn't know where we were! Officers didn't know any more'nwe did."
"Had us in a pocket!"
"Gad, we was _lost_--didn't know the way in _ner_ out! Try it yerself."
"Willin' t' fight--but not willin' t' go it blind like that."Ambulances, limping footmen, infantry, cavalry, ordinance and supplywagons crowded and jostled and swore and cursed each at the other. Eachstruggled for place in advance. The Long Bridge, the Aqueduct Bridge,the Chain Bridge, all were one mad scene of confusion. The terrified mensaw the dome of the Capitol and their aim was to reach it by the nearestroute. The thought of the unknown country had been to them a nightmarefrom which escape was their only desire. All night the ghastly spectaclewas kept up. No one slept. No one knew what to expect on the morrow,Would the city be bombarded from the heights beyond? Would it be shelledand burned? Would these panic-stricken men rally? Could they be dependedupon, or was the fright now so in their blood that they would refuseto form in line again and obey commands? Could they be relied upon?Pennsylvania avenue was lined with tired, terrified, and woundedmen. Churches were turned into hospitals. Nobody slept. Surgeons wereeverywhere. More wounded kept coming in. Surgeons from Baltimore, fromPhiladelphia, and even from New York responded to telegrams. Specialtrains rushed in. Washington was one mad whirl of fright and dismay!Nest morning the whole country was electrified by the terrible news.
"Extra! 'stra! 'stro! Extra! all 'bout terrible defeat m-m-m-'ion troops!'stra! 'stra! 'stro!"
In every town and hamlet in the country--on every table there was spreadthe awful news on the morning of July 22. Men began to take on anotherlook. This, indeed, was serious! What was to be done? Reserve troopswere started without delay from camp and home. Excitement was at feverheat. Would the fresh troops arrive in time? Could Washington holdout?Must the President fly? Another kind of question bore hard upon many ahousehold. Who was killed? Who wounded? Who missing? People looked intoeach other's eyes and feared to ask or to speak of this question nearesttheir hearts.
Roy Davenport's regiment was ordered to the front. Henceforth camp lifewould be no picnic. They could be boys no longer. Men were needed at thefront. Beverly's company had some time since joined the troops in theSouthwest and was in the field. The battery in which Howard actedas gunner was with Sherman in the far South. For the first time theseriousness of the situation was borne home to the whole North. To feelthat Washington was really in danger gave a new meaning to defeat. Whyhad the Northern troops met such a fearful disaster? Before this theyhad won in almost every contest, but this was worth all the rest tothe South so near was it to Washington--so near to Richmond. The twocapitals faced each other like gladiators, and the first serious blowhad fallen with crushing force upon the Union champions. If Washingtonfell the Confederacy was sure of foreign recognition--of success.
Griffith had a long talk with Governor Morton when he went to see Roy'sregiment off. When he came home he was pale and anxious. There was a newtrouble on his heart. He did not tell Katherine that Morton had urgedhim to volunteer his services to the Government as a guide through thepasses and defiles of his native State.
"Your knowledge of that country would be simply invaluable. It wouldprevent any such disaster as this again. Panics like this ruin an army.It will take months to recover from such a rout even if nothing worsecomes of it. The moral effect is simply fatal. You are a Union man andyou know every foot of that country. Our generals don't. They are afraidto risk getting their men into a pocket and losing their whole command.You can help. The main battle-ground is bound to be Virginia; we canaccomplish nothing of value until we know and feel secure on thatsoil--until the State is an open book to us. Let me wire the Presidentthat you will. Let--"
Griffith held up his hand.
"I cannot! I cannot!" he said. "It is my old State; I love it and mypeople. I have d
one enough for my country. I have done my share. I havegiven my property, my friends, my home, and now my three boys--all, allI have given for my conscience and my country's sake. Surely I have donemy whole duty, I will not betray my State! I will not!"
Over and over the Governor had returned to the attack only to receivethe same reply. Day after day he argued with Griffith, and still illnews came from the front. The army of the Potomac seemed paralyzed afterits repulse. The real gravity of the situation was, for the first time,borne in upon both the military and the political mind. If the greatforeign powers recognized the Confederate government, the Republic waslost. If Washington fell, that recognition was assured--and still "allwas quiet on the Potomac."
The middle of July the wires had flashed the news of the defeat of theConfederates at Boonville, Missouri, by Lyons' men. Beverly had beenthere, and had written the full account home. Then he was at Carthage,and was full of fight and enthusiasm. After his account of the battleat Carthage, he had other things to tell. "I didn't get a scratch eitherplace, but the day after the last fight I did get a lot of fun out ofit. I suppose you won't be able to see how there could be any fun in thesituation. Well, I'll tell you one or two things. One of my men showedthe white feather, and we were thinking of court-martialing and makingan example of him. I made up my mind to give Hartman (that was thefellow's name, Bill Hartman) a chance to tell me privately his side ofthe story. Says I, 'Bill, I've asked all your neighbors here in camp ifyou were a coward at home, and they all say you were not only brave,but you had proved it many a time. Now, I want to save you thiscourt-martial if I can, and I want you to tell me your side of it. Howdid it happen?'
"'Well,' said he, transferring his quid of tobacco to his other cheek,'Cap, it's this arway. I can't seem t' jest stand right up an' shoot afeller I ain't had no words with. I want to pick out my man when I killhim, an' I want t' kinder have a quah'l with him fust. I can't seem t'jest stand right up an' kill a man I ain't had _no_ words with, I can'tdo it, somehow er 'nother, Cap.'
"I don't know how I'm going to manage to get Bill into a 'quah'l' withsome special Reb before the next fight, and then make sure he'll geta chance to pop at that particular one in action! We'll have to get upsome scheme, I suppose. Bill is too good a soldier to be ham-peredand to have his usefulness impaired by a simple want of a feeling ofpersonal revenge! I reckon if the truth were told, though, we all fighta good deal better if we have that stimulant. Another ludicrous thinghappened the other day. I was sent out, just with an orderly, to seeif I could learn anything of the movements of the enemy. We had oncitizens' clothes, and we jogged along until we were within field-glassdistance of Harris's camp. He is an old West Pointer and a tactician.I've heard that they call him 'Old Logistics and Strategy'--and I mustsay if his advice in the Senate had been followed last winter we'd havehad a mighty poor show here now. But when we got where we thought wecould see something, quite a shower came up and our glass was no use.Under the cover of the rain I ventured a good deal closer; and, ifyou'll believe me, his command were sitting on their horses, drawn up inline, with umbrellas raised! The absurdity of the thing nearly knockedmy pins from under me. I only wished I could get near enough to see theeffect on Old Logistics when he should emerge from his tent--and hea West Pointer! But you don't need to make any mistakes about theirfighting--these natives. We've found that they will fight to the death,but they've got their own ideas on the subject of soldiering in themeantime. Most of 'em carry their powder in a pouch, and it needs to bekept dry! It was the very funniest thing I ever saw, though. The raincame down in such torrents I couldn't get an idea how many there were,but, from the way they fought us next day, I made up my mind there mustbe pretty close to a million--and they didn't use umbrellas to protectthemselves, either! They took our storm of shot cooler than they did therain in camp, and they fought like demons. Of course, their equipmentsdon't compare with ours. Most of them have their old home guns--no twoalike. But a good lot of our boys are carrying around some of theirammunition inside of them just now, all the same. One of the prisonerswe took--a straggler--told us that none of his command are regularlyenlisted. They are afraid to enlist; say that Old Logistics is a'reg'lar,' and, if they enlist and then don't do just his way, he'llcourt-martial them. They argue that, if they don't regularly enlist, hecan't do anything to them. They are ready and eager to fight, but theydon't propose to be subject to 'regular' discipline in the intervals.This fellow says half of the command go home nights--to their farms andstores--and return at dawn the next morning. I think he is lying aboutthe numbers who do, but I don't doubt that some do. He vows he istelling the cold fact. Fancy the humor of commanding an army underumbrellas, who go home nights to milk the cows! But undertake to fight'em, and there is no laugh left. That is not their comic side. We haveorders to move in the morning and are all ready. I will let you hearagain the moment we stop."
Before this letter of Beverly's reached home the telegraphic news ofthe battle of Wilson's Creek filled the papers. Beverly's name appearedamong the wounded: "Seriously, not fatally--Captain Beverly Davenport;shot in three places while covering retreat after General Lyon fell.Young Captain Davenport's men did good service. His command lostheavily." No further news came. Griffith telegraphed, but could get noreply.
"You must go and bring him home," said Katherine. "I cannot bear thissuspense any longer."
She had grown pale and hollow-eyed in these few days of anxiety.Griffith went. He found Beverly doing well, but a ball had gone throughhis sword-arm and two others were imbedded in his flesh. His horse hadfallen beneath him and he had had to walk on the wounded leg, and hadlost much blood. He looked weak and thin. His orderly had written homefor him, but the letter had never come. Griffith urged him to go homeand recuperate, but he would not listen to the proposition. Griffithwrote home to Katherine and then waited. The command was ordered tomove, and still Beverly was not able to go with it. The commanderordered him to go home until able to report for duty.
He was a sensation in the village. He was the first handsome youngwounded officer to return. Alas! they were plenty enough later on; butnow his limp and his arm suspended in a sling made him a hero, indeed.Many were the demonstrations in his honor. The Governor came to see him,and strove again to convince Griffith that he, too, was needed at thefront. "I have told President Lincoln about you," he said. "You cansee for yourself what the army in Virginia is doing ever sinceBull Run--nothing at all. Those two defeats--Bull Run and Ball'sBluff--stopped them off entirely. Action that will be effective issimply impossible without knowing the lay of the land. Northern mendon't know it, and we can't trust Southern men to tell the truth, ofcourse, about it. The rebels know that perfectly well, and they bank onit. They keep their best and strongest generals, and men who know theState like a book, right there between Washington and Richmond. Itwon't do to let it be generally known, for that would put panic into ourtroops when they are tried next; but there is not a soul the Presidentcan trust who knows those passes and defiles and fords. Captain, I hopeyou know them. I don't believe _you_ will refuse to go any place youare needed. As a recruit--an enlisted man--you _can't_ refuse."
"Go," said Beverly; "go! why of course I would if I knew the country asfather does, but I don't. You see father used to be a circuit-rider. Heknows every foot of it as if it were his front yard, but I would knowonly a few miles near where we lived. I was only a boy then. It is ahard country to learn. Passes are many and blind. Fords change--ittakes a native and an expert to feel safe with them. If I--" He turnedsuddenly to his father in his enthusiasm. "Why don't you go, father? Ifthe President wants you--if your country needs you, why--" He saw thelook that crept into his father's face, and he understood. The youngfellow limped to his father's side and laid his left hand on hisshoulder.
"Father has done enough," he said, looking at the Governor. "Do not askhim to do this. He fought his battle before the North came to it. He hasborne and suffered enough, Governor. Father is a Virginian, blood,bone, and ancestry. He lov
es his people and his old home. We boys don'tremember it as he does, but to him--to him, it will always be home. Theywill always be his people."
"Unless it is desperate and I am ordered, I shall not go," saidGriffith, looking up almost defiantly. "You need not ask me again,Governor. I have done my share. I have done more for my country andmy conscience than many men will be called upon to do--I have done myshare."
The Governor gave it up, but he did not forget one phrase, "unless it isdesperate--unless I am ordered." That night he started for Washington,and a week later Beverly returned to his command and to duty in thefield.