The Long Roll
wood, across the railroad, up the red side of the cut.
Hooker had a brigade in column behind a tree-clad hill. Screened from
sight it now moved forward, swift and silent, then with suddenness broke
from the wood in a splendid charge. With a gleam of bayonets, with a
flash of colours, with a loud hurrah, with a staggering volley its
regiments plunged into the cut, swarmed up the red side and fell upon A.
P. Hill's weakened lines. The grey wavered. Stonewall Jackson's voice
was heard again. "General Hill, I have ordered up Forno from the right
and a regiment of Lawton's." He jerked his hand into the air. "Here they
are. Colonel Forno, give them the bayonet!"
Louisiana and Georgia swept forward, Tennessee, Alabama, and Virginia
supporting. They swept Grover's brigade down and back. There was bitter
fighting, hand-to-hand, horrible work: the dead lay in the railroad cut
thick as fallen leaves. The dead lay thick on either bank and thick in
the grass that was afire and thick in the smoky wood. The blue gave way,
went back; the grey returned to their lines.
Edward went again for cartridges. He was beside Gregg's South
Carolinians when a courier came up. "General Jackson wishes to know each
brigade's amount of ammunition," and he heard Gregg's answer, "Tell
General Jackson that this brigade has one round to the man, but I'll
hold the position with the bayonet." Edward gleaned steadily. "Water!
water! water!" cried the field. "O God! water!"
It was growing late, the long, hot day declining. There had been nine
hours of fighting. "Nine hours--ninety hours--ninety minutes?" thought
Edward. "Time's plastic like everything else. Double it, fold it back on
itself, stretch it out, do anything with it--" He took the cartridges
from a trunk of a man, crept on to a soldier shot through the hip. The
latter clutched him with a blackened hand. "Has Marse Robert come? Has
General Lee come?"
"They say he has. Over there on Stuart's Hill, holding Reynolds and
McDowell and Fitz John Porter in check."
The man fell back. "Oh, then it is all right. Stonewall Jackson and
Robert Edward Lee. It's all right--" He spoke drowsily. "It's all right.
I'll go to sleep."
Edward looking sideways toward Stony Ridge saw the forty guns black
against the sun. As he looked they blazed and thundered. He turned his
eyes. Kearney and Reno, five brigades, were coming at a double across
the open. As he looked they broke into the charge. With his bag of
cartridges he made for the nearest grey line. The blue came on, a
formidable wave indeed. Stonewall Jackson rode along the grey front.
"Men, General Early and two regiments of Lawton's are on their way. You
must stand it till they come. If you have only one cartridge, save it
until they are up from the cut. Then fire, and use your bayonets. Don't
cheer! It makes your hand less steady."
The blue wave plunged into the railroad cut. "I think," said a grey
soldier, "that I hear Jubal Early yelling." The blue wave mounted to the
level. "_Yaaaiih! Yaaaaiih!_" came out of the distance. "We know that we
do," said the men. "Now, our friend, the enemy, you go back!" Out of the
dun cloud and roar came a deep "Steady, men! You've got your bayonets
yet. Stand it for five minutes. General Early's coming. This is
Manassas--Manassas--Manassas! God is over us! Stand it for five
minutes--for three minutes.--General Early, drive them with the
bayonet."
Late that night on the banks of Bull Run the general "from the West,
where we have always seen the backs of our enemy" sent a remarkable
telegram to Halleck at Washington. _"We fought a terrific battle here
yesterday with the combined forces of the enemy, which lasted with
continuous fury from daylight until dark, by which time the enemy was
driven from the field which we now occupy. The enemy is still in our
front, but badly used up. We lost not less than eight thousand men
killed and wounded, but from the appearance of the field the enemy lost
two to one. The news has just reached me from the front that the enemy
is retreating toward the mountains."_
The delusion holding, he, at noon of the thirtieth, ordered a general
advance. "The troops to be immediately thrown forward in pursuit of the
enemy and to press him vigorously." One of his officers undertook a
comment. "By the Lord Harry, it will be the shortest pursuit that even
he ever saw! Why, damn it all! they're still here! I tell you the place
is unlucky!"
Twenty thousand blue soldiers formed the front that came down from the
hills and moved toward the Groveton wood and the railroad track. Behind
them were supporting masses, forty thousand strong. On every slope
gleamed the great blue guns. The guns opened; they shelled with
vehemence the wood, the railroad cut, and embankment, the field
immediately beyond. A line of grey pickets was seen to leave the wood
and make across the track and into cover. Pope at the Stone House saw
these with his field glass. "The last of their rear guard," he said.
One of his generals spoke. "Their guns are undoubtedly yet on that
ridge, sir."
"I am perfectly well aware of that, sir. But they will not be there long
after our line has crossed the track. Either we will gloriously take
them, or they will limber up and scamper after Jackson. He, I take it,
is well on his way to Thoroughfare Gap. All that we need is expedition.
Crush him, and then when Longstreet is up, crush _him_."
"And those troops on Stuart Hill?"
"Give you my word they are nothing, general! A rebel regiment, at the
most a brigade, thrown out from Jackson's right. I have positive
information. Fitz John Porter is mistaken--arrogantly mistaken.--Ah, the
rebel guns are going to indulge in a little bravado."
The twenty thousand gleaming bayonets passed the turnpike, passed
Dogan's house, moved on toward the wood. It rose torn and thin and black
from yesterday's handling. Immediately beyond was the railroad cut. On
the other side of the railroad ran a stretch of field and scrub,
mounting to Stony Ridge, that rose from the base of the woods. Stony
Ridge looked grey itself and formidable, and all about it was the smoke
of the forty grey guns. The twenty thousand bayonets pressed on.
There came a blare of bugles. Loud and high they rang--the bugles of the
Light Division, of Ewell's, of Jackson's own. They pierced the thunder
of the guns, they came from the wood at the base of Stony Ridge. There
was a change in the heart-beat below the twenty thousand bayonets.
Porter and Ricketts and Hatch stared, and saw start from the wood a
downward moving wall. It moved fast; it approached with a certain
impetuous steadiness. Behind it were shorter lines, detached masses.
Together all came down from Stony Ridge like an avalanche. The avalanche
came to and took the field of yesterday, and stood revealed,--Stonewall
Jackson holding the railroad cut. "I thought as much," said Fitz John
Porter. "Go ask him to give us Reynolds."
After the third charge the 65th and another regiment of the Stonewall
Brigade, finding their ammunition exhausted, armed themselves with
stones. Those of the Thunder Run men who had not fallen at White Oak
Swamp proved themselves expert. Broken rock lay in heaps by the railroad
bed. They brought these into the lines, swung and threw them. With
stones and bayonets they held the line. Morell and Sykes were great
fighters; the grey men recognized worthy foes. The battle grew Titanic.
Stonewall Jackson signalled to Lee on the Warrenton turnpike, "Hill hard
pressed. Every brigade engaged. Would like more guns."
Lee sent two batteries, and Stephen D. Lee placed them. There arose a
terrific noise, and presently a wild yelling. Lee signalled:--
_General Jackson. Do you still need reinforcements? Lee._
The signal officer on the knoll behind the Stonewall wigwagged back.
_No. The enemy are giving way. Jackson._
They gave way, indeed. The forty guns upon the ridge, the eight that Lee
had sent, strewed the green field beyond the Groveton wood with shot and
shrapnel. Morell fell back, Hatch fell back; the guns became deadly,
mowing down the blue lines. Stonewall Jackson rode along the front.
"General Hill, it is time for the counterstroke. Forward, and drive
them!"
The signaller wigwagged to the Warrenton turnpike:--
_General Lee. I am driving them. Jackson._
The signaller on the turnpike signalled back:--
_General Jackson. General Longstreet is advancing. Look out for and
protect his left flank. Lee._
* * * * *
Lee's great battle was over and won. Every division, brigade, regiment,
battery, fifty thousand infantry and cavalry brought by the great leader
into simultaneous action, the Army of Northern Virginia moved as in a
vast parade over plain and hill. Four miles in length, swept the first
wave with, in the centre, seven grey waves behind it. It was late. The
grey sea moved in the red and purple of a great sunset. From Stony Ridge
the forty guns thundered like grey breakers, while the guns of
Longstreet galloped toward the front. Horses and men and guns were at
the martial height of passion. To the right Jeb Stuart appeared,
magnificent. On swept the resistless sea. A master mind sent it over
those Manassas hills and plains, here diverting a portion of its waves,
here curbing a too rapid onslaught, here harking the great mass forward,
surmounting barriers, overwhelming a stubborn opposition, crumbling and
breaking to pieces. Wave on wave, rapid, continuous, unremitting,
thundered the assault, in the red sunset of the thirtieth of August.
Pope's Army fought bravely, but in the dusk it melted away.
CHAPTER XL
A GUNNER OF PELHAM'S
Major John Pelham looked at the clouds boiling up above Bull Run
Mountains.
"Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day!--"
he said. "What's the house they've burned over there?"
"Chantilly, sir."
Ruined wall and chimney, fallen roof-tree, gaping holes where windows
had been, the old mansion stood against the turmoil of the sky. It
looked a desolation, a poignant gloom, an unrelieved sorrow. A courier
appeared. "The enemy's rearguard is near Ox Hill, sir. They've driven in
some of our patrols. The main body is moving steady toward Fairfax Court
House. General Jackson has sent the Light Division forward. General
Stuart's going, too. He says, 'Come on.'"
The clouds mounted high and dark, thunder began to mutter; by the time a
part of the Light Division and a brigade of Ewell's came into touch with
Reno and Kearney, the afternoon, already advanced, was of the hue of
twilight. Presently there set in a violent storm of thunder and
lightning, wind and rain. The trees writhed like wounded soldiers, the
rain came level against the face, stinging and blinding, the artillery
of the skies out-thundered man's inventions. It grew darker and darker,
save for the superb, far-showing lightning flashes. Beneath these the
blue and the grey plunged into an engagement at short range.
What with the howling of the storm, the wind that took voices and
whirled them high and away, the thunder above and the volleying musketry
below, to hear an order was about the most difficult feat imaginable.
Stafford gathered, however, that Lawton, commanding since Ewell's wound,
was sending him to Jackson with a statement as to affairs on this wing.
He went, riding hard against the slanting rain, and found Jackson
standing in the middle of the road, a piece of bronze played round by
lightning. One of the brigadiers was speaking to him. "The cartridges
are soaking wet, sir. I do not know that I can hold my position."
Jackson's voice came deep and curt. "Yes, sir, you can. If your muskets
won't go off, neither will the enemy's. You are to hold it, whether you