Manton's Gettysburg

Slice Third

What little I saw of independent fighting behind the lumber piles, convinced me that it was none of the safest, but I judged it preferable to being in the masses surging above. I had a horror of bidding farewell to the world and Gettysburg in such a crowd, in fact, if I were going to get shot, I wanted it done in a legal way, that I might go off respectively, and not to be caught in eternity with my hands in my pocket not knowing how I came there. We stood on one of the four corners when making the decision. To the right and left on the outskirts of the town we could see squads of the enemy moving up, intending to flank us, with flattering prospects of success. Up the main street in full view were advancing Rebs, whose guns kept up a continual cracking; towards these Otis and I, with a few others, directed our attention. Getting in the cover of the buildings we would load rapidly, select our man, and let drive. It was very amusing to be sure, but doubly dangerous on account of a few excited unflinching Unionists, who talked fast, said tam instead of damn, kept in our rear, and shut their eyes when they fired. I kept about two thirds of my mind centered on these individuals. After hearing several distinct hisses in close neighborhood to my ears, and confronting two dark tubes, on a dead level with my phiz, which I just managed to dodge by instantly embracing the pavement, I concluded to keep an active watch on their heroism. A few moments after -- or seconds, rather, as we were retreating back, I was startled by the outcries of a woman in deep distress. Looking around I saw a sight that turned my heart to ice, and held me rooted to the spot. Unheeding the whistling messengers of death and ruin; unshocked by the terrible scenes surrounding her, was a woman coming rapidly toward us, her eyes streaming with tears, hair disheveled, and hands clasped in mental agony. Never while

I live shall I forget that despairing face -- those terrible cries. It needed no words from those ashen lips to explain the cause of such grief. The sights about us were freighted with painful suggestions. The son, the only one, perhaps, in the bloom of health, marched into his native town once more. The fond mother awaits him at the gate. He comes -- a smile, a hasty kiss, and the columns move on. The roar of the battle awakes the echoes of his own native hills. Hours pass on -- the waiting mother is again at her post, her eyes strained toward the "din and smoke". Nearer, nearer it comes -- they are on the retreat. Column after column passes -- she recognizes a neighbor's son in the mass, and she cries her darling's name. The answer congeals her blood, crushes her heart, and blights her brain. Dead! dead! dead! All the horrors of her situation flash before me -- my eyes become moist, and seeking to assuage her grief, I moved up to her side.

"My dear woman," I exclaimed, "what evil has befallen you?"

She turned tearful eyes toward mine, and in tones of heart rending anguish moaned --

"My poor, poor horse, the dirty Rebs have stolen him!"

Recollecting that I was needlessly exposing myself, I rushed behind a corner, and continued the work of death. Simultaneous with the move, a gun of the battery, unnoticed by me, charged with grape, belched forth it's contents, sweeping the street. I leaped nearly nine feet in the air, out of pure fright, but when I saw that I was not in two parts, got cooled down again. The gun could not of been more than two yards from, and nearly directly in front of us. The lead binding on the cartridge struck in under Otis' feet. I first thought it was a premature discharge, and prayed that my relatives might find my legs. We continued to fall back through the town, the distance between us and the main column gradually increasing, although unnoticed at the time. An incident occurred here, which is seldom known in any other position of the Army but our Corps, where it is of frequent occurrence, and which I must not omit to mention. While engaged in loading, I noticed a member of the 1st Brigade step out on the walk and take a deliberate aim down the street.

Seized by a desire to see how good he was on a bead I got behind him, and glanced along his rifle. The sight that met my eye, gave me a start equal to that by the woman. Instead of a festive seceder, armed to the teeth and beyond, I saw a member of the first Corps advancing slowly toward us, his face streaming with blood from a bad wound on his head, and his left arm literally a mass of mangled flesh. It was all comprehended in an instant, and horror struck I cried out --

"Good heavens, man, put down your gun; you are trying to kill our own men!"

He dropped his gun, muttering something that I did not understand. I felt to pity him for his ignorance and by way of consolation told him he was a poor cuss. The whole affair took up but a moment's time, but when I looked back again, I found that the enemy's mounted infantry had got between us and our friends, and we were bagged. To the right and left were heavy bodies of the gray wretches, while in our front were massed the greater part of their forces, although the street to the edge of the town was comparatively free of them. I looked about me for some place of concealment, possessed with the idea that if we could only hide ourselves till the next day, we would be released by our folks, who would undoubtedly get possession of the town through the night. But I looked in the vain, not the slightest opening appeared, and waited for the unfolding of our destiny. Otis concluded that it was time to give up, but he had his doubts about the safety of waiting in the street for the fatal circle close upon us, as some of the men were rather careless in their manner of taking prisoners, often getting the fire before the halt. An instant sufficed to arrive at these conclusions, and during the next we dashed across the street, over an iron fence, up the steps and into a church transformed into a hospital. We had barely executed this remarkable feat of legship, when the pavement resounded to the clatter of hoofs, while the air was filled with shouts and musketry. I looked out upon the streets and shall not soon forget the impressions I received from what I saw. There was about a dozen Confederates standing together; others were forcing open doors, with an eye to the buttery, and some were engaged in bringing in prisoners or bringing them down, while up and down, around and about, dashed the mounted infantry, their uncouth rigs, slouched hats with trailing feather forcibly reminding me of pictures of brigand scenes in olden Spain. How long I would have leaned there on my gun and gazed on the quaint tableaux before me, I know not, probably till now, possibly not; but the entrance of a Confederate officer turned my attention, and I began to look around me. I was standing in the porch at the time. There were two tables at which two surgeons were operating. A little old woman with a motherly expression of face was busily engaged in fulfilling the sex's holiest mission, human alleviation, rather a pretty idea that. I now entered the main body of the building. The pews had been turned into beds, and were nearly filled with wounded from both sides. Reader, did you ever stand within a Church hospital? If not, the first time you enter your sanctuary imagine the pews transformed into bunks, on which lie stretched scores of mangled men, writhing, moaning and sobbing with pain, the aisles filled with little pools of blood, and the pulpit, from which you have heard sound the gentle language of the Prince of Peace covered with diversity of bloody, powder begrimed weapons, and you will get an idea of my impressions as I looked into the room. My heart was touched with their cries, and seeing that it was impossible for the old lady to attend to all their wants, the doctors being busy at the tables, Otis and I hid all that pertained to us in the field, and began the part of the Samaritan, as far as possible. I will not deny that I was prompted by another idea than that of sympathy. I thought that if we could but disguise our calling under that of hospital attaché, known to the vulgar as doctor's pimps, we might possibly evade suspicion and manage to get off after all. Like a number of others of my brilliant projects, it proved -- but I will not anticipate. During our ministration several villains looked in upon us, but did not disturb us. At such periods I redoubled my energies, and doubtless appeared as a first class combination of physic and patience, in their estimation. I thought once of passing myself off as a Hospital Steward, but recollecting that the rear ranks of my unmentionables was in a state that would preclude such an idea, I gave it up. The water giving out, I took the pail and sallied out, taking particular pains to make my errand known to the Rebs about me. In the center of one group, I saw the lady that had probably lost a son. I heard the word horse and moved off one side. Encountering an officer next, I asked if he knew where I could get any water, "as it was greatly needed at the hospital for the wounded," laying a stress on the hospital.

"No, I could not, my boy," he replied, "and sorry am I too, for the poor boys want it. In some of the yards you will find a pump I reckon."

Following his "reckoning" I entered an alleyway, and followed it into a back yard, where I found a goodly well, as also a large outhouse in which four traitors were devouring cold ham, bread and butter, etc. While I was drawing the water, one of them accosted me with --

"Ho, Yankee, ar' yer gettin' that for the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Hard day this, eh Yank?"

I modestly agreed with him.

"Damned hot, poor fellows," and with this remark he picked up his gun and left the yard. I followed after, inwardly chuckling at the success of my ruse, and indulging in flattering prospects of the future.

"Ah Dick I'll have a long story to tell you when I get back," I mentally observed.

At the street entrance I found quite a crowd, who looking upon me as a public benefactor furnished expressly for the occasion, pitched into the pail, and despite my expostulations, seasoned by a score of damns from the unselfish they drank it all.

"Get another pail full, Yankee, and the first man that wants a drink, give him the whole of it, smack in the snoot; I would," observed one of the crowd, a six footed Texan.

I returned to fill my pail, inwardly estimating how big a piece of Manton would be left in case I should accidentally became absent minded and profit by the disinterested advice. Just as I reached the well for the second time, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turning about, I confronted a Corporal in that bewitching way, who with a lovely, condescending, smile, for the reader must not forget his rank, opened conversation.

"Aint you the one that got the water here just now?"

"I am" I replied, wondering what the deuce that was to him.

"Yes, just the man I want then; YER MY PRISONER."

I can never forget the smile that played on his face as he delivered the announcement, a mingling of triumph and regret, and very strange in comparison with the surrounding circumstance. For the moment I was nearly prostrated, the intelligence was so unexpected. I had crept up very high in the last half hour and it was grievous to fall so far. I closed my eyes to all about me, while my mind traveled into futurity. Richmond and all it's horrors rose before me. A long, dreary imprisonment, slow starvation, cruel torture, painful disease and agonizing suspense. A half-repressed shudder passed over my frame, and then I put away the picture, and came back to the little yard, my captor and my errand.

It seemed as if he had followed my thoughts, for he said,

"It's hard Yankee, but its duty; I know how you feel," then as if to assure me, he quickly added, "You'll be treated well, no fear of that. We use you better than yer boys use us sometimes, but then it ain't for me to judge that; God knows I don't want to retaliate on you. Cheer up, my boy; it's yer misfortune now, it may be mine next time. I wish there was peace again, and this murdering over."

"Amen," I heartily responded.

I took up the pail, while he slung his gun over his shoulder, and we started for the hospital. Ah, Dick!

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