Chapter XVI. Bull Run

The Guns of Bull Run

by Joseph A. Altsheler

Harry rose to his feet and shook St. Clair and Langdon.

"Up, boys!" he said. "The enemy will soon be here. I can see
their bayonets glittering on the hills."

The Invincibles sprang to their feet almost as one man, and soon
all the troops of Evans were up and humming like bees. Food and
coffee were served to them hastily, but, before the last cup was
thrown down, a heavy crash came from one of the hills beyond Bull
Run, and a shell, screaming over their heads, burst beyond them. It
was quickly followed by another, and then the round shot and shells
came in dozens from batteries which had been posted well in the
night.

The Southern batteries replied with all their might and the
riflemen supported them, sending the bullets in sheets across Bull
Run. The battle flamed in fifteen minutes into extraordinary
violence. Harry had never before heard such a continuous and
terrific thunder. It seemed that the drums of his ears would be
smashed in, but over his head he heard the continuous hissing and
whirring of steel and lead. The Northern riflemen were at work, too,
and it was fortunate for the Invincibles that they were able to lie
down, as they poured their fire into the bushes and woods on the
opposite bank.

The volume of smoke was so great that they could no longer see
the position of the enemy, but Harry believed that so much metal must
do great damage. Although he was a lieutenant he had snatched up a
rifle dropped by some fallen soldier, and he loaded and fired it so
often that the barrel grew hot to his hand. Lying so near the river,
most of the hostile fire went over the heads of the Invincibles, but
now and then a shell or a cluster of bullets struck among them, and
Harry heard groans. But he quickly forgot these sounds as he watched
the clouds of smoke and the blaze of fire on the other side of Bull
Run.

"They are not trying to force the passage of the bridge!
Everything is for the best!" shouted Langdon.

"No, they dare not," shouted St. Clair in reply. "No column
could live on that bridge in face of our fire."

It seemed strange to Harry that the Northern troops made no
attempt to cross. Why did all this tremendous fire go on so long,
and yet not a foe set foot upon the bridge? It seemed to him that it
had endured for hours. The sun was rising higher and higher and the
day was growing hotter and hotter. It lay with the North to make the
first movement to cross Bull Run, and yet no attempt was made.

Colonel Talbot came repeatedly along the line of the
Invincibles, and Harry saw that he was growing uneasy. Such a great
volume of fire, without any effort to take advantage of it, made the
veteran suspicious. He knew that those old comrades of his on the
other side of Bull Run would not waste their metal in a mere
cannonade and long range rifle fire. There must be something behind
it. Presently, with the consent of the commander, he drew the
Invincibles back from the river, where they were permitted to cease
firing, and to rest for a while on their arms.

But as they drew long breaths and tried to clear the smoke from
their throats, a rumor ran down the lines. The attack at the bridge
was but a feint. Only a minor portion of the hostile army was there.
The greater mass had gone on and had already crossed the river in
face of the weak left flank of the Southern army. Beauregard had
been outwitted. The Yankees were now in great force on his own side
of Bull Run, and it would be a pitched battle, face to face.

The whole line of the Invincibles quivered with excitement, and
then Harry saw that the rumor was true, or that their commander at
least believed it to be so. The firing stopped entirely and the
bugles blew the retreat. All the brigades gathered themselves up
and, wild with anger and chagrin, slowly withdrew.

"Why are we retreating?" exclaimed Langdon, angrily. "Not a
Yankee set his foot on the bridge! We're not whipped!"

"No," said Harry, "we're not whipped, but if we don't retreat we
will be. If fifteen or twenty thousand Yankees struck us on the
flank while those fellows are still in front everything would go."

These were young troops, who considered a retreat equivalent to
a beating, and fierce murmurs ran along the line. But the officers
paid no attention, marching them steadily on, while the artillery
rumbled by their side. Both to right and left they heard the sound
of firing, and they saw the smoke floating against both horizons, but
they paid little attention to it. They were wondering what was in
store for them.

"Cheer up, you lads!" cried Colonel Talbot. "You'll get all the
fighting you can stand, and it won't be long in coming, either."

They marched only half an hour and then the troops were drawn up
on a hill, where the officers rapidly formed them into position. It
was none too soon. A long blue line, bristling with cannon on either
flank, appeared across the fields. It was Burnside with the bulk of
the Northern army moving down upon them. Harry was standing beside
Colonel Talbot, ready to carry his orders, and he heard the veteran
say, between his teeth:

"The Yankees have fooled us, and this is the great battle at
last."

The two forces looked at each other for a few moments.
Elsewhere great guns and rifles were already at work, but the sounds
came distantly. On the hill and in the fields there was silence, save
for the steady tramp of the advancing Northern troops. Then from the
rear of the marching lines suddenly came a burst of martial music.
The Northern bands, by a queer inversion, were playing Dixie:

"In Dixie's land I'll take my stand,
To live and die for Dixie. Look away! Look away!
Down South in Dixie." Harry's feet beat to the tune, the wild
and thrilling air played for the first time to troops going into
battle.

"We must answer that," he said to St. Clair.

"Here comes the answer," said St. Clair, and the Southern bands
began to play "The Girl I Left Behind Me." The music entered Harry's
veins. He could not look without a quiver upon the great mass of men
bearing down upon them, but the strains of fife and drum put courage
in him and told him to stand fast. He saw the face of Colonel Talbot
grow darker and darker, and he had enough experience himself to know
that the odds were heavily against them.

The intense burning sun poured down a flood of light, lighting
up the opposing ranks of blue and gray, and gleaming along swords and
bayonets. Nearer and nearer came the piercing notes of Dixie.

"They march well," murmured Colonel Talbot, "and they will fight
well, too."

He did not know that McDowell himself, the Northern commander,
was now before them, driving on his men, but he did know that the
courage and skill of his old comrades were for the present in the
ascendant. Burnside was at the head of the division and it seemed
long enough to wrap the whole Southern command in its folds and crush
it.

Scattered rifle shots were heard on either flank, and the young
Invincibles began to breathe heavily. Millions of black specks
danced before them in the hot sunshine, and their nervous ears
magnified every sound tenfold.

"I wish that tune the Yankees are playing was ours," said Tom
Langdon. "I think I could fight battles by it."

"Then we'll have to capture it," said Harry.

Now the time for talking ceased. The rifle fire on the flanks
was rising to a steady rattle, and then came the heavy boom of the
cannon on either side. Once more the air was filled with the shriek
of shells and the whistling of rifle bullets. Men were falling fast,
and through the rising clouds of smoke Harry saw the blue lines still
coming on. It seemed to him that they would be overwhelmed, trampled
under foot, routed, but he heard Colonel Talbot shouting:

"Steady, Invincibles! Steady!"

And Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire, walking up and down the
lines, also uttered the same shout. But the blue line never ceased
coming. Harry could see the faces dark with sweat and dust and powder
still pressing on. It was well for the Southerners that nearly all
of them had been trained in the use of the rifle, and it was well for
them, too, that most of their officers were men of skill and
experience. Recruits, they stood fast nevertheless and their rifles
sent the bullets in an unceasing bitter hail straight into the
advancing ranks of blue. There was no sound from the bands now. If
they were playing somewhere in the rear no one heard. The fire of
the cannon and rifles was a steady roll, louder than thunder and more
awful.

The Northern troops hesitated at last in face of such a resolute
stand and such accurate firing. Then they retreated a little and a
shout of triumph came from the Southern lines, but the respite was
only for a moment. The men in blue came on again, walking over their
dead and past their wounded.

"If they keep pressing in, and it looks as if they would, they
will crush us," murmured Colonel Talbot, but he did not let the
Invincibles hear him say it. He encouraged them with voice and
example, and they bent forward somewhat to meet the second charge of
the Northern army, which was now coming. The smoke lifted a little
and Harry saw the green fields and the white house of the Widow Henry
standing almost in the middle of the battlefield, but unharmed. Then
his eyes came back to the hostile line, which, torn by shot and
shell, had closed up, nevertheless, and was advancing again in
overwhelming force.

Harry now had a sudden horrible fear that they would be trodden
under foot. He looked at St. Clair and saw that his face was
ghastly. Langdon had long since ceased to smile or utter words of
happy philosophy.

"Open up and let the guns through!" some one suddenly cried, and
a wild cheer of relief burst from the Invincibles as they made a
path. The valiant Bee and Bartow, rushing to the sound of the great
firing, had come with nearly three thousand men and a whole battery.
Never were men more welcome. They formed instantly along the
Southern front, and the battery opened at once with all its guns,
while the three thousand men sent a new fire into the Northern ranks.
Yet the Northern charge still came. McDowell, Burnside, and the
others were pressing it home, seeking to drive the Southern army from
its hill, while they were yet able to bring forces largely superior
to bear upon it.

The thunder and crash of the terrible conflict rolled over all
the hills and fields for miles. It told the other forces of either
army that here was the center of the battle, and here was its crisis.
The sounds reached an extraordinary young-old man, bearded and
awkward, often laughed at, but never to be laughed at again, one of
the most wonderful soldiers the world has ever produced, and
instantly gathering up his troops he rushed them toward the very
heart of the combat. Stonewall Jackson was about to receive his
famous nickname.

Jackson's burning eyes swept proudly over the ranks of his tall
Virginians, who mourned every second they lost from the battle. An
officer retreating with his battery glanced at him, opened his mouth
to speak, but closed it again without saying a word, and infused with
new hope, turned his guns afresh toward the enemy. Already men were
feeling the magnetic current of energy and resolution that flowed
from Jackson like water from a fountain.

A message from Colonel Talbot, which he was to deliver to
Jackson himself, sent Harry to the rear. He rode a borrowed horse
and he galloped rapidly until he saw a long line of men marching
forward at a swift but steady pace. At their head rode a man on a
sorrel horse. His shoulders were stooped a little, and he leaned
forward in the saddle, gazing intently at the vast bank of smoke and
flame before him. Harry noticed that the hands upon the bridle reins
did not twitch nor did the horseman seem at all excited. Only his
burning eyes showed that every faculty was concentrated upon the
task. Harry was conscious even then that he was in the presence of
General Jackson.

The boy delivered his message. Jackson received it without
comment, never taking his eyes from the battle, which was now raging
so fiercely in front of them. Behind came his great brigade of
Virginians, the smoke and flame of the battle entering their blood
and making their hearts pound fast as they moved forward with
increasing speed.

Harry rode back with the young officers of his staff, and now
they saw men dash out of the smoke and run toward them. They cried
that everything was lost. The lip of Jackson curled in contempt.
The long line of his Virginians stopped the fugitives and drove them
back to the battle. It was evident to Harry, young as he was, that
Jackson would be just in time.

Then they saw a battery galloping from that bank of smoke and
flame, and, its officer swearing violently, exclaimed that he had
been left without support. The stern face and somber eyes of Jackson
were turned upon him.

"Unlimber your guns at once," he said. "Here is your
support."

Then the valiant Bee himself came, covered with dust, his
clothes torn by bullets, his horse in a white lather. He, too,
turned to that stern brown figure, as unflinching as death itself,
and he cried that the enemy in overwhelming numbers were beating them
back.

"Then," said Jackson, "we'll close up and give them the
bayonet."

His teeth shut down like a vise. Again the electric current
leaped forth and sparkled through the veins of Bee, who turned and
rode back into the Southern throng, the Virginians following swiftly.
Then Jackson looked over the field with the eye and mind of genius,
the eye that is able to see and the mind that is able to understand
amid all the thunder and confusion and excitement of battle.

He saw a stretch of pines on the edge of the hill near the Henry
house. He quickly marched his troops among the trees, covering their
front with six cannon, while the great horseman, Stuart, plumed and
eager, formed his cavalry upon the left. Harry felt instinctively
that the battle was about to be restored for the time at least, and
he turned back to Colonel Talbot and the Invincibles. A shell burst
near him. A piece struck his horse in the chest, and Harry felt the
animal quiver under him. Then the horse uttered a terrible neighing
cry, but Harry, alert and agile, sprang clear, and ran back to his
own command.

On the other side of Bull Run was the Northern command of Tyler,
which had been rebuffed so fiercely three days before. It, too,
heard the roar and crash of the battle, and sought a way across Bull
Run, but for a time could find none. An officer named Sherman, also
destined for a mighty fame, saw a Confederate trooper riding across
the river further down, and instantly the whole command charged at
the ford. It was defended by only two hundred Southern skirmishers
whom they brushed out of the way. They were across in a few minutes,
and then they advanced on a run to swell McDowell's army. The forces
on both sides were increasing and the battle was rising rapidly in
volume. But in the face of repeated and furious attacks the Southern
troops held fast to the little plateau. Young's Branch flowed on one
side of it and protected them in a measure; but only the indomitable
spirit of Jackson and Evans, of Bee and Bartow, and others kept them
in line against those charges which threatened to shiver them to
pieces.

"Look!" cried Bee to some of his men who were wavering. "Look
at Jackson, standing there like a stone wall!"

The men ceased to waver and settled themselves anew for a fresh
attack.

But in spite of everything the Northern army was gaining ground.
Sherman at the very head of the fresh forces that had crossed Bull
Run hurled himself upon the Southern army, his main attack falling
directly upon the Invincibles. The young recruits reeled, but
Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire still ran up and
down the lines begging them to stand. They took fresh breath and
planted their feet deep once more. Harry raised his rifle and took
aim at a flitting figure in the smoke. Then he dropped the muzzle.
Either it was reality or a powerful trick of the fancy. It was his
own cousin, Dick Mason, but the smoke closed in again, and he did not
see the face.

The rush of Sherman was met and repelled. He drew back only to
come again, and along the whole line the battle closed in once more,
fiercer and more deadly than ever. Upon all the combatants beat the
fierce sun of July, and clouds of dust rose to mingle with the smoke
of cannon and rifles.

The advantage now lay distinctly with the Northern army, won by
its clever passage of Bull Run and surprise. But the courage and
tenacity of the Southern troops averted defeat and rout in detail.
Jackson, in his strong position near the Henry house, in the cellars
of which women were hiding, refused to give an inch of ground.
Beauregard, called by the cannon, arrived upon the field only an hour
before noon, meeting on the way many fugitives, whom he and his
officers drove back into the battle. Hampton's South Carolina
Legion, which reached Richmond only that morning, came by train and
landed directly upon the battlefield about noon. In five minutes it
was in the thick of the battle, and it alone stemmed a terrific rush
of Sherman, when all others gave way.

Noon had passed and the heart of McDowell swelled with
exultation. The Northern troops were still gaining ground, and at
many points the Southern line was crushed. Some of the recruits in
gray, their nerves shaken horribly, were beginning to run. But fresh
troops coming up met them and turned them back to the field.
Beauregard and Johnston, the two senior generals, both experienced
and calm, were reforming their ranks, seizing new and strong
positions, and hurrying up every portion of their force. Johnston
himself, after the first rally, hurried back for fresh regiments,
while Jackson's men not only held their ground but began to drive the
Northern troops before them.

The Invincibles had fallen back somewhat, leaving many dead
behind them. Many more were wounded. Harry had received two bullets
through his clothing, and St. Clair was nicked on the wrist. Colonel
Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire were still unharmed, but a
deep gloom had settled over the Invincibles. They had not been
beaten, but certainly they were not winning. Their ranks were seamed
and rent. From the place where they now stood they could see the
place where they formerly stood, but Northern troops occupied it now.
Tears ran down the faces of some of the youngest, streaking the dust
and powder into hideous, grinning masks.

Harry threw himself upon the ground and lay there for a few
moments, panting. He choked with heat and thirst, and his heart
seemed to have swollen so much within him that it would be a relief
to have it burst. His eyes burned with the dust and smoke, and all
about him was a fearful reek. He could see from where he lay most of
the battlefield. He saw the Northern batteries fire, move forward,
and then fire again. He saw the Northern infantry creeping up, ever
creeping, and far behind he beheld the flags of fresh regiments
coming to their aid. The tears sprang to his eyes. It seemed in
very truth that all was lost. In another part of the field the men
in blue had seized the Robinson house, and from points near it their
artillery was searching the Southern ranks. A sudden grim humor
seized the boy.

"Tom," he shouted to Langdon, "what was that you said about
sleeping in the White House at Washington with your boots on?"

"I said it," Langdon shouted back, "but I guess it's all off!
For God's sake, Harry, give me a drink of water! I'll give anybody a
million dollars and a half dozen states for a single drink!"

A soldier handed him a canteen, and he drank from it. The water
was warm, but it was nectar, and when he handed it back, he said:

"I don't know you and you don't know me, but if I could I'd give
you a whole lake in return for this. Harry, what are our
chances?"

"I don't know. We've lost one battle, but we may have time to
win another. Jackson and those Virginians of his seem able to stand
anything. Up, boys, the battle is on us again!"

The charge swept almost to their feet, but it was driven back,
and then came a momentary lull, not a cessation of the battle, but
merely a sinking, as if the combatants were gathering themselves
afresh for a new and greater effort. It was two o'clock in the
afternoon, and the fierce July sun was at its zenith, pouring its
burning rays upon both armies, alike upon the living and upon the
dead who were now so numerous.

The lull was most welcome to the men in gray. Some fresh
regiments sent by Johnston had come already, and they hoped for more,
but whether they came or not, the army must stand. The brigades were
massed heavily around the Henry house with that of Jackson standing
stern and indomitable, the strongest wall against the foe. His fame
and his spirit were spreading fast over the field.

The lull was brief, the whole Northern army, its lines reformed,
swept forward in a half curve, and the Southern army sent forth a
stream of shells and bullets to meet it. The brigades of Jackson and
Sherman, indomitable foes, met face to face and swept back and forth
over the ground, which was littered with their fallen. Everywhere
the battle assumed a closer and fiercer phase. Hampton, who had come
just in time with his guns, went down wounded badly. Beauregard
himself was wounded slightly, and so was Jackson, hit in the hand.
Many distinguished officers were killed.

The whole Northern army was driven back four times, and it came
a fifth time to be repulsed once more. In the very height of the
struggle Harry caught a glimpse in front of them of a long horizontal
line of red, like a gleaming ribbon.

"It's those Zouaves!" cried Langdon. "Shoot their pants!"

He did not mean it as a jest. The words just jumped out, and
true to their meaning the Invincibles fired straight at that long
line of red, and then reloading fired again. The Zouaves were cut to
pieces, the field was strewed with their brilliant uniforms. A few
officers tried to bring on the scattered remnants, but two regiments
of regulars, sweeping in between and bearing down on the Invincibles,
saved them from extermination.

The Invincibles would have suffered the fate they had dealt out
to the Zouaves, but fresh regiments came to their help and the
regulars were driven back. Sherman and Jackson were still fighting
face to face, and Sherman was unable to advance. Howard hurled a
fresh force on the men in gray. Bee and Bartow, who had done such
great deeds earlier in the day, were both killed. A Northern force
under Heintzelman, converging for a flank attack, was set upon and
routed by the Southerners, who put them all to flight, captured three
guns and took the Robinson house.

Fortune, nevertheless, still seemed to favor the North. The
Southerners had barely held their positions around the Henry house.
Most of their cannon were dismounted. Hundreds had dropped from
exhaustion. Some had died from heat and excessive exertion. The
mortality among the officers was frightful. There were few hopeful
hearts in the Southern army.

It was now three o'clock in the afternoon and Beauregard,
through his glasses, saw a great column of dust rising above the tops
of the trees. His experience told him that it must be made by
marching troops, but what troops were they, Northern or Southern? In
an agony of suspense he appealed to the generals around him, but they
could tell nothing. He sent off aides at a gallop to see, but
meanwhile he and his generals could only wait, while the column of
dust grew broader and broader and higher and higher. His heart sank
like a plummet in a pool. The cloud was on the Federal flank and
everything indicated that it was the army of Patterson, marching from
the Valley of Virginia.

Harry and his comrades had also seen the dust, and they regarded
it anxiously. They knew as well as any general present that their
fate lay within that cloud.

"It's coming fast, and it's growing faster," said Harry. "I've
got so used to the roar of this battle that it seems to me alien
sounds are detached from it, and are heard easily. I can hear the
rumble of cannon wheels in that cloud."

"Then tell us, Harry," said Langdon, "is it a Northern rumble or
a Southern rumble that you hear?"

Harry laughed.

"I'll admit it's a good deal of a fancy," he said.

Arthur St. Clair suddenly leaped high in the air, and uttered at
the very top of his voice the wild note of the famous rebel yell.

"Look at the flags aloft in that cloud of dust! It's the Star
and Bars! God bless the Bonnie Blue Flag! They are our own men
coming, and coming in time!"

Now the battle flags appeared clearly through the dust, and the
great rebel yell, swelling and triumphant, swept the whole Southern
line. It was the remainder of Johnston's Army of the Shenandoah. It
had slipped away from Patterson, and all through the burning day it
had been marching steadily toward the battlefield, drummed on by the
thudding guns. Johnston, the silent and alert, was himself with them
now, and aflame with zeal they were advancing on the run straight for
the heart of the Northern army.

Kirby Smith, one of Harry's own Kentucky generals, was in the
very van of the relieving force. A man after Stonewall Jackson's own
soul, he rushed forward with the leading regiments and they hurled
themselves bodily upon the Northern flank.

The impact was terrible. Smith fell wounded, but his men rushed
on and the men behind also threw themselves into the battle. Almost
at the same instant Jubal Early, who had made a circuit with a strong
force, hurled it upon the side of the Northern army. The brave
troops in blue were exhausted by so many hours of fierce fighting and
fierce heat. Their whole line broke and began to fall back. The
Southern generals around the Henry house saw it and exulted. Swift
orders were sent and the bugles blew the charge for the men who had
stood so many long and bitter hours on the defense.

"Now, Invincibles, now!" cried Colonel Leonidas Talbot. "Charge
home, just once, my boys, and the victory is ours!"

Covered with dust and grime, worn and bleeding with many wounds,
but every heart beating triumphantly, what was left of the
Invincibles rose up and followed their leader. Harry was conscious
of a flame almost in his face and of whirling clouds of smoke and
dust. Then the entire Southern army burst upon the confused Northern
force and shattered it so completely that it fell to pieces.

The bravest battle ever fought by men, who, with few exceptions,
had not smelled the powder of war before, was lost and won.

As the Southern cannon and rifles beat upon them, the Northern
army, save for the regulars and the cavalry, dissolved. The generals
could not stem the flood. They rushed forward in confused masses,
seeking only to save themselves. Whole regiments dashed into the
fords of Bull Run and emerged dripping on the other side. A bridge
was covered with spectators come out from Washington to see the
victory, many of them bringing with them baskets of lunch. Some were
Members of Congress, but all joined in the panic and flight, carrying
to the capital many untrue stories of disaster.

A huge mass of fleeing men emerged upon the Warrenton turnpike,
throwing away their weapons and ammunition that they might run the
faster. It was panic pure and simple, but panic for the day only.
For hours they had fought as bravely as the veterans of twenty
battles, but now, with weakened nerves, they thought that an
overwhelming force was upon them. Every shell that the Southern guns
sent among them urged them to greater speed. The cavalry and little
force of regulars covered the rear, and with firm and unbroken ranks
retreated slowly, ready to face the enemy if he tried pursuit.

But the men in gray made no real pursuit. They were so worn
that they could not follow, and they yet scarcely believed in the
magnitude of their own victory, snatched from the very jaws of
defeat. Twenty-eight Northern cannon and ten flags were in their
hands, but thousands of dead and wounded lay upon the field, and
night was at hand again, close and hot.

Harry turned back to the little plateau where those that were
left of the Invincibles were already kindling their cooking fires.
He looked for his two comrades and recognized them both under their
masks of dust and powder.

"Are you hurt, Tom?" he said to Langdon.

"No, and I'm going to sleep in the White House at Washington
after all."

"And you, Arthur?"

"There's a red line across my wrist, where a bullet passed, but
it's nothing. Listen, what do you think of that, boys?"

A Southern band had gathered in the edge of the wood and was
playing a wild thrilling air, the words of which meant nothing, but
the tune everything:

"In Dixie's land I'll take my stand,
To live and die for Dixie. Look away! Look away!
Look away down South in Dixie." "So we have taken their tune
from them and made it ours!" St. Clair exclaimed jubilantly. "After
all, it really belonged to us! We'll play it through the streets of
Washington."

But Colonel Leonidas Talbot, who stood close by, raised his hand
warningly.

"Boys," he said, "this is only the beginning."