CHAPTER XX
FRONT ROYAL
In the hot, bright morning, Cleave, commanding four companies of the65th thrown out as skirmishers, entered the band of forest lying betweenthe Blue Ridge and Front Royal. The day was hot, the odour of the pinesstrong and heady; high in heaven, in a still and intense blue, thebuzzards were slowly sailing. A long, thin line of picked men, keen,watchful, the reserve a hundred yards or two behind, the skirmishersmoved forward over a rough cart track and over the opposing banks. Eachman stepped lightly as a cat, each held his gun in the fashion mostconvenient to himself, each meant to do good hunting. Ahead was athicker belt of trees, and beyond that a gleam of sky, a promise of aclearing. Suddenly, out of this blue space, rose the neigh of a horse.
The skirmishers halted beneath the trees. The men waited, bent forward,holding breath, recognizing the pause on the rim of action, the momentbefore the moment. The clearing appeared to be several hundred yardsaway. Back from it, upon the idle air, floated loud and carelesstalking, then laughter. Allan Gold came out of the thicker wood, moved,a tawny shadow, across the moss and reported to Cleave. "Two companies,sir--infantry--scattered along a little branch. Arms stacked."
The line entered the wood, the laughter and talking before it growinglouder. Each grey marksman twitched his cartridge box in place, glanced athis musket, glanced toward his immediate officer. Across the intervals ranan indefinable spark, a bracing, a tension. Some of the men moistened theirlips, one or two uttered a little sigh, the hearts of all beat faster. Thestep had quickened. The trees grew more thinly, came down to a merebordering fringe of sumach. Cleave motioned to the bugler; the latterraised the bugle to his lips. _Forward!--Commence--Firing!_ The twocompanies in blue, marched down that morning superfluously to picket aregion where was no danger, received that blast and had their moment ofstupour. Laughter died suddenly. A clock might have ticked twice while theysat or stood as though that were all there was to do. The woods blazed, along crackle of musketry broke the spell. A blue soldier pitched forward,lay with his head in the water. Another, seated in the shade, his back to asugar maple, never more of his own motion left that resting place; a third,undressing for a bath, ran when the others ran, but haltingly, a red markupon his naked thigh. All ran now, ran with cries and oaths toward thestacked rifles. Ere they could snatch the guns, drop upon their knees, aimat the shaken sumach bushes and fire, came a second blaze and rattle and aleaden hail.
Out of the wood burst the long skirmish line. It yelled; it gave the"rebel yell." It rushed on, firing as it came. It leaped the stream, itswallowed up the verdant mead, it came on, each of its units yellingdeath, to envelop the luckless two companies. One of these was very nearat hand, the other, for the moment more fortunate, a little way down thestream, near the Front Royal road. Cleave reached, a grey brand, theforemost of the two. "Surrender!"
The blue captain's sword lay with other paraphernalia on the grassbeneath the trees, but he signified assent to the inevitable. Thereserve, hurrying down from the wood, took the captured in charge. Theattack swept on, tearing across the meadow to the Front Royal road,where the second company had made a moment's stand, as brave as futile.It fired two rounds, then broke and tore down the dusty road or throughthe bordering fields toward Front Royal. Cleave and his skirmishersgained. They were mountain men, long of limb; they went like Greekrunners, and they tossed before them round messengers of death. Thegreater number of blue soldiers, exhausted, slackened in their pace,halted, threw down their arms. Presently, trailing their feet, theyreturned to the streamlet and their companions in misfortune.
The grey swept on, near now to Front Royal; before them a few bluefugitives, centre of a swiftly moving cloud of dust, a cloud into whichthe Thunder Run men fired at short intervals. Behind them they heard thetramp of the army. The Louisiana Brigade, leading, was coming at adouble-quick. On a parallel road to the left a dust cloud and dullthunder proclaimed a battery, making for the front. Out of the woodwhich the skirmishers had left came like a whirlwind the 65th Virginia,Jackson riding with Flournoy at the head.
Little Sorrel swerved toward the skirmishers and paused a moment abreastof Cleave. Jackson spoke from the saddle. "How many?"
"Two companies, sir. Several killed, the rest prisoners, save six oreight who will reach the town."
"Good! Press on. If they open with artillery, get under cover until ourguns are placed." He jerked his hand into the air and rode on, gallopingstiffly, his feet stuck out from the nag's sides. The cavalrydisappeared to the right in a storm of yellow dust.
The village of Front Royal that had been dozing all the summer forenoon,woke with a vengeance. Kenly's camp lay a mile or two west, but in thetown was quartered a company or so. Soldiers off duty were lounging onthe shady side of the village street, missing the larger delights ofStrasburg, wondering if Richmond had fallen and where was StonewallJackson, when the fracas, a mile away, broke upon their ears. Secureindolence woke with a start. Front Royal buzzed like an overturned hive.In the camp beyond the town bugles blared and the long roll wasfuriously beaten. The lounging soldiers jerked up their muskets; otherspoured out of houses where they had been billeted. All put their legs togood use, down the road, back to the camp! Out, too, came the villagepeople, though not to flee the village. In an instant men and women werein street or porch or yard, laughing, crying, hurrahing, clapping hands,waving anything that might serve as a welcoming banner. "StonewallJackson! It's Jackson! Stonewall Jackson! Bless the Lord, O mysoul!--Can't you all stop and tell a body?--No; you can't, of course. Goalong, and God bless you!--Their camp's this side the North Fork--abouta thousand of them.--Guns? Yes, they've got two guns. Cavalry? No, nocavalry.--Don't let them get away! If they fall back they'll try to burnthe bridges. Don't let them do that. The North Fork's awful rough andswollen. It'll be hard to get across.--Yes, the railroad bridge and thewagon bridge. I can't keep up with you any longer. I ain't as young as Ionce was. You're welcome, sir."
Cleave and his men came out of the village street at a run. Before themstretched level fields, gold with sunshine and with blossoming mustard,crossed and cumbered with numerous rail fences. Beyond these, frombehind rolling ground lightly wooded, rang a great noise of preparation,drums, trumpets, confused voices. As the skirmishers poured into theopen and again deployed, a cannon planted on a knoll ahead spoke withvehemence. The shell that it sent struck the road just in front of thegrey, exploded, frightfully tore a man's arm and covered all with a dunmantle of dust. Another followed, digging up the earth in the field,uprooting and ruining clover and mustard. A third burst overhead. Astone wall, overtopped by rusty cedars, ran at right angles with theroad. To this cover Cleave brought the men, and they lay behind itpanting, welcoming the moment's rest and shelter, waiting for thebattery straining across the fields. The Louisianians, led by Taylor,were pouring through the village--Ewell was behind--Jackson and thecavalry had quite disappeared.
Lying in the shadow of the wall, waiting for the order forward, Cleavesuddenly saw again and plainly what at the moment he had seen withoutnoting--Stafford's face, very handsome beneath soft hat and plume,riding with the 6th. It came now as though between eyelid and ball. Theeyes, weary and tragic, had rested upon him with intentness as he stoodand spoke with Jackson. Maury Stafford--Maury Stafford! Cleave's handstruck the sun-warmed stone impatiently. He was not fond of deepunhappiness--no, not even in the face of his foe! Why was it necessarythat the man should have felt thus, have thought thus, acted thus? Thefact that he himself could not contemplate without hot anger that otherfact of Stafford's thought still dwelling, dwelling upon Judith had madehim fight with determination any thought of the man at all. He could nothurt Judith, thank God! nor make between them more misunderstanding andmischief! Then let him go--let him go! with his beauty and his fatallook, like a figure out of an old, master canvas!--Cleave wrenched histhought to matters more near at hand.
The battery first seen and heard was now up. It took position on a riseof ground and began firing, but the
guns were but smoothboresix-pounders and the ammunition was ghastly bad. The shells explodedwell before they reached the enemy's lines. The opposing bluebattery--Atwell's--strongly posted and throwing canister fromten-pounder Parrotts--might have laughed had there not been--had therenot been more and more and yet more of grey infantry! Taylor with hisLouisianians, the First Maryland, Ewell, Winder with the Stonewall,grey, grey, with gleaming steel, with glints of red, pouring from thewoods, through the fields--the Pennsylvanians, working the battery, didnot laugh; they were pale, perhaps, beneath the powder grime. But paleor sanguine they bravely served their guns and threw their canister,well directed, against the mediaeval engines on the opposite knoll.
Shouting an order, there now galloped to these Jackson's Chief ofArtillery, Colonel Crutchfield. The outclassed smoothbores limbered upand drew sulkily away; Courtenay's Battery, including a rifled gun,arrived in dust and thunder to take their place. Behind cameBrockenborough. The reeking battery horses bent to it; the driversyelled. The rumbling wheels, the leaping harness, the dust that allraised, made a cortege and a din as of Dis himself. The wheel stopped,the men leaped to the ground, the guns were planted, the limbersdropped, the horses loosed and taken below the hill. A loud cannonadebegan.
Behind the screen of smoke, in the level fields, four Louisianaregiments formed in line of battle. A fifth moved to the left, itspurpose to flank the Federal battery. As for the cavalry, it appeared tohave sunk into the earth--and yet, even with the thought, out of theblue distance toward McCoy's Ford, on the South Fork arose a tremendousracket! A railway station, Buckton--was there, and a telegraph line, andtwo companies of Pennsylvania infantry, and two locomotives with steamup. At the moment there were also Ashby and the 7th Virginia, bent uponburning the railroad bridge, cutting the telegraph, staying thelocomotives, and capturing the Pennsylvanians. The latter tried toescape by the locomotives; tried twice and failed twice. The forminginfantry before Front Royal knew by the rumpus that Ashby was overthere, below the Massanuttons. There ran a rumour, too, that the 2dVirginia cavalry under Munford was somewhere to the northeast, blockingthe road to Manassas Gap, closing the steel trap on that quarter. The6th with Jackson remained sunken.
In the hot sunshine blared the Louisianian trumpets. An aide, stretchedlike an Indian along the neck of his galloping horse, came to theskirmishers. "All right, Cleave! Go ahead! The Louisianians are pawingthe ground!--Shade of Alexander Hamilton, listen to that!"
"That" was the "Marseillaise," grandly played. _Tramp, tramp!_ theLouisianians came on to its strains. The skirmish line left the sunnystone fence where slender ferns filled the chinks, and lizards ran likefrightened flames, and brown ants, anxious travellers, sought a wayhome. Cleave, quitting the shadow of a young locust tree, touched withhis foot a wren's nest, shaken from the bough above. The eggs lay in it,unbroken. He stooped swiftly, caught it up and set it on the boughagain, then ran on, he and all his men, under a storm of shot and shell.
Kenly, a gallant soldier, caught, through no fault of his, in a powerfultrap, manoeuvred ably. His guns were well served, and while theystayed for a moment the Confederate advance, he made dispositions for adetermined stand. The longer delay here, the greater chance atStrasburg! A courier dispatched in hot haste to warn the general thereencountered and hurried forward a detachment of the 7th New York Cavalryas well as a small troop of picked men, led by a sometime aide ofGeneral Banks. These, crossing the wagon bridge over the Shenandoah andcoming down the road at a double, reported to Kenly and were received bythe anxious troops with cheering. The ground hereabouts was rolling,green eminences at all points breaking the view. Kenly used the cavalryskilfully, making them appear now here, now there between the hills, tothe end that to the attackers they might appear a regiment. His gunsthundered, and his few companies of infantry fired with steadiness,greeting with hurrahs every fall of a grey skirmisher.
But the skirmishers pressed on, and behind them came the chanters of the"Marseillaise." Moreover a gasping courier brought news to Kenly. "Agreat force of cavalry, sir--Ashby, I reckon, or the devil himself--onthe right! If they get to the river first--" There was small need offurther saying. If Ashby or the devil got to the river first, thenindeed was the trap closed on the thousand men!
_Face to the Rear! March!_ ordered Kenly. Atwell's Battery limbered upin hot haste, turned, and dashed in thunder up the road. It must crossthe bridge, seize some height, from there defend the crossing. Where thebattery had been the cavalry now formed the screen, thin enough andragged, yet menacing the grey infantry.
The grey skirmishers rallied, fixed bayonets and advanced, theLouisianians close behind. The blue horsemen attempted a charge, anaction more bold than wise, they were so small a force. The men in greysprang at the bridles of the foremost, wrapped long mountain arms aboutthe riders. Despite sabre, despite pistol, several were dragged down,horse and man made captive. The most got back to safer ground. Kenly'sbugles rang out again, palpably alarmed, shrilly insistent. Horse andfoot must get across the Shenandoah or there would be the devil to pay!Beside the imperious trumpet came something else, an acrid smell andsmoke, then a great flame and crackle. Torch had been put to the camp;all the Federal tents and forage and stores were burning. _To the rear!To the rear!_
In the middle of the road, out of one of the scuffling groups, awhirling pillar of dust and clamour, sabre strokes, rifle and pistolcracks, oaths, cries, plunging of a maddened horse, Cleave saw a flushedface lift itself from the ground, a powerful shoulder thrust away thesurging grey shapes, a sabre flash in the sun, a hand from which bloodwas streaming catch at the horse's mane. The owner of the hand swunghimself again into the saddle from which Dave Maydew had plucked him.Remounted, he made a downward thrust with his sabre. Dave, keepingwarily out of reach of the horse's lashing heels, struck up the arm withhis bayonet. The sabre clattered to the ground; with an oath the man--anofficer--drew a revolver. The ball whizzed past Cleave's temple; asecond might have found his heart but that Allan Gold, entering somehowthe cleared circle made by the furious horse, hung upon the arm sleevedin fine blue cloth, and wrenched the Colt's from the gauntleted hand.Cleave, at the bridle, laughed and took his hands away. "ChristmasCarols again!" he said.
God save you, merry gentlemen! Let nothing you dismay--
"Give him way, men! He's a friend of mine."
Marchmont's horse bounded. "Lieutenant McNeill," said the rider. "Iprofess that in all this dust and smoke I did not at first recognizeyou. I am your obedient servant. If my foe, sir, then I dub you mydearest foe! To our next meeting!"
He backed the furious horse, wheeled and was gone like a bolt from acatapult toward his broken and retiring troop. As he rode he turned inhis saddle, raised his cap, and sang,--
"As the Yankees were a-marching, They heard the rebel yell--"
Close at the heels of Kenly's whole command poured, resistlessly, theskirmish line, the Louisiana troops, the First Maryland. A light wind blewbefore them the dun and rolling smoke from the burning camp. For all theirhaste the men found tongue as they passed that dismal pyre. They sniffedthe air. "Coffee burning!--good Lord, ain't it a sin?--Look at thoseboxes--shoes as I am a Christian man!--And all the wall tents--like'Laddin's palaces! Geewhilikins! what was that? That was oil. There mightbe gunpowder somewhere! Captain, honey, don't you want us to _treble-quick_it?" They passed the fire and waste and ruin, rounded a curve, and cameupon the long downward slope to the river. "Oh, here we are! Thar they are!Thar's the river. Thar's the Shenandoah! Thar's the covered bridge! They'reon it--they're halfway over! Their guns are over!--We ain't ever going tolet them all get across?--Ain't we going down the hill at them?--Yes._Forward!_--Yaaaih!--Yaaih!--Yaaaaaaaihh!--Yaaaaaih!--Thar's the cavalry!Thar's Old Jack!"
Jackson and the 6th Virginia came at a gallop out of the woods, down theeastern bank of the stream. The skirmishers, First Maryland,--Louisiana,--poured down the slope, firing on Kenly as they ran. A number of his mendropped, bu
t he was halfway across and he pressed on, the New York cavalryand Marchmont's small troop acting as rear guard. The battery was alreadyover. The western bank rose steep and high, commanding the eastern. Up thisstrained the guns, were planted, and opened with canister upon the swarminggrey upon the other shore. Company by company Kenly's infantry got across--got across, and once upon the rising ground faced about and opened adetermined fire under cover of which his cavalry entered the bridge. Thelast trooper over, his pioneers brought brush and hay, thrust it into themouth of the bridge and set all on fire.
Jackson was up just in time to witness the burst of flames. He turned tothe nearest regiment--the 8th Louisiana, Acadians from the Attakapas.There was in him no longer any slow stiffness of action; his body movedas though every joint were oiled. He looked a different creature. Hepointed to the railroad bridge just above the wagon bridge. "Cross atonce on the ties." The colonel looked, nodded, waved his sword andexplained to his Acadians. "_Mes enfans! Nous allons traverser le pontla-bas. En avant!_" In column of twos he led his men out on the ties ofthe trestle bridge. Below, dark, rapid, cold, rushed the swollenShenandoah. Musketry and artillery, Kenly opened upon them. Many a poorfellow, who until this war had never seen a railroad bridge, threw uphis arms, stumbled, slipped between the ties, went down into the floodand disappeared.
Stonewall Jackson continued his orders. "Skirmishers forward! Clearthose combustibles out of the bridge. Cross, Wheat's Battalion! FirstMaryland, follow!" He looked from beneath the forage cap at the steepopposite shore, from the narrow level at the water's edge to the ridgetop held by the Federal guns. Rank by rank on this staircase, showedKenly's troops, stubbornly firing, trying to break the trap."Artillery's the need. We must take more of their guns."
It was hot work, as the men of the 65th and Wheat's Tigers speedilyfound, crossing the wagon bridge over the Shenandoah! One span was allafire. The flooring burned their feet, flames licked the wooden sides ofthe structure, thick, choking smoke canopied the rafters. With musketbutts the men beat away the planking, hurled into the flood belowburning scantling and brand, and trampled the red out of the charringcross timbers. Some came out of the western mouth of the bridge stampingwith the pain of burned hands, but the point was that they did comeout--the four companies of the 65th, Wheat's Tigers, the First Maryland.Back to Jackson, however, went a messenger. "Not safe, sir, for horse!We broke step and got across, but at one place the supports are burnedaway--"
"Good! good!" said Jackson. "We will cross rougher rivers ere we aredone." He turned to Flournoy's bugler. "_Squadrons. Right front intoline. March!_"
Kenly, stubbornly firing upon the two columns, that one now quitting,with a breath of relief, the railway bridge, and that issuing under anarch of smoke from the wagon bridge, was hailed by a wild-eyedlieutenant. "Colonel Kenly, sir, look at that!" As he spoke, he tried topoint, but his hand waved up and down. The Shenandoah, below the twobridges, was thick with swimming horses.
Kenly looked, pressed his lips together, opened them and gave the order."_Face to the rear. Forward. March!_" Discretion was at last entirelythe better part of valour. Strasburg was fourteen miles away; over hilland dale rose and fell the road that ran that way. Off, off! and somemight yet escape--or it might please the gods to let him meet withreinforcements! His guns ceased with their canister and limbering upthundered away toward the sun, now low and red in the heavens. Theinfantry followed; the small cavalry force bringing up the rear, nowdeployed as skirmishers, now rallying and threatening the grey footmen.
The Shenandoah was impetuous, deep, turbid, with many eddies, lifted bythe spring rains almost level with its banks. The horses liked itnot--poor brutes! They shuddered, whinnied, glared with distended,bloodshot eyes. Once in, they patiently did their best. Each was ownedby its rider, and was his good friend as well as servant. Theunderstanding between the two could not be disturbed, no, not even bythe swollen Shenandoah! The trooper, floating free upon the down-streamside, one hand on mane, or knees upgathered, and carbine held high,squatting in the saddle on the crossed stirrups, kept up a stream ofencouragement--soft words, pet names, cooing mention of sugar (littleenough in the commissariat!) and of apples. The steed responded. The godabove or beside him wished it thus, and certainly should be obeyed, andthat with love. The rough torrent, the eddies, the violent current werenothing--at least, not much! In column of twos the horses breasted theriver, the gods above them singing of praise and reward. They neared thewestern shore and the green, overhanging trees, touched bottom, plungeda little and came out, wet and shining, every inch of metal about themglinting in the level rays of the sun.
High on the bank Stonewall Jackson with Flournoy and his aides, thefirst to cross, watched that passage of the squadrons. Little Sorrel,slow and patient, had perhaps been, in his own traversing, the one steedto hear no especial word of endearment nor much of promise. He did notseem to miss them; he and Jackson apparently understood each other. Themen said that he could run only one way and that toward the enemy.
Far down the Front Royal and Winchester turnpike, through a fair farmingcountry, among cornfields and orchards, the running fight continued. Itwas almost sunset; long shadows stretched across the earth. Scene andhour should have been tranquil-sweet--fall of dew, vesper song of birds,tinkling of cow bells coming home. It was not so; it was filled withnoise and smoke, and in the fields and fence corners lay dead andwounded men, while in the farmhouses of the region, women drew theblinds, gathered the children about them and sat trembling.
The blue cavalry was hard put to it. The grey infantrymen were goodmarksmen, and their line was long, drawn across the road and the up anddown of the fields. Here and there, now and again, a trooper went downto the dust, and the riderless horse, galloping to the rear, broughtsmall comfort to Kenly's retreating companies. At last there rode backthe major commanding the New York squadron. "We're losing too heavily,colonel! There's a feverishness--if they're reinforced I don't know if Ican hold the men--"
Kenly debated within himself, then. "I'll make a stand at thecross-roads yonder. Atwell shall plant the guns and give them canister.It is nearly night--if we could hold them off one hour--"
Richard Cleave, pressing very close with his skirmishers, lost sight ofthe blue infantry now behind an orchard-clad undulation. "Billy Maydew!come climb this tree and tell me what you see."
Billy went up the roadside locust like a squirrel. "Thar air a man justtumbled off a black horse with a white star! 'T was Dave hit him, Ireckon. They look powerful droopy, them cavalrymen! The big man youwouldn't let us take, he air waving his sabre and swearing--"
"The infantry?"
"The infantry air halted. The road air stuffed with them.One--two--three--six companies, stretched out like a black horse'stail."
"Faced which way?"
"That way. No! by Jiminy, they ain't! They air faced this way! They airgoing to make a stand!"
"They have done well, and they've got a brave officer, whoever he is.The guns?"
"Away ahead, but they air turning! They air making for a hilltop thathangs over the road. Thar's another man off his horse! Threw up his armand fell, and his foot caught in the stirrup. I don't know if 't warDave this time shot him--anyhow, 't war not Sergeant Coffin--"
"Is the infantry deploying?"
"They air still in column--black as flies in the road. They air tearingdown the fence, so they can get into the fields."
"Look behind--toward the river."
Billy obediently turned upon the branch. "We air coming on in fivelines--like the bean patch at home. I love them Lou-is-iana Tigers!What's that?"
"What?"
"An awful cloud of dust--and a trumpet out of it! The First Maryland'sgetting out of the way--Now the Tigers!--Oh-h-h!"
He scrambled down. "By the left flank!" shouted Cleave. "Double quick.March!"
The 65th, the Louisiana troops, the First Maryland, moved rapidly westof the road, leaving a space of trampled green between themselves andit. Out of the dust cloud t
oward the river now rose a thud of manyhoofs--a body of horse coming at a trot. The sound deepened, drewnearer, changed measure. The horses were galloping, though not at fullspeed. They could be seen now, in two lines, under bright guidons,eating up the waves of earth, galloping toward the sunset in dust andheat and thunder. At first sight like toy figures, men and horses werenow grown life-size. They threatened, in the act of passing, to becomegigantic. The sun had set, but it left walls and portals of cloud tingedand rimmed with fire. The horsemen seemed some home-returning aerialrace, so straight they rode into the west. The ground shook, the dustrose higher, the figures enlarged, the gallop increased. Energy at itsheight, of a sudden all the trumpets blew.
bugle call music]
Past the grey infantry, frantically yelling its welcome, swept atremendous charge. Knee to knee, shouting, chanting, horse and man onewar shaft, endued with soul and lifted to an ecstasy, they went by,flecked with foam, in a whirlwind of dust, in an infernal clangour, withthe blare and fury, the port and horror of Mars attended. The horsesstretched neck, shook mane, breathed fire; the horsemen drained to thelees the encrusted heirloom, the cup of warlike passion. Frenzied theyall rode home.
The small cavalry force opposed, gasped at the apparition. Certainlytheir officers tried to rally the men, but certainly they knew it forfutility! Some of the troopers fired their carbines at the approachingtide, hoar, yelling, coming now so swiftly that every man rode as agiant and every steed seemed a spectre horse--others did not. Allturned, before the shock, and fled, in a mad gallop of their own.
Kenly's infantry, yet in column, was packed in a road none too wide,between ragged banks topped by rail fences. Two panels of these had beentaken down preparatory to deploying in the fields, but the movement wasnot yet made. Kenly had his face turned to the west, straining his eyesfor the guns or for the reinforcements which happily General Banks mightsend. A shout arose. "Look out! Look out! Oh, good Lord!"
First there was seen a horrible dust cloud, heard a great thunder ofhoofs. Then out of all came bloodshot eyes of horses, stiffened manes,blue figures downward bent on the sweat-gleaming necks, oaths, prayers,sounds of unnerved Nature, here and there of grim fury, impotent in thetorrent as a protesting straw. Into the blue infantry rode the bluecavalry. All down the soldier-crammed road ensued a dreadful confusion,danger and uproar. Men sprang for their lives to this side and that.They caught at jutting roots and pulled themselves out of the road upthe crumbling banks. Where they could they reached the rail fences,tumbled over them and lay, gasping, close alongside. The majority couldnot get out of the road. They pressed themselves flat against theshelving banks, and let the wedge drive through. Many were caught,overturned, felt the fierce blows of the hoofs. Regardless of any wreckbehind them, on and over and down the Winchester road tore the maddenedhorses, the appalled troopers.
The luckless infantry when, at last, their own had passed, had no timeto form before the Confederate charge was upon them. At the highest key,the fiercest light, the extremest motion, sound and sight procuring forthem a mighty bass and background, came Jackson's charging squadrons.They swallowed the road and the fields on either hand. Kenly, with theforemost company, fired once, a point-blank volley, received at twentyyards, and emptying ten saddles of the central squadron. It could notstay the unstayable; in a moment, in a twinkling of the eye, withindescribable noise, with roaring as of undammed waters, with a lapse ofall colours into red, with smell of sweat and powder, hot metal andburning cloth, with savour of poisoned brass in furred mouths, with animpact of body, with sabre blow and pistol shot, with blood spilled andbone splintered, with pain and tremendous horror and invading nausea,with delirium, with resurgence of the brute, with jungle triumph,Berserker rage and battle ecstasy came the shock--then, in a moment, themelee.
Kenly, vainly striving to rally a handful about the colours, fell, allbut mortally wounded. In the wild quarter of an hour that elapsed beforethe surrender of the whole, many of the blue were killed, many morewounded. Far and wide the men scattered, but far and wide they wereridden down. One of the guns was taken almost at once, the other alittle later, overtaken a mile or two down the road. A few artillerymen,a squad or two of cavalry with several officers, Marchmont among them,got away. They were all who broke the trap. Kenly himself, twentyofficers and nine hundred men, the dead, the wounded, the surrendered,together with a section of artillery, some unburned stores, and theNorthern colours and guidons, rested in Jackson's hands. That night inStrasburg, when the stars came out, men looked toward those that shonein the east.