Charlestown, Virginia, March 8, 1862, Saturday.
We are quite at home in Charlestown now. We went into camp
on Wednesday. On Thursday I was detailed as brigade officer of the day.
That kept me in the saddle all day and until night. And now
I have a story of a midnight march for you. It is midnight of Thursday night.
It may have begun to be Friday morning. I am sleeping in my tent; my nose alone
apprising me that it is bitter cold. The rattle of an orderly is heard
galloping into the camp. Soon, again, my reviving wakefulness hears the voice
of Major Perkins, General Banks's Chief of Staff, talking to the Colonel in the
next tent.
At last I am called. “Get the regiment under arms at once,
Major,” is the order, “and move down on the Berryville Pike.” Colonel Maulsby,
who is at Kabletown, near the Shenandoah, with part of his regiment, is
reported to have been attacked by Rebel cavalry, and “cut to pieces.” A force
of cavalry, artillery, and two regiments of infantry, under Colonel Gordon, is
to move at once, cautiously, to his relief. It is dark, and so cold. A
discussion of the best route ensues. The regiment is turned out. I mount my
horse and ride down to take command. In the darkness, it is difficult to see
whether the regiment is facing one way or another. We move down upon the road.
The Sixteenth Indiana follows us.
After proceeding a mile upon the pike, we turn off upon the “Dirt
Road,” so called, toward Kabletown. Over rocks, through ruts and mire, half
frozen, we make a slight headway. The artillery cannot proceed. It is too dark
for even safe progress by infantry. “Halt! Build fires, and bivouac till
daylight.” In fifteen minutes, from our position at the head of the line to the
rear of it is a succession of bright fires, with groups of men gathered round
them. Down the hill, and along the winding road is one blaze of camp-fires. The
sight is a fine one. At last the morning star rises, like a flame, and the day
follows her. We move again, with flankers and advance guard. As we had been
sitting about the fire, waiting for day, a teamster of Colonel Maulsby's
regiment, who was our guide, had told his story, how the cavalry charged upon
them, cut them down, and “now,” said he, “Colonel Maulsby and all his officers
are either dead or on their way to Richmond.”
As we drew near to Kabletown we saw pickets and outposts. A
company of our regiment, deployed as skirmishers, went down on the field toward
them. They withdrew; but suddenly it appears that they are part of Colonel
Maulsby's Home Guard!
We advance again, when, at a turn in the road, the quiet
camp of Colonel Maulsby appears in tranquil unconsciousness. The teamster opens
his eyes in blank amazement. We halt. I go on and find Colonel Maulsby,
delighted and surprised to see me.
Then come the explanations. A patrol of our cavalry lost its
way, last night, came rapidly in on the camp by the wrong road. Maulsby's men
fired, and so did the cavalry. The teamsters and a few of the outposts were
panic-stricken, and their terror drew a picture which had little resemblance to
the reality.
In the unlucky blunder, a horse and man were shot. The
fugitive teamsters and outposts had led us a pretty chase. The joke and
collapse were ridiculous. “Come in to breakfast,” said Colonel Maulsby. Ha! ha!
ha! We are the heroes of Kabletown! On our return, I told General Banks that
Kabletown should be inscribed on our banners!
We had a night march, and at ten o'clock in the morning we
got back to our camp, after fourteen miles of marching over the worst road in
the world. Well! what of it? There is no harm done, and perhaps this wretched
cavalry has learnt a lesson.
I am writing in the Provost Marshal's office in the
Charlestown jail. Colonel Andrews is still Provost Marshal. John Brown's cell,
on the opposite side of the entry, is full of contrabands, fugitives within our
lines, most of them to be sent to work at Harper's Ferry. Again I give you an
odd retribution from the whirligig of events.
SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and
Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p.
203-5
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