As I entered the long broad avenue running between the great
tents at the field hospital later in the day where there were hundreds of
wounded, dead and dying, Dillingham, Hill and others of my regiment, among the
number, Dr. J. C. Rutherford, one of my regimental surgeons, seeing me with a
man on either side — for here in sight of others I wouldn't let them support me
— close to and keenly watching my unsteady carriage, came running, hastily
examined my wounds, bade me sit on the ground, ran for his instrument case,
placed my head upturned between his knees, sewed in place a triangular piece of
flesh extending from the right corner of my nose down hanging at the lower
right corner by a slight shred of flesh, which I had held in place from the
battlefield with my fingers, and that job for the time being was done; but oh!
my aching head, jaws and chest, as well as the extreme feeling of lassitude for
the balance of the day. My face was like a puff ball, so quickly had it
swollen, my chest at the point of the wishbone — so to speak — was mangled
black and blue and resembled a pounded piece of steak ready to be cooked, and I
was so nauseated, lame and sore all over, I dreaded to move. I guess the rebs
came pretty near winging me — but Glory! Early was licked. To add to my feeling
of depression, I was told Major Dillingham was mortally wounded and that he
would soon pass away. He had been a good friend, a brave man, faultlessly
courageous, was an elegant gentleman and good fellow, and was much beloved. A
solid shot severed a leg going through the woods; his cry of anguish was
distressing, and I shrink from thinking of it whenever it comes into my mind.
I fell just in front of the enemy's hastily thrown up
breastworks of fence rails in the vanguard after advancing under a murderous
fire about a hundred yards or more, in the open field after passing through the
woods. I saw no other line officer with his men anywhere in my vicinity so far
in front, and there was no other officer there in the open field except
Adjutant Wyllys Lyman who was lauded for it, but I, being a boy, got nothing
but my two wounds as compliments for my steadfastness, and they will stay with
me through life. I wonder if when across the Great River and in another world I
will be remembered any better for my faithfulness when so many others failed at
such an important moment?*
I found the men of Company E good fighters, Corporal Walker
and another big man of my Company whose name I can't recall, being so short a
time with the Company — but believe it was one of the Brownells, also of
Pownal, Vt. — who helped me occasionally going to the ambulance as I felt faint
and weak, were brave fellows. They followed me closely all through the assault
as though they expected me to be hit, fighting like heroes as they were at the
same time, and when I fell wounded they dropped close by me, Corporal Walker, a
giant, coolly saying: “Don't get up Lieutenant, they’ll riddle you if you do!”
but I thought they already had. However, the nervous shock of both wounds was
too great to think of rising at once, and almost immediately the rebs were
running for dear life all branches of the service mixed together in confusion —
a perfect jumble. We had licked them in a square stand up open field fight of
their own choice — and a very poor one, too, for them in case of defeat, as it
proved — and it was clean cut, the worst stampede and rout I every saw.
Sheridan was as brave as a lion, and unlike some commanders
who hunt cover when their commands are fighting, went seemingly fearlessly
anywhere he wanted to in order to see what was going on and what if any part of
the line needed reinforcing. As before stated, my position on the battlefield
was sufficiently high to see nearly all of it. It being a beautiful sunny Fall
day with a clear atmosphere, it was the most spectacular, and before the
Infantry broke, the most beautiful battlefield sight seen, and better yet, the
most snappy, brilliant fighting witnessed during the war. Sheridan hovered near
the centre in the neighborhood of the high ground where I was twice wounded,
and dashed back and forth the line on horseback like a restless lion, an
ideally alert fighter, almost as unmindful of shot and shell as though both
deaf and blind. It was here that I formed my opinion that he was not only the
ideal fighter, but the second, if not the greatest military genius developed by
the Civil War, and I have never changed my opinion. Honest, alert, aggressive,
dashing and brave with splendid judgment, his equal will be hard to find, and
probably rarely surpassed. He was generally conceded a brilliant cavalry
fighter, but if the world has ever produced a better planned, executed,
dashing, brilliant spectacular, snappy battle or commander than he and this
Battle of Winchester, where the different branches of the service were
combined, take it from first to last during the day, it would be interesting to
know on what occasion. It was so unlike any battle ever seen by me that all
others sink into insignificance as dull affairs. Language or words even with
the most gifted talkers or writers can never describe this battle; no pen
picture, or ever so gifted talker can do it justice; it would have to be seen
by an expert to be fully appreciated. Ever afterwards the Sixth Corps of all
others was Sheridan's favorite. Said he later: “Give me the Sixth Corps and I
will charge anywhere.”
Among the most admirable pictures of the fight — barring the
orderly, majestic advance to battle of the whole army in unbroken lines — except
after a little our division being unmercifully shelled from the start on the
pike it could not withstand it, nor could any other have done so — as a whole
after through the wood resembling an immense gracefully waving blue ribbon
along the surface of the ground, caused by that enchantingly swinging, billowy
motion characteristic of regulars when marching in large bodies, its fluttering
banners, glittering arms, equipments and its blue uniforms looking prettier
than ever in the bright September sunlight under a bright blue sky specked with
fleecy white clouds making a picture beautiful with perfect harmony of
color,—was the beauty, grandeur and majesty of both Russell and Custer's
splendid debouch on the battlefield with their valiant, intrepid commands, the
former's proudly and majestically en masse in perfect order and cadence, line
and bearing, coolly confident as though at parade, and the latter's also in
perfect lines and order, as well as dashing, intrepid, spirited and assured
bearing even the horses as though vieing with each other in speed to run down
the unfortunate enemy, entering into the spirit of the occasion and sweeping
rapidly like an avalanche down on the demoralized, fleeing and awe-stricken
enemy with the fury and apparently almost certain destruction of a tornado.
These were pictures comprising awe, beauty, power, grandeur, order and
disorder, dash, magnificence, valor, terror, confusion, inspiration and majesty
to such an extent as to defy the pen picture of any writer however gifted. This
battle was different from any other I ever saw. It was Sheridan's way of doing
things—a revelation in warfare.
_______________
* Major Lyman was afterwards honored with a brevet as Major,
but I was only mentioned in routine official papers as wounded. Why he, being
Adjutant, and therefore representing the regimental commander, and the only
officer who saw me, didn't see to it that my services were duly recognized as
well as his, I have never been able to understand. It always stirs my spirit
when I think of it, for if anyone deserved recognition for that day's work it
was the leaders in such an assault, for on such largely depended its success;
and certainly if Lyman deserved recognition who had no command, then why
shouldn't one who did, whose men largely followed him, as well as some of the
men of five other companies which I had successfully led in other fights? It is
hard to be reconciled to such unfair discriminations. But brevets in many
regiments were quite as apt to be given for scheming and favoritism as for
merit, and some of the most meritorious line officers who fought gallantly on
the front line of battle through almost the entire war, received no such recognition
from their regimental commanders, although such line officers' exhibitions of
dash and daring, especially in the Tenth Vermont, which was one thing that gave
the regiment an enviable reputation both in the field and at home, were very
frequent. The company commanders of this regiment did not follow their men into
battle, at any rate to commence with, but led them continually when fleet
enough to do so, and I always did. Being almost invariably selected when a
lieutenant to command a company without an officer, I was with one exception
alone with no company commander to observe and report my work, and my different
regimental commanders didn't take sufficient interest to do so, even if where
they could observe it; but the fact that I was almost invariably selected to
command different companies in battle when needed and that I overslaughed
several lieutenants when promoted Captain, should have been reason enough for
at least one brevet during the war, if nothing more, which since, in the
regular army, would have saved me from frequent undeserved embarrassment. A
long experience, however, both in the Civil War and the regular army since in
the observance of the bestowal of brevets and medals of honor has caused me to
regard with very little respect in many instances the recipient's methods in
obtaining such favors, and especially the system of bestowal of the same, which
is a sacred trust. And certainly if in most cases such consideration was
warranted, then many of my acquaintances who were not recognized even once,
especially in the Civil War, could have been repeatedly decorated with the far
greater propriety. But with me such distinctions were not worth having except
earned in the estimation of others competent to judge, and came unsolicited.
Such, however, is rarely the case, even when repeatedly deservedly won, and the
only reward for such is to tell the truth about it historically whenever the
opportunity offers, regardless of criticism.
SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections
and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 168-75
No comments:
Post a Comment