Loreta Janeta Velazquez: The Woman in Battle

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Chapter VII: The Battle of Bull Run

I was now about to enter upon the realization of all my dreams, to see some real warfare, to engage in real battles, to do some real fighting, and, as I fondly hoped, to have some opportunities of distinguishing myself in a signal manner. I was never in better health and spirit than on that bright summer morning, when I left Richmond for the purpose of joining the forces of the Confederacy in the face of the enemy; and the nearer we approached our destination, the more elated did I become at the prospect before me of being able to prove myself as good a fighter as any of the gallant men who had taken up arms in behalf of the cause of Southern independence. I had only one fear, and that was, that I should be stopped on account of not having the proper papers; but my motto was, “Nothing venture, nothing have”; and I was bent on facing the thing through, and trusting to luck to bring me out all right. Fortunately I had no trouble of any kind, and arrived safely at Clifton,—a supply-station about a dozen miles from the headquarters of the army in the field.

At Clifton I bought a couple of fine horses, and on the 15th of July set out for headquarters, with a view of being assigned to a command where I should have a chance to see some fighting. I sought an interview with a prominent general, but he was in rather a crusty humor; and as he did not seem inclined to talk with me, I concluded not to bother him, but to take my chances as matters might shape themselves for the accomplishment of my designs. His adjutant was more polite, and desired to employ me as a courier; but this did not suit my notions, and I consequently declined. I told him that I was an independent, paying my own expenses, and that the only thing I wanted was an opportunity to take a hand in the coming fight. I suppose he thought that I was entirely too independent for him, for he said no more, but turned away, and went about other affairs.

Trying to Get a Commission

General Beauregard was in command of the entire army; but I felt a hesitation in approaching him, especially after the rebuff I had just received. Thinking that the shortest way to get what I wanted was to obtain a regular commission, I offered an officer, with whom I became acquainted, five hundred dollars for his. He would not sell, however; and I then went over to Brigadier General Bonham, who was holding Mitchell’s Ford, and introduced myself to him. General Bonham looked at me sharply, and asked what company I belonged to.

“To none,” I replied. “I belong wherever there is work to do.”

“Well,” said Bonham, “you are the right sort to have around when a fight is going on. If you stay here a little while, I reckon you will be able to find plenty of work.”

I took this as a hint that I might make myself at home, and, bowing myself out of the general’s presence, went to look after my boy Bob. The darkey was just beginning to have some appreciation of what fighting was really like, and was badly scared. I told him that if he ran off and left me, I would kill him if I ever caught him again; which threat had its desired effect, for he stuck to me through thick and thin.

The Skirmish at Blackburn’s Ford

At half past twelve o’clock, on the 18th, the enemy made a sharp attack, but did not do any great damage. Kemper’s battery, which occupied the ridge on the left of the Centreville road, performed efficient service in holding the Yankees in check. Soon, however, the enemy advanced in strong force, and attacked General Longstreet’s brigade at Blackburn’s Ford. Our pickets fell slowly back across the Ford, which was crossed by our skirmishers, and for some time a rapid but irregular firing was kept up between the two contending armies. Longstreet, however, soon was in a condition to meet the attack squarely; and bringing about three thousand infantry into position, he succeeded in repulsing the enemy after a sharp skirmish of nearly an hour’s duration. Later, Longstreet was re-enforced by Brigadier General Early’s brigade, and the enemy finding us too strong for them, was forced to retreat from the field. As they broke and ran, I fired a last shot at them with a dead man’s musket, which I picked up. During the greater part of this fight, the men belonging to the two armies who engaged in it were often not more than a few feet from each other, and it seemed more like a series of duels than anything such as I had imagined a battle would be. It was during this affair that I had the pleasure of meeting with a man I had heard a great deal about,—Colonel J. B. Walton, of the Washington artillery. He was a brave man, and a very genial, pleasant fellow.

This skirmish was but the prelude to the great battles of Manassas or Bull’s Run, which was fought on the 21st of July, 1861. It served, however, to initiate me, and to make me impatient to see an engagement of real importance, in which I should have an opportunity to make a first-rate display of my fighting qualities. I was the more anxious for a big fight soon, as I had been placed temporarily in command of a company, the senior officer of which had been killed, and I was afraid that if a fight was long delayed I should be superseded, and should be compelled to lose my best chance of distinguishing myself. I had no occasion, however, to be afraid of a fight not coming off, for we had ample information of all the movements of the enemy, and knew that he was about to advance upon us in full force, so that the conflict was likely to begin at almost any moment. I was able, therefore, to take part in the first great battle of the war, under the best possible auspices, and to thus accomplish what had been one of the great objects of my ambition from my earliest childhood. There may have been men who did harder fighting at Bull Run than myself, but no one went through the fight with a stouter heart, or with a greater determination to behave valiantly, and, if possible, to give the enemy a sound thrashing, if only for the sake of affording him an idea of the magnitude of the job he had undertaken in attempting to coerce the Southern people.

Burying the Dead

On the 18th I assisted, with the rest, to bury the dead, my boy, Bob, rendering us efficient service in the performance of this duty. When night came I was tired out, and, lying down on the bare ground, slept soundly until four o’clock the next morning. When I awoke, I was weary and sore in all my limbs through the unusual exertions I had been compelled to make, and the exposure to the hot sun in the day time, and the damp air and cold ground at night. I was not sick, however; and as I had no doubt that I should soon get used to this kind of rough life, I never thought of giving up, especially as a great battle was impending, upon taking part in which my heart was bent.

At daybreak, on the 19th, I was in my boots, and ready to march. Passing through Ashby’s Gap, we reached the little town of Piedmont, on the Manassas Gap Railroad, where we halted. On the 20th, General Johnston arrived at Manassas about noon, and was followed by two Georgia regiments and Jackson’s brigade of gallant Virginians. Then came Bernard E. Bee, with the fourth Alabama regiment and the second regiment, and three companies of the eleventh regiment of Mississippians. On account of some delay, or detention on the railroad, it was now found necessary to hold a council of war, and to make some changes in the plans already arranged.

When the troops were once more in motion, I followed Bee’s line through a dense wood, as far as Sudley’s Road. General Bee, at this place, appointed me a special messenger, and sent me with an order to Colonel Wheat, of the Louisiana battalion, and also to General Evans, whose command was about six hundred yards distant. Evans was an officer whom I had heard much talked of, and whom I greatly desired to see. He was commonly designated, by the officers and men, as “Shanks,” and he looked very much as if the kind of liquor he was in the habit of drinking did not agree with him.

It was well known that the Federals intended to attack us in force on Sunday, the 21st, and preparations were made to give them the right kind of a reception when they appeared. Although full of excitement at the prospect of taking part in a great battle, one that, perhaps, would enable us to secure the independence of the South at a single blow,—for the skirmishes in which I had thus far been engaged only seemed to whet my appetite for fighting, and to make me more than ever desirous of seeing what a really desperate-fought battle was like,—I succumbed to the fatigues I had undergone, and passed the greater part of the night, before the terrific conflict at Bull Run, in a dreamless sleep. I had fancied that sleep would be impossible to me under such circumstances; but a very little experience as a soldier was sufficient for me to be able to fall into a soldier’s way of doing things, and I soon learned to take my rest as naturally and composedly upon the bare ground as if on the most downy couch, and not even the excitements and anxieties incident to an impending battle could prevent my tired eyes from closing after a long and fatiguing day passed under a broiling July sun.

The Morning of the Battle of Bull Run

On the morning of the day of the battle I was awake at dawn, and ready to play my part in the great drama which was about to begin; and although some of the men around me had been disposed to laugh at the efforts of the little dandified independent to get a chance to display his valor, not one of them was more eager for the fight than myself, or was more bent upon doing deeds of heroism. If I had allowed myself to be irritated by snubs from officers, who behaved as if they thought the results of the war depended upon them alone, I should have gone back to Richmond in disgust several days before the battle came off, and should have resumed the garb of my sex, with a determination never to figure as a man again. I was not to be bluffed by anybody, however; and having come thus far to see and to take a hand in a great battle, I had no thought of turning back for any cause, or under any circumstances, no matter what might be said or thought of me.

I labored under some disadvantages in not having a regular commission, and not being attached to a regular command. This exposed me to slights that would otherwise not have been put upon me, and prevented officers, who would, under some circumstances, have gladly taken advantage of my readiness to attend faithfully to any task assigned me, to avail themselves of my services. On the other hand, my being an independent, enabled me, to a great extent, to choose my own position in the battle, and I probably, therefore, had a better opportunity of distinguishing myself than I should have had otherwise. I was especially bent upon showing some of them, who were disposed to smile at me on account of my petite figure and jaunty air, that I was as good a man as any one of them, and was able to face the enemy as valiantly. This I did show them before the day was over, and I was highly elated at the commendations which some of the best soldiers bestowed upon the “plucky little devil,” as they called me.

By the time it was fairly daylight, the preparations for meeting the enemy were well advanced, and the sun rose in all his majesty upon a host of men drawn up in battle array,—the brave among them anxious for the fray to begin, the cowards—and there were plenty of them in both armies,—trembling in their boots, and eager for a pretext to sneak away, and hide themselves from the coming danger. The morning was a beautiful one, although it gave promise of a sweltering day; and the scone presented to my eyes, as I surveyed the field, was one of marvellous beauty and grandeur. I cannot pretend to express in words what I felt, as I found myself one among thousands of combatants, who were about to engage in a deadly and desperate struggle. The supreme moment of my life had arrived, and all the glorious aspirations of my romantic girlhood were on the point of realization. I was elated beyond measure, although cool-headed enough, and watched the preparations going on around me with eager interest. Fear was a word I did not know the meaning of; and as I noted the ashy faces, and the trembling limbs of some of the men about me, I almost wished that I could feel a little fear, if only for the sake of sympathizing with the poor devils. I do not say this for brag, for I despise braggarts as much as I do cowards; but, in a narrative like this, the reader has a right to know what my feelings, as well as my impressions, were, upon so important an occasion as my appearance as a combatant upon the battle-field, where the Confederate troops first gave the enemy a taste of their genuine quality, and achieved their first great victory.

The Advance of the Enemy

As the hot July sun mounted upwards through the almost cloudless sky, and the mists of the morning disappeared before his ardent beams, the approach of the enemy could be distinctly traced by the clouds of dust raised by the tramping of thousands of feet, and, once in a great while, the gleam of the bayonets was discerned among the heavy clumps of timber that covered the undulating plain which the commanders of the armies of the South and the North had selected for their first trial of strategy and of strength. The desultory firing with which the battle opened soon was followed by rapid volleys, and ere the morning was far advanced, the sharp rattling of the musketry, the roar of the artillery, and the yelling of the soldiers, developed into an incessant tumult; while along the entire line, for miles, arose clouds of yellow dust and blue smoke, as the desperateness of the conflict increased, and the men on either side became excited with the work they had in hand.

It soon became apparent that the position in which fortune had placed me was to be the chief point of the Federal attack, and that my immediate comrades would be compelled to bear the brunt of the battle. The gallant Colonel Wheat was severely wounded early in the day, but he succeeded in checking the advance of the enemy, and in maintaining his position, until General Bee, on being informed of the peril he was in, advanced to the Henry House with the Alabama regiment and Imboden’s artillery, and from thence crossed the valley to the support of Evans’s command. The Federals were in strong force, there being, probably, fifteen thousand immediately in front of us, and they followed up their first sharp attack with some desperate fighting. The commands of Bee, Evans, and Bartow were all soon actively engaged in resisting the advance of vastly superior numbers, and had quite as much as they could attend to to do it. I attached myself to my favorite officer, Bee, and remained with his command during the entire day.

Bee Orders His Men to Fall Back

The Federal artillery, which sent its shell showering over us, and bursting in our ranks, creating terrible slaughter, was commanded by an acquaintance of mine, Ricketts. I did the best I could to give him as good as he sent, for the sake of old times when we were friends, and when we neither of us imagined that we would some day be opposed to each other on the battle-field. The Confederates, although greatly outnumbered, succeeded for a long time in maintaining their ground, in spite of the odds against them, and again and again pierced through the enemy’s lines. Our men suffered terribly, however, the seventh Georgia and fourth Alabama regiments, especially, being very badly cut up. At length, despite all our efforts, Bee was compelled to give the order for us to fall back, the enemy having been heavily re-enforced by the commands of Sherman and Keyes.

The Federals, doubtless, thought that the victory was theirs when they saw us in retreat. It was a terrible moment, and my heart failed me when I heard Bee’s order. I was wrought up to such a pitch of excitement, while the fight was going on, that I had no comprehension whatever of the value of the movements being made by the different commanders. I only saw the enemy before me, and was inspired by an eager desire to conquer him. I forgot that I was but a single figure in a great military scheme; and as, while we stood face to face with the foe, every man on the other side became for the moment my personal enemy, whom I was furious to overcome, so, when by the general’s command, we were compelled to fall back, I was overcome with rage and indignation, and felt all the shame and mortification of a personal defeat.

“Stonewall” Jackson

I soon, however, saw the object Bee had in view in his momentary retreat, when he rallied his men in the rear of a house, and gave them a breathing spell, until Wade Hampton’s legion and Jackson’s brigade could come to their assistance. This movement on the part of Bee afforded me an opportunity to cool off a little, and to observe the ebb and flow of the tide of battle more critically. I ere long was able to understand the general plan upon which the action was being conducted, and to view the combatants as masses to be wielded in a certain way for the accomplishment of definite objects, and not as a mere howling mob, bent only on a momentary success. From this point, therefore, the battle became more interesting than ever, and while none the less exciting, simply as a personal adventure,—for my spirit rose and sank as victory or defeat seemed likely to rest upon our banners,—I was more under the dominion of my reason, and less of my passions, than I had been when the fight commenced.

Bee rallied his men, with a voice of thunder, saying, “My boys, at them again! Victory or death! See how Jackson stands there like a stone wall.” This last expression seemed to please the men mightily, for they took it up immediately; and with a cheer for “Stonewall” Jackson, they made another dash at the enemy.

At noon the battle was at its fiercest, and the scene was grand beyond description. The simile that came into my mind was the great Desert of Sahara, with a broiling sun overhead, and immense whirlwinds of sand rolling along over the plain between heaven and earth. The red dust from the parched and sun-dried roads arose in clouds in every direction, while the smoke from the artillery and musketry slowly floated aloft in huge, fantastic columns, marking the places where the battle was being fought with most bitterness. The dry and motionless air was choking to the nostrils, from the dust and smoke which filled it, while the pitiless July sun poured its hottest rays upon the parched and weary combatants. It was a sight never to be forgotten,—one of those magnificent spectacles that cannot be imagined, and that no description, no matter how eloquent, can do justice to. I would not have missed it for the wealth of the world, and was more than repaid for all that I had undergone, and all the risks to my person and my womanly reputation that I incurred, in being not only a spectator, but an actor, in such a sublime, living drama.

The Pinch of the Fight

At the moment when Bee rallied his men for another grapple with the enemy, I would have given anything could I but have had the strength to make a clean sweep of our opponents, and, by a single blow, end the great struggle. Looking towards the hill which, in the morning, had been occupied by three of our bravest and best generals— Beauregard, Johnston, and Bonham—and their staffs, I saw it covered with men fighting with desperation; all along the valley were dense clouds of dust and smoke, while the yells of the excited soldiery, and the roar of the guns, were almost deafening.

Hard pressed by the greatly superior Federal force, our men at several points wavered and fell back, and at one time there was every prospect of a panic. This disgrace was spared, however, largely by the personal exertions of Beauregard and Johnston, who darted along the line, and succeeded in rallying the men, and in bringing them up to their work again. General Johnston turned the fortunes of the day by charging on the enemy, with the colors of the fourth Alabama regiment at his side. This was the pinch of the fight; for the enemy were bearing down upon us with a large force of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, and the personal example of Generals Beauregard, Johnston, and other prominent officers, who plunged into the thickest of the mêlée, had an immense effect in encouraging the men to resist to the last, no matter what the odds against them might be.

The fiercer the conflict grew the more my courage rose. The example of my commanders, the desire to avenge my slaughtered comrades, the salvation of the cause which I had espoused, all inspired me to do my utmost; and no man on the field that day fought with more energy or determination than the woman who figured as Lieutenant Harry T. Buford.

At two o’clock the right of Beauregard’s line was ordered to advance—with the exception of the reserves—to recover the plateau, for the possession of which both armies had been fiercely contending. Stonewall Jackson succeeded in piercing the enemy’s centre, but his troops suffered terribly in doing so. Bee, while leading his fourth Alabama regiment in a charge, fell mortally wounded about a hundred yards from the Henry House. Fifty yards farther north, Bartow was shot, and was caught, as he fell from his horse, by General Gartrell, then commanding the 7th Georgia, and by his order carried to the rear. His last words were, “Boys, I am killed; but don’t give up the field.” Colonel Fisher, of the sixth North Carolina regiment, was also among the killed. He was a noble fellow. The conflict now became more bitter than ever, and at one time it seemed that we should be compelled to succumb to the fierce attacks which the enemy were making against us. At this crisis, a courier came up to me with a message for General Johnston, to the effect that the Federals had reached the line of the Manassas Gap Railroad, and were marching on us with a heavy force. Had this information been correct, it would have been all up with us. Fortunately, however, the advancing troops were those of Kirby Smith, and consisted of about two thousand infantry and Beekman’s artillery. The arrival of this force decided the fate of the battle, and the Federals fled, defeated, from the field, while our army fell back to Manassas Junction.

After the battle, I appealed to General Jackson for the promotion which I considered that I had fully earned, and he gave me a recommendation to General Bragg for a recruiting commission. This I did not care about, for I thought that I did not need his permission or his aid to do recruiting duty, and determined to wait and see if something better would not offer. I accordingly remained for some time with my acquaintances of the fifth and eighth Louisiana regiment, hoping that another battle would come off at an early day. Finding, however, that there was no prospect of a fight very soon, and becoming tired of inactivity, I determined to return to Richmond, for the purpose of seeing whether it was not possible for me to find some work to do suited to my abilities.

 

 

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Source: Loreta Janeta Velazquez. The Story of the Civil War. New York: H. W. Hagemann Publishing, 1894.