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Browsing named entities in a specific section of Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 19. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones). Search the whole document.

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Amherst county (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.44
ed, but never could be conquered. I hurried on in the direction of the turnpike, where I hoped to fall in with some of our troops, who might have spirit enough left to make some sort of stand against the victorious enemy, and at least try to prevent our demoralized army from being entirely destroyed. Nor was I disappointed. As I approached the pike the sun was setting. I could see two pieces of artillery coming up the road. These proved to be of Captain Kirkpatrick's battery, from Amherst county. I again met with two members of my own company at that point, and we hurried on to get with the section of artillery which had halted and commenced to unlimber just as we arrived on the ground. Five or six hundred yards distant a heavy mass of the enemy's cavalry was drawn up as if preparing to make a charge, and if that charge had been made, a large portion of our army must have been made prisoners, scattered and demoralized as the men were. The two pieces of artillery having been
Fishers Hill (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.44
The battle of Fisher's Hill. [from the Richmond Dispatch, June 14, 1891.] Thrilling incidents of, by a Private Soldier—I say, men! for God's sake let us stop and fight them right here—The song that saved an army. The Confederate soldier nd this is my excuse for attempting to scribble my recollection of some of the incidents connected with the battle of Fisher's Hill. I hope this may meet the eye of some of my old comrades in arms, whom I am sure will recognize the picture. The 22, 1864, two days after our defeat at Winchester, found General Early's little army occupying the position known as Fisher's Hill, with its right resting on or near the Massanutta mountains, while the extreme left of his infantry line reached no further than the termination of the ridge of Fisher's Hill, in the direction of North mountain. The interval was protected only by a small body of cavalry. There may be some inaccuracies in the above description, but that was the situation as it
Jubal A. Early (search for this): chapter 1.44
but in his memory alone, surely he may be indulged in the weakness an old soldier has for boring other people by fighting his battles over again. And this is my excuse for attempting to scribble my recollection of some of the incidents connected with the battle of Fisher's Hill. I hope this may meet the eye of some of my old comrades in arms, whom I am sure will recognize the picture. The position. The morning of September 22, 1864, two days after our defeat at Winchester, found General Early's little army occupying the position known as Fisher's Hill, with its right resting on or near the Massanutta mountains, while the extreme left of his infantry line reached no further than the termination of the ridge of Fisher's Hill, in the direction of North mountain. The interval was protected only by a small body of cavalry. There may be some inaccuracies in the above description, but that was the situation as it appeared to me—a private soldier occupying the humble position of
Soldier (search for this): chapter 1.44
The battle of Fisher's Hill. [from the Richmond Dispatch, June 14, 1891.] Thrilling incidents of, by a Private Soldier—I say, men! for God's sake let us stop and fight them right here—The song that saved an army. The Confederate soldier gave four of the best years of his life to a cause that was too poor to pay him and did not live long enough to honor him. Often clothed in rags and frequently suffering the pangs of hunger he was pushed on in the discharge of his duty by patriotism, a fickle and uncertain master, whose very name was changed by defeat into that of a crime, for which, if he has been forgiven, he has also been forgotten. If we take into consideration the fact that all he has, or ever had, as the fruits of his privations and hard-fought battles, is stored up, not in this world's goods or even in the gratitude of his fellow-man, but in his memory alone, surely he may be indulged in the weakness an old soldier has for boring other people by fighting his battles
John H. Lane (search for this): chapter 1.44
but circumstances favored us, and proved that the battle is not always to the strong. Darkness was rapidly approaching. We opened fire, and never were the iron messengers of death hurled in quicker succession from the throats of two guns. The song that saved the army. Darkness was fast coming on, and objects at a distance were growing indistinct. Our numbers were few, but our lung-power was good, and we made the hills ring with the regular old hair-raising rebel yell, which was answered with a cheer just behind us, and my heart grew to double its usual size when I looked and saw the glorious old Louisianians coming to our support at a double-quick. They divided as they came up, and taking position on each side of the guns they made their muskets sing the sweetest little song (to us) that ever fell on mortal ears, being a fit accompaniment to the bass notes of our two twelve-pounder Napoleons. The enemy made no charge that night, and our little army was saved. John H. Lane.
Kirkpatrick (search for this): chapter 1.44
be said that we might all be killed, but never could be conquered. I hurried on in the direction of the turnpike, where I hoped to fall in with some of our troops, who might have spirit enough left to make some sort of stand against the victorious enemy, and at least try to prevent our demoralized army from being entirely destroyed. Nor was I disappointed. As I approached the pike the sun was setting. I could see two pieces of artillery coming up the road. These proved to be of Captain Kirkpatrick's battery, from Amherst county. I again met with two members of my own company at that point, and we hurried on to get with the section of artillery which had halted and commenced to unlimber just as we arrived on the ground. Five or six hundred yards distant a heavy mass of the enemy's cavalry was drawn up as if preparing to make a charge, and if that charge had been made, a large portion of our army must have been made prisoners, scattered and demoralized as the men were. The t
R. E. Rodes (search for this): chapter 1.44
arrived on the ground and been placed in position the day before, the men had fortified to the best of their ability with the poor tools they had to work with. General Ramseur had been put in command of the division of the heroic and invincible Rodes, who had fallen two days before at Winchester. This division occupied the breastworks to the right and left of our battery. That General Ramseur was as brave a man as ever drew a sword in defence of the South no one can deny, but that he was waey made temporary fortification by piling up some fence-rails fifteen or twenty yards apart. This was all in plain sight of the line of battle, as the country in front of us was open. This line of skirmishers was composed of men selected by General Rodes for that purpose and never required to do any other duty. Braver men and better marksmen could not be found in the army, and bravely did they sustain their reputation that day. Opening compliments. The enemy saluted us with his three-i
Massey (search for this): chapter 1.44
e position known as Fisher's Hill, with its right resting on or near the Massanutta mountains, while the extreme left of his infantry line reached no further than the termination of the ridge of Fisher's Hill, in the direction of North mountain. The interval was protected only by a small body of cavalry. There may be some inaccuracies in the above description, but that was the situation as it appeared to me—a private soldier occupying the humble position of No. 6, or fuse-cutter, in Captain Massey's battery of artillery. While a private soldier's opportunity for knowing the general arrangement or disposition of the whole army at the commencement of or during an engagement is very limited, yet it must be confessed that the veterans of the Confederate army had all become generals in experience at the time of which I write. The battery to which I belonged was placed in position on the top of a high hill at the extreme left of the infantry line. The army having arrived on the gro
Ramseur (search for this): chapter 1.44
ition the day before, the men had fortified to the best of their ability with the poor tools they had to work with. General Ramseur had been put in command of the division of the heroic and invincible Rodes, who had fallen two days before at Winchester. This division occupied the breastworks to the right and left of our battery. That General Ramseur was as brave a man as ever drew a sword in defence of the South no one can deny, but that he was wanting in those qualities which could estimated as they were, came to the conclusion that the real attack would not be made in our front but on our left flank. General Ramseur, who, as I have mentioned, was in command on that part of the line, did not anticipate any flank movement of the enebvious advantage to the enemy that he certainly would not neglect it. And so it proved. The flank movement. As General Ramseur passed along the line some member of our battery called his attention to what seemed to be a column of men moving al
William Hays (search for this): chapter 1.44
e race was to the swiftest, that time. It has been said that there are times in war when soldiers' legs are more valuable than their guns, and so it proved for us then. We soon made the top of the next hill, where we got into the woods and felt ourselves safe for the time. But the adventures of the day were not over. I have yet to relate an incident showing the conspicuous bravery of the men composing a small remnant of a Louisiana brigade, which had been formerly under the command of General Hays. There did not seem to be over one hundred men left in it at that time. It had been our fortune to fight side by side with these men in several preceding battles of the same year, and I had never seen them waver or give an inch. Having become separated from the few members of my own command who had been with me up to that time, I overtook these Louisianians, who were retiring slowly (and if I should tell the exact truth I would also say sorrowfully) from the field. As I overtook the
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