September 14th
This is the anniversary of the Battle of Boonsboroa, Maryland, where I had the ill-luck to be taken prisoner in September, 1862, and kept nineteen days before exchanged.
We had just reached the scene of action, met the dead body of the gallant
General Garland, when an order from
General D. H. Hill, through
General Rodes to
Colonel B. B. Gayle, of the Twelfth Alabama, directed that skirmishers should be deployed in front, and
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while our precise adjutant,
L. Gayle, was looking over his roster of officers, to detail one in his regular turn,
Colonel Gayle hurriedly exclaimed, “detail
Lieutenant Park to command the skirmishers,” and I immediately reported for orders.
Was directed to carry my squad of forty men, four from each company, to the foot of
South Mountain, and “keep the enemy back as long as possible.”
I hastily deployed the men, and we moved down the mountain side.
On our way down we could see the enemy, in the valley below, advancing, preceded by their dense line of skirmishers.
I concealed my men behind trees, rocks and bushes, and cautioned them to aim well before firing.
We awaited, with beating hearts, the sure and steady approach of the “
Pennsylvania Bucktails,” who were in front of us, and soon near enough to fire upon.
The men fired almost simultaneously, and we drove back the skirmishers to their main line.
The solid, well drilled line advanced steadily forward, and my small party, as soon as they were near enough to make their aim sure, fired again, and nearly every leaden messenger sped to its intended destination, and buried itself in some one of the approaching foe. At least thirty men must have been killed or wounded.
But they continued to advance, their officers cursing loudly, and earnestly exhorting them to “close up” and “forward.”
My men slowly fell back, firing from everything which served to screen them from observation.
Several of them were wounded, and six or eight or more became completely demoralized by the unbroken front of the rapidly approaching enemy, and, despite my commands, entreaties and threats, left me, and hastily fled to the rear.
Brave
Corporal Myers, of
Mobile, adopting a suggestion of mine, aimed and fired at an exposed officer, receiving a terrible, and, no doubt, mortal wound in the breast as he did so. I raised him tenderly, offering him water, and was rising to reluctantly abandon him to his fate, when a dozen muskets were pointed at me, and I ordered to surrender.
There was a ravine to our left, and the Third Alabama skirmishers having fallen back, the
Yankees had got in my rear, and at same time closed upon me in front.
If I had not gone to
Myers when he fell, I might have escaped capture, but I was mortified and humiliated by the necessity of yielding myself a prisoner.
Certain death was the only alternative.
One of the men who ran away early in the action reported that I had been killed, and my name was so published, and my relations mourned me as one dead until I was regularly exchanged and reached
Richmond.
The enemy pushed forward, after my
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capture, and soon came upon
Colonel Gayle and the rear support.
He was ordered to surrender, but drawing his pistol and firing in their faces, he exclaimed: “We are flanked, boys, but let's die in our tracks,” and continued to fire until he was literally riddled by bullets, and surrendered up his pure, brave young spirit to the God who gave it.
Colonel Gayle was originally from
Portsmouth, Virginia.
The gallant
Lieutenant-Colonel S. B. Pickens was severely wounded also, and the regiment fell to the command of
Captain Tucker, who was killed at
Sharpsburg, three days afterwards.
Thoughts of that day's conflict bring to mind the names and faces of many of my noble company, very few of whom are still with me. I am grateful that such gallant spirits as
Sergeants T. H. Clower,
R. H. Stafford,
A. P. Reid,
J. H. Eason,
W. M. Carr and
A. G. Howard, and
Privates Chappell,
Tobe Ward,
Lester,
Moore,
Attaway and others are still spared as my faithful comrades and as true soldiers of the
Confederacy.
I am proud of them all, and regret much that I can do so little for their comfort.
All are worthy of commissions, and some would fill high positions most worthily.
Late in the afternoon of to-day we were relieved from picket and returned to camp, where I have written down these thoughts of the stirring incidents of this day two years ago.
Captain Dan. Partridge is now our excellent brigade ordnance officer, and is ably assisted by
Sergeant A. G. Howard, a disabled soldier.
