Augusta County: "GAY TO THE GRAVE IN THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA," by unknown, 1903
Summary: Celebratory depiction of camp life in a cavalry company in 1863 that describes soldiers' perceptions of sacrifice on the home front and fondly recalls time spent with "charming" local girls.
These reminiscences were written by request for a young lady who read them at a meeting pf the Daughters of the Confederacy in Waynesboro, Va.:
Now it is the Daughters of the Confederacy; then it was the mothers, sisters, and sweethearts of the South who gathered to see their sons, brothers, and lovers off to the war. What a thrilling time it was in that spring of 1861 when a "nation was born" and a most glorious chapter in human bearing and daring was written! The Southern Confederacy, that inspiration of cavaliers and righteousness, that inspirer of heroes, who pricked their names on the pages of history with sword and bayonet point; of poets, who "wreathed around with glory" the Southern cross; of matrons and maidens, who gave more than life to its defense!
Then began the assemblign of that Southern manhood and boyhood who were to go "sounding down the ages" as the Confederate army. Among the first to enroll themselves under its banner were the Valley Rangers, a voluntary cavalry company composed of the very best of the young men living along the eastern side of Augusta County, who under their first captain, the brave Patrick (who later as major of the Seventeenth Battalion was to die gloriously on the plains of Second Manassas), met in historic Waynesboro to go to the front. It was then the comedy parts in the great opening drama commenced. How exercised we were about our uniforms, how we had to send off for the material, and get just the right shade of color, and the exact buttons, braid, etc.! How we watched the making of them and how impatient we got; and, at length, when finished and donned, how we did strut, and how gorgeous we were with our wide yellow (the cavalry color) striped trousers and braided coats and bright brass buttons (a gross of them, more or less); and our hats, great wide-brimmed slouches, with plume and gilt cord and tassel; and what a sight was the little fellow in his overlarge clothes! My eye; but it was comic, and our pictures would grace the Sunday newspaper of to-day. Then, at last, when everythign was ready, our horses, the very finest and best in the county, groomed to perfection, with plaited manes and tails; new saddles, with bright red blankets and girths; our big, old-fashioned saddle pockets stuffed to bulging with every useful article; and then the baggage wagon to follow with our trunks, bedding, etc., enough for an army in later days. And the joke of it all was, that not one in ten had a weapon of any kind unless it was a toy pistol or so. And to think of such a going to war! But then, the guns we would, and did, get later from the enemy. How vividly the scene comes back of our last mustering! How we formed in line on Main Street, and, as we mounted our horses for the last time, of the motherly caress and cautions, the father's advice, the sister's proud smile, and the admiring looks of the younger brothers and servants; and then, the sly embrace of the sweetheart behind the parlor door, when we rushed in to say good-by for the twentieth time! Last came the presentation of our flag and farewell address from our good and true "Old Parson" Richardson.
The from our captain came, "Attention, company! By two, march! Head of column right!" and away we marched for Harper's Ferry to fight Yankees, and without a gun. (Pure comedy that, with no chance for a tragedy.) What an enjoyable march it was! To usboys it was as when school closed and we reveled in the sense of freedom and dreamed of the great and daring deeds we should perform. The march down the valley in that lovely April was enjoyed ever so much. How we laughed and chatted by the way, and now and then tried the speed and mettle of our horses, and how we were cheered and admired by the girls all along the route! And the great event, our arrival at Harper's Ferry, where was forming that grand army that later, as the Army of Northern Virginia, was for the coming four years to perform the deeds of heroism that make it the honor it now is to be a Daughter of the Confederacy! Camp life was a revelation and delight to the boys who had been so strictly reared at home, and we threw ourselves into and enjoyed it to the full. How we smoked, played cards, frolicked, tussled, and let ourselves out in gay abandon! O, but it was jolly!
Pretty soon our camp at the Ferry was broken up, and the war began in earnest.
Then our company-now known as Company E, First Virginia Cavalry-made the first
fight in the Valley by a skirmish with a lot of Yankees across the Potomac at
Williamsport, and in a few days we had our first man shot-Sam Dalhouse-and then
we fought alogn with the West Augusta Guard of Staunton and the Rockbridge
Artillery and the other troops under Jackson (the building Stonewall Brigade) at
Falling Waters, and under J. E. B. Stuart, our major then and afterwards our
great cavalry general. We captured the very first company of Yankees and had one
of our company-Zach Johnson-wounded. Both Johnson and Dalhouse died in a few
months, partly from their wounds. It was in this fight at Falling Waters that
Maj. D. W. Drake and Capt. John Opie, then privates in the West Augusta Guards, being a
little in advance of our line of battle and intent on firing at the Yankees, did
not notice the withdrawal of their command, but continued shooting, and thus
those two brave boys held in check the Yankee Gen. Patterson's army for a while,
and then fell back in good order and without a scratch. Both of these boys
afterwards performed many deeds of bravery besides the holding in check of an
army. But it was not all tragedy; and when the fight was over, then came the
camp with its pleasures of good comradeship and fun, and thus we got the
variety-tragedy and comedy; that was the spice of our soldier life. It was not
often we saw our sweethearts or any other fellow's sweetheart, but just now and
then we would camp near some nice girls and would have the time and cheek to
make their acquaintance. So it happened to us one time down in Culpeper County.
We camped for a month near the homes of several charming girls, and fortunately
"one of ours" (Drake) knew them, so our mess "had the call" on that house, and
we went in for all the fun and good eatings possible. We had music and dinners
and suppers whenever we could get away from camp. And just then we got a "box
from home," and concluded to set up a big dinner to our girl friends as a return
for the many we had from them. So with much care and concern we fixed up a table
with some old plank, and covered it with an oilcloth for a table cover, and had
stumps for seats. Now, every mess had in it one who was supposed to be a boss
cook. Ours was James E. Irvine, the best of comrades and soldiers. So to "old
Jim" was intrusted the making of the coffee and the
spread generally, whilst we courting boys rode gayly away to fetch our girls on
behind us into camp, and how delightful was that ride! How we would spur our
horses, making them cut up, so the girl on behind would hold on to us ever so
clingingly, as it is their nature. O my; but the fun of that and our entry into
camp! How the boys would pass by our mess, at a distance, just to get a glance
at the girls, and others would, from behind trees, take long and wistful looks
at the strange beings. O, those boxes from home, what delights they were both in
giving and receiving! How care-fully were their contents selected!
The best of everything at home was for the soldier boys. And then, how the boys
enjoyed them, and how unselfish they were calling in their friends to the feast!
At last dinner was announced. First came the ham (it was the best in the
smokehouse), boiled and then roasted to a turn at home, with its spots of black
pepper, the "piece irresitible." Then the sausage, so nicely fried by Jim, with
its brown gravy, the cold tongue, the jar of pickle, the nice butter, the
home-made cheese, apple and peach butter, a glass of jelly; then the cakes,
sugar, ginger, doughnuts, and the great fruit cake, a little coffee, ready
ground and perhaps the last they had at home, and the sugar, salt, and pepper,
and the long black bottle of rare old grape wine we had found down in one corner
of our box-just "in case of sickness," you know. Everything fit to make a feast
for the gods of war. But the goddesses were there too, and so Venus feasted with
Mars, and everythign was Elysium. What a feast it was, spread in that woodland
camp of the First Virginia, in advance of the Army of Northern Virginia! With
the danger line only a few miles away, we needed no other spice to incite
enjoyment of the present, for who more than the careless and gay "Confed" could
take in every passing pleasure and bit of humor, even when going into a fight?
Yes; it was with us as in our camp song:
"Then let the big guns rattle as
they will,
We'll be gay and happy still."
So we made ourselves gay and
festive at that dinner, and gave the girls a jolly good time and a bright bit of
camp life, not knowing or caring for the morrow.
Dinner over, we got permission fromt he ladies and enjoyed our pipes as usual; then later we had a song or two, just to let the other boys "hear an angel sing" once again. And then, again taking our lovely guests up behind us on our prancing steeds, we returned them in safety to their homes. That was the comedy. Afterwards came the tragedy, when a few days later our bugles sounded boots and saddles, and we heard the Yankee cavalry had crossed the Rappahannock, captured our pickets, and were advancing on our camp. "The there was mounting in haste." We soon were ready and riding rapidly to meet them. The ladies, our late guests, lived in the direction of our march, so our party rode over to say good-by; and it was with a sigh and a tear, but brave words, they bade us farewell, and perhaps forever. And it turned out, though we did not get killed, that we never saw our sweet girls again. We met the Yankees and fought one of our historic battles of Kelley's Ford, March 17, 1863, and we drove them back across the river, and thus opened the campaign of 1863, in which was fought Chancellorsville. So it was we lived our soldier life, from grave to gay and gay to grave, and as time passed the fighting was more frequent, and there was more of tragedy and less of comedy, for after each fight some gay spirit of fun would be missing from around a camp fire. Yet those who were left got all the pleasures possible out of life, and without any disrespect for the missing comrade we kept up the fun and frolic to the end. And to some of the survivors those were the four gayest and jolliest years of life.
ONE OF THEM, "FISH."
Bibliographic Information: Source copy consulted: Confederate Veteran, Vol. 11, 1903, pp. 351-352
