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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, MARCH 2, 1897. FIVE CENTS A COPY.

THE BATTLE OF OPEQUAN CREEK.

BY RICHARD BARRY.

General Sheridan, despite the reputation he had gained for dashing, reckless bravery, was withal a cautious commander. He did not believe in making long forced marches and hurling tired troops at an intrenched enemy. The success of a charge, in his mind, was due entirely to the freshness of the men, the fierceness of the onslaught, and the surprise occasioned to the enemy by sudden and unexpected movement.

Early in the month of September, 1864, Sheridan's army was encamped in the hills looking down into the little valley of the Opequan, a small, crooked stream about four miles from the town of Winchester. On the opposite side of the creek the Confederate army under General Early was intrenched in a strong position. The banks of the stream were steep and the crossings deep, requiring much care in fording.

General Wilson's division, followed by the infantry, was to clear the crossings of the Opequan on the road leading from Berryville to Winchester. South of the town was Abraham's Creek; it emptied into the Opequan and flanked the line of the Confederate intrenchments. On the north was a similar creek, named the Red Bud, which served the same purpose. Along these natural fortifications, and spreading across the rise of ground on the farther side of the Opequan, lay the whole force of Early's army. It was Sheridan's intention to take the centre first and overthrow it before the rest of the Confederate army, which was somewhat scattered, could come up to its assistance.

As it is of the cavalry's work in this fight that this short paper treats, it is best to move at once to the right of the Union line, where the mounted forces were expected to ford the creek.

It was almost pitch dark, and a few minutes after two in the morning, when the Second United States Cavalry, under the command of Captain T. F. Rodenbough, moved with the reserve brigade of the First Cavalry Division down the sloping ground toward the valley of the stream. Early's outposts and pickets were met some time before the ford was reached. There were a few hasty shots exchanged in the darkness, without any damage being done, and then the mounted pickets crossed to the safety of their own lines on the farther side.

A small force of the Union cavalry was dismounted on the road, and the outbuildings of a farm-house were occupied by a reserve force; while the regiment was deployed, mounted, in the fields to the right and left of the ruins of the old railroad bridge. Nothing was standing of this structure but the stone abutments. The bridge that crossed the creek diagonally to the roadway had been destroyed, but the water was fordable on either side. Now the forces waited for daylight. Long before the sun rose, as the dim light spread and widened, the enemy's infantry pickets could be seen hurriedly making preparations to resist any attempt at crossing on the part of the waiting cavalry.

The bank of the creek was very steep and thickly wooded. The leaves were yet on the trees, and the dark masses of armed men could be seen distinctly here and there in the few clearings. The railroad entered the hill-side through a deep cut, forming a ready-made intrenchment for the enemy's infantry and riflemen. One of the stone abutments and the adjoining pier were close to the entrance of the cut, and formed an angle with a wooded bluff directly in line with it.

Despite the fact that the men had been in the saddle almost the whole night, they were keen to move; and before sunrise General Merritt, in command of the First Division, ordered Colonel Lowell, who led the reserve brigade, to carry the ford and effect a lodgement on the farther bank. At once Colonel Lowell dismounted a portion of his command, and with a cheer the men dashed into the water, and holding their carbines high above their heads, plashed through the stream, many standing waist-deep and replying to the fire that was poured into them. The Fifth United States Cavalry and a portion of the Second Massachusetts infantry followed at once.

Rodenbough, who had been waiting with his men in one of the fields on the hill-side, received his orders to move. With a loud shout the regiment charged down the side of the hill to one side of the slowly advancing men on foot, dashed pell-mell through the ford, and, in the face of a terrible fire from the enemy's infantry, swept up the opposite incline on a dead run, making for the railway cut, where the Confederates were completely hidden from the Union fire.

The Second had by this time made the solid ground, and charged also, without firing a shot until it gained the crest of the cut. The Confederates, who had not expected such an onslaught, threw down their arms as the mounted men poured over the sides of the embankment down upon them. Many started to run, but were taken prisoners, and it was a joyful sight for the commander of the cavalry to notice, as he reformed his line, that there were but few saddles empty. But in the early advance, before Rodenbough's cavalry had reached the crossing, the musket fire concentrated upon the ford was simply terrific.

Colonel W. H. Harrison, late Captain of the Second Cavalry, describes an experience through which no man would like to pass a second time.

"Lieutenant Wells, myself, and two orderlies, mounted, were unfortunately imprisoned in the archway between the abutment and adjacent pier on the enemy's side, the bullets, hot from the muzzles of their guns, striking the abutment, pier, and water like leaden hail. We were face to face with the enemy, yet powerless to harm him. Our only salvation was to hug the abutment until that portion of the regiment immediately on our left had gained the crest of the cut. Minutes were long drawn out, and in a fit of impatience Lieutenant Wells rashly attempted to take a peep beyond the corner of the abutment, thus exposing his horse, which instantly received a serious wound in the shoulder. The writer, with equal rashness, attempted to recross the creek, and when in the middle of it heartily wished himself under the protection of his good friend the abutment, the bullets being so neighborly and so fresh from the musket as to have that peculiar sound incident to dropping water on a very hot stove. Suddenly the cheers of our men apprised us that the crest of the cut had been gained and a portion of the enemy's infantry captured."

And now the roll of musketry and the thunder of cannon let every one know that the main infantry line under General Sheridan had commenced action. It was a cheerful sound to those on the flank, who had no inkling of how matters were going on either side of them. The advance was made at an eager pace, and confidence and determination were evident from the looks and actions of the officers and men. But the enemy fell back a few miles toward Winchester, and it was not until almost noon that any resistance was met with, except for the occasional shots of the pickets and rear-guard.

It was about this hour that Sheridan's forces were ready to advance along the entire line. Early had gathered all his strength and met them with a terrific fire. The battle raged with the greatest fury. Both sides were now fighting in open sight of each other, and the slaughter was dreadful, especially at the centre. General Merritt, whose cavalry had been following the Confederate General Breckenridge, charged again, and drove their broken cavalry through the infantry line, which he struck first in the rear, and afterwards face to face as it charged front to meet him. General Devin charged with his brigade, and turning, sought the shelter of the main force, bringing with him three battle flags and more than three hundred prisoners.

A line of the enemy's infantry was perceived at the edge of the heavy belt of timber, protected by rail barricades which they had hastily constructed on their front. Here they had evidently determined upon making a stand, for they waved their battle flags and showed in such considerable numbers that the cavalry line halted before them. As a critic of this battle has said, it seemed almost foolhardy to charge a line of infantry so well posted and protected, but the First Brigade and the Second United States Cavalry, at the word "Forward! Charge!" dashed across an open field and through a tangle of underbrush, and in the face of a fearful fire poured into them, rode straight up to the barricade. But, alas! it was but a brilliant display of courage and determination. None of the flaunting battle flags was captured, and the broken remnant was obliged to retire hastily and in some disorder to their comrades who had watched their gallant effort.

A thrilling little incident happened in this charge, although it had lasted but a few minutes. When within a few yards of the barricades, Captain Rodenbough, who was well in advance, had his horse shot under him, killed almost in his tracks. His men swept by him full tilt to the line of wooden breastworks, and as they turned to ride back over the same ground, Orderly Sergeant Schmidt of Company K, mounted on a powerful gray horse, noticed his commander disentangling himself from his fallen mount. The sergeant rode up, reining in with difficulty, helped Captain Rodenbough to clamber up behind him, and, carrying double, the good charger crossed the open space in safety. But let an eye-witness tell the story of the last charge of the day, when the entire division was formed, and rode together knee to knee at the well-intrenched barrier and the double line of the enemy, who certainly had the advantage of position.

"It was well towards four o'clock, and though the sun was warm, the air was cool and bracing. The ground to our front was open and level, in some places as smooth as a well-cut lawn. Not an obstacle intervened between us and the enemy's line, which was distinctly seen nervously awaiting our attack. The brigade was in column of squadrons, the Second United States Cavalry in front.

"At the sound of the bugle we took the trot, the gallop, and then the charge. As we neared their line we were welcomed by a fearful musketry fire, which temporarily confused the leading squadron, and caused the entire brigade to oblique slightly to the right. Instantly officers cried out, 'Forward! Forward!' The men raised their sabres, and responded to the command with deafening cheers. Within a hundred yards of the enemy's line we struck a blind ditch, but crossed it without breaking our front. In a moment we were face to face with the enemy. They stood as if awed by the heroism of the brigade, and in an instant broke in complete rout, our men sabring them as they vainly sought safety in flight. In this charge the battery and many prisoners were captured. Our own loss was severe, and of the officers of the Second, Captain Rodenbough lost an arm and Lieutenant Harrison wag taken prisoner.

"It was the writer's misfortune to be captured, but not until six hundred yards beyond where the enemy was first struck, and when dismounted in front of their second line by his horse falling. Nor did he suffer the humiliation of a surrender of his sabre, for as he fell to the ground with stunning force its point. "Look out! Here I come!"

The sight of Bob coming toward him terrified Judd. It seemed that Bob's knees were moving up past his head and his feet were digging the turf in a plunging drive. As Bob neared him Judd quickly side-stepped and avoided contact with him. Bob cut into the sod with his feet and swung around in a half-circle, bringing up short. "What's the matter? Afraid?"

Judd didn't answer. He was scared stiff. He wanted to run. Why, if he had not stepped out of the way he might have suffered serious injury! Who could stop a charging pair of feet and a bullet-like head? Besides, in such moments, Judd was conscious that he was facing the great Bob instead of just his brother. He felt his own insignificance.

"Judd, there's no more likelihood of anything happening to you here than any place else. It's all a matter of knowing how and then it's just as easy as catching a football. It looks hard only to those who have not learned. Let me show you." And Bob demonstrated to Judd the correct way to tackle.

"I'll not run hard the first few times," said Bob, considerately, "Just try it out."

Judd was trembling. His knees seemed weak. He was trying to tell himself that he was not afraid. He knew that what his brother had told him was so but he dreaded physical contact. Bob did not give him much time for reflection. He was coming at him again!

Judd did not wish to appear a coward in the eyes of Bob. He was almost as afraid not to tackle as he was to tackle. While he was trying to make up his mind Bob was upon him and Judd made a wild clutching dive forward. His arms closed about Bob's legs at a point midway between the hips and the knees, there was a jolting impact and the ground seemed to rise to hit him. Judd sat up to take stock of his injuries. He found, to his pleased surprise, that he was unhurt.

"Bully work!" complimented Bob, warmly, "Your first tackle was a peach!"

Judd felt his courage and self-confidence rise like the mercury in a thermometer. He was finding out that many of his old fears had been groundless. Bob ran straight at Judd a dozen times and each time Judd brought him to the ground.

"All right, Buddy. Now I'm going to get by you. I'm not going to use the straight arm. I'll show you about that later. But I'm coming at you like an express train. Try to stop me if you can!"

There was a challenge in Bob's words. Judd sensed his first big thrill of competition. Bob said he was coming through. Well, he was going to stop him!

Bob ran at Judd viciously and with all the speed at his command. Judd came forward to meet him. He saw two clock-like legs and a body bent close to the ground. He dove low in order to reach him. Then it seemed as if a dozen knees struck him thudding blows in the face. He felt himself being dragged along the ground. His hold on the one foot loosened. He hit the ground heavily and was dimly conscious of feet pounding the earth. Bob had gone through!

It was such experiences as this that sickened Judd. All the pleasure of football was gone for him now. He had a bump over one eye and a patch of skin off his chin. There was no answering spirit of fight. Judd lay where he had fallen.

Bob waited, hoping that Judd would show the spunk to get up. He had subjected his younger brother to rough treatment but he had done it for a purpose.

"I'm sorry, Buddy. You tackled too low ... and you didn't hang on tight enough after you grabbed me. You see, I kept on going and I got away from you."

Judd raised up, dazedly. He was not interested in why he had failed to stop Bob. He was concerned over the bumping he had received.

"Am I--am I hurt very bad?" he asked, tremulously.

Bob laughed. "Not bad enough to mention," he said, "You'll stop me next time, eh Buddy?"

Judd shook his head.

"No ... there's not gonna be any next time, I--I'm through."

Bob knew better than to argue with him when he felt this way. He picked up the football and walked off the field. Judd gladly followed.

Several days later, when Bob returned from work, he noticed that Judd was red-eyed. On the table lay some newspaper clippings. They were want ads.

"Well, what did you do today?" asked Bob, casually.

"I--I was out looking for work."

Bob whistled. "Well! Did you find anything?"

"No."

"Oh, I see--you answered these ads here--may I look them over?"

Judd nodded his consent.

"H-h-hm! Maxwell's! That's a good place. 'Clerk wanted. Young man preferred. No experience necessary. Good opportunity for advancement.' What did they say when you applied?"

Judd was silent. Bob waited an appreciable moment for him to reply. "Did some other fellow beat you to the place?"

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