26

Inclining to the right. Colonel Elzey halted his command near the Henry
house. The ground around there was thickly strewn with dead and wounded
men of both armies. Conspicuous amongst them were those of the Sixty-ninth
(Irish) and Seventy-ninth (Scotch) New York Regiments. At that point the
struggle had been a terrible one, and the loss of life very great

The wounded who were lying around uncared for were pleading piteously
for water, and the soldiers of the First Maryland were soon tenderly caring for
them. A Union officer, who wore the uniform of the Seventy-ninth New York,
lay dying on the field, having been shot through the head. Captain James R.
Herbert, of the First Maryland, raised the unconscious man's head, poured some
water into his mouth, and unloosened his coat and waistcoat. As he did so a large
pocketbook dropped to the ground, which the Captain opened, finding in it a
package of letters from the dying man's wife, with the name of Brown on the
envelopes. There were also seventy dollars in gold. Captain Herbert took
possession of the letters and the money. Two years later, and when he was
Lieutenant-Colonel of the Second Maryland Infantry, he was desperately
wounded at Gettysburg and made prisoner. During those two years and through
all the changes and hardships of war he had kept both letters and gold as a sacred
trust, and he now caused a personal to be inserted in the New York Herald
asking for information as to the widow of the dead officer. In a short time the
lady arrived at Gettysburg, saw Lieutenant-Colonel Herbert, and heard from his
lips the story of the last moments of her husband. It renewed her grief, and
yet it consoled her, and she left happy in the possession of the letters. The gold
she took with reluctance.

The men rested for some time at the Henry House, and soon felt refreshed.
All of them had food, too, although it came from the haversacks of Union
enemies now lying stiff and cold in death. They felt confident that a march was
now to be made upon Washington, and the thought of entering the Capital as
conquerors reconciled them to discomfort and privation. They were, therefore,
bright and cheerful when Colonel Elzey moved his brigade over the Stone
Bridge in the direction of Centreville. After marching some three miles along
the turnpike, the troops were moved to the right into a large field and ordered
to rest

Hour after hour passed away, and still no order came to move, and when
near nightfall the troops retraced their steps and took the road to Manassas
murmurs of dissatisfaction were heard on every hand. Soldiers are sometimes
grumblers when not allowed to have their own way; every officer and man
occasionally considers himself a general, and no doubt there are times in which
the advice of the rank and file would bring victory, but that this was one of them
seems ridiculous. At least General Joseph E. Johnston did not think the time