Personally, after reading so many accounts of destruction it makes one wonder how did this little town, not only survive, but recover and prosper as well. Why it did not just fade into the pages of history. The life of Stonewall Jackson.: From official papers, contemporary narratives, and personal acquaintance, By a Virginian. John Moncure, author. The heavy fog slowly lifted from the scene, and then commenced, and was kept up all day, one of the most terrific bombardments known in history. The writer of these pages had a full view of the entire spectacle from Lees Hill, just to the right of the telegraph road, where it descends toward the town; and never before had such a sight greeted him. The enemy had planted more than a hundred pieces of artillery on the hills to the northern and eastern sides of the town, and from an early hour in the forenoon, swept the streets with round shot, shell, and case-shot-firing frequently a hundred gins a minute. The quick puffs of smoke, touched in the center with tongues of flame, ran incessantly along the lines of the enemys batteries on the slopes, and as the smoke slowly drifted away, the bellowing roar came up in one continuous roll. It was a symphony of hell, truly. The town was soon fired, and a dense cloud of smoke enveloped its roofs and steeples. The white church spires still rose serenely aloft, unharmed by shot or shell, though a portion of one of them was torn off. The smoke was succeeded by lurid flame, and the crimson mass brought to mind the pictures of Moscow burning. The incessant fire of heavy artillery on the doomed town was kept up from daylight until dark. Barksdales gallant troops never flinched, but held the place like heroes, in spite of the terrible enfilading fire sweeping the streets with round-shot, grape, and shell, right and left. Amid houses torn to pieces and’ burning, chimneys crashing down and burying men in the ruins, amid a fire which might have demoralized the finest soldiers in the world, they still held it. When night descended on the scene of this barbarity, the flames of burning houses still lit up the landscape, and the roar of the batteries was hushed, except a random gun at intervals, seeming to indicate that their taste for bloodshed and destruction was not glutted. What had they accomplished? They had gained possession of the town, which may or may not have been intended, and they had driven out and slaughtered citizens, women, and children. One young girl was shot through the hip, hundreds of ladies and children were wandering, homeless and shelter less, over the frozen highway, with bare feet and thin clothing, knowing not where to find a place of refuge. Delicately nurtured girls, with slender forms upon which no rain had ever beat, which no wind had ever visited too roughly, walked hurriedly, with unsteady feet, upon the road, seeking only some place where they could shelter themselves. Whole families sought sheds by the wayside, or made roofs of fence rails and straw, knowing not whither to flee, or to what friend to have recourse. This was the result of the enemys bombardment. Night had settled down-the lurid smoke, lit up by burning houses, rested on a torn and shattered Virginia city, filled with Confederate and Yankee bodies, that was the supreme result. Such were the results of the cruel bombardment. The enemy held the town, but they had only gained possession of it at a frightful loss of life.
Posted on: Mon, 07 Apr 2014 17:06:00 +0000
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