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Page 31 text:
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The Charge at New Market. The Cadets ' Bravery Described by a Union Soldier. Mr. Howard Morton, Federal soldier, gives the following description of the battle of Xew ilarket, in which the i ' . M. I. cadets took part. He describes their gallant behavior under hea ' ) ' fire. The article -as written for the Pittsburg Dispauh, and is as follows : Opposite is the enemy ' s line of gray, belching forth fire and smoke. Those immediately in front of us are compf utively inactive. The} ' have not yet mended their broken fences. We look to the further end of the rebel line. Out from an rchard steps a small body of gray-clad troops. Something about them attracts our attention — their marching and alignment are ; ' erfect, their step is unlike that of the veterans who marched against our front. Their mo -ements are those of a crack battalion •■ dress parade. The)- look like bo)-s ; the strong glasses show that the)- are boys. It is the battalion of pupils from the Virginia liilitary Institute, 225 in number. These little fellows, whose ages range from 14 to 16 years, drawn from the best families of ihe Old Dominion, have closed their books for the summer vacation, but instead of returning to their homes and making glad the hearts of fond parents and brothers and sisters, were told to take their cadet muskets and join the army in the Valley. They have just arri ' ed and are eagerh- marching to their baptism of blood. War is cruel at best, btit who can excuse the cnielty that risks such bright 3 ' oung lives even in a righteous cause? Opposite them, holding the right of our line, is a battery of six twelve-p ' juuders. The commander has observed the cadet battalion and opened fire on it. The shells burst among the boys, but they don ' t seem to be disturbed in the least. Forward towards the black monsters the line moves as though parading on the smooth lawn of the Military Institute, whence the}- came. Palings are being knocked from their fence, but the)- close up and present an unbroken line. We ask ourselves, can the)- be so rash as to charge the batter)- ? It is commencing to look that way. On, on, the)- march, their line as straight as a rule, more palings are knocked from the li -ing fence, and repairs are made as before, but the fence is shorter. The)- are almost in cannister range. Surely they will face about and retrace their steps ; but no, the little heads bend lower as they face the iron storm. The little muskets are grasped tighter, as on, on the)- rush. God ha e mercy on them. The deadh- cannister sweeps through their ranks. Shorter and shorter grows the line. Hea -en pit)- their poor mothers, whose prayers
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Page 32 text:
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are even now rising- to Heaven for tlieir darlings ' safety. Oh, that some pitying hand would stretch out to stav them ; but, on, on, on, tliey march, right into the jaws of the black monsters. Now they enter the smoke ; they disappear. The thunder of six great gims is silenced. A juvenile shout is heard, and the sur ' ivors of that little band of heroes ha -e captured the battery. Scarcelv have we realized that they are victors, until we find that they manned the captured guns and turned them down our lines. The supporting line of rebel infantry dash across the plain, with the blood of four of these yoinig heroes. Forward moves the entire line of the enemy. The rebel yell is given as they dash towards our demoralized troops. Our right is crowded back ; the centre wavers. We run our guns forward, and by cross-firing again check the rebel advance on the centre. Back, back, swings our right ; confusion takes the place of order, and -e see our infantrx ' hurrying to recross the Shenandoah. Batteries limber up and gallop back to take a new position across the ri er. The ca -alry and our battery are ordered to cover the retreat. We move over to the pike. Dead and wounded thickl) ' strew our pathwa ' . Carefulh ' we move them to one side or pick onr wav among them. Fire in retreat ! Fix prolonge ! is the order. The trail of the gun is attached to the limber by a rope, and, as we retreat slowh ' in the direction of the bridge, we drag our guns with the muzzles pointing towards the enemy, loading as we march, halting a second to aim and fire, and so retreat, stubbornly contesting e •ery inch of our journey back. The enemy seem to have a wholesome respect for us. They have learned from bitter experience that we are an ugh ' foe to face, and they hesitate to make a dash toward our black muzzles. ;!£
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