Arms are taken. Regiments
are confusedly marched and counter-marched into the most available
positions, to meet an emergency which some one should have anticipated
and provided for. The absence of Barlow is now fatal.
On comes Jackson, pursuing the wreck of the First division. Some of
Schurz's regiments break before Devens has passed to the rear. Others
stand firm until the victorious Confederates are upon them with their
yell of triumph, then steadily fall back, turning and firing at
intervals; but nowhere a line which can for more than a brief space
retard such an onset.
Down the road towards Chancellorsville, through the woods, up every side
road and forest path, pours a stream of fugitives. Ambulances and oxen,
pack-mules and ammunition-wagons, officers' spare horses mounted by
runaway negro servants, every species of the impedimenta of camp-life,
commissary sergeants on all-too-slow mules, teamsters on still-harnessed
team-horses, quartermasters whose duties are not at the front, riderless
steeds, clerks with armfuls of official papers, non-combatants of all
kinds, mixed with frighted soldiers whom no sense of honor can arrest,
strive to find shelter from the murderous fire.
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