“When a gap opened in the Confederate line around the Bushong Farm, fear grew that the Federals would exploit it. To this point, Breckinridge had held the cadets in reserve, reluctant to send them in. Urged on by an aide, Major Charles Semple, he finally relented: ‘Put the boys in, and may God forgive me for the order.’ “
May 15, 1864 – charge of the VMI Cadets at New Market, Virginia. Written by John Sergeant Wise, one of the cadets —
The command was given to strip for action. Knapsacks, blankets, — everything but guns, canteens, and cartridge-boxes, was thrown upon the ground. Our boys were silent then. Every lip was tightly drawn, every cheek was pale, but not with fear. With a peculiar, nervous jerk, we pulled our cartridge-boxes round to the front, laid back the flaps, and tightened belts. Whistling rifled shells screamed over us, as, tipping the hill-crest in our front, they bounded past. To our right, across the pike, Patton’s brigade was lying down abreast of us.
“At-ten-tion-n-n I Battalion forward! Guide center-r-r!” shouted Shipp, and up the slope we started. From the left of the line, Sergeant-Major Woodbridge ran out and posted himself forty paces in advance of the colors as directing guide, as if we had been upon the drill ground. That boy would have remained there, had not Shipp ordered him back to his post; for this was no dress parade. Brave Evans, standing six feet two, shook out the colors that for days had hung limp and bedraggled about the staff, and every cadet leaped forward, dressing to the ensign, elate and thrilling with the consciousness that this was war.
Moving up to the hill crest in our front, we were abreast of our smoking battery, and uncovered to the range of the enemy’s guns. We were pressing towards him at ” arms port,” moving with the light tripping gate of the French infantry. The enemy’s veteran artillery soon obtained our range, and began to drop his shells under our very noses along the slope. Echols’s brigade rose up, and was charging on our right with the wellknown rebel yell.
Down the green slope we went, answering the wild cry of our comrades as their muskets rattled out in opening volleys. “Double time!” shouted Shipp, and we broke into a long trot. In another moment, a pelting rain of lead would fall upon us from the blue line in our front.
..
Meanwhile, the troops upon our left performed their allotted task. Up the slope, right up to the second line of infantry, they went; a second time the Federal troops were forced to retire. Wharton’s brigade secured two guns of the battery, and the remaining four galloped back to a new position in a farmyard on the plateau, at the head of the cedar-skirted gully. Our boys had captured over one hundred prisoners. Charlie Faulkner, now the Senator from West Virginia, came back radiant in charge of twenty-three Germans large enough to swallow him, and insisted that he and Winder Garrett had captured them unaided. Bloody work had been done. The space between the enemy’s old and new position was dotted with dead and wounded, shot as they retired across the open field; but this same exposed ground now lay before, and must be crossed by our own men, under a galling fire from a strong and well-protected position. The distance was not great, but the ground to be traversed was a level green field of young wheat.
Again the advance was ordered. Our boys responded with a cheer. Poor fellows! They had already been put upon their mettle in two assaults, exhausted, wet to the skin, muddy to their eyebrows with the stiff clay; some of them actually shoeless after struggling across the ploughed field: they, notwithstanding, advanced with tremendous earnestness, for the shout on our right advised them that the victory was being won.
But the foe in our front was far from whipped. As the cadets came on with a dash, he stood his ground most courageously. The battery, now shotted with shrapnel and canister, opened upon the cadets with a murderous fire. The infantry, lying behind fence-rails piled upon the ground, poured in a steady, deadly volley. At one discharge, Cabell, first sergeant of D Company, by whose side I had marched for months, fell dead, and with him fell Crockett and Jones. A blanket would have covered the three. They were awfully mangled by the canister. A few steps further on, McDowell sank to his knees with a bullet through his heart. Atwill, Jefferson, and Wheelwright were shot at this point. Sam Shriver, cadet captain of C Company, had his sword arm broken by a minie ball. Thus C Company lost her cadet as well as her professor captain.
The men were falling right and left. The veterans on the right of the cadets seemed to waver. Colonel Shipp went down. For the first time, the cadets appeared irresolute. Some one cried out, “Lie down!” and all obeyed, firing from the knee, — all but Evans, the ensign, who was standing bolt upright, shouting and waving the flag. Some one exclaimed, “Fall back and rally on Edgar’s battalion!” Several boys moved as if to obey. Pizzini, first sergeant of B Company, with his Corsican blood at the boiling point, cocked his rifle and proclaimed that he would shoot the first man who ran. Preston, brave and inspiring, in command of B Company, smilingly lay down upon his remaining arm with the remark that he would at least save that. Colonna, cadet captain of D, was speaking low to the men of his company with words of encouragement, and bidding them shoot close. The corps was being decimated.
Manifestly, they must charge or fall back. And charge it was; for at that moment Henry Wise, “Old Chinook,” beloved of every boy in the command, sprang to his feet, shouted out the command to rise up and charge, and, moving in advance of the line, led the cadet corps forward to the guns. The battery was being served superbly. The musketry fairly rolled, but the cadets never faltered. They reached the firm greensward of the farmyard in which the guns were planted. The Federal infantry began to break and run behind the buildings. Before the order to limber up could be obeyed by the artillerymen, the cadets disabled the teams, and were close upon the guns. The gunners dropped their sponges, and sought safety in flight.
Lieutenant Hanna hammered a gunner over the head with his cadet sword. Winder Garrett outran another and lunged his bayonet into him. The boys leaped upon the guns, and the battery was theirs. Evans, the color-sergeant, stood wildly waving the cadet colors from the top of a caisson.
