Into The Woods

May 2, 1863

My Dearest Friends And Family,

My thoughts are with you often in the unceasing rain. I hoped it would avoid us this day, but as we formed up for the long march, the drops multiplied and soaked through our uniforms as we awaited orders. I feared my musket would be useless in the persistent shower, but the battle before us would not wait.


Several companies of soldiers are in this fight with us, and I admit I do not possess the skills of description necessary to convey a proper image of them mustering. Columns and columns of them in butternut uniforms lined up to our front, the 16th and 41st Virginia Infantries among them. The rain continued to soak us as the other companies inspected weapons. With the lock of my Springfield tucked under the pit of my arm, I longed for the order to march again.



After half a mile, our path led us directly into the woods. As we disappeared beyond the tree line, I saw Gen. Jackson on horseback from the hill above us, surrounded by staff and looking upon us with a determined confidence, and we cheered as we passed. Though grateful, he cautioned us into silence.


I could tell Providence was with us as the rain let up while we marched through the woods in columns of two. I constantly glanced about me, wary of Yankee scouts. As I understood it, we were to strike the Union's right flank and take them by surprise. But if the Yanks discovered us here, they could snare us amongst the trees and stumps, turning the entire march into a mass grave.


We wound through the forest for miles in silent procession, trusting in our commanders and relieved to dry out. I passed by earthen fortifications on our left, evidence, perhaps, of a previous battle. At the middle point, we paused to drink from our canteens as the companies caught up with each other. We heard crackles of musket fire, reassuring us our journey would not take us much further. Or, I wondered, had the attack already begun?


Finally, we formed up on the edge of the forest, just outside the Yankee position. I could not see how many of them were in front of us, but I was sure we were in for a fight. The officers crept forward to get a better look, and they waited as we did for the moment to strike.


The first companies moved out with a rebel yell, leaving us behind with explosions from the Yankee artillery peppered with musket fire. A gigantic log sat in front of us, and I feared our commanders would make us charge over it as we emerged from the forest. But they reorganized our columns, and we too moved out to face the Yanks with excitement.

By the time we took to the fight, smoke and musket fire exploded around us, from every conceivable direction. We formed a skirmish line only a few paces from where a dozen Federals had stood and fallen. A medic foolishly treated them as we loaded and capped our weapons.

I had little time to look about me for the positions of the enemy, as I loaded and capped and fired in rapid succession, forming up with my fellow soldiers and then charging through the muddy battlefield still hollering to put the scare in the northern aggressors. Those Yanks were lousy shots, but a musket ball pierced a young private to my left sending him into the mud. Fortunately for us, he would be our only casualty. Several times my brogans splashed into pits of water. But we marched onward, forming up in front of a pesky cannon.


It only took one volley to fell the artillery unit, and we charged forward to take the piece.

"Private Francis!" the Captain barked. "Guard this one!" He motioned to a young artillery man, who in fact was just a teen-aged boy with a pistol.

"You move," I said to him as he lay on the ground. "And it will be your last!"

He handed over his pistol to me, barely able to indicate that it was unloaded. I held my rifle and took it from him, not trusting his word for a second. A comrade was guarding another artillery man when a company from our allied brethren moved in to surround the prisoners and the dead.

Relieved of our guard duties, the fellow private and I rushed forward to rejoin our company, now pressed against a muddy redoubt in a hard fire fight with a Yankee line. The Union musket balls were nearly ineffective against us. Behind us, the privates of other companies shouted commands to themselves, repeating the orders of their captains over the explosions and volleys.


Those Yanks would surely not hold us back for long, and they finally surrendered to us. General Jackson's gamble in the woods had delivered an undisputed victory. We celebrated and whooped and cheered for Virginia. But in reverence, a bugler sounded Taps, and scores of us fell silent in reverence for those on either side felled in war, caps removed, heads bowed.

As we left the battlefield, we broke into the "Bonnie Blue Flag" and reveled in our victory, the unforeseeable outcome of that march in the woods.

I have great hope for our nation in the days ahead. And I know the ladies of the 1st Virginia have confidence in my abilities. Just today I received a letter from them praising my steadfastness in battle. I was quite surprised and humbled to read their words of kindness and encouragement. Thus, my dear family and friends, I hope I encourage you in the dark days ahead.

Long Live Virginia!

Your Servant In The Cause,
Pvt. Christopher Francis
1st Virginia Volunteer Infantry