Ironton Register 12 Jan. 1888 – There are so many things in the experience of a soldier that takes a big space in his memory and yet are quickly told. There are [illegible] that make him shudder to think of, but in the current of a quarter of a century, they become commonplace except to him who made the escape.
When we asked R.N. Sanders of Company B 2nd Virginia what his close call was, he quickly answered it took place near Lewisburg, West Virginia and the affair made a vivid impression on his memory, though he thought it wasn’t anything particularly startling.
“You see,” said he, “we had gone up to Lewisburg to clean out a force of rebels that were reported there. We left Charleston, West Virginia – five companies of our regiment under command of Col. Paxton.
This was sometime in the spring of 1862. Well, nothing important happened until we got within a few miles of Lewisburg and started up the hill on which the town is. But we soon discovered obstacles in the road. A bridge over a little creek had been taken up and piles of fence rails had been placed across the road.
We were in advance and Capt. Charley Hambleton, commanding the company It was now after 10 o’clock at night, and though the moon was shining brightly, we felt like it was a very hazardous thing to advance, but Capt. Paxton who was in command was somewhat worse for liquor and ordered us to turn to the left and move up the hillside.
“Once in the woods it was dark, but we kept moving forward not knowing who or what was before us. Then we ran into the rebs and a brisk fight began. There was no order or system in the fighting and we soon got all mixed up and didn’t know who was who, but we kept popping away.
Why it was a very mean fix to get into right in the dark woods with the enemy all around you and with you, I tell you it was enough to scare the best of us, and still if a fellow wanted to get out, he was just as apt to get deeper into the muss.
It was right in this sort of melee, that I met with a ‘Narrow Escape.’ I was mounted and riding through the woods, sort of on my own hook when a fellow suddenly dashed up to me and leveling his revolver at my head blasted away.
The ball knocked my hat off and grazed me on the forehead, just along there (pointing to a little ridge in the skin over the left part of the forehead). The shock caused me to suddenly pull my horse’s rein and it reared up and striking a log or stump fell backward.
My assailant rode on, thinking of course, that he had killed one Yankee. But I gathered myself up, and my horse too, and mounting it, rode on, but soon heard the voice of Capt. George Millard rallying the boys, I joined them and beat a retreat to the road where we kept going until we got out of reach.
“Afterwards we learned that the enemy had three regiments of infantry, and our little squadron had rushed into the whole –. The night which seemed to double the fright saved us I expect, for if that infantry had got a good sweep at us, they would have killed about half of the boys. It was for this careless and blundering attack that Capt. Paxton was cashiered. We only lost six or eight men, but it was only luck that saved us.”
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