Sam Vanhorn War Experience
Narrow Escape #14
Ironton Register 17 Feb. 1887
Submitted by Joyce Koch
“Say, Sam,” said we to Samuel Vanhorn. “Haven’t you a “Narrow Escape” for the Register.” “I have had several, and, by the way, I think the ‘Narrow Escapes’ in the Register are mighty interesting reading,” replied Sam. “Give me your best one.” “I might miss the best, but this one I will relate for you strike right now.” “What part of the service were you in?” “I belonged to famous Battery B. 1st West Va. Light Artillery.”
“My ‘Narrow Escape’ happened on the 20th of July. 1864, but to better describe it, I must go back one day. On July 19th, while on the march up Loudon valley, the lumber chest to my gun exploded, killing two or three men and the two-wheel horses and completely destroying the carriage of the gun. After this, the remaining four horses were attached to the caisson of the same gun, making ten horses to the caisson, of which I was placed in charge.
The next morning, we attempted to cross the Shenandoah River at a ford, coming out of Ashby’s gap. The Calvary went in advance. While they were in the river watering their horses, the artillery and infantry being on the bank behind, quite a number of Johnnies on the other side of the river who had been concealed now stepped out on the bank and began firing on them.
“This caused a general stampede among the cavalry, infantry, and artillery. The whole command, temporarily demoralized by the unexpected attack, broke now into confusion. Capt. Jno. V. Keepers, our captain, who at that time seemed to be the only coolheaded man present, undertook to get some of his guns into position on a narrow ridge dividing a ravine from the river. I undertook to follow him with my ten-horse caisson.
The captain succeeded in getting his guns on top of the ridge, and I got part way up with my caisson onto a small knoll where there was a little frame dwelling and house but could get no further. Seeing that the caisson was of no benefit there, and it being seemingly almost impossible to get it down again, I halted the boys and, riding up to where Capt. Keepers was, asked him what I should do with that caisson. He replied: “Do not bring it up here, for we haven’t enough room to get the guns into position.” I told him I did not believe I could turn around where I was and go back down. He answered in a quick, sharp tone: “If you can’t get it back up into the gap, roll the d–n thing into the river.
“I went back down and examined the ground again. I found a narrow path that looked like it might have been a path to spring from the house before mentioned. Maybe in antebellum days, it had been trodden by the bare feet of some pretty Virginia lass. However, I didn’t think about that then.
“No time for romantic imaginings. I told the boys to pull around the house by that little path, and they could get out of range of the enemy’s fire behind the ridge. This left me on the side of the building next to the enemy with no chance to shun fire until the boys moved the caisson out of the way.
“I knew I stood in the way of where Johnnie wanted to shoot, where they not only wanted to shoot but did shoot without even telling me to get out of the way. About 15 or 20 of them stepped out on the bank on the opposite side of the river and, taking deliberate aim, fired at me. My position was not very inviting, to say the least.
“I think every shot they fired struck that building around my horse and myself. I shall never forget my feelings at this time. I could distinctly hear the balls strike the building within 4 or 5 feet of where I was sitting on my horse. I felt very lonesome. I took my feet out of the stirrups so I would have a clear fall because I thought it was impossible for them to miss me as they were in close range – not over 200 yards away.
“The boys managed to get the caisson down behind the ridge out of the way and afterward up into the gaps where we took the position. Captain Keepers, finding he could not get in a position where he was, soon followed and took up a position in line with my caisson, where we continued an artillery duel with a rebel battery on the opposite side of the river, the balance of the day.”
“It has always been a mystery to me why they didn’t hit me. So there you have my “Narrow Escape.”
Samuel R. Vanhorn Died Yesterday
Huntington Herald-Dispatch 9 Nov. 1910
Was One of Guard That Watched Over the Dead Body of President Lincoln
The death of Samuel R. Vanhorn occurred at 8:30 o’clock yesterday morning at the age of 72 years, following a protracted illness from the effects of an attack due to diseases incident to old age. The death removes from Huntington a splendid old citizen, an honored soldier, and a good man.
One of the most distinguished honors of the civil war came to him upon the death of President Lincoln. He was placed in charge of a guard of twenty men who watched over the body of the martyred president until after it was laid to rest. He often spoke of that honor with a great deal of pride, deeming it one of the finest things that came to him during the entire war.
The decedent was a member of Battery B 1st West Virginia Artillery. He enlisted on October the first, 1861, and was discharged on June 28th, 1865. He is survived by a widow and three children, namely, Mrs. E. S Koontz of Proctorville, Ohio: Mrs. James Spicer of Sixth Avenue, and Herbert Vanhorn of this city. Two granddaughters, Misses Kathryn Jarrell and Ethyl Keeney, also made their home with them. The funeral will take place Thursday afternoon from the home at 2:30 o’clock. Burial was in Spring Hill Cemetery, Section 11, Lot 8, Space 5, Huntington, West Virginia.
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