Ironton Register 1 March 1888 – We cornered our friend, W. D. Wilson, at his new storeroom on Seventh St. and asked for a “Narrow Escape.” He seemed a little surprised but finally put his thoughts into running order to rescue some event from the misty region of the war.
While thus engaged, we queried him about his regiment. We learned that he had belonged to the 1st Virginia Infantry and had been in about all the fights of that fighting regiment and was wounded at Port Republic, which he described as a very continuous “Narrow Escape” as long as it lasted.
“Another fierce conflict was at Kernstown in 1862,” said Mr. W. D. Wilson. “And, by the way, I saw in the educational column of the Register. The question asked, who fought 27 battles and gained 27 victories? And someone answered. It was Stonewall Jackson. But I know we whipped Jackson at Kernstown and sent him flying up the Shenandoah Valley.
“It was a very interesting fight, too, I assure you, and the bullets made it decidedly unhealthy for a while. But nothing peculiar or personal about those days is quite vague to me now, so I can hardly single out a circumstance of special interest that is not surrounded by a mist that makes the outlines very indistinct.
“Now, there was that affair at Moorfield, which had a little touch of romance in it, but I can hardly tell it to you as it was, though I know the main features, and particularly, all that related to myself, for everyone was attending to himself, and nobody else, just about then.
“Six companies of our regiment had been sent to Moorfield to guard a signal station or something of the kind. That was on the 11th of September 1863. We got to the town in the evening and camped in the suburbs, on a knoll, and next to a country cemetery. We threw out our pickets, enjoyed the royal supper of a soldier, which you know all about, took a little smoke – those of us who had the weed – did the usual amount of talking and lolling about, and then turned in for a night’s rest, never once…[Illegible]
“Come out of there.”
“I’m wounded, sir. Please let me stay here,” I replied.
“Come out, I tell you,” he said again.
W. D. Wilson continues, “I crawled out, and he ordered me into a rank of prisoners, but just then, Lieut. Ches. Hall of our regiment stepped up and said to the big reb who had us in charge. ‘This boy is wounded; let him go to the hospital.’ Then after a little parley, I was taken to a place where others were wounded, and I was left. It wasn’t very long after this that the rebs stayed, but off they went with their prisoners and the camp booty.
“It was a very successful raid on their part. Gen. McNeil was the reb Commander. He had gobbled the picket post without making the slightest noise and was right in our camp banging away before we were aware. There were about 300 of our force. Some were killed and wounded, many skipped off in the darkness, and the rest were taken away as prisoners, and with them, my brother George [Wilson]. Among those who took advantage of the darkness was Billy Mulvey, but the rebs got his shoes,” said W. D. Wilson.
“One of the funny things about this affair was that at the very time McNeil captured us, a strong force of our boys was out with well-arranged plans to capture him.
“This is all I can recollect, except I got a furlough because of my wound, which I very much enjoyed – that is the furlough.”
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