Payne's Farm

During the time that I was laid up with this wound [received at Fredericksburg] the battle of Chancellorsville and the series of battles of the Wilderness, also the disastrous battle of Gettysburg had been fought and the South had sustained an irreparable loss in the death of General Jackson, who died from wounds in the Wilderness. The next battle that I was engaged in was "mine Run" an impromptu affair that was not down on the program. It happened this wise - General Edward Johnson had been left at Morton's Ford, on the Rapidan River, with instructions to watch French's corps and to move down the south side of the river to take his place on General Lee's left as French moved down the north side to take his position on Mead[e]'s right. We were marching quietly along, not expecting any trouble just then, when suddenly, like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky, our ambulance train was fired into and for a little while all was confusion. I remember General James Walker, who was then commanding the Stonewall brigade, which was bringing up the rear, came galloping back and ordered his colored man to take his lead horses to the rear. The man asked, "Where is the rear, General," when Walker said, "D---d if I know, but take them out of here." General Jackson [Johnson] very promptly ordered one regiment from each brigade of his division to deploy as skirmishers and the 2nd was sent out from the Stonewall brigade, under command of my brother and we plunged into a dense piece of timber, from which the volley had come. We soon struck the Yankee skirmishers and drove them back through the woods to an open field, where we ran into French's entire corps and into about the hottest place that could be imagined. My brother was on the right of the regiment and refused to dismount, although he was warned by those around him that he was needlessly exposing himself and presenting a target to the enemy. My company occupied the centre of the line and I was glad when I heard that my brother had been wounded in one of his legs and had left the field, for I never expected to get out alive. We held our ground until the Yankees got on our left flank. I was conscious of this because the balls were enfilading us, but the undergrowth was so dense that I could not see far in either direction. At last an officer came running up and said "Colston, didn't you hear the order to fall back." I told him I had not, but had been thinking for some time that I ought to have gotten such an order. "Well," he said, "withdraw your men as quickly as possible, everything on your left has fallen back." You bet I did not wait for a second order but shouted to my men to get out. Just as I gave the order one of the men called out, "Captain, I am wounded." I asked him whether he was hit in the leg or arm and he answered in the arm. I then told him he had better use his legs to get out quick, which he did. I could not keep up with the boys, but was making the best time I could when I heard the fourth Regiment coming to our support at a double quick. I knew then they would open fire before they got to me and I came to fallen log, which I hardly knew on which side to get, but determined to put it between me and the Yankees. If one ball struck that log I think a hundred must have done so in the short time I stayed there. I though the blamed log was not half big enough, in fact I was sure of it when a bullet came over it and grazed my shoulder. I then got up and ran back to meet the 4th, when I saw a ludicrous sight which in spite of the seriousness of the situation, made me laugh. Mr. A.C. Hopkins, the chaplain of our regiment, came running at the head of the 4th Regiment, swinging a tin bucket over his head and yelling like a Comanche Indian. He passed close to me and I yelled to him, "You blamed fool, you had better get back and carry water to the wounded men, what sort of a weapon is that to come into a fight with." I then went forward with the 4th and we recovered the ground we had lost and held it until night put an end to the fight. It turned out that French had missed the road and crossed to our side of the river. It was a very disgusting case of "butting in." After the fight was over I went to look after my brother and found that his leg had been amputated, but he was in good spirits. Poor fellow, he little thought his life would be for the forfeit. He died just a month later from pneumonia contracted while waiting for a train at Orange Court House to take him to the hospital at Charlottesville, in a pouring rain.

The next morning we took up our line of march that had been so rudely interrupted and took our position on General Lee's left flank. His army was entrenched in a very strong position and he hoped to be attacked by Meade, for several days, but he declined the gage of battle. Our lines were so close to those of the enemy that we had to change our pickets at night. One night I was detailed to take charge of the guard and, having placed my men in the trenches under cover of darkness, waited for light. I looked for the enemy but could not see anything of him. I advanced my skirmishers and discovered that Meade had moved his army during the night. I sent a messenger back to report the fact and was ordered to bring my men in. As we marched back we passed close to General Lee and his staff and he looked very much disgusted to find that Meade had given him the slip.