A Correspondent ot the Philadelphia Inquirer gives the following description of a visit to the late Bull Run battle-field:
On Monday night I rested with a part of the army that pitched their tents on the section of the old Bull Run battle-field adjacent to the Warrenton Pike. A poet might find here in the suggestive relics of the deadly strife the theme of an epic ; or a painter might illustrate on canvass the horrors of war from the mementoes here left of its ruthless work.
Bullets are picked up and exhibited by the handful, and soldiers who participated in the fray, are comparing at the same time their gathered mementoes and their personal recollections of the bloody field. In the long, luxuriant grass, one strikes his foot against skulls and bones, mingled with the deadly missiles that brought them to the earth. Hollow skulls lie contiguous to hemispheres of exploded shells. The shallow graves rise here and there above the grass, sometimes in rows. sometimes alone, or scattered at irregular intervals.
Through the thin layer of soil that hides the nameless hero who gave his life for his country, one sees the protruding ribs. whence the rain has washed their covering, a foot or an arm reached out beyond its earthern bed ; and once I saw one of these long sleepers covered snugly up to the chin, but with the entire face exposed and turned ap to the passer-by ; one could imagine him a soldier lying on the field wrapped up in his blanket, but that the blanket was of clay and the face was fleshless and eyeless.
In one case a foot protruded with the flesh still partiaely [sic] preserved; in another case an entire skeleton lay exposed upon the surface without any covering whatever. The tatters of what had been his uniform showed that he had been a cavalryman. The flesh was, of course, decomposed; but the tanned and shriveled skin still incased the bony framework of the body, and even the finger-nails, were in their places. The ligaments that fasten the joints must have been preserved, for he was lifted by the belt which was still around the waist, and not a bone fell out of its place. When found he lay in the attitude of calm repose, like one who had fallen asleep from weariness. This was in the camp of the 9 Massachusetts regiment. He was buried, as were many more that night who had waited a long fourteen months for their funeral rites. In fact the different pioneers corps were engaged for some time in paying this last tribute to the gallant dead, whose fragmentary remains were scattered round our camp.
The Pennsylvania Reserves bivouacked for the night on the ground where they themselves were engaged in deadly strife in the battle of fourteen months ago, and the skulls and bones of some of their former companions in arms lay around within the light of their camp-fire. It may even have happened that men pitched their tents over the grave of a lost comrade, and again unwittingly rested under the same shelter with one who had often before shared their couch on the tented field.
A soldier of the 1st regiment struck his foot against a cartridge-box near his tent, and picking it up read on it the name of an old associate, who had been among the missing, and whose death was only known from his prolonged absence. His resting place had at length been found, for near the box was a small mound of earth that doubtless contained his mouldering bones.
An officer of my acquaintance recognized the spot where his tent was located as one near which he was severely wounded, and where he lay through a long, weary night by the side of a dead captain. The painful reminiscences which the place called up rendered it anything but an agreeable camping-ground to him.
Raftsman’s Journal, Clearfield, PA, November 11, 1863
