Camp Bartow, Pocahontas Co., Va.,
October 8th, 1861.
Editor True Democrat.
Sir—“We have the met the enemy, and” they would have been ours, had they not been in so great a hurry to return to their den on the top of Cheat Mountain.
On the morning of the 3d, at about 6 o’clock, a messenger arrived in camp with tidings that the advance guard of the Yankees were firing upon our pickets some four or five miles from camp, and that they were advancing in force to attack us.
Instantly our officers issued an order for us to hold ourselves in readiness for battle; and after eating a pretty hearty breakfast, filling our canteens and throwing down our tents, the 3d Arkansas volunteers, Col. Rust commanding, formed in line, and were marched to the post of honor, a point where it was naturally supposed that the enemy would make an attempt to flank us. Two companies, however, were detailed to support a battery of two six-pounders, under command of the old Tennessee veteran, Capt. Anderson, covering the road to the village of Greenbank. In making our way to our position, the whole regiment were exposed for some minutes to a perfect hail-storm of shot, shell and Minnie balls; yet, strange to say, not a man was injured. The enemy planted their batteries, and for six mortal hours a terrific storm of round shot bombs, grape and canister was thrown into our camp, killing one man and wounding two. The enemy’s loss, from the fire of the three six-pounders that was brought to bear on them, was most terrible. That they lost two field officers, we know; that they took away with them over thirty wagon-loads of dead and wounded, we have the evidence of Col. Ramsey, of the 1st Regiment of Georgia volunteers, besides nine dead and one wounded found on the field. Our pickets fought like tigers and disputed every inch of the road for some three miles, killing and wounding some thirty-five or forty of the northern hounds, whilst our loss was but six killed and twenty-two wounded and missing. In explanation of so serious a loss among the men on guard duty, it need only be said that they had to fight against two columns of infantry and two pieces of artillery—one a 12-pound howitzer.
One of a detail of four men from Capt. S. V. Reid’s company (H,) Arkansas volunteers, one, Wm. E. Blocker, of Drew county, Arkansas, was killed, and Jno. G. Carter, of Harrodsburg, Ky., was wounded and taken prisoner. Blocker was but 18 years of his age; yet, after being shot through both cheeks, he continued to load and fire until he had killed two more of the cowardly vandals. Carter no doubt fought equally well.
The Yankees formed in line of battle at a distance of about half a mile from our ditches, and though their officers prayed, coaxed and cursed, yet they could not be prevailed on to charge the “d——d” rebels” in their trenches, or even to come within musket shot, though the 1st Georgia regiment went half way and dared ten times their numbers to come to the bank of the river.
It may seem like self praise for me to anything about what the Arkansas third did; yet I may be pardoned when it is known that I was not with them at the time. The enemy, 1,500 strong, twice made the attempt to flank our artillery, and twice were repulsed by less than three hundred men under Rust and Barton. All did their duty like veterans, and all deserve equal praise. We all hope for and expect another brush soon. Truly, H***.