The Battle of Bullshit Run
1861, July. Heat and the Sun beat down upon our troops and it was sweltering, but nevertheless, I had been promoted to Sergeant, oh how proud I was! For a negro to be promoted to a sergeant, a negro! I took the second lead position for our company, centered near the middle of our offensive. Beads of sweat stung my eyes. In Manassas now, we had launched multiple assaults on the rebels and drove them back from our pontoons. Richmond lay not too far ahead, and our army of 35,000 would put an
end this war soon. But I was not done. The whites around me were always, "For the Union! Preserve the Union!" But not me. I felt National pride, yes a little. But I had enlisted for my brothers down in S.C, fighting to stay alive. I would join them in that fight. The Union platoon to me, was a force, a force to free slaves, my emancipation army. I was so glad to be making a change for my people. Now, the ceased fighting picked up. We had been awaiting orders from General McDowell while exchanging fire with the Confederates.
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What was that! The sound of yelling jarred me and my comrades. Gunshots fired, close this time, too close. More yelling. I looked around. "Major!" I yelled to our Division officer. I looked back. He was galloping away on his horse. "Wait sir!" I yelled. He kept running. Chaos consumed all. People were peering around, wondering what was going on. More gunshots, even closer. Soldiers started talking. Shouting and panic spread among our troops. Then people started yelling. A battle cry rose from the field. Voices shouted,"They broke our line! Run!" My unit ran. They pushed me along. But I stayed a bit to watch. Union troops were heading back. "Right Flank's broken Dunn! Are you Dunn or what?! They often joked with on that, but now they were frightened. Then I saw them. Grayshirt rebels, bayonets gleaming in the sunlight, charging across to our right flank. Union bodies littered the soil. Our soldiers dropped their weapons and ran. Our formation was collapsing. Units were being enveloped. The Confederate charge pushed toward me, simply mowing down our remaining troops. It was a massacre. A horror flashed through me. I envisioned me being sent back down to South Carolina. Back to my grueling work and ruthless former master with his unmerciful whip. I would get a big branding should I be caught. I bolted. We ran all the way back to Washington D.C. The families who had set up their picnics to watch our battle stared in disbelief at what was taking place. The rebels chased us like we were frightened animals. How humiliating. Our army. My emancipation army. We were fighting to get down to S.C to free my people. And we were pushed back into our own base. Our bold, uniformed, orderly, calculated military running back for our lives. What a shame. Hence our Union commander was released from duty, replaced by General McClellan. This war, I then knew, would not end anytime soon.
end this war soon. But I was not done. The whites around me were always, "For the Union! Preserve the Union!" But not me. I felt National pride, yes a little. But I had enlisted for my brothers down in S.C, fighting to stay alive. I would join them in that fight. The Union platoon to me, was a force, a force to free slaves, my emancipation army. I was so glad to be making a change for my people. Now, the ceased fighting picked up. We had been awaiting orders from General McDowell while exchanging fire with the Confederates.
➕ ➕ ➕ ➕ ➕
What was that! The sound of yelling jarred me and my comrades. Gunshots fired, close this time, too close. More yelling. I looked around. "Major!" I yelled to our Division officer. I looked back. He was galloping away on his horse. "Wait sir!" I yelled. He kept running. Chaos consumed all. People were peering around, wondering what was going on. More gunshots, even closer. Soldiers started talking. Shouting and panic spread among our troops. Then people started yelling. A battle cry rose from the field. Voices shouted,"They broke our line! Run!" My unit ran. They pushed me along. But I stayed a bit to watch. Union troops were heading back. "Right Flank's broken Dunn! Are you Dunn or what?! They often joked with on that, but now they were frightened. Then I saw them. Grayshirt rebels, bayonets gleaming in the sunlight, charging across to our right flank. Union bodies littered the soil. Our soldiers dropped their weapons and ran. Our formation was collapsing. Units were being enveloped. The Confederate charge pushed toward me, simply mowing down our remaining troops. It was a massacre. A horror flashed through me. I envisioned me being sent back down to South Carolina. Back to my grueling work and ruthless former master with his unmerciful whip. I would get a big branding should I be caught. I bolted. We ran all the way back to Washington D.C. The families who had set up their picnics to watch our battle stared in disbelief at what was taking place. The rebels chased us like we were frightened animals. How humiliating. Our army. My emancipation army. We were fighting to get down to S.C to free my people. And we were pushed back into our own base. Our bold, uniformed, orderly, calculated military running back for our lives. What a shame. Hence our Union commander was released from duty, replaced by General McClellan. This war, I then knew, would not end anytime soon.
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