Lee's Lieutenants

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  Additional general officers, strangers to the army, arrived during the first weeks of Lee’s command. Every new brigade raised hopes that the army would become strong enough to assume the offensive. One of General T. H. Holmes’s brigades from North Carolina, under John G. Walker, had been brought to Petersburg, whence it soon was moved to Drewry’s Bluff. Robert Ransom’s brigade from the same department followed. From South Carolina, early in June, came Roswell S. Ripley, who was assigned to D. H. Hill’s division.

  All three of these men had been professional soldiers. Walker, a Missourian, just forty, had been a captain in the Ist Mounted Rifles; Ransom, a West Pointer of the class of 1850, had been a captain of the Ist Cavalry and was an esteemed young soldier of thirty-two, though cursed with ill health. Roswell S. Ripley, thirty-nine, had been graduated from the Military Academy in 1843. In the Mexican War Ripley had won his brevet as major, and in 1853 he had resigned from the army to enter business. He had resided in Charleston, the home of his wife, and in the operations against Sumter he had displayed skill as an artillerist. His prime defect was his contentiousness. For Lee, during the winter of 1861-62, he had acquired a contemptuous dislike. Doubtless Ripley would persist in backing his judgment against that of all men, but he cheerfully was accepted for the sake of the stout troops he brought to Richmond.

  Might not others come as Ripley had? In the face of some muttering from Georgia politicians, who opposed its removal, the large brigade of General A. R. Lawton came to Petersburg. Finally, overflowing freight cars brought northward most of the remaining troops of T. H. Holmes, whose department was extended from Cape Fear River to the James. Holmes was entrusted with supervision of Drewry’s Bluff.

  As a result of these arrivals and of the transfers and promotions after Seven Pines, the army that defended Richmond had a command perceptibly different from that of the troops who had marched through the mud from Yorktown only six weeks previously. The infantry did not have an adequate corps of officers; but, when regarded as a revolutionary force organized hurriedly, it was remarkably well led. All Confederates had faith in mid-June 1862 that the infantry would triumph. Now, overnight, by an adventure that made every chest swell, the cavalry were to test their leadership and to prove their quality.

  2

  STUART JUSTIFIES HIS PLUME

  The general strategic plan that rapidly was taking form in the mind of Lee contemplated an offensive against that part of McClellan’s force north of the Chickahominy River. Little was known of the position of the right wing of the Army of the Potomac. Presumably it had been placed where it was for the twofold purpose of forming a junction with McDowell and of protecting the line of supply from White House on the Pamunkey. How far had the Federal flank been extended? Did it guard the ridge between the Chickahominy and the next stream to the northeast, Totopotomoy Creek? For a most particular reason, known only to a few, General Lee desired these questions answered. A reconnaissance in force was the means of ascertaining the facts—a reconnaissance by cavalry.

  On June 10, Brigadier General J. E. B. Stuart, twenty-nine and in command of all the cavalry, was called to army headquarters at the Dabb house, High Meadows, on the Nine Mile Road. Stuart’s zest, his vigilance, his skill in reconnaissance had won Johnston’s admiration. “He is a rare man,” he wrote to Davis of Stuart, “wonderfully endowed by nature with the qualities necessary for an officer of light cavalry…. If you add to this army a real brigade of cavalry, you can find no better brigadier-general to command it.”7

  The new brigadier had soon become one of the shining figures at Manassas. All the advanced outposts were placed under him. On December 20, 1861, he had a clash with the Federals at Dranesville, where he lost 194 men, foot and horse. Although he could not then bring himself to admit defeat—it was characteristic of him never to do so—he had distinctly the worse of the encounter.8 Thereafter his service was routine. He covered well the retreat from Manassas; at Williamsburg he aided in putting troops in position when his own forces were unoccupied; at Seven Pines, where woods immobilized the cavalry, he acted virtually as an aide to Longstreet. In none of these events had he gratified measurably his martial ambition or won the loud plaudits he craved.

  Stuart did not lack self-confidence or self-opinion. On the fourth day of Lees command he felt that he should suggest a strategical plan to the commanding general. The young cavalryman argued that the Federals would not advance until they had perfected their works and armament on the south side of the Chickahominy. The proper course was to hold the Confederate left with a heavy concentration of artillery and to attack south of the stream. The youthful instructor of his chief concluded: “We have an army far better adapted to attack than defense. Let us fight at advantage before we are forced to fight at disadvantage.”9

  The earnestness and naiveté of this offset the defects of the strategy suggested, which essentially was that of throwing a numerically inferior force on a long front against an entrenched foe who had greatly superior artillery. Now, on June 10, Stuart was not summoned to discuss strategy but execution. Quietly he was told by General Lee of the design for an offensive north of the Chickahominy, and of the importance of ascertaining how far the enemy’s outposts extended on the ridge. As the purpose of the reconnaissance was revealed, Stuart’s imagination took fire: He could do more than ascertain the position of the Federal right; if the commanding general permitted, he would ride entirely around McClellan’s army.10 Lee probably shook his head at so rash a proposal, but Stuart would not dismiss it from mind. In high expectancy he rode back to his headquarters. What luck for a trooper who fifteen months previously had been a captain!

  The next day, June n, a courier handed Stuart his instructions in Lee’s autograph. Caution was enjoined: “You will return as soon as the object of your expedition is accomplished, and you must bear constantly in mind, while endeavoring to execute the general purpose of your mission, not to hazard unnecessarily your command…. Remember that one of the chief objects of your expedition is to gain intelligence for the guidance of future operations.”11

  Stuart read, pondered, and proceeded at once with his plans. Whom should he choose to go with him? Fitz Lee, the general’s nephew, was now colonel of the Ist Virginia cavalry. He must lead his regiment on the expedition, along with four companies of the 4th Virginia. The second son of General Lee, the quiet, handsome, capable “Rooney” Lee, who had just celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday, must take part of his 9th Virginia cavalry with him, and two squadrons of the 4th. Lieutenant Colonel Will Martin, of the Jeff Davis Legion, must pick 250 of the best men of his command and of the South Carolina Boykin Rangers. The Stuart Horse Artillery could supply a 12-pounder howitzer and a rifle gun, under Lieutenant Jim Breathed. That young physician, just twenty-two, had been serving as a private in the Ist Virginia cavalry when Stuart urged him to transfer to the horse artillery and arranged his election as first lieutenant. The grateful young Breathed could be relied upon to requite kindness with valor.12

  The members of Stuart’s staff must go, of course, and with them Heros von Borcke, a Prussian officer on leave who had joined headquarters as a volunteer aide and had shown joyous intrepidity on the field of Seven Pines. John S. Mosby likewise must accompany the expedition. He had volunteered in “Grumble” Jones’s company from southwest Virginia, a company that Jones deliberately had garbed in homespun. Named adjutant and at length procuring a uniform, Mosby defied regulations by wearing the red facings of the artillery instead of the buff. Regimental gossip had it that he found the uniform offered cheaply in Richmond and bought it as a bargain. Mosby had good social station and had attended the University of Virginia until arrested and imprisoned for wounding a fellow student. In jail, his prosecutor had taught him some law which, after his release, Mosby practiced in Bristol. In the spring election of officers he had been defeated, but Stuart by that time sensed his daring and initiative and had retained him at headquarters. Yes, there would be use on the expedition for the gaunt, thin-l
ipped Mosby with his satirical smile, his stooped neck, and his strange, roving eyes.

  Another scout who must accompany the expedition was the alert and tireless Redmond Burke, who seemed to have been born for outpost service. Still a third scout was William Downes Farley. This high-born South Carolina boy, a former student of the University of Virginia, was a devotee of Shakespeare and of the early English poets. One of the handsomest young men in the army, with hair a deep brown and eyebrows and lashes so dark they seemed to cast a shadow over his gray eyes, he had a soft voice, a quick smile, and a modest grace. In his veins flowed blood that fairly lusted for adventure. Farley’s bold spirit had led him to undertake scouting in the enemy’s country. Alone or with a few companions he would spend days in the woods on the flank of Federal columns. When he and Stuart met, an instant attachment was formed. “Farley the Scout,” as everyone styled him, was soon a fixture at cavalry headquarters.13

  These, then, were among the men Stuart selected—Fitz Lee, his cousin Rooney, Will Martin, Jim Breathed, von Borcke, John S. Mosby, Redmond Burke, William Farley—these and the best 1,200 troopers that the cavalry had. Stuart chose them quietly on the eleventh but did not notify them. All the cavalry heard was a vague rumor that something was afoot.14

  At 2:00 A.M. on June 12, Stuart himself, in the cheeriest of moods, awakened his staff. “Gentlemen, in ten minutes,” he announced, “every man must be in the saddle.” Quietly and with no sounding of the bugle, the long column presently was in motion. Its route was toward Louisa Court House, as if it were bound for the Valley of Virginia, whence reports had come of a dazzling victory by Jackson. Reinforcement of Stonewall presumably was the mission of the cavalry, though nothing was confided by Stuart.

  Along empty roads, past farms where the women waved handkerchiefs or aprons and the old men stared admiringly at the display of so much horseflesh, the troopers rode all day. Twenty-two miles they covered and then they went into camp near Taylorsville, close to the South Anna River. Before day Stuart had a few rockets sent up as signal for the start, but again he permitted no reveille. He had, by that time, reports from his scouts that residents said the enemy was not in any of the country to the southeastward as far as Old Church, twenty miles distant by the shortest road. The moment the column turned toward the east, a stir went down the files: Some had suspected that McClellan’s flank was their objective, and now they knew it. The day for which they had waited so long had come at last. They were to measure swords with the enemy.15

  Stuart ere long left the road and called the field officers in council. Every eye was fixed expectantly on him as he sat with careless rein on his horse. Not more that five feet ten in height, wide of shoulder, and manifestly of great physical strength, he had a broad and lofty forehead and a large, prominent nose with conspicuous nostrils. His face was florid; his thick, curled mustache and his huge wide-spreading beard were a reddish brown. Brilliant and penetrating blue eyes, now calm, now burning, made one forget the homeliness of his other features and his “loud” apparel. The army boasted nothing to excel that conspicuous uniform—a short gray jacket covered with buttons and braid, a gray cavalry cape over his shoulder, a broad hat looped with a gold star and adorned with a plume, high jack boots and gold spurs, an ornate and tasseled yellow sash, gauntlets that climbed almost to his elbows. His weapons were a light French saber and a pistol, which he carried in a black holster. When he gave commands it was in a clear voice that could reach the farthest squadron of a regiment in line. On this particular morning of the thirteenth of June—a Friday at that—his instructions for the next stage of the reconnaissance aroused among his young companions no less enthusiasm than he exhibited.16

  On moved the column, through the woods and past fields where the young corn was showing itself. When the force came in sight of Hanover Court House, horses and men were observed. The game was flushed, but too late. The “blue birds” took alarm and fled under cover of the dust they raised. Ill luck it was to lose the first covey! Stuart left the highway about a mile below Hanover Court House and, turning south, followed the route via Taliaferro’s Mill and Enon Church. As the sun climbed toward noon, heat radiated from every field, but nobody heeded it. Only one thing mattered—to find and to drive the enemy.

  Near Haw’s Shop anxious eyes caught a glimpse of bluecoats. The Confederates swept forward—again to no purpose. Only a few videttes were surprised and captured. Some of the prisoners stared at Colonel Fitz Lee, then broke into grins of recognition and greeted him as “Lieutenant.” They were formerly of the 2nd Cavalry, with which Lee had served as a junior officer. Inquiries were made concerning old friends; familiar jests were revived. It was difficult to believe that the disarmed, laughing troopers and the smiling young colonel represented opposing armies mustered to slaughter each other.17

  When the van approached Totopotomoy Creek, a difficult little stream with its banks a maze of underbrush, there was every reason to assume that the Federals would contest the crossing. Perhaps the very fact that the bridge had not been destroyed was a reason for suspecting an ambush. Cautiously Stuart dismounted half a squadron and sent these men forward as skirmishers. Once again there was disappointment. The Federals had left the barrier unguarded.18

  It was now 3:00 P.M. Old Church was distant only two and a half miles. Inasmuch as the Federal cavalry were known to be under Stuart’s father-in-law, Brigadier General Philip St. George Cooke, a Virginian and a renowned trooper of the old army, it could not be that he had neglected that important crossroad.

  For the first time that day military logic was vindicated. Word came back that the enemy was at a stand. Stuart did not hesitate. With a shout and a roar the leading squadron, that of Captain William Latané, dashed forward and threw itself squarely against the Federals. For a few minutes there was a mad melee, sword against pistol; then the Federals made off. When the clash was over, Captain Latané was dead, pierced by five bullets. A few Federals had been shot or slashed; others were taken prisoner. Five guidons were among the trophies.19

  Stuart was now fourteen miles from Hanover Court House. He had established the main fact he had been directed to ascertain: There was no Federal force of any consequence on the watershed down which he had ridden. But should he return the way he had come? The enemy would expect him to do so. The Federals might burn the bridge across the Totopotomoy, or they could waylay the Confederates at or near Hanover Court House. Stuart could not strike for the South Anna and swing back to Richmond on a wide arc. The bridge across the river had been burned; the fords were impassably high.20 So Stuart reasoned. If he turned back, danger and perhaps disaster, he concluded speedily, would be his.

  Perhaps he yearned for the more exciting adventure that lay ahead. Nine miles to the southeast was Tunstall’s Station on the York River Railroad, McClellan’s main line of supply. A great achievement it would be to tear up that railway; how the public would praise that feat! By turning south at Tunstall’s and riding eleven miles, Stuart could reach Forge Bridge on the Chickahominy. That crossing, his troopers from the neighborhood told him, had been burned but not beyond quick repair. When the expedition had been planned, Stuart had suggested that the cavalry might ride entirely around the enemy: Why not prove himself correct? It was certain the enemy would not expect him to do what he was contemplating. That was an excellent reason for doing it. Besides, there was a chance of striking terror into the heart of “a boastful and insolent foe.”21 He would do it!

  Stuart’s “Ride Around McClellan” (Chickahominy Raid), June 12-15, 1862.

  There was not a shadow of misgiving on his face. Nor, when he found that his colonels doubted the wisdom of his choice of routes, was there any hesitation. Ostentatiously he inquired of the farmers around Old Church which road he should take to Hanover Court House, and how far it was. Quietly he picked his guides from soldiers who resided in the country he was to enter.22

  The road to this adventure skirted the Pamunkey River. Southward the country was populous. Great
plantations ran down to the meadows and swamps by the streamside. As the column passed, the women, girls, and old men at every house came out to greet the first gray-clad soldiers they had seen in weeks. Now and again there would be a delighted scream of recognition, whereupon some dust-covered boy would break ranks, would leap from his horse and embrace mother or sister.23

  At length the weary horses brought their tired riders to Hopewell Church, whence a road led two miles east to Garlick’s Landing. Satisfied that stores were there under scant guard, Stuart detached two squadrons to swoop down on the place, to bring off any horses they might find, and to apply the torch to what could not be moved off. The main column continued on its way. The road now showed evidence of heavy travel and of vast alarm. Overturned wagons and booty of all sorts lay temptingly at hand where it had been left or thrown away by Federals who had been warned that “the rebels” were descending upon them. Perhaps at Tunstall’s the enemy might be squarely across the front of the advance.

  Soon it was reported that one or two companies of Federal infantry were guarding the station. Swiftly Stuart advanced the head of the column within striking distance and then ordered: “Form platoons! Draw saber! Charge!” Down swept the cavalry at a thunderous gallop. The Federals, too few to resist, scattered almost instantly. Some were captured. Others fled to the woods. Troopers began to tear up the railroad and chop down the telegraph poles nearest the station.

  Now there came a shrill whistle from the westward. A train was approaching—did it bring infantry to oppose the raiders? From the boldness of the whistle blast the engineer could not know that Tunstall’s was in the hands of the Confederates. Derail the train, then; shoot or capture the troops on it. Such obstructions as the men could find they hurled on the track. The troopers in ranks were hurried into ambush alongside the railway. All this was swift work, and not well done. The train came in sight and began to slow. Then, nervously, one excited trooper in ambush fired his pistol. The engineer heard it, sensed danger, and immediately put on full steam. All along the right of way Southerners’ pistols rang out. Will Farley spurred his horse till it caught up with the locomotive, and, at a gallop, shot the engineer. The train continued on its way, fast and faster. A moment more and it was out of range.24