Lee's Lieutenants

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  That evening Jed Hotchkiss came to report. From the Peaked Mountain he had been able to look across the South Fork to Shields’s line of march. About 4:00 P.M. the van of the Federal army had encamped two miles beyond Conrad’s Store. The roads east of the South Fork were as bad as the one Jackson was now following, and it was apparent that Shields could not reach the bridge at Port Republic before Jackson arrived there. If a battle impended, which Jackson began to doubt, there was scant prospect that it would be waged against Shields and Frémont combined.17

  On the sixth, Jackson marched easily with the van of his army to Port Republic. There he received dispatches and newspapers from Richmond and learned of the immense sensation his operations had created. The Charleston Mercury had acclaimed Jackson a “true general” and predicted that the next news would be that he was “leading his unconquerable battalions through Maryland into Pennsylvania.” Depressing articles in the Northern press were jubilantly republished. All this had a noticeable effect on Jackson. Ambitious as he was for military distinction, his conscience told him that the South was giving him glory that belonged to God. Those close to him observed that he ceased to read the newspapers.

  The communications from Richmond were, of course, a different matter. By his own hand, President Davis wrote to congratulate Jackson on his “brilliant campaign” and to express regret that no reinforcements could be sent. This letter was based on the information Colonel Boteler had given Davis upon arrival in Richmond from Winchester. If the denial of reinforcements dampened satisfaction over the President’s approval, Jackson was too disciplined a soldier to complain. Should the Army of the Valley be required at Richmond, Jackson wrote, it could march to Mechum River Station. “At present,” he went on, “I do not see that I can do much more than rest my command and devote its time to drilling.”18

  About 9 o’clock that evening, at headquarters at Port Republic, Jackson received the worst news that had come to him in the entire campaign. At dusk, he was told, the rear guard fighting had sharpened, and Ewell had to send back infantry to beat off the bluecoats. The affair was over now, the danger was past; but in the first clash in the woods Ashby’s horse had been shot, and Ashby himself had gone forward on foot with the cry, “Forward, my brave men”—and had fallen dead with a bullet through his body. Ashby dead? It took all Jackson’s self-mastery to receive that news without paralyzing emotion. Ashby dead, the idol of his troopers, the modest gentleman, the leader whose daring seemed instinctive! Jackson had sought to discipline the troopers; Ashby had been angry and defiant, but he had been reconciled to his chief and, if possible, he had fought harder after the controversy than before.19

  Now they were bringing Ashby’s body to the town. His troopers were gathered about the body. Scout Richard Black, bravest of the brave, was delivering the soldiers’ eulogy: “We shall miss you mightily, General. We shall miss you in the camp. We shall miss you as we go out on the scout. But we shall miss you most, General, when we go out to—” There he stopped. He could say no more.20

  2

  A CROWNING DOUBLE VICTORY

  On the morning of June 7 the skies smiled. The roads around Port Republic were heavy, and the streams were high, but the rain had ceased. From the west flowed the North River to meet, northeast of Port Republic, the South River; together the two passed Luray Valley as the South Fork of the Shenandoah. Port Republic lay in the angle formed by the North and South rivers. Back of the village, to the south and southwest, was a high ridge, whence ran a road to Mount Meridian and thence sixteen miles to Staunton.

  Strategically, the important area was the left bank of the North River near the confluence; there commanding ground overlooked the village. Eastward and southeastward were the long, open meadows on the right bank of the South River. Still farther eastward, at a distance from one to two miles, was a heavy forest that ran up to the spurs of the Blue Ridge. The crossings were as important as the high ground that overlooked them. From the village the traveler on the road to Harrisonburg traversed the North River on a long wooden structure, but there was no bridge over the South River or over the South Fork near the junction of the two streams. Only fords were available there, and these were now dangerously high and swift.

  As Shields was reported still east of the South Fork, moving south from Conrad’s Store, Jackson could hope, not unreasonably, to prevent a junction between Frémont and Shields. So long as the Confederates held off Frémont to the west, Shields could continue south only along the road that led up the South Fork and under the dominating ridge. On the other hand, if Shields should venture far enough to offer battle opposite Port Republic, Jackson could not afford to disregard Frémont altogether and cross the entire army to the left bank of South River. Were Jackson to do that, Frémont could advance to the height near the bridge and with his batteries sweep the Confederates engaged with Shields east of the river.

  Besides, if Jackson moved all his forces to the eastern side of South River and burned the one bridge behind him, he would have no means of dealing later with Frémont. It was reasonable to suppose that if either Frémont or Shields were defeated, the other would not venture a march on Staunton or toward the railroad that linked Staunton with eastern Virginia; but Jackson was anxious not to limit his own ability to move in any direction. His decision consequently was to tempt Frémont to battle and, meantime, to hold the ridge opposite Port Republic and the bridge linking the two positions.21

  It was in vain, on the seventh, that Jackson rode to Ewell’s lines near Cross Keys and there maneuvered in the hope of inducing Frémont to fight. The Federal commander, though he had pursued with much vigor, seemed in no mood to force events.22 At length Jackson returned to Port Republic, and reviewed his dispositions:

  Ewell was on good ground near Cross Keys with three brigades, about 5,000 effectives. Jackson on the ridge north of Port Republic had his own division and Edward Johnsons command. Taylor’s brigade of Ewell’s division was to come up the next morning; with it Jackson would have a total of not more than 8,000 bayonets. At the upper ford of South River, on the southeastern edge of Port Republic, was a 25-man picket under Captain Samuel J. C. Moore, 2nd Virginia. South of Port Republic and on the road to Mount Meridian was extended the army’s wagon train. While the batteries were with the infantry units, the cavalry was much scattered. Most of the companies of the 6th and 7th Virginia were guarding the wagon train. The 2nd Virginia troopers were covering Ewell’s right and rear. Immediately around Port Republic were a few cavalry scouting parties; in the town was J. J. Chipley’s troop.23

  Early on the morning of Sunday, June 8, a fine, cool day, news of unexpected character arrived. Federal cavalry was sighted at Lewiston, an estate some two miles east of Port Republic. This might mean much or little, but if Shields were advancing, Ewell would do well to defer action. Jackson, who was at the house of Dr. George Kemper on the outskirts of Port Republic, so advised Ewell and himself prepared to go over to the high ground on the other side of the bridge to see what was afoot on the right side of the South Fork. He felt no concern, and when Major Dabney asked if there would be any military action that day, he answered: “No, you know I always try to keep the Sabbath if the enemy will let me.” The general went about his routine duties; the adjutant returned to his camp to prepare his sermon; the Sabbath calm continued.24

  About 9 o’clock a single cavalryman rode up to the Kemper house at a gallop and went directly to the general: The Federals, he said, had crossed the lower ford of South River, with cavalry and artillery, and already were in the town! Jackson received the news quietly: “Go back and fight them,” he said—that and no more. Scarcely had he spoken than firing broke out. Jackson did not wait for horse or escort. With long strides he started toward the scene of the fusillade. In a few moments he saw down the street a column of Federal cavalrymen. Had they observed the Confederates on foot? Did they recognize officers in gray? Would they dash on and capture the general? Breathless the questions, doubtful the issue, but at tha
t moment Jackson’s orderly brought up his horse. He mounted quickly and galloped off toward the bridge across North River.25

  Just then a Union trooper rode jubilantly up to report to his colonel that the whole Confederate wagon train was “just up yonder, in full sight across that old farm—hundreds of wagons and no troops!” The Federals formed confidently in the street and started at a slow trot toward the Kemper house. As they turned toward Dr. Kemper’s lawn, a brisk little volley of rifle fire greeted them. The troopers recoiled, but their colonel re-formed them and sent them forward again. This time, when they made the turn, “Bang! Bang!” went two cannon. Again the Federals galloped back; again their commander sent them forward—to be met with the same artillery fire and another infantry volley. Watching this scene in amazement was Jackson’s artillerist Stapleton Crutchfield, who had not gotten away quickly enough and had fallen into the hands of the blue troopers. “Where on earth did those guns come from?” Crutchfield asked himself. “Did I not post all the batteries?” Whatever the answers might be, the Federal troopers could not again be induced to face this fire sweeping the street from end to end.26

  Jackson had galloped across the bridge just as the Federals were closing on him. He hurried to the nearest batteries and ordered them to open on Federals who were plainly visible on the east side of South River. Taliaferro and Winder were directed to put their brigades under arms and take possession of the bridge. Taylor’s brigade was called up in support. As soon as Taliaferro’s Virginians came up, Jackson rode to the head of the column, ordered it to descend to the bridge, to give a volley, and then to rush the crossing with the bayonet. This said, Jackson dropped the reins on the neck of his horse and lifted both hands on high. The reply was a roar from the men, an overwhelming volley, and, in another moment or two, a dash across the bridge. In a few minutes, the village was cleared.

  Crutchfield and other captured officers were recovered, and, in rejoicing and relief, the mystery of the first fire on the Federals in the village was explained. Most of Chipley’s cavalry troop, which was guarding the place, had fled shamefully, but Captain Moore’s infantry picket at the ford had rallied and delivered the volleys that halted the blue troopers. The artillery salvoes had been the work of just-arrived Carrington’s battery, Charlottesville Artillery. Major Dabney, aroused from meditation on his sermon, had a hand in this defense. Thanks to these men, none of the wagons had been lost.27

  Hardly had Jackson and his staff congratulated themselves on the narrowness of their escape when there drifted across the fields the sound of battle to the westward. Ewell was engaged with Frémont. Shields, of course, heard the same rumble—would he launch his attack? Was the army to be compelled to fight two actions simultaneously? Jackson decided to remain at Port Republic and leave to Ewell the handling of the action at Cross Keys.28

  Ewell’s line rested on a ridge two miles southeast of the village of Cross Keys. Woods protected both flanks. In Ewell’s judgment the center, which was pierced by a road, was decidedly weak. He posted his four batteries to command the road and put Elzey’s brigade in reserve behind, whence it could move in either direction. About 10:00 A.M. an artillery duel began at the center of the line that continued steadily but without decisive result of any sort. Elzey directed the gunners with fine contempt for the enemy’s sharpshooters and their shell, paying no heed to the suggestion that the next shot might be his.

  As Frémont made no move to follow up his cannonade on the center, it became apparent that he intended to direct his infantry attack against the Confederate right. Trimble’s brigade was there, admirably placed. Slowly, conspicuously and in good order, the bluecoats mounted the hill, as if they were on a practice maneuver. Scarcely a shot greeted them until they were near the crest. Then, as if they had a single trigger, all the muskets along the Confederate line were loosed. The Federals staggered, attempted to rally, recoiled in the face of a second volley, and in a short time retired.29

  Back, now, the action shifted to the artillery. Elzey shrewdly directed the fire for a few minutes until his horse was killed and he himself was wounded. Within fifteen minutes the battle became so dull an affair that it irked General Trimble. If the enemy would not attack him, he would take the offensive! He threw his troops forward more than a mile beyond their first position. There, when Jackson reached the field about noon, it was resting, and there Ewell reluctantly decided he must leave it. Nothing happened; the artillery fire died away; the enemy scarcely showed himself within range. Finally, after it seemed certain that no attack would develop, Ewell slowly moved up his skirmishers and at nightfall occupied the position from which the enemy had advanced in the morning.30

  Back at Port Republic, Jackson had appeared at his strangest. Not long after noon he remarked to Dabney, his chief of staff, “Major, wouldn’t it be a blessed thing if God would give us a glorious victory today?” A lieutenant who overheard him said, “I saw his face with an expression like that of a child hoping to receive some favor.” Most of the time Old Jack stood in silent thought with his eyes on the ground. After some hours, confident of victory, he began shaping his plans for the morrow in the knowledge that the day’s losses had been light. General Steuart had been wounded in the shoulder; General Elzey would be out of action for a fortnight or more; but the other casualties in Ewell’s division had not been more than 288, of whom only 41 had been killed. The army, unimpaired, was ready for whatever might give it the largest promise of victory.31

  How best could it be employed? Jackson’s reasoning was prompt and decisive: He was nearer Shields than Frémont; he believed Shields commanded the smaller of the two Union forces. If he beat Frémont that officer would have an easy line of retreat down the Valley Pike, while Shields had a bad road to follow back to Luray. All the weight of advantage was on the side of dealing first with Shields. If Shields were beaten early, while Frémont was being held at Cross Keys, might it not be possible to return to Port Republic and cross the bridge to assail Frémont? It was worth trying! Should events preclude attacking Frémont, then the destruction of the bridge over the North River would leave Frémont powerless to force action or even attempt quick pursuit.

  For the execution of the more difficult part of this daring design, Jackson issued explicit instructions. At daybreak on the ninth Ewell was to march for Port Republic, but was to leave in front of Frémont the brigade of Trimble and Patton’s 42nd Virginia and 1st Virginia battalion. These troops were to put up a bold front and delay Frémont as long as possible. Should they be pressed hard, they were to retire toward Port Republic and burn behind them the bridge on North River. To make sure these orders to the rear guard were understood, Jackson sent for Colonel Patton and instructed him in detail. How long did the General expect him to delay Frémont? Patton asked. Jackson’s answer was explicit: “By the blessing of Providence, I hope to be back by 10 o’clock.”32

  As the silent Jackson rode from his headquarters at daybreak he encountered General Winder, who asked for instructions. The commander was cautious in his reply. Winder would take his brigade across the South Fork of the Shenandoah. Jackson would himself go with them. He said no more but touched his horse and, under a sky that gave promise of a clear day, proceeded across the stream and directed Winder to march northeastward along the line of the enemy’s retreat the previous day. In the open country that lay between the river and the rising, wooded ridges of the mountains, the column moved slowly for nearly an hour. On the right ahead the plantation buildings of Lewiston were visible. About 7 o’clock a cavalry officer came back from the advance with the news that always stirs and sickens: The enemy’s picket line had been reached.

  Jackson stopped and studied the position. Open ground to the northeast rose gradually from the river to the wooded shoulder of the Blue Ridge. The profile below the mountain seemed in the form of two terraces, on the upper one of which stood Lewiston. In rear of the house was a large “coaling,” a clear space on which charcoal was prepared, with indications of the presence
of artillery, although no guns were visible. From the coaling down toward the river the Federal infantry could be glimpsed, its strength unknown. Between the Confederates and the enemy the ground was entirely open and, except for an orchard, was covered with a field of ripening wheat.33

  A strong position the enemy held, but Jackson impetuously determined to take it at a single blow in order not to delay his proposed march on Frémont. Without waiting for any supports to come up, he ordered Winder to drive in the pickets and to attack the enemy. No sooner was the advance of the infantry started than smoke billowed over the coaling near the Lewiston house. Federal shell from unseen guns there screamed down the road and burst among the Confederate infantrymen. The cannon fire was fast, accurate, and continuous. Quickly Jackson directed Winder to send a force to the right through the woods to take the Federal guns; a battery was to follow to find a position above that of the enemy. Winder assigned this task to the 2nd Virginia, with the 4th in support, and designated Carpenters battery to climb the ridge. The other two regiments of his brigade he disposed on the center and left. Only the two Parrott guns of Poague’s battery could reach the Federal fieldpieces at the coaling. The remaining Confederate guns had to be held in idleness under cover. Soon it was learned that no support was forthcoming. The brunt of the infantry action and that killing fire from the vicinity of Lewiston must be borne by the Stonewall Brigade alone.

  Nor was this the full measure of disadvantage. When the flanking party entered the woods on the right it ran into a tangle of mountain laurel that proved almost impenetrable. The infantrymen crashed and cut and dodged their way slowly forward; the battery had to give up the attempt. Captain Carpenter brought his guns back and put them into play near Poague’s two Parrotts.The situation began to look serious. The Confederate fire remained defensive and inferior. If relief was to be had it must come from the 2nd Virginia reaching and overwhelming the Union battery at the coaling. He had pressed to within 100 yards of the battery, Colonel James Allen reported, when the guns “poured volley after volley of grape on us in such quick succession as to throw my men into confusion.” The same fate befell the 4th Virginia. Colonel Allen had no alternative except to draw both regiments out of action.34