Lee's Lieutenants

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  Stuart selected his stoutest lieutenants and boldest blades—Fitz and Rooney Lee, William C. Wickham and Tom Rosser among them—and with 1,500 troopers started up the Rappahannock. He found unguarded fords, and Warrenton was reached without contest. The enemy, said the residents, had not been there for days. So far, all gain and good prospects! Then, as they neared their objective, black clouds gathered and, ere evening, delivered a violent thunderstorm. While the storm raged in all its fury, Rosser, in command of the advance, captured the Union pickets before they could give the alarm, and conducted Stuart within the Federal lines. At intervals the lightning gave a glimpse of the surroundings; then, when the flash passed, the low-hanging clouds made the night drip blackness. It was, Stuart wrote, “the darkest night I ever knew.”

  Was it prudent to venture on? Would not the regiments become confused? But the goddess of chance, who had deserted Jeb Stuart at Verdiersville, favored him now. Someone brought him a Negro who had been captured nearby, and who recognized Stuart from the cavalry’s service in Berkeley County in 1861. He said he had been impressed to wait on Pope’s headquarters, and knew where General Pope’s tent, staff, and horses were to be found; he could lead the Confederates to the place. To accept his tender was to gamble heavily on the man’s fidelity; to go without a guide was to play against odds that might be heavier. Stuart decided to trust him.

  He must act with the utmost speed. Rooney Lee would take the 9th Virginia and with their guide capture whatever and whoevet was to be found at Federal headquarters; the 1st and 5th were to attack another camp near-by and obstruct the railroad; a picked contingent under Wickham and W. W. Blackford was to set the Cedar Run bridge afire; Robertson would constitute the reserve.

  Through the violence of the downpour a dash was made for Pope’s tent; shouts were raised; firing broke out; frightened teamsters scattered. Guided by the lightning, the Confederate cavalrymen seized prisoners by the score and picked up much booty. But against the bridge their comrades could do nothing. It was too wet to burn and too heavy to cut down. “I gave it up,” said Stuart in his report, which he seldom said of anything he undertook to do. Before morning the column was on its way back.

  When the prisoners could be counted and the loot examined in daylight, Stuart was satisfied. There were more than 300 prisoners, many of them officers. Of manifest importance were Pope’s dispatch book and the originals of numerous letters sent him. Chief of the treasures were General Pope’s hat, his military cloak, and one of his uniform frock coats. The latter was given to Stuart, as partial payment for the hat he had lost at Verdiersville. After proposing to trade it to Pope for his hat, Stuart sent it to Richmond as a present for Governor Letcher. It went on display in the Capitol. The raid on Catlett’s Station created talk of the kind most pleasing to Stuart’s ears, but of military value it had little.4

  That same storm of August 22 supplied more than stage-effects for the second scene in the first act of the new drama, a scene in which General Early played a central and singular role. Jackson’s advance up the Rappahannock in search of an uncontested crossing brought Ewell’s division, on the afternoon of August 22, to a point opposite Warrenton Springs. Here the bridge had been destroyed, but as no enemy was on guard Jackson decided to throw troops across the Rappahannock and, if they found a favorable situation, to follow with the entire force. Lawton’s brigade, with two batteries, started the passage of the river opposite Warrenton Springs; Early’s brigade used an old dam a mile downstream. As Old Jube’s regiments moved over the unstable crossing, the rains came, and night fell before the next brigade could attempt to use the treacherous dam.

  Morning brought as much of concern as of relief. The rain was over, but what troubled Early was the stage of the river between him and the remainder of Jackson’s force. Angrily the Rappahannock rushed southward, full-banked and impassable for troops. The dilapidated dam over which his brigade had passed the previous afternoon was awash and roaring. Early was cut off. Nor could he count on aid from Lawton at Warrenton Springs; Lawton reported that only his two batteries and the 13th Georgia had crossed. Early’s brigade, plus those Georgians, might have to face overwhelming Federal attack.

  While Early was pondering what he should do, Jackson was examining the scene from the other side of the river. He directed Early to good defensive ground near-by until the crossing could be repaired. If the Federals on his front should become too numerous, Early was to proceed upriver to Waterloo Bridge, in which event, Old Jack explained, he would advance simultaneously along the other bank to cover Early’s movement. Ere the morning was far advanced, scouting Federal cavalrymen were seen, hovering around Early’s front in a manner to alarm him. Anxious hours crawled around the clock-face. Infantry in large numbers began to arrive in support of the Federal cavalry. The one consolation Old Jube found, as he viewed what he styled “a critical condition,” was that the bluecoats proceeded with great caution. They evidently did not know his numerical weakness and had as much fear of him as he of them.

  As the afternoon dragged on, Early received welcome reinforcement from the greater part of Robertson’s cavalry brigade, returning from the Catlett’s Station raid. To discomfort the Federals, Robertson’s two guns and two of Early’s engaged in a noisy, banging artillery duel that produced little real hurt to either side. The river still was too high to be forded. Jackson was at work on a temporary bridge, but there was no ascertaining when—or even whether—it could be completed. As night came, scarcely a man in Early’s regiments had tasted food in thirty hours or more. In the darkness and a baffling, obscuring mist there roared a volley from the Federals, and Early thought the end had come and his men would have to fight to the death. He ran out two Napoleons and had them open with canister. The Federals fell back in silence and made no further demonstration.

  At last word reached Early that Ewell would cross over to his position and, if he found the Federals very strong, Early’s and Lawton’s forces would be recalled. The army command did not desire to bring on a general engagement at Warrenton Springs. At 3:00 A.M. Ewell arrived in person, listened to report of the enemy’s movements, and promptly ordered the whole force back to the other bank. Hungry men lost no time in getting the guns to safety and in following, regiment by regiment, as fast as the feeble bridge would take them. Soon after daylight they were safe on Jackson’s side of the stream. “My command,” Early concluded, “was thus rescued from almost certain capture….”5

  One other there was, besides Early and Stuart, to have his moment in the center of the stage during this first act of the new drama. The day that Jeb rode to Catlett’s and Old Jube found himself cut off near Warrenton Springs, August 22, General Trimble was left by Ewell to guard the crossing of Hazel River while the Confederate wagon train was laboring northward. All of Jackson’s other troops had passed; Trimble was to remain until the vanguard of Longstreet’s command should reach the ford. To the pugnacious Trimble, a duty normally boresome proved welcome.

  Soon after taking position, he received word that a Federal force had crossed the Rappahannock and captured some mules and ambulances from the train. Immediately Trimble detached a regiment in pursuit, which overtook the marauders and recaptured the property. From a prisoner he learned that one, and perhaps two, Federal brigades were on the south side of the river and intent on mischief. He reasoned that the blue-coats might be too numerous for him to assail without help, and chose to emulate the rabbit and “lay low.” He ascertained the enemy’s position and awaited the coming of Hood, who was in the lead for Longstreet.

  Trimble was proud of what followed, and described it with gusto: “After a sharp conflict … the enemy were driven back to the hills on the river…. Our men boldly advanced with enthusiastic cheers … and slaughtered great numbers as they waded the river or climbed up the opposite bank…. I retired unmolested and camped one and a half miles distant, leaving General Hood, who had taken no part in the contest, to look after the enemy.”

  This exploit w
as soldierly and creditable, and was written down to Trimble’s credit in the book of Jackson’s long memory. The one unpleasant aspect of the affair was Trimble’s casual, not to say slurring, remark that Hood “had taken no part in the contest.” Hood’s report did not conform to Trimble’s on that score, reporting that the Texas Brigade and Law’s had attacked on each side of Trimble “leading off in the center.” What did this conflict of testimony indicate? Would Hood seek credit for an action he had not fought? Was Trimble disposed to ignore what others had done in the battle?6

  2

  JACKSON IS HIMSELF AGAIN

  It was August 24, Sunday, but Old Jack, for all his love of the Lord’s Day, was not in a Sabbath mood. His quartermaster and commissary services were not working well. The troops were ill fed. Officers were not setting the example they should. To discourage straggling, Jackson had already staged a dramatic warning. Three deserters who had been caught were court-martialed and condemned. Blindfolded, they had been placed by open graves. The whole of Jackson’s division had been marched through somber woods to see the trio fall before a firing squad, and then been filed past the dead bodies to observe how they had been riddled. Jackson insisted that officers bestir themselves to enforce the discipline without which there could be no army. Five regimental commanders—all those in Gregg’s brigade—had been placed under arrest because their men, contrary to orders, had burned some fence palings.7

  Early afternoon brought a change to Jackson’s mood, a thrilling change. Lee presented him such an opportunity as never had come to him, not even on that May day when he had been told he could advance on Banks. An end was put to watching fords, to side slipping on the Rappahannock. Larger maneuver was necessary. Jackson was to move secretly up the river, cross at some convenient place, and strike in Pope’s rear the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, the Federal line of supply. The remainder of the army was to occupy the enemy long enough for Jackson to get a good start. Then the troops left on the Rappahannock would march to rejoin him. On this bold move Lee had decided because he believed a threat to the Federal rear would force Pope to retreat quickly and thereby lengthen the distance between Pope and the reinforcements that soon would be arriving. Jackson was to take all three of his divisions and start as soon as arrangements could be made.8

  The mission fired Old Jack. He knew in detail the country immediately around Manassas, but with the routes east of the Blue Ridge that led to the Orange and Alexandria he was unacquainted. His topographical engineer, J. K. Boswell, who came from that section of Virginia, was ordered to report immediately. He was instructed to ascertain the best, most covered route around Pope’s right and to the Federal rear.9 No immediate decision concerning a precise objective was attempted at the moment. The imperative task was to reach the railroad. From the very nature of the terrain and the course of the roads, the vicinity of Manassas Junction was the indicated general objective.

  Arrangements had to be made, next, for the issuance and cooking of rations that evening and for the driving of beef-cattle with the column. Longstreet rode up for conference, agreeing to relieve A. P. Hill’s batteries with guns from his command so that Hill’s brigades would be free to start with Jackson’s other divisions. All the preliminaries were smooth and encouraging, except for the fear that the commissary could not supply sufficient rations. Should meat and bread be lacking, the men would have to subsist on the corn that was nearing maturity in the fields along the roads Jackson would follow.

  All baggage was to be left behind; with the columns were to move only the cattle, the ordnance train, and the ambulances. The order of march was to Ewell, A. P. Hill, Taliaferro. Doubtless this was arranged deliberately: Ewell was a fast, sure man on the road. If Hill kept Ewell’s pace, there could be none of the tardiness that Jackson charged against the Light Division. The start was to be at early dawn, “with the utmost promptitude, without knapsacks.”10

  “Fall in” was shouted in the half-dawn of August 25. Quietly and swiftly the column moved northwestward five and a half miles, past the hamlet of Amissville, then turned northeast another two miles to Hedgeman’s River, the larger of the two streams the united flow of which, meeting at Waterloo Bridge, made the Rappahannock. Unhindered and unopposed, Jackson was “across the Rappahannock” and headed for the rear of Pope’s army. In the van rode Captain Boswell to guide the column. Well in advance, the 2nd Virginia cavalry scouted to make sure no enemy troopers lay in wait.

  The order was the familiar one, “Close up, men, close up.” No straggling and no delays were permitted. Those who had cooked rations devoured them soon on the soldiers’ principle that food is safer in the stomach than in the haversack. Corn from the fields and apples from nearby trees were snatched and eaten as the men pushed on. Progress was excellent. Orlean was passed. Salem, eleven miles farther north on the Manassas Gap Railroad, must have been set by Jackson as his objective for the day.

  Late in the afternoon, as he approached Salem, Jackson halted, got off his horse, and stood for a time by a large stone by the roadside. Bareheaded, he paused to look at the sun as it disappeared behind the mountains. In that dramatic posture he was overtaken by a marching regiment. Immediately the men forgot their weariness and began to cheer him. He made a swift, friendly gesture to silence them, and then sent an officer to explain that they must not make any noise lest the enemy hear. The word was passed down the column—“No cheering.” Obediently the men passed in silence. Their look, their smiles, their uplifted caps and raised arms were more eloquent than their shouts. Jackson was proud and pleased. “Who could not conquer,” he said to his staff, “with such troops as these?”11

  Sketch of the terrain of Jackson’s march to cut Pope’s line of supply, August 1862.

  One mile south of Salem the column halted for the night. Ewell’s division arrived in time for reasonable slumber. The rear guard did not reach the bivouac until late in the evening. Thousands had to stretch themselves out hungry. Jackson regretted that these men had not been fed, but otherwise he was at ease and gratified. The army had marched twenty-five miles. Ahead, on August 26, was a march equally long.12

  One material obstacle, one only, had to be faced on the twenty-sixth. About halfway between Salem and the Orange and Alexandria was Thoroughfare Gap in the Bull Run Mountains. If it was defended by a Federal force of any size, it might be held long enough for the alarm to be sounded and for Jackson to be cheated of a surprise attack on the railway. He would make the best of the inescapable gamble—he sent his cavalry forward as soon as there was a touch of gray in the eastern sky. When the 2nd Virginia climbed to the pass and scrutinized all the approaches, it found—not one Federal. The gap was unguarded.

  Upward by White Plains and through the gap the column moved and over the rolling hills that led toward Hay Market. Not until the troopers in the van reached Hay Market did they encounter any Federals. The dozen or so horsemen picked up seemed more like stragglers than videttes. Everything gave promise that the ideal military situation would be created—that the enemy would be surprised in his own rear. Hungry men plundered corn fields and orchards, but caught up again; the speed of the march was not slackened. Always Jackson’s exhortation was, “Close up, men, close up; push on, push on!” Old Jack himself was dust-covered and silent. Of his thoughts, his reasoning, he said not a word. In midafternoon the main body of Stuart’s cavalry overtook the laboring column, at hand and ready to cover the van and the flanks.13

  Now the direction of the march changed. To reach the railroad, Jackson’s assigned objective, the shortest route was from Gainesville to Bristoe Station, four miles below Manassas Junction. Near Bristoe Station the railway bridged Broad Run, and destruction of that crossing would make the quick repair of the railway impossible. Obediently toward Bristoe the soldiers now turned their faces. Limping and weary, they were encouraged by the absence of any Federal outposts. Residents said that only one company of infantry and one of cavalry were stationed at Bristoe. A dash on the village would result,
no doubt, in the capture of this guard. Then would come the work of destroying the railroad and the bridge.

  Munford readied his 2nd Virginia cavalry for a dash to Bristoe Station. As his supporting infantry waited in the sunset, he quietly advanced to within 100 yards of the station before he was seen. As his troopers rushed forward with a shout, the few Union cavalrymen at the station made off in frenzied haste. The infantry ran into a hotel and from that shelter opened a weak, nervous fire. While Munford’s troopers were dealing with these Federals, the Louisiana and North Carolina infantry with them were alerted by the sound of a train whistle from the south. Some snatched up a few wooden sills which they threw across the track. Others sought frantically to unbolt a rail, but the engine was upon them. It passed, struck the sills and scattered them, and in a shower of bullets rushed off toward Manassas Junction.

  The Confederates would be ready next time. They found a derailing switch which they opened, and the 21st North Carolina lined up alongside the right of way to give the train crew a volley. They had not long to wait. A whistle, and the train swept confidently nearer with no reduction in speed, came under fire, and hit the open switch. With a crash engine and half the train plunged down an embankment. Loud were the guffaws when the men saw that the locomotive was named the “President” and its steam dome bore a picture of Mr. Lincoln. Through this a Confederate rifle ball had passed. A third train soon followed, ran into the cars left on the track, and created a jungle of shattered wood and twisted iron. Still another train approached, but by this time the drama was played out. The engineer saw the wreckage ahead, put on his brakes, and quickly backed out of range. To finish the scene, Jackson had the bridge over Broad Run burned.14

  Booty was not to be had from the smashed freight cars, but the residents of Bristoe spoke of Manassas Junction, where General Pope had accumulated enormous supplies of every sort. Rations by the hundreds of thousands were in storage. Quartermaster stores in equal quantity awaited call. Jackson listened, calculated, and concluded that he could not afford to wait till morning to start after these treasures. Lest they be spoiled or burned, they must be seized for the Confederacy, but by whom? Many of the infantry, where they were halted, had fallen into exhausted sleep. They had earned their rest; A. P. Hill computed that in the two days’ march his men had covered fifty-four miles. Who, then, would march in darkness four long miles up the railroad to secure those supplies?