Lee's Lieutenants

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  Jackson’s reliance, for the autumn, had to be on Harvey Hill and Powell Hill. With the one his relations presumably were as cordial as with the other they unhappily were strained. No less sharp was the contrast between the records of “the two Hills” during the Maryland expedition. Harvey Hills handling of the action on South Mountain seems to have been unfavorably appraised, at least among certain irreverent junior officers. Said young Ham Chamberlayne: “People up here are very generally beginning to call D. H. Hill a numskull. If Harper’s Ferry had held out 24 hours longer, as it should have done, D.H. would have cost us our army, our life, our freedom.”26 At Sharpsburg Harvey Hill had been stubborn and personally courageous. He proved that day, by comparison with his performance at South Mountain, that he was at his best when he had good men on either side of him and was fighting without full responsibility for the field. In that type of combat he had no superior. Off the field, however, Hill’s disposition to find fault with his comrades helps to explain the difficulty of using to best advantage his undeniable excellencies.

  Powell Hill’s record had been, all in all, the best by any division commander, except perhaps Hood. Much of the burden of maneuver and preparation had fallen to the Light Division at Harper’s Ferry. Hill’s march to Sharpsburg had equaled the best performance of Jackson’s foot cavalry. Nothing had been lacking in the fierce and well-directed attack of the division at the moment the battle almost was lost. Lee, in his report, described the attack as the decisive move of the day. Proud and sensitive the commander of the Light Division was, but diligent in camp and furious in battle. If he and Jackson could work together, his brigades might prove to be the backbone of the new Second Corps. They were well organized; together they were numerically stronger than any other division; they had fewer officers of rank absent on account of wounds.

  The brigadiers of Jackson’s corps were, at the moment, about on a par with those of Longstreet—five new generals, the same number as in the First Corps. The gamble on individuals was in proportion. Nothing indicated any particular doubt concerning Alfred Iverson, colonel of the 20th North Carolina, who was advanced to the command of Garland’s brigade. No distress was expressed that George Doles of the 4th Georgia had replaced Roswell Ripley, ordered to service in South Carolina. The experience of Ripley at South Mountain had not been happy. D. H. Hill complained in his report that “Ripley did not draw trigger,” and that night, in withdrawing, Ripley forgot altogether the 4th Georgia, which narrowly escaped capture. At Sharpsburg Ripley’s personal conduct, as always, was courageous and bold. The choleric general was carried to the rear with a neck wound, but within an hour and a half he was back with his men and able to keep the field till action was concluded. Doles, who succeeded him, had been a businessman in Georgia before the war, but he had aptitude for the military life and as a colonel had shown fiber and vigor.27

  Nothing was done immediately in the case of President Davis’s close friend, Thomas F. Drayton. In Maryland the poor performance of Drayton’s troops at Manassas was twice duplicated. Even the considerate commanding general had to admit to the President that the brigade “broke to pieces” at South Mountain and Sharpsburg.28

  These were minor weaknesses in the Second Corps. A majority of the brigade commanders were capable and some of them were rich in promise. Particularly this was true of Powell Hill’s subordinates. Branch would be missed, but Jim Lane, who succeeded to the brigade, was a two-fisted, vigorously human commander. Especially had Archer and Pender distinguished themselves in Maryland. On the heights above Burnside’s Bridge Archer was so ill that he scarcely could keep his saddle, but in his handling of his brigade there had been nothing feeble, nothing doubtful. At Harper’s Ferry and Shepherdstown Dorsey Pender had shown himself qualified to handle more than one brigade. The forthright young general had increasingly the confidence of his chief.

  The artillery had won at Sharpsburg honors that equaled those of any of these infantry commands. Outranged, outgunned, and exposed to better projectiles than they could return, the Confederates had suffered frightfully. On Jackson’s wing, John Pelham held control of a dominating hill to the left with the spirit and fire the army had come to expect of him. On the center, where Boyce and Miller distinguished themselves, the most shining figure was Colonel Stephen D. Lee, who commanded a battalion of six batteries stationed near the Dunker church during much of the heaviest fighting. On the opposite flank, A. P. Hill reported his satisfaction with the service of his “splendid batteries.” As always, Captain William Pegram was in the heaviest of the action and for the first time was wounded. In the reorganization following the battle, Stephen D. Lee was promoted brigadier general and ordered to Vicksburg. To his battalion was assigned another young artillerist who was to win fame both as a participant in and as a historian of the campaigns of the Army of Northern Virginia—Lieutenant Colonel E. Porter Alexander.29

  In the cavalry, also, after Sharpsburg, praise was distributed and reorganization was undertaken. For Jeb Stuart’s part in the campaign there was no stint of the applause he loved. Performance justified praise, but for the first time Stuart almost had a rival. Fitz Lee’s conduct was so fine that his uncle, the commanding general, though careful never to display his deep pride of family, could not ignore what Fitz had done. He covered admirably the withdrawal from South Mountain, delayed the advance of the Federals to Sharpsburg, and held the enemy in check the morning after the infantry recrossed the Potomac into Virginia. Stuart had high words of praise for Fitz Lee, but in commendation of Hampton, who had done splendid service, he was not so warm; nor was he generous toward Colonel Tom Munford, who had defended Crampton’s Gap, or Colonel Tom Rosser, who had held off the Federals atop South Mountain. Stuart’s silence may have been the result of oversight; it may have been the first expression of jealousy.

  Reorganization of the cavalry, dictated by the increase in the number of units, involved the creation of another brigade. To the command of this, Rooney Lee, colonel of the 9th Virginia cavalry and second son of the general-in-chief, was named. Stuart, and not the new brigadier’s father, doubtless was responsible for this. By the transfer of Beverly Robertson a vacancy had been created at the head of the Laurel Brigade, which included Ashby’s old command. In Maryland this brigade had been led by Colonel Tom Munford, but, contrary to Stuart’s wishes, the promotion went to William E. (“Grumble”) Jones, colonel of the 7th Virginia—an appointment that was to bring Jones into difficulties. This was followed by a transfer of a few regiments to give approximately equal strength to each of the four cavalry brigades.

  Deserved as were most of the promotions of October and November, the real hero of the army at Sharpsburg was, once more, the army itself. Lee had said of it, soon after it had entered Maryland,”… the material of which it is composed is the best in the world, and, if properly disciplined and instructed, would be able successfully to resist any force that could be brought against it.” When the 40,000 who remained to fight, footsore and hungry, had beaten off the attacks at Sharpsburg, Lee could have echoed the exclamation of J. R. Jones: “In this fight every officer and man was a hero….“That spirit in Maryland—and not Early, or Cooke, or Hood, or Powell Hill, or even Jackson and Lee—made the Army of Northern Virginia “terrible in battle.”30

  4

  HOW TO ACCOMPLISH “THE IMPOSSIBLE”

  Restful weeks those of the early autumn of 1862 were for an army that had been fighting since June. Monotonous weeks they might have been, too, if Jeb Stuart had not offered one question, at least, for campfire debate. That question was whether he and his men ever should have attempted the October raid, or having undertaken it, should have escaped with whole hides.

  The operation originated, so far as the records show, not with the chief of cavalry but with the army commander. Lee wished to know what McClellan was doing and where the Union forces were spread. A reconnaissance in force seemed to be justified and might be extended to a raid pushed as far as Chambersburg. North of the town th
e Cumberland Valley Railroad crossed a branch of Conococheague Creek. By burning the bridge there the Southern cavalry could stop the southward movement of supplies to the Federal railhead at Hagerstown, forcing McClellan to rely exclusively on the B. & O. for railway communication. That prospect was worth the risk of a brief “expedition,” as Lee chose to style it.

  Stuart was delighted with the assignment and gratified by the discretion his orders gave him. Any legitimate damage he could inflict on the enemy while gathering information would be in order. “Should you be led so far east as to make it better, in your opinion, to continue around to the Potomac,” Lee’s orders read, “you will have to cross the river in the vicinity of Leesburg.” In other words, if the cautions that had preceded the raid of June 12-15 were repeated, the opportunities were duplicated. With daring and luck, a second glorious “Ride around McClellan’ was ahead for those lucky enough to share in the expedition!31

  Stuart selected 1,800 of his most reliable and best-mounted cavalry and chose as the commanding officers Wade Hampton, Rooney Lee, Grumble Jones, Williams Wickham, and Calbraith Butler. Four guns of the horse artillery were to go under Pelham’s charge. Stuart and his staff made their farewells at headquarters by dancing the night away with the young ladies of the neighborhood.32 At daybreak on October 10 the column crossed the Potomac, overwhelmed a small picket at McCoys Ford, ten miles upstream from Williamsport, and started northward.

  So long as the column was in Maryland it kept in close order and turned not at all from the road for food or plunder. Crossing the Pennsylvania line and pressing on toward Mercersburg, Stuart placed a “division” of 600 troopers in front under Hampton, and 600 to cover the rear. The central unit of 600 was sent out on either side of the road to collect horses from farmers who had no warning that graycoats were north of the Potomac. Little trouble was encountered. Powerful draft horses were led off without the removal even of collars. Well was it so. No quartermaster on the Confederate side of the Potomac had any collars large enough for those animals.33

  Before the column could reach Chambersburg darkness descended. “I deemed it prudent to demand the surrender of the town,” Wade Hampton reported. “…In reply to this summons three citizens, on the part of the citizens at large, came forward to ask the terms proposed.” These were arranged quickly. The troopers clattered in and established themselves. Stuart named Hampton “Military Governor,” as if he were to spend the autumn there. It was found that the bank’s funds had been carried away at the first alarm. The mission to burn the railroad bridge over Conococheague Creek was no more successful. The bridge was of iron and defied Grumble Jones’s axes. A military depot and the railroad shops were left to be burned by the rear guard.34

  The next morning, to the troopers’ surprise, Stuart started eastward as if he were going to a college town of which, perhaps, few of the men ever had heard at the time—a place called Gettysburg. This choice of the longer road back to Virginia was not a display of bravado. It was application of the sound old principle of strategy that the unexpected move often is the wisest. Stuart said to Captain William Blackford, “If I should fall before reaching Virginia, I want you to vindicate my memory,” and explained that every argument was for recrossing the river downstream. Every advantage would be on the side of the Confederates, except for the distance to be covered and the proximity of the large Union forces at Harper’s Ferry. Quick marching and precautions against the dispatch of the news of the column’s position, said the general, would overcome the two disadvantages.35

  Stuart’s choice of a return route exhibited his developing strategic sense and one quality of military character that he had displayed on the ride around McClellan in front of Richmond. He chose the bolder course in Pennsylvania as on the Chickahominy. Nor was there any question, from Lee’s orders, of Stuart’s authority to exercise discretion. “I started directly toward Gettysburg,” Stuart related, “but, having passed the Blue Ridge, started back… to Maryland by Emmitsburg….”

  As soon as Maryland soil again was reached, the seizure of horses ended. Captured animals to the number of 1,200 remained with the central “division.” These well-broken Pennsylvania draft horses shared obediently in the march. The weather was itself good fortune. Roads damp from rain the previous evening raised no dust. Small prospect there was that the remote Federal signal stations could guess the direction of the Confederate march. At that, Stuart took no chances. He halted and held temporarily all travelers the column met or overtook.36

  Learning from a captured courier that General Pleasonton and 800 Union cavalry were four miles west of the point where Stuart then was, he veered eastward across the Monocacy to a road that paralleled the Frederick-Emmitsburg highway. He was now approximately thirty-seven miles south of Emmitsburg and a mile or two farther than that from the Potomac—about halfway to safety. Long the road stretched ahead under a high-riding moon that was nearing its last quarter. The men were hungry, nodding, numb, or asleep. Stuart could not afford to give them the rest even of an hour. They must keep the column closed and must continue southward.

  Although Stuart could not have been free of anxiety, he outwardly was all confidence. So much so, indeed, that in good cheer he turned out of the column and led several of his staff and some of the couriers down a side road leading to Urbana, scene of the high festivities in September. Soon the little cavalcade made a midnight call at the hospitable household of several of their erstwhile dancing partners. In response to their knock, a frightened female voice asked who they were. “General Stuart and his staff,” Jeb himself replied with his unmistakable laugh. “Come down and open the door.” A frenzy of dressing, and the girls were on the stoop in the moonlight, and there was the sweet sound of feminine chatter. Half an hour of this, and then it was “Good-bye, good-bye,” waving handkerchiefs and graceful figures, and soon nothing but the beat of horses’ hoofs, the jingle of spurs and scabbards and mumbled soldiers’ farewells.37

  Route of Stuart’s “October Raid,” 1862.

  Morning of the twelfth found the raiders at Hyattstown, twelve miles from Virginia soil. Rooney Lee commanded the van, Wade Hampton the rear “division,” M. C. Butler the rear regiment. Two guns under Pelham were in front, two behind. Guides scouted ahead. Though the column had been trotting nearly all night, it must keep that stern pace as it neared the zone of danger. Stuart directed his command toward an eleven-mile stretch of the Potomac, between the mouth of the Monocacy and Edwards’ Ferry, in which there were four crossings to choose from. On the principle of making the unexpected move, he selected little-used Whites Ford.

  A ruse was to be executed below Barnesville. There, said his guide, Captain B. S. White, a forest extended for well nigh two miles on the right of the highway. Through this wood an old and disused road led southwest-ward. If the Confederates entered the wood and followed the obscure track, White said, they would emerge just half a mile from a farm road that led down to White’s Ford. Stuart took his place with the advance guard as it turned into the wood. The old road was abandoned but scarcely overgrown, and entirely practicable.

  They emerged into open country and trotted on. Two miles from White’s Ford there was a sudden clash with a party of Federal cavalry. With a rush the van scattered the enemy horsemen and seized a ridge which commanded the road of the Federal advance and, at the same time, covered the approaches to the ford. Under the cover of the fast, staccato fire of Pelham’s guns, the exhausted troopers and their dull-eyed dragging horses pushed down the farm track toward the river. If the column was well closed and the rear guard safe, Pelham could be relied upon to hold off the enemy until it was time for him to withdraw. Escape, therefore, seemed to depend solely on whether the Federals held White’s Ford in strength. If the enemy was at the ford, Rooney Lee must deal with them.38

  Approaching the ford, Lee discovered bluecoats in a near-by quarry. No artillery was visible, nor could the probable strength of the enemy be discovered. He pondered the scene and thought it worthw
hile to try a bluff. He wrote out a formal demand for the surrender of the position within a quarter of an hour; General Stuart, he said, commanded an overwhelming force but wished to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. There was no reply, and Rooney made his dispositions for an attack. Then movement was observed. Confederate officers focused their glasses, and there were smiles and delighted gestures: Undeniably, if incredibly, the Federals were filing out of their quarry fortress and withdrawing downstream!

  White’s Ford was abandoned and open. Danger, though reduced, was not past. Speed the crossing! First the two fieldpieces in the van, to command the approach. Now followed the gray-clad cavalrymen as fast as weary mounts could be spurred. Across the wide ford the column pushed—a cheering and picturesque sight in the October morning.

  Stuart’s concern now was for the rear guard. He had sent four couriers back for Butler, but none had returned. “Let me try it, General,” said the young engineer William Blackford. Three miles and more Blackford spurred until at last he found the missing regiment. Butler wheeled his troopers about and got his gun under way. At the ford they prepared to cut their way through when they found the dauntless Pelham and his smoking gun. At a respectful distance, north and south, Federal troops were to be seen. Into the ford Butler’s Carolinians splashed. Pelham and his men limbered up and followed. From the Virginia side, his other gun admonished the Federals to keep their distance.39

  On with deliberation to Leesburg and thence to camp. There the booty was counted—full 1,200 horses in exchange for about sixty animals left behind as lame or broken down. Some thirty public men were brought back as hostages for Southern sympathizers in Federal hands. Public and railroad property estimated to be worth a quarter of a million dollars had been destroyed. As a price of this, not one Confederate trooper had been killed. Few had been wounded.