Lee's Lieutenants

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  Presently the Federal battery widened the range and opened with shell. The slow march to the rear resumed. Dorsey Pender came up and recognized Jackson. “Ah, General, I am sorry to see you have been wounded. The lines here are so much broken that I fear we will have to fall back.” Instantly Jackson was the corps commander and raised his head to answer with flashing eye: “You must hold your ground, General Pender; you must hold your ground, sir!”33

  The staff officers decided there would be less danger and they would make better time if they turned off into the trees by the roadside. For half a mile, on willing shoulders, the general was carried through the woods. He was weak but conscious. Then, without warning, one of the litter bearers caught his foot in a trailing vine and went down. As the litter slipped from the man’s shoulder the general fell heavily and landed on his shattered arm. A groan of pain, the first he had uttered, escaped his lips, but he struggled hard with his nerves and soon recovered his composure.

  At last the party was rewarded by the sight of Hunter McGuire, Jackson’s medical director and friend. Although the doctor was eleven years his junior, Jackson had for him not merely respect as a professional man but affection as an individual. On none of the officers of the general staff did Jackson lean so heavily. With relief he saw McGuire kneel by his litter and heard the warm inquiry, “I hope you are not badly hurt, General.”

  “I am badly injured, Doctor; I fear I am dying.” The words were faint, but the tone was calm. A moment later he added, “I am glad you have come. I think the wound in my shoulder is still bleeding.” Said Dr. McGuire: “His suffering at this time was intense; his hands were cold, his skin clammy, his face pale, and his lips compressed and bloodless.” As soon as the bleeding was stanched, Jackson received from McGuire some whiskey and a dose of morphia. These had prompt effect. In a few minutes he was so much relieved of pain that he could be started by ambulance to the field hospital, nearly four miles to the rear.

  En route, beyond the range of fire and within the Southern lines, torches were used to reveal the chuck holes in the road and save the general from jolts. McGuire sat with him, his finger on the severed artery in his arm should the tourniquet slip. The other passenger in the ambulance was Jackson’s chief of artillery, Stapleton Crutchfield, in agony with a shattered leg. “Is Crutchfield dangerously wounded?” Jackson whispered. “No,” McGuire answered, “only painfully hurt.” Presently, in much the same way, Crutchfield inquired about Jackson. When he heard that the general was seriously wounded, the younger man could not restrain his emotion: “Oh, my God,” he cried with a groan.34

  Back to Talley’s Jackson rode slowly in the rumbling vehicle, back to the ridge where the troops had deployed, back to the crossing of the Brock Road. Shortly after 11 o’clock the ambulance reached Wilderness Tavern and turned into a field where the Second Corps hospital had been established. The surgeon in charge, Dr. Harvey Black, had received news of Jackson’s wounding and had prepared and warmed a tent into which the general was immediately carried. More whiskey Jackson received, and then slowly, under protective canvas and abundant blankets, he seemed to come back to life. His pulse became stronger; warmth returned to his body. Over him Dr. McGuire and Lieutenant Smith watched quietly.

  Midnight came and went. Except for the forlorn call of the whip-po’-will, there was quiet over the field. From the front there floated not an echo of conflict. One o’clock—still Dr. McGuire waited for a stronger pulse and a clearer mind. Then, at 2:00 A.M., with three other surgeons at his side, McGuire explained to Jackson that chloroform would be administered to permit the painless examination of the wounds. This might show the bone of the upper arm so badly broken that the surgeons would consider amputation necessary. Did Jackson wish them to proceed with the operation immediately? The answer was weakly spoken but firm and instant: “Yes, certainly, Dr. McGuire, do for me whatever you think best.”

  The chloroform was administered and in a few minutes Jackson began to feel the effects. “What an infinite blessing!” he exclaimed. The same word, “blessing, blessing” came often but more slowly. Then he was relaxed and insensible. The wound in his right hand was examined first by Dr. McGuire. A round ball had entered the palm, broken two bones, and lodged under the skin at the back of the hand. McGuire took it out and, from his wide experience, could say that it had been fired from a smooth-bore Springfield musket. That weapon was much used by the Confederates but had been discarded by the Federals. This mute evidence answered the question the army already was beginning to ask: Had Stonewall Jackson been wounded by his own men, who mistook him and his companions for Federal cavalry?

  McGuire laid bare the general’s left arm. An ugly wound was disclosed. A ball had entered about three inches below the joint of the shoulder, divided the main artery, shattered the bone, and passed out. A third bullet had struck the forearm and come out on the inside of the arm just above the wrist. McGuire shook his head as he looked: Conditions were as he had feared they would be. It was not possible to save a member so badly damaged. The arm should be amputated at once. The other surgeons were of the same mind. It was an operation each of them had performed scores of times. Dr. McGuire swiftly made a circular incision and sawed off the bone. With so many experienced hands at work, little blood was lost. After McGuire had applied the dressings, the anesthetic was withdrawn.35

  After half an hour Jackson was conscious and took a cup of coffee. An hour later Dr. McGuire entered with Sandie Pendleton, who had come with an important message. “Well, Major,” Jackson greeted him, “I am glad to see you; I thought you were killed.” Sandie reported that Hill had been disabled, and told of the decision to send for Stuart. The cavalryman had arrived at the front, he said, but knew little of the situation and sent to Jackson for instructions. The general struggled visibly to find a solution that would help Stuart. For a moment, McGuire wrote, “his eye flashed its old fire, but it was only for a moment; his face relaxed again, and presently he answered very feebly and sadly, ‘I don’t know—I can’t tell; say to General Stuart he must do what he thinks best.’”36

  With this message Pendleton rode back to Stuart, who by this time had received the transfer of command from Powell Hill. In the finest spirit, Robert Rodes acquiesced—good augury for a situation that had no parallel in the history of the army. Tired though the troops were, and confused in organization, they represented three fifths of the army, and they must push the offensive on which the outcome of the battle, perhaps of the campaign, would depend. For their direction there was a cavalryman who never had conducted an infantry action. To execute his orders he had not a general officer who, till that second of May, ever had led a division in action.

  Jeb was not daunted by this, by lack of information, or by the absence of all Jackson’s staff officers except Pendleton. Calmly and cheerfully he made the best of his plight. The guns of the Second Corps must be made ready, he reasoned. Crutchfield wounded? Who was next in artillery command? Porter Alexander? A capable man! Send for him to locate and occupy the best positions that could be found. Stuart himself would ride along the tangled line, impose silence on the troops, and prepare to attack with the dawn.

  CHAPTER 23

  Victory and Tragedy at Chancellorsville

  1

  THE YOUNG COMMANDERS’ DAY

  When the first light of a warm and pleasant day began to filter into the Wilderness on May 3, Powell Hill’s division was widely deployed in the front line. Harry Heth, though still a stranger to most of the officers and men, was undertaking manfully and intelligently to direct the force Hill was too badly bruised to command. The division was in two lines across the Plank Road, almost exactly one mile west of Chancellorsville. On the extreme right of the first line was Archer. On Archer’s left was McGowan. Next him, with left flank on the Plank Road, was Lane; on Lane’s left, north of the road, Heth’s own brigade, now under Colonel J. M. Brocken-brough, formed a short second line. The division of Trimble, now led by Raleigh Colston, was from 300 to 500
yards in rear of Heth. The third line, Rodes’s, was across the highway at Melzi Chancellor’s. The troops had slept a few hours and were able to give battle, though manifestly they could not be expected to show the fighting edge they had displayed the previous afternoon.

  The artillery was in somewhat better condition, Porter Alexander’s reconnaissance had shown that some guns could be employed advantageously in and near the Plank Road. Besides this, he had found one other place—on the right, an opening about 25 yards wide that led for 200 yards to what had seemed in the moonlight to be a cleared eminence where the Federals already had guns. Alexander brought up several batteries before daylight and concealed them close to the clearance. At dawn this high ground was hidden by mist, but as the sun drove away this screen the hill appeared to be what Alexander thought it was—an admirable position from which to assail the Federals. Guides said the elevation was called Hazel Grove. Its strategical importance Jeb Stuart realized, and the temporary commander of the corps would devote a large share of his personal attention to its occupation.1

  Terrain and Federal works west and southwest of Chancellorsville, about 5:00 A.M., May 3.

  From the moment Stuart gained his first knowledge of the situation, he determined to attack as soon as possible and with his full force. In his code of war, where the offensive was not too hazardous it always was the best of any or many courses. He delayed now only as long as the sun demanded time to rout the shadows. Confidently he gave his first orders to Archer and McGowan on the right. Archer began his movement at sunrise and almost immediately lost touch with McGowan on his left—but at the same time established contact with the enemy. Archer drove this force through the woods and into the open, taking four guns and 100 men. Without knowing that he had seized the strategic position of Hazel Grove, he pressed on. As soon as Stuart got word of this advance, he ordered more of the Confederate batteries to Hazel Grove.2

  By this time Stuart had sent forward the other brigades of Hill’s division. These experienced troops had no difficulty in storming a crude Federal work of logs and brush. With a yell the men of the Light Division pressed immediately toward the second Federal line, but they soon received on both flanks the challenge of angry fire. North of the Plank Road, Thomas’s Georgians and the left units of Pender’s brigade struck for the third Union line, but Thomas’s own left soon became encumbered.

  On the right of the road, McGowan pushed 100 yards beyond the first line, only to find a gap opening between his right and Archer’s left, which the Federals began to exploit. In heavy fighting the old brigade of Maxcy Gregg went back, almost step by step, to the first Federal line, which it reoccupied and held. McGowan’s withdrawal in turn uncovered the right of Lane, whose consequent retirement forced back all of Pender’s regiments save the 13th North Carolina. That regiment, under the admirable leading of Colonel Alfred Scales, continued its advance and ere long captured a Federal brigadier, William Hays.3

  By 7:00 A.M., then, Stuart had this situation before him: The right and center of the corps had been repulsed from the second Federal line and were being re-formed on the line captured in the first rush; the left of the corps was precariously advanced. This phase of Stuart’s advance represented a gain scarcely worth counting. The one substantial success was Archer’s. The valuable ground of Hazel Grove was firmly in Confederate hands, and Major Pegram now was opening there with three batteries. Captain R. C. M. Page followed immediately with his fine battery of Napoleons. When Stuart saw the Stars and Bars at Hazel Grove, he may have sensed the possibility of defeating the Federal infantry by the fire of artillery massed there, but he did not rely exclusively on the long arm. He would try the rifle and the bayonet and wrest Chancellorsville from the enemy. Move guns to Hazel Grove; tell Colston and Rodes to bring up every man in support of Hill’s division. Press the assault straight to Chancellorsville.

  Gloriously the first part of Stuart’s orders was obeyed. Thanks primarily to the new battalion organization of the artillery, one battery after another climbed to Hazel Grove and wheeled into position. Never in the annals of the Army of Northern Virginia had so great a concentration of guns been effected so quickly or with comparable ease.

  The infantry were not so fortunate. The old division of Jackson was poorly led. Colston did not have experience in handling so many men, and one only of his four brigades had at its head a general officer. The result of this lack of command was lack of confidence. The utmost endeavors of perplexed officers failed to get the line moving. While Pender and Thomas, on the left of the road, at heavy loss, were driving the enemy, the veterans of Jackson refused to face the fire. In Colston’s own brigade, three commanders quickly were shot down; two of Colston’s brigades on the right of the road were “somewhat broken and disorganized.” To their shame, officers had to admit themselves powerless. The assault must await the arrival of Rodes’s division.4

  This was not the full measure of disgrace: It began to look as if the enemy, who now was advancing menacingly, might throw Jackson’s men out of the shallow trenches. So bewildered were these veteran soldiers, so completely without leadership, that they were not even keeping up a fire against the approaching enemy. In this balance ’twixt death and doom, Colston decided he would bring the veteran Stonewall Brigade from north of the Plank Road and throw it and Garnett’s brigade against the Federals. Unless Paxton stiffened the right, or Rodes arrived quickly, Stuart might lose his first infantry battle.

  Paxton crossed the road and with Garnett on his right, prepared to advance. At the works, McGowan’s proud South Carolina officers were striving vainly to get the men to press forward and repel the enemy. Some even of the tried old soldiers who gained lasting fame at Gaines’ Mill and Groveton refused to budge. Now, through them, the first volunteers of the Palmetto State, pushed Paxton’s Virginians of the Valley. “The Stonewall Brigade passed over us,” wrote the historian of McGowan’s brigade, “some of them saying, with no very pleasant levity, that they would show us how to clear away a Federal line.” It was a valiant effort. Garnett’s men supported them with equal bravery Although both Paxton and Garnett were shot down, their men met the Federals in the spirit of the Valley campaign. They pushed on until they were within seventy yards of the Union line. There they faced precisely such a whirlwind of fire as they had thrown against their foe. Back to the log works, broken and decimated, they had to go. Not without a certain cold satisfaction did the same historian write,“… their reckoning was not accurate. They were forced back into the works with us.”5

  It was now about 8:15. On the left as on the right, Stuart’s attack had been beaten back. Thomas and Pender, north of the road, had withdrawn from their advanced positions. Rodes was close behind Heth and Colston, though he could not command his full strength. One brigade, Colquitt s, had been sent to the extreme left because of reports of the enemy demonstrating there, and in advancing through the thick undergrowth some regiments were separated. Rodes, in consequence, was not yet ready to push through Heth and Colston to deliver his assault. The battle lagged.6

  Even the buoyant Jeb might have been discouraged had he not perceived that from Hazel Grove gunners of the Second Corps, moment by moment, were increasing the weight of the metal they were throwing against the flank of the Federal line. To the guns of Pegram, those of Alexander’s battalion under Frank Huger had been added. Tom Carter and David McIntosh sent some of their pieces. Before the morning was out, all of these and numbers from Poague, Hardaway, Hilary Jones, and Lindsay Walker were to be used.

  At Hazel Grove, in short, the finest artillerists of the Army of Northern Virginia were having their greatest day. For once they were fighting on equal terms against an adversary who on fields unnumbered had enjoyed indisputable superiority in weapons. With the fire of battle shining through his spectacles, William Pegram rejoiced. “A glorious day, Colonel,” he said to Porter Alexander, “a glorious day!” There was an uncertainty, a nervous irregularity in the Federal return fire. Here and there—the sight
made the heart beat higher!—Federal infantry were beginning to recoil under the shells of the Southern batteries. The right of Stuart might suffer heavily in gaining the ground necessary to form a junction with Lee, who was moving up from the south; there might be much more of hard fighting and of costly assault; but if those gray batteries could continue to sweep the field, the Federals must yield!7

  Rodes’s division was now deployed for the advance, and as courageously as on the ridge by Jackson’s side, Rodes gave the order. Almost from the moment the first men clutched their guns and crashed through the bushes, the baffling tangle of woods confused his line. Doles’s brigade split. Colonel E. A. O’Neal, commanding Rodes’s brigade, went down, and his troops divided. From Iverson’s line in the maze of woodland north of the Plank Road, Colonel H. D. Christie of the 23rd North Carolina started an attack all his own. To Rodes, this sundering of his division meant that he could handle those troops only that were close to the center of the line.

  Rodes’s embarrassment was Dodson Ramseur’s opportunity. Until May 1 the North Carolinian never had led in action the fine brigade of George Anderson that had been committed to him. Now Ramseur went forward with a fury that had not been shown on the field that morning. Doles on the right was to have a gallant adventure, and Iverson and Christie on the left were to have high moments, but for the next hour the battle was to be Ramseur’s.

  His line moved into the crowded works and sternly Ramseur ordered the troops of John R. Jones’s brigade who were crouching there to advance with him. In his own indignant words, “Not a man moved.” Ramseur was as puzzled as he was wrathful. He assumed that General Jones was on the field and he must have known that charges had been preferred against that officer, but as Jones’s junior could Ramseur order the men forward? He decided to send back to Stuart for instructions. Word came back promptly for Ramseur to assume command and force the shirkers to advance. Again Ramseur gave the order; again the men in the works ignored it. Then, for the first time, he learned that Jones had left the field and that Garnett had been killed. Apparently he could not find Colonel A. S. Vandeventer, who was now in command of Jones’s brigade.