University of Virginia Library

VI.
EARLY.

1. I.

In the Virginia Convention of 1860-61, when the great struggle
for separation took place, and the hot war of tongues preceded
the desperate war of the bayonet, there was a gentleman
of resolute courage and military experience who made himself
prominent among the opponents of secession. Belonging to the
old Whig party, and thinking apparently that the right moment
had not yet come, this resolute soldier-politician fought the advocates
of the ordinance with unyielding persistence, aiming by his
hard-hitting argument, his kindling eloquence, and his parliamentary
skill, to give to the action of the Convention that
direction which his judgment approved. Many called him a
“submissionist,” because he opposed secession then; but when
the gauntlet was thrown down, this “Whig submissionist” put
on a gray coat, took the field, and fought from the beginning to
the very end of the war with a courage and persistence surpassed
by no Southerner who took part in the conflict. When he was
sent to invade Maryland, and afterwards was left by General
Lee in command of that “forlorn hope,” the little Valley army,
if it could be called such, in the winter of 1864-5, he was
selected for the work, because it required the brain and courage
of the soldier of hard and stubborn fibre. Only since the termination
of the war has the world discovered the truth of that
great campaign; the desperate character of the situation which
Early occupied, and the enormous odds against which he
fought.

He entered upon the great arena almost unknown. He had
served in the Mexican war, and had there displayed skill and
courage; but his position was a subordinate one, and he was
better known as a politican than a soldier. In the field he
made his mark at once. About four o'clock in the afternoon of
the 21st of July, 1861, at Manassas, the Federal forces had been
driven by the resolute assault of Jackson and his great associates
from the Henry-House hill; but a new and formidable
line-of-battle was formed on the high ground beyond, near
Dogan's house, and the swarming masses of Federal infantry
were thrown forward for a last desperate charge. The object of
the Federal commander was to outflank and envelop the Confederate
left, and his right wing swayed forward to accomplish
that object, when all at once from the woods, which the enemy
were aiming to gain, came a galling fire which staggered and
drove them back. This fire was delivered by Kirby Smith and
Early. So hot was it that it completely checked the Federal
charge; and as they wavered, the Southern lines pressed forward
with wild cheers. The enemy were forced to give ground.
Their ranks broke, and in thirty minutes the grand army was in
full retreat across Bull Run. The “Whig Submissionist” had
won his spurs in the first great battle of the war. From that time
Early was in active service, and did hard work everywhere—in
the Peninsula, where he was severely wounded in the hard struggle
of Malvern Hill, and then as General Early, at Cedar Mountain,
where he met and repulsed a vigorous advance of General
Pope's left wing, in the very inception of the battle. If Early had
given way there, Ewell's column on the high ground to his right
would have been cut off from the main body; but the ground
was obstinately held, and victory followed. Advancing northward
thereafter, Jackson threw two brigades across at Warrenton
Springs, under Early, and these resolutely held their ground
in face of an overpowering force. Thenceforward Early continued
to add to his reputation as a hard fighter—at Bristoe, the
second Manassas, Harper's Ferry, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg,
Gettysburg, Spottsylvania, Monocacy, and throughout the Valley
campaign. During the invasion of Pennsylvania he led

General Lee's advance, which reached the Susquehanna and captured
York. In Spottsylvania be commanded Hill's corps, and
was in the desperate fighting at the time of the assault upon the
famous “Horseshoe,” and repulsed an attack of Burnside's corps
with heavy loss to his opponents. After that hard and bitter
struggle the Federal commander gave up all hope of forcing
General Lee's lines, and moving by the left flank reached Cold
Harbour, where the obstinate struggle recommenced. It was
at this moment, when almost overpowered by the great force
arrayed against him, that General Lee received intelligence of
the advance of General Hunter up the Valley with a considerable
army; and it was necessary to detach a commander of ability,
vigour, and daring to meet that column. Early was selected,
and the result is known. General Hunter advanced, in spite
of opposition from the cavalry under General Jones, until he
reached the vicinity of Lynchburg; but here he came in colision
with his dangerous adversary. A complete defeat of the
Federal forces followed, and Hunter's campaign was decided at
one blow. He gave ground, retreated, and, with constantly
accelerated speed, sought refuge in the western mountains,
whence, with a decimated and disheartened army, he hastened
towards the Ohio. The great advance up the Valley, from
which, as his report shows, General Grant had expected so
much, had thus completely failed. The campaign beginning
with such high hopes, had terminated in ignominy and disaster.
The inhabitants of the region, subjected by General Hunter to
the most merciless treatment, saw their powerful oppressor in
hopeless retreat; and an advance which threatened to paralyse
Lee, and by severing his communications, drive him from Virginia,
had been completely defeated. Such was the first evidence
given by General Early of his ability as a corps commander,
operating without an immediate superior.

He was destined to figure now, however, in scenes more striking
and “dramatie” still. General Grant, with about 150,000
men, was pressing General Lee with about 50,000, and forcing
him slowly back upon the Confederate capital. Every resource
of the Confederacy was strained to meet this terrible assault—

the sinews almost broken in the effort. To divert reinforcements
from General Grant was a matter of vital importance—a
thing of life and death—and Jackson's Valley campaign in 1862
had shown how this could be most effectually done. To menace
the Federal capital was evidently the great secret: a moderate
force would not probably be able to do more than divert troops
from Grant; but this was an object of the first importance, and
much might be accomplished by a soldier of decision, energy,
and rapidity of movement. Early had been selected for the
work, with orders when he left the lowland to “move to the
Valley through Swift Run Gap or Brown's Gap, attack Hunter,
and then cross the Potomac and threaten Washington.” This
critical task he now undertook with alacrity, and he accomplished
it with very great skill and success.

Not a moment was lost in pushing his column toward
Maryland; and such was the rapidity of the march upon
Washington, that the capital was placed in imminent danger.
In spite of the prostrating heat, the troops made twenty
miles a day, and the rumour of this determined advance
came to the Federal authorities at the moment when Grant was
supposed to be carrying everything before him. To meet the
attack of their formidable adversary, the authorities at Washington
sent to hurry forward the forces of General Hunter from the
Ohio, and a considerable force from General Grant's army was
dispatched up the bay to man the fortifications. Early had
pressed on, crossed the Potomac, advanced to Frederick City,
defeated General Wallace at the Monocacy, and was now in sight
of the defences of Washington; the crack of his skirmishers was
heard at the “White House” and in the department buildings
of the capital. The enormous march, however, had broken
down and decimated his army. The five hundred miles of
incessant advance, at twenty miles a day, left him only eight
thousand infantry, about forty field-pieces, and two thousand
badly mounted cavalry—at the moment detached against the
railroads northward—with which to assault the powerful works,
bristling with cannon, in his front. His position at this moment
was certainly critical, and calculated to try the nerves of any but

a resolute and daring soldier. He was in the heart of the
enemy's country, or at least in sight of their capital city; in his
front, according to Mr. Stanton, the Federal Secretary of War,
was the Sixth and part of the Eighth and Nineteenth Corps, and
General Hunter was hastening from the West to strike his rear
and cut him off from his only avenue of retreat across the
Potomac. It behoved the Confederate commander under these
circumstances to look to his safety; and he was reluctantly compelled
to give up his intended assault upon the capital—to
abandon the attempt to seize the rich prize apparently in his
very grasp. Early, accordingly, broke up his camp, retreated,
and, with little molestation, recrossed the Potomac, and stood at
bay on the Opequon in the Shenandoah Valley.

Such had been the result of the daring advance upon the
Federal capital. The extent of the danger to which Washington
was then exposed, still remains a matter of doubt and difference
of opinion among the most intelligent persons. It will, no
doubt, be accurately defined when the events of the recent struggle
come to be closely investigated by the impartial historian of
the future, and the truth is sifted from the error. To the world
at large, the Federal capital seemed in no little danger on that
July morning, when Early's lines were seen advancing to the
attack. Northern writers state that, if the assault had been
made on the day before, it would have resulted in the capture
of the city. But however well or ill-founded this may be, it is
safe to say that the primary object of the march had been
accomplished when Early retreated and posted himself in the
Shenandoah Valley—a standing threat to repeat his audacious
enterprise. It was no longer a mere detached column that
opposed him, but an army of about 50,000 men. To that extent
General Grant had been weakened, and the heavy weight upon
General Lee's shoulders lightened.

2. II.

These events took place in the summer of 1864, and in the
autumn of that year General Early fought his famous battles,

and—the world said—sustained his ignominious defeats in the
Shenandoah Valley. “Ignominious” was the adjective which
expressed the views of nine-tenths of the citizens outside of the
immediate region, and probably of one-half the army of Northern
Virginia. In the eyes of the world there is a crime for
which there is no palliation, and that is failure. There is a
criminal to whom all defence is denied—it is the man who fails.
No matter what the failure results from, there it is, and no
explanations are “in order.” Early was defeated in a pitched
battle near Winchester, on the 19th of September, and the
country, gloomy, despondent, embittered, and elamouring for
a victory, broke out into curses almost at the man who had sustained
this reverse. It was his bad generalship, they cried;
“the troops had no confidence in him;” he was the poorest of
soldiers, the veriest sham general—else why, with his splendid
army, did he allow a second or third-rate general like Sheridan
to defeat him? When the defeat at Fisher's Hill followed, and
the fiasco at Waynesboro' terminated the Valley campaign, people
were convinced that General Jubal A. Early was a very
great dunce in military matters, had been outgeneralled and
outfought by an opponent little, if any, stronger than himself,
and the whole campaign was stigmatized as a disgraceful series
of blunders, ending in well-merited defeat and disaster.

That was the popular clamour; but it is safe to say that popular
clamour is essentially falsehood, because it is based upon
passion and ignorance. The truth of that campaign is that
Early was “leading a forlorn hope,” and that he never fought
less than four to one. At Fisher's Hill and Waynesboro', he
fought about eight to one. It is not upon General Early's
statements in his recent letter from Havana, that the present
writer makes the above allegation, but upon the testimony of
officers and citizens of the highest character who are unanimous
in their statement to the above effect. From the date
of the battle of Winchester, or the Opequon, to the present
time, it has been persistently declared by the fairest and best
informed gentlemen of the surrounding region, who had excellent
opportunities to discover the truth, that Early's force in

that fight was about eight or ten thousand, and Sheridan's
about forty or fifty thousand. General Early states upon his
honour—and the world is apt to believe him—that his effective
strength in this action was eight thousand five hundred muskets,
three battalions of artillery, and less than three thousand
cavalry. General Sheridan's force he makes, upon a close
calculation, about thirty-five thousand muskets, one of his
corps alone numbering, as captured documents showed, twelve
thousand men—more than the whole Southern force, infantry,
cavalry, and artillery. In the number of guns Sheridan, he
says, was, “vastly superior” to him; and official reports captured
showed the Federal cavalry “present for duty” two days
before the battle, to have numbered ten thousand men.[2] There
was thus a terrible disproportion between the Federal and
Confederate forces. Greatly outnumbered in artillery; with
thirty-five thousand muskets opposed to his eight thousand five
hundred; and ten thousand excellently mounted and armed
eavalry to his three thousand miserably mounted and equipped
horsemen; Early occupied anything but a bed of roses in
those days of September, when his little force so defiantly
faced the powerful army opposed to it.

Why he was not attacked and driven up the Valley long
before the 19th of September, will remain an interesting historical
problem. Nothing but the unceasing activity and audacity
of the Confederate commander appears to have retarded
this consummation. General Hunter seems to have been paralysed,
or intimidated by the incessant movements of his wary
opponent. From the period of his return to the Valley from
Washington, Early had given his adversary no breathing
spell. To-day he seemed retreating up the Valley; on the
next day he was in Maryland; when he fell back and his
adversary followed, a sudden and decisive blow at the head
of the pursuing column threw the whole Federal programme
into confusion; and grim and defiant, Early faced General
Hunter in line of battle, defying him to make an attack.

It will be hard to establish the statement that in these movements,
during the summer and autumn of 1864, in the Shenandoah
Valley, Early did not carry out in the fullest degree the
instructions received from General Lee, and accomplish admirably
the objects for which he had been sent to that region.
He was placed there as Jackson had been in 1862, to divert a
portion of the Federal forces from the great arena of combat
in the lowland. By his movements before and after the battle
of Kernstown, Jackson, with about four thousand men, kept
about twenty-five thousand of the enemy in the Valley. By
his movements preceding the battle of Opequon, Early, with
eight or ten thousand men, kept between forty and fifty thousand
from General Meade's army at Petersburg. That he
could meet the Federal force in his front, in a fair pitched battle,
was not probably believed by himself or by General Lee.
His command was essentially what he calls it, a “forlorn hope”
—the hope that it could cope with its opponents being truly
forlorn. As long as that opponent was amused, retarded, or

kept at arm's length, all was well. When he advanced to
attack in earnest, it was doubtless foreseen that the thirty or
forty thousand bayonets would drive back the eight or nine
thousand. That result followed on the 19th of September,
when, Sheridan having superseded Hunter, the attack was
made at the Opequon. And yet nothing is better established
than the fact that up to the moment when he put his cavalry
in motion against the Confederate left, General Sheridan had
been virtually defeated. Every assault of his great force of
infantry had been repulsed; and nowhere does this more
clearly appear than in an account of the action published in
Harper's Magazine, by a field officer, apparently of one of the
Federal regiments. That account is fair, lucid, and records
the precise truth, namely, that every advance of the Federal
infantry was met and repulsed. Not until the ten thousand
cavalry of General Sheridan advanced on the Martinsburg
road, attained the Confederate rear, and charged them in flank
and rear, was there the least wavering. It is true that from
that moment the action was lost. Early's line gave way in
confusion; his artillery was fought to the muzzle of the guns,
but could do nothing unsupported; and that night the Confederate
forces were in full retreat up the Valley.

Such, divested of all gloss and rodomontade, was the battle
on the Opequon. It was a clear and unmistakable defeat, but
the reader has seen what produced it. Not want of generalship
in the Confederate commander. It is gross injustice to
him to charge him with the responsibility of that reverse; and
no fair mind, North or South, will do so. He was defeated,
because the force opposed to him was such as his command
could not compete with. By heroic fighting, the little band
kept back the swarming forces of the enemy, holding their
ground with the nerve of veterans who had fought in a hundred
battles; but when the numerous and excellently armed
cavalry of the enemy thundered down upon their flank and
rear, they gave up the struggle, and yielded the hard fought
day.

The second act of this exciting drama was played at Fisher's

Hill, three days afterward. Sullenly retiring like a wounded
wolf, who snarls and shows his teeth at every step, Early took
up a position on the great range of hills above Strasburg, and
waited to be attacked. His design was to repulse any assault,
and at nightfall retire; but the enemy's large numbers enabling
them to turn his flank, they drove him from his position,
and he was forced to fall back in disorder, with heavy loss.
This result was charged upon the cavalry, but Early's small
force could not defend the ground, and the Federals assuredly
gained few laurels there. So heavy had been the blow struck
by the great force of the enemy three days before, that it is
wonderful how the Southern troops could make any stand
at all. Early's loss in the battle of the Opequon, in killed,
wounded, and “missing”—that terrible item in a defeated and
retreating army—was so great, that it is doubtful whether his
army, when it stood at bay on Fisher's Hill, numbered four
thousand muskets. Such, at least, is the statement of intelligent
and veracious officers who took part in the engagement.
They are unanimous in declaring that it did not exceed that
number. Sheridan's force they declare to have been overpowering,
but the Southern troops could and did meet it when the
attack was made in front. Not until the great force of the
enemy enabled him to turn the left flank of Early and sweep
right down his line of works, did the troops give way. Numbers
overcame everything.

Early retreated up the Valley, where he continued to present
a defiant front to the powerful force of Sheridan, until the
middle of October. On the 19th he was again at Cedar Creek,
between Strasburg and Winchester, and had struck an almost
mortal blow at General Sheridan. The Federal forces were
surprised, attacked at the same moment in front and flank,
and driven in complete rout from their camps. Unfortunately
this great success did not effect substantial results. The enemy,
who largely outnumbered Early, especially in their excellent
cavalry, re-formed their line under General Wright. Sheridan,
who had just arrived, exerted himself to retrieve the bad fortune
of the day, and the Confederates were forced to retire in

their turn. General Early's account of this event is interesting:
“I went into this fight,” he says, “with eight thousand five
hundred muskets, about forty pieces of artillery, and about
twelve hundred cavalry, as the rest of my cavalry, which was
guarding the Luray Valley, did not get up in time, though
ordered to move at the same time I moved to the attack.
Sheridan's infantry had been recruited fully up to its strength
at Winchester, and his cavalry numbered eight thousand seven
hundred, as shown by the official reports captured. The main
cause why the rout of his army in the morning was not complete,
was the fact that my cavalry could not compete with his,
and the latter, therefore, remained intact. He claimed all his
own guns that had been captured in the morning, and afterward
recaptured, as so many guns captured from me, whereas
I lost only twenty-three guns; and the loss of these and the
wagons which were taken, was mainly owing to the fact that
a bridge, on a narrow part of the road between Cedar Creek
and Fisher's Hill, broke down, and the guns and wagons, which
latter were not numerous, could not be brought off. Pursuit
was not made to Mount Jackson, as stated by both Grant and
Stanton, but my troops were halted for the night at Fisher's
Hill, three miles from Cedar Creek, and the next day moved
back to New Market, six miles from Mount Jackson, without
any pursuit at all.”

Thus terminated the Valley campaign of 1864. In November,
Early again advanced nearly to Winchester, but his offer
of battle was refused, and he went into winter quarters near
Staunton, with the small and exhausted force which remained
with him, the second corps having been returned to General
Lee. He had then only a handful of cavalry and a “corporal's
guard” of infantry. In February, 1865, when the days of
the Confederacy were numbered and the end was near, he was
to give the quidnuncs and his enemies generally one more opportunity
of denouncing his bad generalship and utter unfitness
for command. In those dark days, when hope was sinking
and the public “pulse was low,” every reverse enraged the
people. The whole country was nervous, excited, irascible,

exacting. The people would hear no explanations—they
wanted victories. Such was the state of public sentiment
when intelligence came from the mountains that Early's
“army” had been again attacked, this time near Staunton, and
owing to the excessively bad generalship of that officer, had
sustained utter and ignominious defeat. How many thousands
of men had thus been defeated was not exactly stated; but
the public said that it was an “army.” It was one thousand
infantry and about six pieces of artillery. This force was
attacked by two divisions of cavalry, numbering five thousand
each—ten thousand in all. Early had not a mounted man, his
entire cavalry force, with the rest of his artillery, having been
sent off to forage. By the great force of the enemy, Early
was driven beyond the mountains, his command hopelessly
defeated, and his name was everywhere covered with obloquy
and insult. He said nothing, waiting with the equanimity of
a brave man for the moment which would enable him to justify
himself. He has done it now; and no manly heart will read
his noble words without respect for this true patriot and fearless
soldier. “Obvious reasons of policy,” he says, “prevented
any publication of these facts during the war, and it will now
be seen that I was leading a forlorn hope all the time, and the peo
ple can appreciate the character of the victories won by Sheridan
over me.”

But this is General Early's account of the campaign, it may
be said. It is natural—some persons even now may say—that
he should endeavour by “special pleading” to lift from his
name the weight of obloquv, and strive to show that he was not
deficient in military ability, in courage, skill, and energy. The
objection is just; no man is an altogether fair witness in regard
to his own character and actions. Somewhere, a fault will be
palliated, a merit exaggerated. Fortunately for Early's fame—
unfortunately for the theory of his enemies—a document of the
most conclusive character exists, and with that paper in his hand,
the brave soldier may fearlessly present himself before the bar
of history. It is the letter of General Lee, to him, dated March
30, 1865, three days before that “beginning of the end,” the

evacuation of Petersburg. The clamour against Early had accomplished
the object of many of those who raised it. His
ability was distrusted; he was regarded as unfit for command;
“remove him!” was the cry of the people. Here is General
Lee's letter relieving him of his command. It would be an
injustice to the good name of Early to suppress a line of it.

In defeat, poverty, and exile, this recognition of his merit remains
to that brave soldier; and it is enough. There is something
better than the applauses of the multitude—something
which will outweigh in history the clamour of the ignorant or
the hostile; it is this testimony of Robert E. Lee to the “zealous
and patriotic services” of the man to whom it refers; to the
“ability, zeal, devotion, fidelity, energy, and courage” which he
had “ever manifested in the service of the country,” leaving the
“confidence” of the Commander-in-Chief in him “unimpaired.”

3. III.

In concluding this sketch, an attempt will be made to give the
reader some idea of the personal character and appearance of the
brave man who, in his letter from Havana, has made that calm
and decorons appeal to posterity.

General Early, during the war, appeared to be a person of
middle age; was nearly six feet in height; and, in spite of severe
attacks of rheumatism, could undergo great fatigue. His hair
was dark and thin, his eyes bright, his smile ready and expressive,
though somewhat sarcastic. His dress was plain gray,
with few decorations. Long exposure had made his old coat
quite dingy. A wide-brimmed hat overshadowed his sparkling
eyes and forehead, browned by sun and wind. In those sparkling
eyes could be read the resolute character of the man, as in
his smile was seen the evidence of that dry, trenchant, often
mordant humour, for which he was famous.

The keen glance drove home the wit or humour, and every
one who ventured upon word-combats with Lieutenant-General

Early sustained “a palpable hit.” About some of his utterances
there was a grim effectiveness which it would be hard to excel.
There was a member of the Virginia Convention who had called
him a “submissionist” in that body, but when the war commenced,
hired a substitute, and remained at home, though
healthy and only forty. Early the “submissionist” went into
the army, fought hard, and then one day in 1862 met his quondam
critic, who said to him, “It was very hard to get you to go
out”—alluding to Early's course in the Convention on secession.
Early's eye flashed, his lip curled. “Yes,” he replied, looking
at the black broadcloth of his companion, “but it is a d—d sight
harder to get you up to the fighting.” There was another member
of the Convention who had often criticised him, and dwelt upon
the importance of “maintaining our rights in the territories at all
hazards.” This gentleman, being aged, did not go into the army;
and one day when Early met him, during the retreat from
Manassas, the General said, with his customary wit, “Well,
Mr. M—, what do you think about getting our rights in the
territories now? It looks like we were going to lose some of
our own territory, don't it?” When General Lee's surrender
was announced to him, while lying nearly dead in his ambulance,
he muttered to his surgeon, “Doctor, I wish there was powder
enough in the centre of the earth to blow it to atoms. I would
apply the torch with the greatest pleasure. If Gabriel ever
means to blow his horn, now is the time for him to do it—no
more joyful sound could fall on my ears.”

These hits he evidently enjoyed, and he delivered them with the
coolness of a swordsman making a mortal lunge. In fact, everything
about General Early was bold, straightforward, masculine,
and incisive. Combativeness was one of his great traits.

There were many persons in and out of the army who doubted
the soundness of his judgment; there were none who ever
called in question the tough fibre of his courage. He was universally
recognised in the Army of Northern Virginia as one
of the hardest fighters of the struggle; and every confidence
was felt in him as a combatant, even by his personal enemies.
This repute he had won on many fields, from the first Manassas

to Winchester; for one of the hardest fights of the war, if it
was a defeat, was that affair on the Opequon.

It was not so much good judgment that General Early wanted
in his Valley campaign, as troops. He was “leading a forlorn
hope,” and forlorn hopes rarely succeed. “He has done as well
as any one could,” General Lee is reported to have said; and the
Commander-in-Chief had better opportunities of forming a correct
opinion than others.

Returning to Early the man, what most impressed those who
were thrown with him, was that satirical, sometimes cynical
humour, and the force and vigour of his conversation. His
voice was not pleasing, but his “talk” was excellent. His
intellect was evidently strong, combative, aggressive in all domains
of thought; his utterance direct, hard-hitting, and telling.
He was a forcible speaker; had been successful at the bar;
and in the army, as in civil life, made his way by the
independent force of his mind and character—by his strong will,
sustained energy, and the native vigour of his faculties. Sarcastic
and critical, he was criticised in return, as a man of rough
address, irascible temperament, and as wholly careless whom he
offended. So said his enemies—those who called in question
his brains and judgment. What they could not call in question,
however, was his “zeal, fidelity, and devotion,” or they will
not do so to-day. Robert E. Lee has borne his supreme and
lasting testimony upon that subject, and the brave and hardy
soldier who led that forlorn hope in the Shenandoah Valley,
when the hours of a great conflict were numbered, and darkness
began to settle like a pall upon the land illustrated by such
heroic struggles, by victories so splendid—the brave and hardy
Early at last has justice done him, and can claim for himself
that, when the day was darkest, when all hearts desponded, he
was zealous, faithful, devoted. If the world is not convinced by
the testimony of Lee, that this man was devoted to his country,
and true as steel to the flag under which he fought—true to it in
disaster and defeat as in success and victory—let them read the
letter of the exile, signing himself “J. A. Early, Lieut.-Gen.
C. S. A.”