26. XXVI.
MY FIRST SIGHT OF THE BLUE-COATS.
In the latter part of May additional troops reached Harper's
Ferry, and General Joseph E. Johnston arrived, and assumed
command.
This soldier, since so eminent, was a man of about sixty, with
gray hair, piercing eyes, and the stiff carriage of the West-Pointer.
His manner was phlegmatic, his voice grave and formal,
and he wore his uniform with the air of a man born in it.
Johnston vigorously continued the organization which Jackson
had commenced. The latter had been assigned to the command
of a brigade raised in the Valley. They were entirely Virginia
troops; but the Georgians and South Carolinians, under the
brave General Bee, were now mingled with them in the little
army. All was life, bustle, and activity: the news came from
Bethel about this time, and cheer after cheer indicated the enthusiasm
of the troops.
Then the words passed from lip to lip in the small army,
“Patterson is advancing!” This intelligence was soon confirmed,
and Johnston promptly broke up his camp to go and
meet him. The surplus stores were burned, the arsenal destroyed,
and, setting fire to the fine railroad bridge over the Potomac,
the Confederate commander fell back toward Charlestown.
The spectacle, as I gazed upon it from a hill, was superb. The
flames were roaring and crackling, the long bridge a sheet of
fire, and the walls of the arsenal fell in one after another. On
the right and in front, Loudoun and Maryland Heights, with
their huge rocks and shaggy evergreens, were illuminated by the
glare of the waving flames. The Shenandoah glowed in the
light of the great conflagration; the Potomac was completely
hidden by the lurid smoke, and through this murky cloud one of
the hottest suns I ever experienced plunged its burning rays. It
was the first time I had realized the full meaning of the word
War.
The column fell back through Charlestown, where crowds of
beautiful girls filled the streets, waving their white handkerchiefs.
Bivouacking in the woods just beyond the town, on the next day
we moved by the right flank through country roads, and emerged
upon the Winchester and Martinsburg turnpike.
Here the army faced Patterson, advancing toward Williamsport,
and soon it was announced that his column had reached
the river.
Jackson had been sent with his brigade to support Stuart, in
advance of Martinsburg, and one morning, at daylight, we
received intelligence that Patterson was over, with a large army.
When this dispatch reached Jackson his face actually glowed.
Hitherto I had looked upon him as almost a non-combatant, but
from that moment I knew that he loved fighting for its own sake.
The gaudium certaminis flamed in his regard. The grave and
serious Presbyterian was almost gay.
A reply was sent to Stuart's dispatch, but, remembering soon
afterward an important point which he had omitted, Jackson
sent me to find Stuart and give him the message.
I set out at once, and passed Falling Waters before I could
hear any thing of him. I soon encountered, however, a detachment
of cavalry falling back before the enemy, whose dark
masses—infantry, cavalry, and artillery—were plainly seen in
front, and from the officer in command learned that Stuart was
moving with his main body on the right flank of the Federal
column.
Taking a bridle path which led in the direction indicated, I
soon found him with a squadron, dogging the enemy's movements,
and gave him my message.
“Thank you, Captain,” he said, his eyes glowing with ardor; “I
will do as Colonel Jackson wishes. Remain with me a short
while; I wish to send a message by you. Look at that column!
Their force must be at least two divisions.”
And, leaving his command, Stuart galloped straight toward the
Federal column. We approached so close that their words were
distinctly andible, and I was endeavoring, as far as possible, to
ascertain their force, when Stuart suddenly pointed to a field in
our immediate front. I followed the direction of his finger, and
saw a company of infantry flankers, who had advanced ahead of
the column, and were lying down resting until it came up.
“I am going to capture that party, and I wish you to help me.
Do you see that clump of trees yonder? Bring my squadron
round through them—bring it like lightning,[1]
Surry!”
I instantly obeyed the order, and moved the squadron at a rapid
trot by the route indicated. Then instructing the commanding
officer where to bring it, I pushed ahead, and rejoined Stuart
just as he galloped up to the fence behind which the infantry
flankers were lying.
There was a pair of bars in the fence, and Stuart rode straight
up to them, commanding one of the Federal soldiers to “take
down those bars!”
His blue undress coat doubtless deceived the man, though this
was certainly no part of his design. The infantry-man touched
his hat respectfully, hastened to remove the obstacle, and then,
again making the military salute, stood erect, awaiting further
orders.
Stuart passed through the gap with one bound of his horse,
and thundered:
“Throw down your arms, or you are dead!”
At the same moment his squadron was seen approaching at a
gallop, and the whole company—forty-four, if I remember
rightly, in number—not only threw down their arms, but fell
prone upon their faces.[2]
In ten minutes Stuart had hastened away with his prisoners,
and I speedily rejoined Colonel Jackson.
The engagement at Falling Waters followed.
This brief but spirited affair need not be here described, though
its issue had an undoubted effect upon the morale of the troops
—discouraging the enemy, and inspiring the Confederates with
confidence.
Jackson met the advancing column with the Fifth Virginia
Infantry, and one gun of Captain Pendleton's battery, and,
deploying his three hundred and eighty men—the exact number—
held his ground for some time with great stubbornness.
His thin line was, however, forced to fall back to avoid a flank
attack; and, as a column of Federal cavalry advanced to charge
it, the artillery was used for the first time in the action.
Captain Pendleton, who had been an Episcopal preacher, gave
the characteristic order, “Aim low, men, and may the Lord have
mercy on their souls!”[3]
—the piece was discharged—and the shot
struck the head of the cavalry column, which recoiled and
retreated behind the infantry again.
The Federal artillery immediately opened in reply, and for the
first time I witnessed in Jackson that perfect coolness for which
he was afterward so celebrated. While he was seated beneath
a tree, writing a dispatch to General Johnston, a round shot
tore the trunk above him to atoms, and covered him with splinters.
He did not move a muscle, but finished his note with
entire coolness—it was hard, indeed, to realize that he had
observed the incident.
He continued steadily falling back, and, rejoining his main
body, retreated through Martinsburg, which the enemy pressed
on and occupied.
That night, the brigade bivouacked at “Big Spring,” about
two miles from the town, on the road to Winchester; and an
odd incident marked the occasion.
About midnight, the weary troops were disturbed in their
slumbers by a dusky figure which moved among them, stumbling
over the sleepers. Many an imprecation greeted this unceremonious
personage; but, when the men afterward ascertained who
the intruder was, their anger gave way to laughter and admiration.
The figure was Jackson's, and his errand was simple. General
Patterson had captured some of his tents, made by the young
ladies of Jefferson; and when he stumbled over the sleepers,
Jackson was looking for Colonel Allen, of the Second Virginia,
to order out his regiment, attack Patterson, and recapture the
tents.
What induced him to abandon this scheme I do not know; but
it was a characteristic idea—to attack two divisions with a single
regiment![4]
Falling back still farther to the little village of Darkesville,
Jackson drew up his brigade, and determined to retreat no farther.
“Here I am ready for Patterson, whenever he comes,” he said.
“I want my brigade to feel that they can whip his whole army;
and I believe they can do it!”*
Johnston had moved forward from Winchester to Bunker's Hill.
about midway between that place and Martinsburg; but General
Patterson did not advance.
Events were, however, hastening on—the great struggle about
to begin.
