From Bull Run to Appomattox Part 10

About this time a new star appeared upon the field of Mars. John S.

Mosby, a native of Warrenton, Fauquier county, Virginia, serving as lieutenant in the First Virginia Cavalry, was captured and put in prison in Was.h.i.+ngton in the old Capitol. He was not there long before he was exchanged, but while there his mind was busy. He conceived the idea that if he had a small body of men well armed and well mounted, and given an independent command, he could render the Confederacy great service by operating along the lines of the B. & O., the C. & O., and the Orange and Alexandria railroads, and also upon the enemy's supply trains, that were constantly moving to and fro up and down the valley and other sections. He reported his plan to Gen. Stuart when he got out of prison. Gen. Stuart favored it, and referred it to Gen. Lee, and Gen.

Lee referred it to the War Department at Richmond, resulting in Mosby's being commissioned a captain, with ten men detached from his regiment (the First Virginia Cavalry) with permission to increase the number by recruiting from the young men in the district where he operated.

Mosby lost no time in getting his little force together at some point in Loudoun county. His first expedition was to Fairfax Courthouse. His plan was to get as close to the enemy as he could, hide his men behind a hill or in a body of timber, and rush pell-mell upon a pa.s.sing wagon-train, or a detachment of Union troops, stampede them and capture what he could. In this way he captured or destroyed a great many wagons, took horses, mules and prisoners by the thousands. My younger brother Richard joined this command in 1864, being a little over 17 years old.

It may seem strange to the present age that a country devastated as this portion of Virginia was at this time, with so many homes mourning the loss of their brave sons slain in battle, or maimed for life, with starvation almost staring them in the face, with the capital of their country besieged by great armies, with what we would call at this day deprivation and suffering incomparable, that the people could have any heart for festivities, such as dances and plays. But such was the fact.

The soldiers during their furlough were received everywhere as heroes, and were banqueted and entertained as if peace and plenty reigned throughout the land. Many a parody like the following was gotten off: "There was a sound of revelry by night," and "Les Miserables" (Lee's miserables) had gathered there.

But it must be remembered that it was this spirit among the Southern people that made them endure their hards.h.i.+ps and sustain the conflict as long as they did. It was the women standing loyally by their husbands, brothers and lovers that made the Southern soldiers ready to play or ready to fight, regardless of what they had in their haversacks or wore on their backs.

There was no fixed time for our furlough, but we had places of rendezvous where we were ordered to meet once a week to receive instructions. Finally the time came when we were summoned to collect at Upperville (near the home of our captain) for the march back to the army.

I do not remember the date, but it was early in March. I do remember the first encampment we made for the night. We got up the next morning with six inches of snow covering us, resulting in my horse getting a bad cold, for during our furlough he was housed in a warm stable. This cold never left him, and he died from the effects of it several months afterward.

We were ordered to report at Staunton, Va. It was a long march from Loudoun county, but we were used to long marches. When we arrived there we found our regiment awaiting us. Without even a day's rest we were ordered to Richmond, a still longer march, and after remaining there two weeks we were ordered to Fredericksburg. A line of this route drawn on the map would form almost a perfect letter C, and if it had not been for a small obstacle in our way, in all probability we would have continued the march, forming the letter O.

The obstacle in our way was Grant's army on the Rappahannock.

CHAPTER VIII.

_From the Wilderness to James River._

"Turning his bridle, Robert Lee Rode to the rear. Like waves of the sea, Bursting the dikes in their overflow, Madly his veterans dashed on the foe."

The army of Northern Virginia had met and defeated McDowell, McClellan, Pope, Burnside and Hooker, and caused the retirement of Meade, but the Government at Was.h.i.+ngton had at last found a soldier believed to be a full match for Gen. Lee.

Grant had been successful in the West, and his achievements had made him the Nation's idol, so he was brought to the East and placed in command of the army of the Potomac.

All during the late fall and winter and early spring he was preparing an immense army, whose rendezvous was on the Rappahannock and in the district about Culpeper Courthouse. It was a greater and better equipped army than that under McClellan in 1862. Then again, McClellan was an untried soldier, while Grant had won his spurs on more than one battlefield. So the North had a right to feel that Lee would be beaten and Richmond captured. Besides this great army, another 30,000 strong was marching up the James river, taking the same route McClellan took two years before.

Gen. Benj. F. Butler was its commander. The two armies were to unite and compel the surrender or evacuation of the Confederate Capital.

It was about the first of May when Grant began his movements toward Lee's front. At this time the whole cavalry force of Gen. Lee was encamped in a rich grazing district about five miles from Fredericksburg.

We had been there several weeks, our horses had been wading in gra.s.s up to their knees. They had shed their winter coats, and were looking fine, and seemed to be ready for the fray.

Our princ.i.p.al article of food was fresh fish, caught from the Rappahannock river.

As we loitered around the camp from day to day, speculating as to when we should be called to the front, and discussing what would be the result of the coming battle, we began to get restless, as soldiers will.

They live on excitement, and the booming of guns and the rattling of musketry is the sweetest music they can hear.

One bright May morning (it must have been about the first day of the month) we saw a courier with his horse all flecked with foam as he came das.h.i.+ng into our camp. He halted and asked for Gen. Stuart's headquarters. It proved to be a messenger from Gen. Lee, and it meant that the death-struggle was about to begin.

Soon the bugles were sounding all through the camps the old familiar call, "Saddle up, saddle up." We mounted, and each company forming in line and counting off by fours, wheeled into columns of two and marched off toward what was afterward known as the Battlefield of the Wilderness.

We arrived at the position a.s.signed us about dark, where we went into camp in the woods, tying our horses to the trees and building camp-fires to cook our supper. I had (like the boy in the parable of the loaves and fishes) in my haversack a few small fresh fish, and I was wondering whether they would be sweet or not. I remember distinctly laying them on the coals of fire to broil. It has been 43 years since then, but I can a.s.sure you I can almost taste those fish today. I don't think I ever ate anything so sweet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: GEN. FITZHUGH LEE,

Who commanded a division of Gen. J.E.B. Stuart's cavalry.]

The next day we were in the saddle early. The cavalry formed the right wing of Lee's army. The battle lasted two days. The cavalry fought almost entirely on foot. It was mostly in heavy timber and thick undergrowth.

The first day we did not see the enemy, but we knew he was there, for the woods were ringing with the sound of their guns, and bullets were hissing about our ears.

When we struck this heavy body of timber we found a narrow road running through it. We followed this road cautiously for two or three miles. My company was in front. About 200 yards in front of the company rode two soldiers, side by side. We knew somewhere in front of us was the enemy, and it was our mission to find him. Suddenly we heard two shots--pop, pop. We all knew what that meant. The armies of Lee and Grant had met, and as far as I know, these were the first two shots fired of the Battle of the Wilderness. They had come from the enemy's guns. They had seen our advance guard, and the shots meant, "so far shalt thou come, and no farther." We took the hint and halted.

The regiment was dismounted, and the led horses were taken back some distance; we deployed on the right and left of the road and awaited results; then moved forward until we discovered the enemy's line. We exchanged some shots, and began falling slowly back, while they advanced.

As we retired, their bullets were hissing through our ranks and cutting the bark from the trees and the twigs from the bushes, and now and then striking down our men.

My cousin, Dallas Leith, and myself stood together behind a tree for protection. As he fired, his head was exposed, and a bullet from the enemy's ranks just brushed his lips. He turned to me and said, "Wasn't that a close shave?" And at the same time a bullet grazed my finger as I fired.

We fell back through the timber to the edge of the open fields, and getting behind a rail fence, remained there until the enemy came up. We held our fire until they got close to us, when we poured a volley into their ranks that sent them scurrying back through the woods. We then climbed the fence and followed them up.

About 20 steps from the fence we saw two Yankees lying mortally wounded.

We gathered around them and asked them some questions about where they were from, and one of our men pulled a photograph from the pocket of one of them. It was a picture of a young girl, and one of the men said, "I guess that's his sweetheart." He opened his eyes and said with much difficulty, "No, it is my sister." Our captain was standing by, and as the men were so close to our line, someone conceived the idea that they had come up to surrender, and one of them said to our captain, "Captain, these men came up to surrender, and were shot down." One of the Yankees denied the accusation with some feeling. They were both shot in the breast, and were bleeding profusely. It was very evident that they had but a short time to live.

The captain ordered them to be taken back to a place of safety. They begged to remain where they were, saying that they hadn't long to live, but they were taken back to a safer place.

We were again ordered forward, and kept on until we came in touch with the enemy, when the firing was resumed.

Dallas Leith and myself were again behind a tree. He was kneeling down loading his gun, when his head was again exposed, and a ball struck him in the forehead. It tore away a part of the bone, exposing his brain. I felt confident the boy was killed, and had no other thought than that of leaving him there, for we had all we could do to carry back the wounded, much less the dead.

We were then ordered to fall back, and someone more humane than I proposed that we carry his body back with us. I protested that it was impossible, but the others insisted, and, tying a handkerchief around his head, his hair drenched with blood, we picked him up and carried him back about a mile, when to our surprise we got into a road and there found an ambulance. Putting him in it, he was carried to the hospital, in the rear. Strange to say, he lived about ten days, giving his father time to come from Loudoun county to see him before he died. About this same time his younger brother Henry (at home) was blown to pieces by a sh.e.l.l that he had picked up in the field on his father's farm and was trying to open it, to see what was inside.

But to return to the battle. This state of things continued for two whole days, with little intermission. Sometimes, however, there was not a shot fired for an hour.

During one of these intervals I remember sitting down, leaning my back against a large tree, and began writing a letter to my folks at home.

Capt. Gibson came up to me and said, "Young man, if you don't want to get shot, you'd better get on the other side of that tree, for somewhere just in front of us, and not a great distance off, is the enemy's skirmish line, and they may open fire at any moment." I moved behind the tree and resumed my writing, but was suddenly stopped by the sound of firing in our front, that caused us to creep farther back into the woods.

On another occasion we had fallen back out of the timber into the open fields, and were firing from behind a fence at the enemy in the woods, whom we could not see for the undergrowth. Our attention was called to a large body of cavalry on our left, apparently the enemy on mischief bent.

There are times in a battle when every private soldier on the firing line becomes a "Commander-in-Chief." It is when orders cannot be given, or would not be heard if they were. Each soldier seems to know intuitively what to do, and the whole line acts in concert.

At this particular time the body of cavalry on our left proved to be the bluecoats, moving toward our rear. It did not take long for the information to spread up and down the line, and at once every man in the ranks, in absence of any orders from headquarters, concluded that the thing to do was to fall back. So each soldier gave the order to himself, and quicker than it takes time to tell it, the line was moving back over the fields.

We had retreated perhaps 200 yards when the movement was noticed by Gen.

Fitzhugh Lee. He came galloping toward us on his white horse, and with a voice that could be heard above the shots of the guns, he said, "What does this mean?" In reply, hundreds of hands pointed toward the enemy on our left, and some voices said, "They're getting in our rear." Gen. Lee said, "Tut, tut, tut; go back, go back." And without a word every man wheeled around and started back for the position he had left. Gen. Lee perhaps knew that there were forces enough there to take care of the enemy, who, as we saw it, was getting behind us.

As I said before, this kind of warfare continued for two days, and all the time it was going on we could hear the booming of the artillery on our left, telling us that Grant was doing all he could to beat back or break through Lee's lines, and we knew, too, that he was not accomplis.h.i.+ng his purpose. We could always tell which way the battle was going by the direction from which the sound came.

The night of the second day Grant silently and rapidly withdrew the main portion of his army from Lee's front and marched toward Spottsylvania Courthouse, which was some distance to the right of where the cavalry was fighting.

His object was to surprise Gen. Lee, and get between him and Richmond.