The Civil War_ Fort Sumter To Perryville Part 21

Longstreet was nearer than Jackson knew: near enough, even, to have heard the tearing rattle of musketry in the twilight west of Groveton, six miles off, and to wonder at the silence that ensued. For Lee, who was with the approaching column, this was one more enigma to be added to the many that had fretted him since Stonewall marched away, four days ago. The first day had been spent continuing the artillery demonstration along the Rappahannock. That night, after wiring Davis to ask if more troops could be spared from the Richmond defenses, he sent Stuart off with all the cavalry. Next morning, August 26, he continued the cannonade, hoping to keep Pope's attention fixed on his front while Jackson moved around his flank to strike his rear. By midday, however, there were signs that the Federals were beginning to pull back: which might or might not mean that the ruse had been detected. Lee sent for Longstreet. The time had come to reunite the two wings of the army, he said, and he left to him the choice of routes, either up the Warrenton Pike or roundabout through Salem. Old Pete chose the latter. Leaving Major General R. H. Anderson's division, formerly Huger's, to hold the fords and mask the movement, he set out that afternoon with his other three divisions-Hood's, reinforced by Shanks Evans, whose brigade had come up from South Carolina; Brigadier General D. R. Jones', formerly half of Magruder's; and Longstreet's own, now split in two, under Brigadier Generals Cadmus Wilc.o.x and James Kemper. This gave him, in effect, five divisions, each with three brigades; 32,000 men in all.

He made eleven miles before bivouacking near Orlean after nightfall, and by noon of the following day the head of the column had pa.s.sed through Salem, matching the performance of Stonewall's fabled marchers over these same roads, thirty-six hours ago. That was gratifying indeed. Even more so, however, were two dispatches Lee received before going into bivouac on the outskirts of White Plains. The first was from Jackson, informing him that he had taken Bristoe and Mana.s.sas the night before. He was concentrating now at the latter place, he added, squarely in Pope's rear, and saw no evidence, so far, that the Federals were ma.s.sing against him. The second welcome dispatch, brought by a courier from the opposite direction, was from Davis, replying to Lee's request for reinforcements. They were on the way, the President told him: Wade Hampton's cavalry brigade and two divisions of infantry under Harvey Hill and Major General Lafayette McLaws, the latter having been a.s.signed the other half of Magruder's old command. Howls of protest might ordinarily be expected when his critics learned that the seat of government was being stripped of defenders, Davis said, but "confidence in you overcomes the view which would otherwise be taken of the exposed condition of Richmond, and the troops retained for the defense of the capital are surrendered to you on a new request."

Lee's anxiety, both for the present and the future, was considerably relieved. In addition to the badly needed brigade of cavalry-he had none at all for the screening of Longstreet's column; riding point that morning near Salem, he and his staff had barely avoided capture by a roving Federal squadron-the arrival of the promised ten brigades of infantry would add 17,000 veteran bayonets to his army. That would by no means even the odds Pope and Burnside and McClellan could bring to bear, combined, but it would at any rate reduce them to the vicinity of two to one: 150,000 vs 72,000. If the present odds were less heartening-McClellan, after all, might be with Pope already-in other respects the situation appeared quite promising. Reinforcements on the way, Jackson astride the railroad in Pope's rear, the main Union supply base up in flames: all this was much, besides which it held out interesting possibilities for maneuver. Mana.s.sas being just twenty-two miles from White Plains, Longstreet's present bivouac, Lee could reasonably expect to have the two wings of his army reunited by tomorrow night, prepared to undertake the completion of the "suppression" already begun. Before dawn, more good news arrived. Jackson informed him by courier that he was withdrawing from his exposed position at Mana.s.sas and would concentrate at Groveton, thus reducing by three full miles the interval between himself and Longstreet.

Refreshed by sleep, Old Pete's veterans swung off into a rising sun that seemed destined to s.h.i.+ne today on a reunited Army of Northern Virginia. Only one natural obstacle lay in their path: Thoroughfare Gap. If the Yankees held it in strength there would be the delay of an uphill fight or a roundabout march, either of which would throw the schedule out of kilter. This seemed unlikely, though, since Jackson's couriers had been coming through unhindered, and presently another arrived, bringing further a.s.surance that the pa.s.s was open and that his chief had reached Groveton, unmolested and un.o.bserved, and was concentrating his troops in the woods overlooking the turnpike at that place. At 3 o'clock, topping the final rise that brought the gap into view, Longstreet's lead division pushed rapidly forward. Back with the main body, Lee presently heard from up ahead the reverberant clatter of musketry in the gorge. "Its echoes were wonderful," one staff officer later recalled. "A gun fired in its depths gave forth roars fit to bring down the skies."

Lee's reaction was less esthetic, for this of all sounds was the one he least wanted to hear. Then came the message that confirmed his fears: The Federals not only held the pa.s.s itself, they also had a reserve line posted on a dominant ridge beyond. John Pope had turned the tables, it seemed. Instead of panicking when he found Stonewall interposed between himself and Was.h.i.+ngton, the Union commander apparently had seized the initiative and posted his superior force between the two Confederate wings, preparing to crush them in sequence.

This was the darkest possible view. But Longstreet-"that undismayed warrior," his chief of staff afterwards called him, adding that he was "like a rock in steadiness when sometimes in battle the world seemed flying to pieces"-put his troops at once in motion to test the validity of such gloom. While Jones, supported by Kemper, kept up the pressure dead ahead, Hood probed for an opening near at hand and Wilc.o.x set out for Hopewell Gap, three miles north. These dispositions took time. Near sunset, during lulls in the firing here at the pa.s.s, Lee heard from the direction of Groveton the mutter of distant musketry, mixed in with the grumble of guns. This was presently blotted out, however, by the stepped-up firing close at hand: Hood's men had found a cleft in the ridge and were on the Federal flank. Promptly the bluecoats retreated, unplugging the gap and withdrawing from the ridge beyond. (They were only a single division, after all, sent by McDowell on his own initiative, shortly before he wandered off and got himself lost in the woods.) Jones and Kemper marched through unopposed, joining Hood on the eastern slope, and the three divisions settled down to await the arrival of Wilc.o.x, who had likewise penetrated Hopewell Gap.

Now that their own guns were silent, they heard again the growl and rumble of those near Groveton, half a dozen miles away. The uproar swelled to climax. Then it sank. At 9 o'clock it stopped. This might mean almost anything; all that was certain was that Jackson had been engaged. Whether he had won or lost-whether, indeed, that wing of the army still existed-they would know tomorrow. Whichever it was, it was over now. After sending a courier to inform Stonewall that the main body was safely through the pa.s.s, Lee told Longstreet to bed his men down for a good night's sleep in preparation for a fast march at sunup.

Friday, August 29, Hood's troops took the lead, marching so fast that their commander later reported proudly, "General Longstreet sent me orders, two or three times, to halt, since the army was unable to keep within supporting distance of my forces." There was need for haste. Ahead, the guns were booming again and a great white bank of smoke was piling up against the hot, bright blue, windless sky. Comforting though this was as proof that Jackson's men were still alive and kicking, it also demonstrated Pope's determination to destroy them before reinforcements got there. The Texans pushed on through Hay Market, raising a red cloud of dust with their feet, then down to Gainesville, where they struck the Warrenton Turnpike and swung left, advancing another three miles toward the ground-jarring thunder of guns, until they came upon Stonewall's right flank, above Groveton. It was now about 10 o'clock: Lee's army was reunited. Hood went into position north of the pike, establis.h.i.+ng contact, and the other divisions filed into position on his right, extending the line generally southward, across the pike and down toward the Mana.s.sas Gap Railroad. From left to right, Longstreet's order of battle was Hood, Kemper, Jones, Wilc.o.x. Anderson, who had masked the withdrawal from the Rappahannock line, was due to arrive by nightfall.

Moving from the scene of last night's b.l.o.o.d.y encounter, Jackson had placed his three divisions along the grade of an unfinished railroad. Part cut, part fill, it furnished an excellent defensive position, practically a ready-made system of intrenchments, roughly parallel to the turnpike across which Longstreet's line was drawn. When the Valley soldiers heard that their comrades had completed the march from Thoroughfare Gap and were filing into position on the right-"covered with dust so thick," one cavalryman observed, "that all looked as if they had been painted one color"-they rose and cheered them, despite the cannonade, which had scarcely slacked since sunup. Presently, though, they had more to worry about than bursting sh.e.l.ls. The blue infantry was swarming to the attack.

The Federal chieftain's plans for a simultaneous double blow at both of Stonewall's flanks had gone astray, Porter having been delayed by darkness and two of the missing McDowell's three divisions having fallen back on Mana.s.sas after their twilight fights at Groveton and the Gap. "G.o.d d.a.m.n McDowell, he's never where I want him," Pope was saying, angry but undaunted. He sent staff officers to locate them and hurry them along. Meanwhile, Sigel, Reno, and Heintzelman were at hand, and he flung them forward, still convinced that Jackson was trying to escape. One after another, they surged across the open fields, breaking in waves against the embankment where Stonewall's bayonets glittered. The closest they came to success was on the rebel left, where some woods afforded a covered approach. This was on Little Powell's front, the extreme flank of which was held by Brigadier General Maxcy Gregg's South Carolinians. Kearny's division struck hard here, effecting a lodgment astride the ramp and pressing down on the end of the line as if to roll it up. On a rocky knoll, here on the far-east margin of the conflict, Rebs and Yanks fought hand to hand. Bayonets crossed; rifle b.u.t.ts cracked skulls. A bachelor lawyer, somewhat deaf, Gregg strode up and down, brandis.h.i.+ng an old Revolutionary scimitar and calling for a rally. "Let us die here, my men. Let us die here," he said. Many did die, something over 600 in all, but the knoll was held. The Federals withdrew.

Hill did not think it would be for long. He sent word to Jackson that he would do his best, but that he doubted whether his men could withstand another such a.s.sault. Jackson sent the courier back with a sharp message: "Tell him if they attack him again he must beat them!" Riding toward the left to see for himself, he met the red-haired Hill coming to speak to him in person. "General, your men have done n.o.bly," Jackson told him. "If you are attacked again, you will beat the enemy back." At this, the clatter broke out again in the woods on the left. "Here it comes," Hill said. As he turned his horse and rode back into the uproar, Jackson called after him: "I'll expect you to beat them!" The clatter rose to climax, then subsided. A messenger came galloping out of the smoke and pulled up alongside Jackson: "General Hill presents his respects and says the attack of the enemy was repulsed." Jackson smiled. "Tell him I knew he would do it," he said.

That was how it went, touch and go, all along his line all afternoon. Pope paid no mind to Longstreet, being unaware that he was even on the field: which, indeed, might practically as well have been the case, so far as relief of the pressure on Jackson was concerned, except for some batteries in brisk action on a ridge to Hood's left where the lines were hinged, like widespread jaws gaping east-southeast. Lee was quick to suggest that Old Pete swing the lower jaw forward and upward in order to engage the bluecoats and absorb some of the single-minded pressure they were applying to the weary men along the unfinished railroad. But Longstreet demurred. He never liked to go piecemeal into battle unprepared; Anderson was not yet up, and he had not had time enough for a thorough study of the ground. Besides, Stuart reported a force of undetermined strength gathering on the right; this, too, would have to be investigated. Regretfully Lee agreed to a delay. Longstreet left on a personal reconnaissance, then presently returned. He did not like the look of things. More Federals were coming up from the south, he said, in position to stab at his flank if he moved east. If they would venture squarely into the jaws, he would gladly clamp and chew them with gusto; but for the present he saw little profit, and much risk, in advancing.

Jackson rode up, dusty and worn. The two generals greeted him, and in reply to his statement that his line was hard pressed Lee turned to Longstreet. "Hadn't we better move our line forward?" he suggested.

"I think not," Longstreet said. "We had better wait until we hear more from Stuart about the force he has reported moving against us from Mana.s.sas."

A step-up in the firing toward the east caused Jackson to ride off in that direction. Federal dead and wounded were heaped along the forward slope where the Confederates, drawing their beads under cover of the cuts and fills, had dropped them. Charge after charge was repulsed all down the line, but this was accomplished at a high cost to the badly outnumbered defenders: especially when the fighting was conducted at close quarters, as it often was today. In Starke's division, on the right, not a single brigade was under a general officer, and one was led by a major. In Lawton's, when bull-voiced old Ike Trimble was. .h.i.t and carried from the field, command of his brigade pa.s.sed for a time to a captain. For the survivors, fighting their battle unrelieved and unsupported, this was the longest of all days. One remembered, years afterward, how he spent the infrequent lulls "praying that the great red sun, blazing and motionless overhead, would go down." He added, looking back: "For the first time in my life I understood what was meant by 'Joshua's sun standing still on Gibeon,' for it would not go down."

At last, however, as it approached the landline, Lee suggested for the third time that Longstreet attack. But Longstreet still demurred. Stuart had identified the hovering bluecoats as Porter's corps, two veteran divisions. Besides, Old Pete had a new objection: There was too little daylight left. The best thing to do, he said, would be to make a forced reconnaissance at dusk; then, if an opening was discovered, the whole army could exploit it at dawn tomorrow. Once more Lee deferred to Longstreet, who a.s.signed the task to Hood.

The Texans moved out at sunset, advancing up the Warrenton Turnpike, "the light of battle in our eyes-I reckon," one recalled-"and fear of it in our hearts-I know." They collided in the dusk with King's division, returning from Mana.s.sas, in a fight so confused that one Union major was captured when he tried to rally a regiment that turned out to be the 2d Mississippi. Hood held his ground, driving the weary Federals back, but when he reported to Lee and Longstreet after dark, he recommended that his troops be withdrawn to their original position. Nor did he think that an attack next morning would succeed in that direction; the enemy position was too strong, he said. Thus Longstreet's daylong judgment was apparently confirmed. Lee gave Hood permission to withdraw, which he did, encountering in the darkness the men of Anderson's division, just arrived from Thoroughfare Gap, and thus prevented them from stumbling blindly into the Union lines.

The long day's fight was over. Out across the night-shrouded fields and in the woods behind the corpse-strewn embankment, the groans of the wounded were incessant. "Water! For G.o.d's sake, water!" men were crying. Jackson's medical director, reporting the heavy casualties to his chief, said proudly: "General, this day has been won by nothing but stark and stern fighting." Stonewall shook his head. "No," he said. "It has been won by nothing but the blessing and protection of Providence."

Dawn found Pope in excellent spirits. His headquarters were on a little knoll in the northeast quadrant formed by the intersection of the Mana.s.sas-Sudley road with the Warrenton Turnpike, and as he stood there in the growing light, burly and expansive, smoking a cigar and chatting informally with his staff and those commanders who found time to ride over for a visit, the gruffness which was habitual-one of his aides referred to it as "infusing some of his western energy into the caravan"-seemed merely a form of bantering this morning, pleased as he was with the overall success of his efforts to keep Stonewall from escaping. He had cast his net and the foe was entangled; now all that remained, apparently, was the agreeable task of hauling him in, hand over hand.

By no means had all gone to suit him yesterday. The attacks, though pressed with vigor, had been delivered somewhat piecemeal. Most irksome of all, Fitz-John Porter had declined to advance against Jackson's right flank, claiming that Longstreet barred the way with something like three times as many men as he himself had. Pope did not believe this for an instant. At 4.30 he repeated his orders for Porter to "press forward into action at once on the enemy's flank, and, if possible, on his rear." Porter balked, still insisting that he had more than half of the rebel army to his front, and darkness fell before Pope could budge him. Disappointed, the Federal commander moved the sluggish Porter around to the main line, paralleling the turnpike, and prepared for an all-out a.s.sault at dawn, when he wired Halleck a summary of his achievements: "We fought a terrific battle here yesterday...which lasted with continuous fury from daybreak until dark, by which time the enemy was driven from the field, which we now occupy. Our troops are too much exhausted yet to push matters, but I shall do so in the course of the morning.... The enemy is still in our front, but badly used up. We have lost not less than 8000 men killed and wounded, but from the appearance of the field the enemy lost at least two to one. He stood strictly on the defensive, and every a.s.sault was made by ourselves. Our troops behaved splendidly. The battle was fought on the identical battlefield of Bull Run, which greatly increased the enthusiasm of our men." In midparagraph he added, "The news just reaches me from the front that the enemy is retreating toward the mountains. I go forward at once to see."

He did go forward, onto the knoll at any rate, and what he saw encouraged him still more. Where bayonets had glittered yesterday along the bed of the unfinished railroad, the goal of so many charges that had broken in blood along its base, today there was stillness and apparent vacancy. Only a few gray riflemen contested the sniping from Federal outposts. Combined with the knowledge of Hood's withdrawal down the turnpike after midnight, this intelligence led Pope to believe that Jackson had pulled out, leaving only a skeleton force to discourage the blue pursuit. Still, anxious though he was to garner the utmost fruits of victory, Pope curbed his tendency toward rashness. In the end, he knew, more would be gained if the chase was conducted in a well-coordinated fas.h.i.+on than if he took off half-c.o.c.ked and over-eager. While he stood there on the headquarters knoll, wreathed in cigar smoke as he chatted with his staff, orders went out prescribing the dispositions for pursuit. McDowell would be in general charge of the two-p.r.o.nged advance. Porter's corps and two divisions from McDowell's would move directly down the pike; Heintzelman's corps, supported by McDowell's other division, would move up the Hay Market road. With Stonewall's getaway thus contested in both directions, troop commanders were expressly instructed to "press him vigorously during the whole day."

All this took time, but Pope felt he could afford it now that he had a full-scale victory under his belt. Careful preparations, with strict attention to details, would pay dividends in the long run, when the rebels were brought to bay and the mopping-up began. Noon came and went. A heavy silence lay over the heat-s.h.i.+mmered field, broken from time to time by sputters of fire exchanged by the men on outpost. At 2 o'clock, informed that all was in order at last, Pope gave the signal and the pursuit got under way.

Deliberate though these preparations were, the pursuit itself-or anyhow what Pope conceived as such-was probably the briefest of the war. Jackson was by no means retreating; he had merely withdrawn his troops for some unmolested and hard-earned rest in the woods along the base of Sudley Mountain just in his rear, leaving a thin line to man the works and give the alarm in case the Yankees showed signs of advancing. He doubted that they would do so, after their failures yesterday, but he was perfectly willing to meet them if they tried it. Longstreet-who was very much on hand with all five of his divisions, no matter what evidence Pope had received (or deduced) in denial of the fact-was more than willing; he was downright eager. In fact, now that Porter's corps had been s.h.i.+fted from its threatening position off his flank, he desired nothing in all the world quite so much as that the Federals would launch a full-scale attack across his front, though he too doubted that Fortune's smile could ever be that broad.

Lee, who doubted it most of all, began to be concerned that Pope would get away unsuppressed, having suffered only such punishment as Jackson had managed to inflict while receiving his headlong charges the day before. As the long morning wore away, marked by nothing more eventful than the occasional growl of a battery or the isolated sputter of an argument between pickets, Lee took the opportunity to catch up on his correspondence. "My desire," he wrote the President, "has been to avoid a general engagement, being the weaker force, and by maneuvering to relieve the portion of the country referred to." By this he meant the region along the Rappahannock, whose relief had been accomplished by forcing Pope's retreat on Mana.s.sas. Now his mind turned to the possibilities at hand. If Pope would not attack, then he would have to be "maneuvered." About noon, while Lee was working on a plan for moving again around his opponent's right, crossing Bull Run above Sudley Springs in order to threaten his rear, Stuart came to headquarters with an interesting report. He had sent a man up a large walnut tree, Jeb said, and the man had spotted the bluecoats ma.s.sing in three heavy lines along Jackson's front. Quickly Lee sent couriers to warn of the danger. Jackson alerted his troops but kept them in the woods. He had been observing the Federal activity for some time, but, concluding that nothing would come of it, had remarked to the colonel commanding the Stonewall Brigade: "Well, it looks as if there will be no fight today...."

Shortly before 3 o'clock he found out just how wrong he was. Suddenly, without even the warning preamble of an artillery bombardment, the blue infantry came roaring at him in three separate waves, stretching left and right as far as the eye could see. Buglers along the unfinished railroad gobbled staccato warnings, and the startled troops came running out of the woods to man the line. This was far worse than yesterday. Not only were the attacking forces much heavier; they seemed much more determined, individually and in ma.s.s, not to be denied a lodgment. Immediately Jackson began to receive urgent requests for reinforcements all along the front. One officer rode up to report that his brigade commander had been shot down and the survivors were badly shaken. They needed help.

"What brigade, sir?" Jackson asked, not having caught the name.

"The Stonewall Brigade."

"Go back," Jackson told him. "Give my compliments to them, and tell the Stonewall Brigade to maintain her reputation."

For the present, reduced though it was to a ghost of its former self, the brigade managed to do as its old commander asked; but how long it would be able to continue to do so, under the strain, was another question. Rifle barrels grew too hot to handle, and at several points the defenders exhausted their ammunition. At one such critical location, the enemy having penetrated to within ten yards of the embankment, the graybacks beat them back with rocks. All along the two-mile front, the situation was desperate; no sooner was the pressure relieved in one spot than it increased again in another. Broken, then restored, Hill's line wavered like a shaken rope. He was down to his last ounce of strength, he reported, and still the bluecoats came against him, too thick and fast for killing to do more than slow them down. Whereupon Jackson, who had no reserves to send in response to Hill's plea for reinforcements, did something he had never done before. Outnumbered three to one by the attackers, whose bullets he was opposing with flung stones, he appealed to Lee to send him help from Longstreet.

In the Federal ranks there was also a measure of consternation, especially at the brevity of what they had been a.s.sured was a "pursuit." Recovering from the shock of this discovery, however, the men fought with redoubled fury, as if glad of a chance to take their resentment of Pope out on the rebels. As usual, McDowell came in for his share of their bitterness-as witness the following exchange between a gray-haired officer and a wounded noncom limping rearward out of the fight: "Sergeant, how does the battle go?"

"We're holding our own; but McDowell has charge of the left."

"Then G.o.d save the left!"

For the better part of an hour they came on, running hunched as if into a high wind, charging shoulder to shoulder across fields where long tendrils and sheets of gunsmoke writhed and billowed, sulphurous and "tinged with a hot coppery hue by the rays of the declining sun." One among them was to remember it so, along with the accompanying distraction of rebel sh.e.l.ls "continually screeching over our heads or plowing the gravelly surface with an ugly rasping whirr that makes one's flesh creep." Still they came on. Time after time, they faltered within reach of the flame-st.i.tched crest of the embankment, then time after time came on again, stumbling over the huddled blue forms that marked the limits of their previous advances. They battered thus at Jackson's line as if at a locked gate, beyond which they could see the cool green fields of peace. Determined to swing it ajar or knock it flat, they struck it again and again, flesh against metal, and feeling it tremble and crack at the hinges and hasp, they battered harder.

Longstreet stood on the ridge where his and Jackson's lines were hinged. This not only gave him a panoramic view of the action, it also afforded an excellent position for ma.s.sing the eighteen guns of a reserve artillery battalion which had arrived at dawn. The batteries were sighted so that they commanded, up to a distance of about 2000 yards to the east and northeast, the open ground across which the Federals were advancing. For the better part of an hour the cannoneers had watched hungrily while the blue waves were breaking against Stonewall's right and center, perpendicular to and well within range of their guns. This was the answer to an artillerist's prayer, but Old Pete was in no hurry. He was saving this for a Sunday punch, to be delivered when the time was right and the final Union reserves had been committed. Then it came: Jackson's appeal for a.s.sistance, forwarded by Lee with the recommendation that a division of troops be sent. "Certainly," Longstreet said. He spoke calmly, suppressing the excitement he and all around him felt as they gazed along the troughs and crests of the blue waves rolling northward under the muzzles of his guns. "But before the division can reach him, the attack will be broken by artillery."

So it was. When Longstreet turned at last and gave the signal that unleashed them, the gunners leaped to their pieces and let fly, bowling their shots along the serried rows of Federals who up to now had been unaware of the danger to their flank. The effect was instantaneous. Torn and blasted by this fire, the second and third lines milled aimlessly, bewildered, then retreated in disorder: whereupon the first-line soldiers, looking back over their shoulders to find their supports in flight, also began to waver and give ground. This was that trembling instant when the battle scales of Fortune signal change, one balance pan beginning to rise as the other sinks.

Down on the flat, just after remarking calmly to one of his staff as he watched a line of wagons pa.s.s to the front, "I observe that some of those mules are without shoes; I wish you would see to it that all of the animals are shod at once," Lee heard the uproar and divined its meaning. Without a change of expression, he sent word to Longstreet that if he saw any better way to relieve the pressure on Jackson than by sending troops, he should adopt it. Headquarters wigwagged a signal station on the left: "Do you still want reinforcements?" When the answer came back, "No. The enemy are giving way," Lee knew the time had come to accomplish Pope's suppression by launching an all-out counterstroke to compound the blue confusion. An order went at once to Longstreet, directing him to go forward with every man in his command. It was not needed; Old Pete was already in motion, bearing down on the moil of Federals out on the plain. A similar order went to Jackson, together with a warning: "General Longstreet is advancing. Look out for and protect his left flank." But this also was unnecessary. When Stonewall's men saw the bluecoats waver on their front, they too started forward. Right and left, as the widespread jaws began to close, the weird halloo of the rebel yell rang out.

Porter's corps was on the exposed flank, under the general direction of McDowell, and Porter, who had been expressing dark forebodings all along-"I hope Mac is at work, and we will soon get ordered out of this," he had written Burnside the night before-had taken the precaution of stationing two New York regiments, the only volunteer outfits in Sykes' division of regulars, on his left as a s.h.i.+eld against disaster. Facing west along the base of a little knoll on which a six-gun battery was posted, these New Yorkers caught the brunt of Longstreet's a.s.sault, led by Hood. One regiment, thrown forward as a skirmish line, was quickly overrun. The other-Zouaves, nattily dressed in white spats, ta.s.seled fezzes, short blue jackets, and baggy scarlet trousers-stood on the slope itself, holding firm while the battery flailed the attackers, then finally limbered and got away, permitting the New Yorkers to retire. They did this at a terrible cost, however. Out of 490 present when the a.s.sault began, 124 were dead and 223 had been wounded by the time it was over: which amounted to the largest percentage of men killed in any Federal regiment in any single battle of the war. Next morning, one of Hood's men became strangely homesick at the sight of the dead Zouaves strewn about in their gaudy clothes. According to him, they gave the western slope of the little knoll "the appearance of a Texas hillside when carpeted in the spring by wild flowers of many hues and tints."

The respite bought with their blood, however brief, had given Pope time to bring up reinforcements from the right, and they too offered what resistance they could to the long gray line surging eastward along both sides of the pike. This was undulating country, with easy ridges at right angles to the advance, so that to one defender it seemed that the Confederates, silhouetted against the great red ball of the setting sun, "came on like demons emerging from the earth." There was delay as Longstreet's left became exposed to enfilading fire from some batteries on Jackson's right, but when these were silenced the advance swept on, tilted battle flags gleaming in the sunset. On Henry Hill, where Stonewall had won his nickname thirteen months ago, Sykes' regulars stood alongside the Pennsylvanians of Reynolds' division-he had been exchanged since his capture near Gaines Mill-and hurled back the disjointed rebel attacks that continued on through twilight into darkness.

There was panic, but it was not of the kind that had characterized the retreat from this same field the year before. The regulars were staunch, now as then, but there was by no means the same difference, in that respect, between them and the volunteers. Sigel's Germans and the men with Reno also managed to form knots of resistance, while the rest withdrew across Stone Bridge in a drizzle of rain. McDowell, seeing the Iron Brigade hold firm along a critical ridge, put Gibbon in charge of the rear guard and gave him instructions to blow up the bridge when his Westerners had crossed over.

After McDowell left, Phil Kearny rode up, empty sleeve flapping, spike whiskers bristling with anger at the sudden reverse the army had suffered. "I suppose you appreciate the condition of affairs here, sir," he cried. "It's another Bull Run, sir. It's another Bull Run!" When Gibbon said he hoped it was not as bad as that, Kearny snapped: "Perhaps not. Reno is keeping up the fight. He is not stampeded; I am not stampeded; you are not stampeded. That is about all, sir. My G.o.d, that's about all!"

Two miles west of there, near Groveton, Lee was composing a dispatch to be telegraphed to Richmond for release by the President: This army today achieved on the plains of Mana.s.sas a signal victory over combined forces of Generals McClellan and Pope.... We mourn the loss of our gallant dead in every conflict, yet our grat.i.tude to Almighty G.o.d for his mercies rises higher and higher each day. To Him and to the valor of our troops a nation's grat.i.tude is due.

His losses were 1481 killed, 7627 wounded, 89 missing; Pope's were 1724 killed, 8372 wounded, 5958 missing. Lee reported the capture of 7000 prisoners, exclusive of 2000 wounded left by Pope on the field, along with 30 guns and 20,000 small arms, numerous colors, and a vast amount of stores in addition to those consumed or destroyed by Jackson at Mana.s.sas Junction two days back.

Nor was that all. A larger triumph was reflected in the contrast between the present overall military situation, here in the East, and that which had existed when Lee a.s.sumed command three months ago. McClellan had stood within sight of the spires of Richmond; Jackson had been in flight up the Shenandoah Valley, pursued by superior enemy combinations; West Virginia had been completely in Federal hands, as well as most of coastal North Carolina, with invasion strongly threatened from both directions. Now Richmond had not only been delivered, but the Union host was in full retreat on Was.h.i.+ngton, with the dome of the Capitol practically in view and government clerks being mustered for a last-ditch defense of the city; the Valley was rapidly being scoured of the blue remnants left behind when Pope a.s.sembled his army to cross the Rappahannock; West Virginia was almost cleared of Federals, and the North Carolina coast was safe. Except for the garrisons at Fort Monroe and Norfolk, the only bluecoats within a hundred miles of the southern capital were prisoners of war and men now busy setting fire to U.S. stores and equipment at Aquia Creek, just north of Fredericksburg, preparing for a hasty evacuation.

Nor was that all, either. Beyond all this, there was the transformation effected within the ranks of the Army of Northern Virginia itself: a lifting of morale, based on a knowledge of the growth of its fighting skill. Gone were the clumsy combinations of the Seven Days, the piecemeal attacks launched headlong against positions of the enemy's own choice. Here in the gallant rivalry of Mana.s.sas, where Longstreet's soldiers vied with Jackson's for the "suppression" of an opponent they despised, the victory formula had apparently been found; Lee's orders had been carried out instinctively, in some cases even before they were delivered. Tonight at army headquarters, which had been set up in an open field with a campfire of boards to read dispatches by, there was rejoicing and an air of mutual congratulation as officer after officer arrived to report new incidents of triumph. Lee-who had told his wife a month ago, "In the prospect before me I cannot see a single ray of pleasure during this war"-stood in the firelight, gray and handsome, impeccably uniformed, welcoming subordinates with the accustomed grace of a Virginia host.

"General, here is someone who wants to speak to you," a staff captain said.

Lee turned and saw a smoke-grimed cannoneer standing before him, still with a sponge staff in one hand. "Well, my man, what can I do for you?"

"Why, General, don't you know me?" Robert wailed.

There was laughter at this, a further lifting of spirits as troop commanders continued to report of the day's successes. Hood rode up, weary but still elated over what he called "the most beautiful battle scene I have ever beheld." When Lee, adopting the bantering tone he often used in addressing the blond young man, asked what had become of the enemy, Hood replied that his Texans had driven them "almost at a double-quick" across Bull Run. He added that it had been a wonderful sight to see the Confederate battle flags "dancing after the Federals as they ran in full retreat." Lee dropped his jesting manner and said gravely, "G.o.d forbid I should ever live to see our colors moving in the opposite direction."

While Lee was at Groveton, composing the dispatch to Davis, Pope was at Centerville, composing one to Halleck. All things being considered, the two were by no means as different as might have been expected.

We have had a terrific battle again today.... Under all the circ.u.mstances, both horses and men having been two days without food, and the enemy greatly outnumbering us, I thought it best to draw back to this place at dark. The movement has been made in perfect order and without loss. The troops are in good heart, and marched off the field without the least hurry or confusion.... Do not be uneasy. We will hold our own here.... p.s. We have lost nothing; neither guns nor wagons.

Of the several inaccuracies here involved (one being the comparison of forces; Lee had had 50,000 men engaged, while Pope had had 60,000-exclusive of Banks, who was guarding his trains) the greatest, perhaps, was the one in which he declared that his troops were "in good heart." It was true that, after the first wild scramble for an exit, they had steadied and retired in column, under cover of the rear-guard action on Henry Hill; but their spirits were in fact so far from being high that they could scarcely have been lower. If Pope did not know the extent of his defeat, his men did. They agreed with the verdict later handed down by one of their corps historians, that Pope "had been kicked, cuffed, hustled about, knocked down, run over, and trodden upon as rarely happens in the history of war. His communications had been cut; his headquarters pillaged; a corps had marched into his rear, and had encamped at its ease upon the railroad by which he received his supplies; he had been beaten or foiled in every attempt he had made to 'bag' those defiant intruders; and, in the end, he was glad to find a refuge in the intrenchments of Was.h.i.+ngton, whence he had sallied forth, six weeks before, breathing out threatenings and slaughter."

They agreed with this in all its harshness, but just now what they mainly were was sullen. They had fought well and they knew it. Defeat had come, not because they were outfought, but because they were outgeneraled-or misgeneraled. As one of their number put it, "All knew and felt that as soldiers we had not had a fair chance." The fault, they believed, was Pope's; he had "acted like a dunderpate." And McDowell's; he had revived their suspicions by repeating his past performance on this field. "General McDowell was viewed as a traitor by a large majority of the officers and men," one diarist wrote, adding: "Thousands of soldiers firmly believed that their lives would be purposely wasted if they obeyed his orders in the time of the conflict." The story was told that one of his regiments had stepped gingerly up to the firing line, loosed a random volley, then turned and made for the rear, the men shouting over their shoulders as they ran: "You can't play it on us!" Slogging tonight through the drizzle of rain, they saw him sitting his horse beside the pike, identifiable in the murk because of the outlandish silhouette of his canvas helmet. One Ma.s.sachusetts private nudged another, pointing, and said darkly: "How guilty he looks, with that basket on his head!"

Pope, too, came in for his share of abuse. "Open sneering at General Pope was heard on all sides," one veteran observed. Another, pa.s.sing the luckless commander by the roadside, hailed him with a quote from Horace Greeley: "Go west, young man! Go west!" Perhaps this had something to do with changing his mind as to the state of his men's hearts. At any rate, when morning came-Sunday, August 31-he wired Halleck: "Our troops are...much used-up and worn-out," and he spoke of giving the enemy "as desperate a fight as I can force our men to stand up to." Franklin's corps had come up the night before, in time to establish a straggler line in front of Centerville; Sumner too was at hand, giving Pope 20,000 fresh troops with which to oppose the rebels. But his confidence was ebbing. He told Halleck, "I should like to know whether you feel secure about Was.h.i.+ngton should this army be destroyed. I shall fight it as long as a man will stand up to the work. You must judge what is to be done, having in view the safety of the capital."

No sooner had he sent this, however, than a reply to last night's rosy message bucked him up again. "My Dear General: You have done n.o.bly," Halleck wired. "Don't yield another inch if you can avoid it." Pope thanked him for this "considerate commendation" and pa.s.sed along the encouraging news that "Ewell is killed. Jackson is badly wounded.... The plan of the enemy will undoubtedly be to turn my flank. If he does so he will have his hands full." Meanwhile, Franklin's soldiers mocked and taunted the bedraggled Army of Virginia, jeering along the straggler line at its "new route" to Richmond. Overnight, Pope's confidence took another sickening drop. Three hours after sunrise, September 1, he got off another long dispatch to Halleck. After a bold beginning-"All was quiet yesterday and so far this morning. My men are resting; they need it much.... I shall attack again tomorrow if I can; the next day certainly"-he pa.s.sed at once to darker matters: "I think it my duty to call your attention to the unsoldierly and dangerous conduct of many brigade and some division commanders of the forces sent here from the Peninsula. Every word and act and intention is discouraging, and calculated to break down the spirits of the men and produce disaster." In the light of this, he closed with a recommendation that ran counter to the intention expressed at the outset: "My advice to you-I give it with freedom, as I know you will not misunderstand it-is that, in view of any satisfactory results, you draw back this army to the intrenchments in front of Was.h.i.+ngton, and set to work in that secure place to reorganize and rearrange it. You may avoid great disaster by doing so."

While waiting to see what would come of this, he found that Jackson (who was no more wounded than Ewell was dead) was in the act of fulfilling his prediction that Lee would try to turn his flank. Stonewall's men had crossed Bull Run at Sudley Springs, then moved north to the Little River Turnpike, which led southeast to Fairfax Courthouse, eight miles in the Union rear. Pope pulled the troops of Phil Kearny and Brigadier General I. I. Stevens, who commanded Burnside's other division under Reno, out of their muddy camps and sent them slogging northward to intercept the rebel column. They did so, late that afternoon. There beside the pike, around a mansion called Chantilly, a wild fight took place during a thunderstorm so violent that it drowned the roar of cannon. Jackson's march had been slow; consequently he was in a grim and savage humor. In the rain-lashed confusion, when one of his colonels requested that his men be withdrawn because their cartridges were too wet to ignite, the reply came back: "My compliments to Colonel Blank, and tell him the enemy's ammunition is just as wet as his."

This spirit was matched on the Federal side by Kearny, who dashed from point to point, his empty sleeve flapping as he rode with the reins clamped in his teeth in order to have his one arm free to gesture with his saber, hoicking his troops up to the firing line and holding them there by showing no more concern for bullets than he did for raindrops. His prescription for success in leading men in battle was a simple one; "You must never be afraid of anything," he had told a young lieutenant two days ago. Stevens followed his example, and between them they made Stonewall call a halt. The firing continued into early darkness, when on A. P. Hill's front the men were surprised to see a Union general come riding full-tilt toward them, suddenly illuminated by a flash of lightning. They called on him to surrender, but he whirled his mount, leaning forward onto its withers with his arm around its neck, and tried to gallop away in the confusion. They fired a volley that unhorsed him, and when they went out to pick him up they found that he was dead, lying one-armed in the mud, the back of his coat and the seat of his trousers torn by bullets. They brought his body into their lines. "Poor Kearny," Hill said, looking down at him. "He deserved a better death than that."

Stevens too was dead by now, shot while leading a charge, and the Federals fell back down the pike and through the woods. They did so more from being disheartened by the loss of their leaders, however, than from being pressed; Jackson did not pursue. Thus ended the Battle of Chantilly, a rain-swept drama with off-stage thunder, vivid flashes of lightning, and an epilogue supplied next morning by Lee, who sent Kearny's body forward under a flag of truce, "thinking that the possession of his remains may be a consolation to his family."

Pope by then was back at Fairfax, within twenty miles of Was.h.i.+ngton, having received from Halleck the instructions he had sought: "You will bring your forces as best you can within or near the line of fortification." As the army retreated-"by squads, companies, and broken parts of regiments and brigades," according to one enlisted diarist-its commander lost the final vestige of his former boldness. "The straggling is awful in the regiments from the Peninsula," he complained to Halleck. "Unless something can be done to restore tone to this army it will melt away before you know it." This was a new and different Pope, a Pope not unlike a sawdust doll with most of its stuffing leaked away. A surgeon who looked through a headquarters window the previous evening saw him so: "He sat with his chair tipped back against the wall, his hands clasped behind his head, which bent forward, his chin touching his breast-seeming to pay no attention to the generals as they arrived, but to be wholly wrapped in his own gloomy reflections." The doctor wrote long afterward, and being a kind-hearted man, who had dealt with much misery in his life, he added: "I pitied him then. I pity him now."

It was perhaps the only pity felt for him by anyone in the whole long weary column slogging its way eastward. Last night's thunderstorm had deepened the mud along the pike, and overhead a scud of clouds obscured the sun, which shed an eerie yellow light upon the sodden fields. In a way, though, the weather was fitting, matching as it did the mood of the retreat. "Everyone you met had an unwashed, sleepy, downcast aspect," one officer observed, "and looked as if he would like to hide his head somewhere from all the world." Now that the immediate danger was past, a still worse reaction of sullenness had set in among the troops, whose mistrust of Pope quite balanced his expressed mistrust of them. As one colonel put it, "No salutary fear kept them in the ranks, and many gave way to the temptation to take a rest.... There was everywhere along the road the greatest confusion. Infantry and cavalry, artillery and wagons, all hurried on pell mell, in the midst of rallying cries of officers and calls and oaths of the men."

Banks had come up from Bristoe Station, bringing the army's wagons with him though he had been obliged to put the torch to all the locomotives and freight cars loaded with stores and munitions from Warrenton and other points below the wreckage of Broad Run bridge. His corps, having seen no fighting since Cedar Mountain, was a.s.signed the rear guard duty, which consisted mainly of prodding frazzled stragglers back into motion and gathering up abandoned equipment littered along the roadside. At the head of the column-miles away, for the various units were badly strung out, clotted in places and gapped in others as a result of accordion action-rode Pope and McDowell, attended by their staffs and followed closely by the lead division, formerly King's but now under Brigadier General John P. Hatch, who had succeeded the ailing King. That afternoon the sun came out, but it did little to revive the downcast marchers: least of all Hatch, who had more cause for gloom than most. He had commanded a cavalry brigade, that being the arm of service he preferred, until Pope relieved him for inefficiency and transferred him to the infantry. So Hatch had this to brood over, in addition to the events of the past few days. Then suddenly, up ahead, he saw something that made him forget his and the army's troubles.

Off to one side loomed Munson's Hill, which Joe Johnston had held with a dummy gun last winter. From its crown, Hatch knew, you could see the dome of the Capitol. But what engaged his attention just now was a small group of hors.e.m.e.n coming down the road toward Pope and McDowell: particularly the man in front, who rode a large black horse and wore a vivid yellow sash about his waist. Hatch thought there was something familiar about the trim and dapper way he sat his charger. Then, as the man reined to a halt in front of the two generals, returning their salutes with one of his own which "seemed to carry a little of personal good fellows.h.i.+p to even the humblest private soldier," Hatch knew the unbelievable was true; it was Little Mac. He spurred ahead in time to hear McClellan tell Pope and McDowell he had been authorized to take command of the army. Off to the left rear just then there was a sudden thumping of artillery, dim in the distance. What was that? McClellan asked. Pope said it was probably an attack on Sumner, whose corps was guarding the flank in that direction. Then he inquired if there would be any objection if he and McDowell rode on toward Was.h.i.+ngton. None at all, McClellan replied; but as for himself, he was riding toward the sound of gunfire.

Before the two could resume their journey, Hatch took advantage of the chance to revenge the wrong he believed had been done when his cavalry brigade was taken from him the month before. Trotting back to the head of his infantry column, within easy hearing distance of Pope and McDowell, he shouted: "Boys, McClellan is in command of the army again! Three cheers!" The result, after an instant of shock while the words sank in, was pandemonium. Caps and knapsacks went sailing high in the air, and men who a moment ago had been too weary and dispirited to do anything more than plant one leaden foot in front of the other were cheering themselves hoa.r.s.e, capering about, and slapping each other joyfully on the back. "From an extreme sadness," one Ma.s.sachusetts volunteer recalled, "we pa.s.sed in a twinkling to a delirium of delight. A deliverer had come." This was the reaction all down the column as the news traveled back along its length, pausing at the gaps between units, then being taken up again, moving westward like a spark along a ten-mile train of powder.

Such demonstrations were not restricted to green troops, volunteers likely to leap at every rumor. Sykes' regulars, for example, were far back toward the rear and did not learn of the change till after nightfall. They were taking a rest-halt, boiling coffee in a roadside field, when an officer on picket duty saw by starlight the familiar figure astride Dan Webster coming down the pike. "Colonel! Colonel!" he hollered, loud enough to be heard all over the area, "General McClellan is here!" Within seconds every man was on his feet and cheering, raising what one of them called "such a hurrah as the Army of the Potomac had never heard before. Shout upon shout went out into the stillness of the night; and as it was taken up along the road and repeated by regiment, brigade, division and corps, we could hear the roar dying away in the distance. The effect of this man's presence upon the Army of the Potomac-in suns.h.i.+ne or rain, in darkness or in daylight, in victory or defeat-was electrical." Hard put for words to account for the delirium thus provoked, he could only add that it was "too wonderful to make it worth while attempting to give a reason for it."

Nor was the enthusiasm limited to veterans of Little Mac's own army, men who had fought under him before. When Gibbon announced the new commander's arrival to the survivors of the Iron Brigade, they too reacted with unrestrained delight, tossing their hats and breaking ranks to jig and whoop, just as the Peninsula boys were doing. Later that night, Gibbon remembered afterward, "the weary, f.a.gged men went into camp cheerful and happy, to talk over their rough experience of the past three weeks and speculate as to what was ahead."

It was Lincoln's doing, his alone, and he had done it against the will of a majority of his advisers. Chase believed that the time had come, beyond all doubt, when "either the government or McClellan must go down," and Stanton had prepared and was soliciting cabinet signatures for an ultimatum demanding "the immediate removal of George B. McClellan from any command in the armies of the United States." When Welles protested that such a doc.u.ment showed little consideration for their chief, the War Secretary bristled and said coldly: "I know of no particular obligation I am under to the President. He called me to a difficult position and imposed on me labors and responsibilities which no man could carry." Already he had secured four signatures-his own, Chase's, Bates', and Smith's-and was working hard for more (Welles and Blair were obdurate, and Seward was still out of town) when, on the morning of this same September 2, he came fuming into the room where his colleagues were waiting for Lincoln to arrive and open the meeting. It was a time of strain. Reports of Pope's defeat had caused Stanton to call out the government clerks, order the contents of the a.r.s.enal s.h.i.+pped to New York, and forbid the retail sale of spirituous liquors in the city. Now came the climactic blow as he announced, in a choked voice, the rumor that McClellan had been appointed to conduct the defense of Was.h.i.+ngton.

The effect was stunning: a sort of reversal of what would happen later that day along the blue column plodding east from Fairfax. Just as Chase was declaring that, if true, this would "prove a national calamity," Lincoln came in and confirmed the rumor. That was why he was late for the meeting, he explained. He and Halleck had just come from seeing McClellan and ordering him to a.s.sume command of the armies roundabout the capital. Stanton broke in, trembling as he spoke: "No order to that effect has been issued from the War Department." Lincoln turned and faced him. "The order is mine," he said, "and I will be responsible for it to the country."

Four nights ago he had gone to bed confident that the army had won a great victory on the plains of Mana.s.sas: a triumph which, according to Pope, would be enlarged when he took up the pursuit of Jackson's fleeing remnant. Overnight, however, word arrived that it was Pope who was in retreat, not Stonewall, and Lincoln came into his secretary's room next morning, long-faced and discouraged. "Well, John, we are whipped again, I am afraid," he said. All day the news got worse as details of the fiasco trickled through the screen of confusion. Halleck was a weak prop to lean on; Lincoln by now had observed that his general in chief was "little more than...a first-rate clerk." What was worse, he was apt to break down under pressure; which was presently what happened. Before the night was over, Old Brains appealed to McClellan at Alexandria: "I beg of you to a.s.sist me in this crisis with your ability and experience. I am utterly tired out."

Lincoln's mind was also turning in Little Mac's direction, although not without reluctance. Unquestionably, it appeared to him, McClellan had acted badly in regard to Pope. One of his subordinates had even been quoted as saying publicly, "I don't care for John Pope a pinch of owl dung." It seemed to Lincoln that they had wanted Pope to fail, no matter what it cost in the blood of northern soldiers. McClellan, when appealed to for counsel, had advised the President to concentrate all the reserves in the capital intrenchments and "leave Pope to get out of his sc.r.a.pe" as best he could. To Lincoln this seemed particularly callous, if not crazy; his mistrust of the Young Napoleon was increased. But early Tuesday morning, when Pope warned that "unless something can be done to restore tone to this army it will melt away before you know it," he did what he knew he had to do. "We must use what tools we have," he told his secretary. "There is no man in the army who can man these fortifications and lick these troops of ours into shape half as well as [McClellan].... If he can't fight himself, he excels in making others ready to fight."

So he went to him and told him to return to the army whose wounded were already beginning to pour into the city. And that afternoon, despite the howls of the cabinet-Stanton was squelched, but Chase was sputtering, "I cannot but feel that giving command to McClellan is equivalent to giving Was.h.i.+ngton to the rebels"-Lincoln had Halleck issue the formal order: "Major General McClellan will have command of the fortifications of Was.h.i.+ngton and of all the troops for the defense of the capital." This left Pope to be disposed of, which was done three days later. "The Armies of the Potomac and Virginia being consolidated," he was told by dispatch, "you will report for orders to the Secretary of War." Reporting as ordered, he found himself a.s.signed to duty against the Sioux, who had lately risen in Minnesota. From his headquarters in St Paul, where he was settled before the month was out, Pope protested vehemently against the injustice of being "banished to a remote and unimportant command." But there he stayed, for the duration.

Two Advances; Two Retreats

ON THE DAY LEE WRECKED POPE ON THE plains of Mana.s.sas, driving him headlong across Bull Run to begin his scamper for the Was.h.i.+ngton intrenchments, Kirby Smith accomplished in Kentucky the nearest thing to a Cannae ever scored by any general, North or South, in the course of the whole war. This slas.h.i.+ng blow, the first struck in the two-p.r.o.nged offensive Bragg had designed to recover for the Confederacy all that had been lost by his predecessors, was delivered in accordance with Smith's precept, announced at the outset, that "brilliant results...will be accomplished only with hard fighting."

Accordingly, on August 25, after a week's rest at Barbourville, he had resumed his northward march. There were 21,000 men in his four divisions, but the largest of these-9000-strong; the others had about 4000 each-remained in front of c.u.mberland Gap, observing the 9000 Federals who held it, while the rest continued their advance toward the Bluegra.s.s. Meanwhile this was still the barrens, which meant that water was scarce, the going rough, and people in general unfriendly. This last might well have been based on fear, however, for the appearance of the marchers, whether they came as "liberators" or "invaders," struck at least one citizen as anything but prepossessing: "[They were] ragged, greasy, and dirty, and some barefoot, and looked more like the bipeds of pandemonium than beings of this earth.... They surrounded our wells like the locusts of Egypt and struggled with each other for the water as if peris.h.i.+ng with thirst, and they thronged our kitchen doors and windows, begging for bread like hungry wolves.... They tore the loaves and pies into fragments and devoured them. Some even threatened to shoot others if they did not divide with them." ("Notwithstanding such a motley crew," the alarmed observer added with relief, "they abstained from any violence or depredation and appeared exceedingly grateful.") As a supplement to what could be cadged in this manner, they gathered apples and roasting ears from roadside orchards and fields, eating them raw on the march with liberal sprinklings of salt, a large supply of which had been procured at Barbourville. Spirits were high and there was much joking, up and down the column. CSA, they said, stood for "Corn, Salt, and Apples."

No matter how much horseplay went on within the column itself, pa.s.sing through London on the 27th the men continued to obey their commander's insistence upon "the most perfect decorum of conduct toward the citizens and their property." Two days later, by way of reward for good behavior, they climbed Big Hill, the northern rim of the barrens, and saw spread out before them, like the promised land of old, the lush and lovely region called the Bluegra.s.s. Years afterward, Smith would remember it as it was today, "a long rolling landscape, mellowing under the early autumn rays," and would add that when it "burst upon our sight we were astonished and enchanted." However, there was little time for undisturbed enjoyment of the Pisgah view. Up ahead, near the hamlet of Rogersville, seven miles short of Richmond, the princ.i.p.al settlement this side of the Kentucky River, the cavalry encountered resistance and was driven back upon the infantry. This was a sundown affair, soon ended by darkness. Although he did not know the enemy strength, Smith was not displeased at this development; for it indicated that the Federals would make a stand here in the open, rather than along the natural line of defense afforded by the bluffs of the river eight miles beyond Richmond. Earlier that week he had written Bragg that he would "fight everything that presents itself," and now, having issued instructions for his men to sleep on their arms in line of battle, he prepared to do just that at dawn. After more than a hundred miles of marching, they were about to be required to prove their right to be where they were and-if they won-to penetrate farther into what Smith would call the "long rolling landscape."

The bluecoats slept in line of battle, too, and there were about 7000 of them. They were under William Nelson, whom Buell had sent north two weeks ago, a month after his promotion to major general, to take charge of the defense of his native Kentucky. "The credit of the selection will be mine," Buell had told him. "The honor of success will be yours." Nelson was of a sanguine nature-"ardent, loud-mouthed, and violent," a fellow officer called him-but by now, having completed a tour of inspection of what he had to work with, he was not so sure that either credit or success, let alone honor, was very likely to come his way as a res