Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
to support them. Lying in rear of the guns were the 4th and 27th
Virginia; on the right was the 5th; on the left the 2nd and 33rd. Both
flanks were in the woods, and Stuart, whom Jackson had called upon to
secure his left, was watching the ground beyond the road. To the front,
for a space of five hundred yards, stretched the level crest of the
hill; and the ground beyond the Henry House, dipping to the valley of
Young’s Branch, where the Federals were now gathering, was wholly
unseen. But as the tactics of Wellington so often proved, a position
from which the view is limited, well in rear of a crest line, may be
exceedingly strong for defence, provided that troops who hold it can
use the bayonet. It would be difficult in the extreme for the Federals
to pave the way for their attack with artillery. From the guns on the
Matthews Hill the Virginia regiments were well sheltered, and the range
was long. To do effective work the hostile batteries would have to
cross Young’s Branch, ascend the Henry Hill, and come into action
within five hundred yards of Jackson’s line. Even if they were able to
hold their ground at so short a range, they could make no accurate
practice under the fire of the Confederate marksmen.
12 noon In rear of Jackson’s line, Bee, Bartow, and Evans were rallying
their men, when Johnston and Beauregard, compelled, by the unexpected
movement of the Federals, to abandon all idea of attack, appeared upon
the Henry Hill. They were accompanied by two batteries of artillery,
Pendleton’s and Alburtis’. The colours of the broken regiments were
ordered to the front, and the men rallied, taking post on Jackson’s
right. The
moment was critical. The blue masses of the Federals, the dust rolling
high above them, were already descending the opposite slopes. The guns
flashed fiercely through the yellow cloud; and the Confederate force
was but a handful. Three brigades had been summoned from the fords; but
the nearest was four miles distant, and many of the troops upon the
plateau were already half-demoralised by retreat. The generals set
themselves to revive the courage of their soldiers. Beauregard galloped
along the line, cheering the regiments in every portion of the field,
and then, with the colour-bearers accompanying him, rode forward to the
crest. Johnston was equally conspicuous. The enemy’s shells were
bursting on every side, and the shouts of the Confederates, recognising
their leaders as they dashed across the front, redoubled the uproar.
Meanwhile, before the centre of his line, with an unconcern which had a
marvellous effect on his untried command, Jackson rode slowly to and
fro. Except that his face was a little paler, and his eyes brighter, he
looked exactly as his men had seen him so often on parade; and as he
passed along the crest above them they heard from time to time the
reassuring words, uttered in a tone which betrayed no trace of
excitement, “Steady, men! steady! all’s well!”
It was at this juncture, while the confusion of taking up a new
position with shattered and ill-drilled troops was at the highest, that
the battle lulled. The Federal infantry, after defeating Bee and Evans,
had to cross the deep gully and marshy banks of Young’s Branch, to
climb the slope of the Henry Hill, and to form for a fresh attack. Even
with trained soldiers a hot fight is so conducive of disorder, that it
is difficult to initiate a rapid pursuit, and the Northern regiments
were very slow in resuming their formations. At the same time, too, the
fire of their batteries became less heavy. From their position beyond
Young’s Branch the rifled guns had been able to ply the Confederate
lines with shell, and their effective practice had rendered the work of
rallying the troops exceedingly difficult. But when his infantry
advanced, McDowell ordered one half of his artillery, two fine
batteries of regulars, made up
principally of rifled guns, to cross Young’s Branch. This respite was
of the utmost value to the Confederates. The men, encouraged by the
gallant bearing of their leaders, fell in at once upon the colours, and
when Hunter’s regiments appeared on the further rim of the plateau they
were received with a fire which for a moment drove them back. But the
regular batteries were close at hand, and as they came into action the
battle became general on the Henry Hill. The Federals had 16,000
infantry available; the Confederates no more than 6,500. But the latter
were superior in artillery, 16 pieces confronting 12. The Federal guns,
however, were of heavier calibre; the gunners were old soldiers, and
both friend and foe testify to the accuracy of their fire, their fine
discipline, and staunch endurance. The infantry, on the other hand, was
not well handled. The attack was purely frontal. No attempt whatever
was made to turn the Confederate flanks, although the Stone Bridge,
except for the abattis, was now open, and Johnston’s line might easily
have been taken in reverse. Nor does it appear that the cavalry was
employed to ascertain where the flanks rested. Moreover, instead of
massing the troops for a determined onslaught, driven home by sheer
weight of numbers, the attack was made by successive brigades, those in
rear waiting till those in front had been defeated; and, in the same
manner, the brigades attacked by successive regiments. Such tactics
were inexcusable. It was certainly necessary to push the attack home
before the Confederate reinforcements could get up; and troops who had
never drilled in mass would have taken much time to assume the orthodox
formation of several lines of battle, closely supporting one another.
Yet there was no valid reason, beyond the inexperience of the generals
in dealing with large bodies, that brigades should have been sent into
action piecemeal, or that the flanks of the defence should have been
neglected. The fighting, nevertheless, was fierce. The Federal
regiments, inspirited by their success on the Matthews Hill, advanced
with confidence, and soon pushed forward past the Henry House. “The
contest that ensued,”
says General Imboden, “was terrific. Jackson ordered me to go from
battery to battery and see that the guns were properly aimed and the
fuses cut the right length. This was the work of but a few minutes. On
returning to the left of the line of guns, I stopped to ask General
Jackson’s permission to rejoin my battery. The fight was just then hot
enough to make him feel well. His eyes fairly blazed. He had a way of
throwing up his left hand with the open palm towards the person he was
addressing. And, as he told me to go, he made this gesture. The air was
full of flying missiles, and as he spoke he jerked down his hand, and I
saw that blood was streaming from it. I exclaimed, “General, you are
wounded.” “Only a scratch—a mere scratch,” he replied, and binding it
hastily with a handkerchief, he galloped away along his line.”[7]
1.30 p.m. When the battle was at its height, and across that narrow
space, not more than five hundred yards in width, the cannon thundered,
and the long lines of infantry struggled for the mastery, the two
Federal batteries, protected by two regiments of infantry on their
right, advanced to a more effective position. The movement was fatal.
Stuart, still guarding the Confederate left, was eagerly awaiting his
opportunity, and now, with 150 troopers, filing through the fences on
Bald Hill, he boldly charged the enemy’s right. The regiment thus
assailed, a body of Zouaves, in blue and scarlet, with white turbans,
was ridden down, and almost at the same moment the 33rd Virginia,
posted on Jackson’s left, charged forward from the copse in which they
had been hidden. The uniforms in the two armies at this time were much
alike, and from the direction of their approach it was difficult at
first for the officers in charge of the Federal batteries to make sure
that the advancing troops were not their own. A moment more and the
doubtful regiment proved its identity by a deadly volley, delivered at
a range of seventy yards. Every gunner was shot down; the teams were
almost annihilated, and several officers fell killed or wounded. The
Zouaves, already much shaken by Stuart’s well-timed
charge, fled down the slopes, dragging with them another regiment of
infantry.
Three guns alone escaped the marksmen of the 33rd. The remainder stood
upon the field, silent and abandoned, surrounded by dying horses,
midway between the opposing lines.
This success, however, brought but short relief to the Confederates.
The enemy was not yet done with. Fresh regiments passed to the attack.
The 33rd was driven back, and the thin line upon the plateau was hard
put to it to retain its ground. The Southerners had lost heavily. Bee
and Bartow had been killed, and Hampton wounded. Few reinforcements had
reached the Henry Hill. Stragglers and skulkers were streaming to the
rear. The Federals were thronging forward, and it seemed that the
exhausted defenders must inevitably give way before the successive
blows of superior numbers. The troops were losing confidence. Yet no
thought of defeat crossed Jackson’s mind. “General,” said an officer,
riding hastily towards him, “the day is going against us.” “If you
think so, sir,” was the quiet reply, “you had better not say anything
about it.” And although affairs seemed desperate, in reality the crisis
of the battle had already passed. McDowell had but two brigades
remaining in reserve, and one of these—of Tyler’s division—was still
beyond Bull Run. His troops were thoroughly exhausted; they had been
marching and fighting since midnight; the day was intensely hot; they
had encountered fierce resistance; their rifled batteries had been
silenced, and the Confederate reinforcements were coming up. Two of
Bonham’s regiments had taken post on Jackson’s right, and a heavy force
was approaching on the left. Kirby Smith’s brigade, of the Army of the
Shenandoah, coming up by train, had reached Manassas Junction while the
battle was in progress. It was immediately ordered to the field, and
had been already instructed by Johnston to turn the enemy’s right.
But before the weight of Smith’s 1,900 bayonets could be thrown into
the scale, the Federals made a vigorous effort to carry the Henry Hill.
Those portions of the Confederate
line which stood on the open ground gave way before them. Some of the
guns, ordered to take up a position from which they could cover the
retreat, were limbering up; and with the exception of the belt of
pines, the plateau was abandoned to the hostile infantry, who were
beginning to press forward at every point. The Federal engineers were
already clearing away the abattis from the Stone Bridge, in order to
give passage to Tyler’s third brigade and a battery of artillery; “and
all were certain,” says McDowell, “that the day was ours.”
2.45 p.m. Jackson’s men were lying beneath the crest of the plateau.
Only one of his regiments—the 33rd—had as yet been engaged in the open,
and his guns in front still held their own. Riding to the centre of his
line, where the 2nd and 4th Virginia were stationed, he gave orders for
a counterstroke. “Reserve your fire till they come within fifty yards,
then fire and give them the bayonet; and when you charge, yell like
furies!” Right well did the hot Virginian blood respond. Inactive from
the stroke of noon till three o’clock, with the crash and cries of
battle in their ears, and the shells ploughing gaps in their recumbent
ranks, the men were chafing under the stern discipline which held them
back from the conflict they longed to join. The Federals swept on,
extending from the right and left, cheering as they came, and following
the flying batteries in the ardour of success. Suddenly, a long grey
line sprang from the ground in their very faces; a rolling volley threw