Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
snow the roads were in good order; the rivers were once more fordable;
the Manassas Gap Railway had been restored as far as Strasburg, and
Banks took heart of grace.
April 17 On the 17th his forces were put in motion. One of Ashby’s
companies was surprised and captured. A brigade was sent to turn the
Confederate left by a ford of the North Fork; and when the Virginians,
burning the railway station at Mount Jackson, fell back southwards, the
Federal cavalry seized New Market.
For the moment the situation of the Valley army was somewhat critical.
When Johnston marched to the Peninsula he had left a force of 8,000
men, under General Ewell, on the Upper Rappahannock, and with this
force Jackson had been instructed to co-operate. But with the road
across the Massanuttons in his possession Banks could move into the
Luray Valley, and occupying Swift Run Gap with a detachment, cut the
communication between the two Confederate generals. It was essential,
then, that this important pass should be secured, and Jackson’s men
were called on for a forced march.
April 18 On the morning of the 18th they reached Harrisonburg,
twenty-five miles from Mount Jackson, and halted the same evening at
Peale’s, about six miles east.
April 19 On the 19th they crossed the Shenandoah at Conrad’s store, and
leaving a detachment to hold the bridge, moved to the foot of Swift Run
Gap, and went into camp in Elk Run Valley. In three days they had
marched over fifty miles. Banks followed with his customary caution,
and when, on the 17th, his cavalry occupied New Market he was
congratulated by the Secretary of War on his “brilliant and successful
operations.” On the 19th he led a detachment across the Massanuttons,
and seized the two bridges over the South Fork at Luray, driving back a
squadron which Jackson had sent to burn them.
April 22 On the night of the 22nd his cavalry reached Harrisonburg, and
he reported that want of supplies alone prevented him from bringing the
Confederates to bay.
April 26 On the 26th he sent two of his five brigades to Harrisonburg,
the remainder halting at New Market, and for the last few days,
according to his own dispatches, beef, flour, and forage had been
abundant. Yet it had taken him ten days to march five-and-thirty miles.
April 20 On April 20 General Edward Johnson, menaced in rear by Banks’
advance, in flank by the brigade which Frémont had placed at
Moorefield, and in front by Milroy’s brigade, which had advanced from
Monterey, had fallen back from the Shenandoah Mountain to West View,
seven miles west of Staunton; and to all appearance the Federal
prospects were exceedingly favourable.
Harrisonburg is five-and-twenty miles, or two short marches, north of
Staunton. The hamlet of M’Dowell, now occupied by Milroy, is
seven-and-twenty miles north-west. Proper concert between Banks and
Frémont should therefore have ensured the destruction or retreat of
Edward Johnson, and have placed Staunton, as well as the Virginia
Central Railroad, in their hands. But although not a single picket
stood between his outposts and Staunton, Banks dared not move. By
moving to Elk Run Valley Jackson had barred the way of the Federals
more effectively than if he had intrenched his troops across the
Staunton road.
South of Harrisonburg, where the Valley widens to five-and-twenty
miles, there was no strong position. And even had such existed, 6,000
men, of which a third were cavalry, could scarcely have hoped to hold
it permanently against a far superior force. Moreover, cooped up inside
intrenchments, the Army of the Valley would have lost all freedom of
action; and Jackson would have been cut off both from Ewell and from
Richmond. But, although direct intervention was impracticable, he was
none the less resolved that Banks should never set foot in Staunton.
The Elk Run Valley was well adapted for his purpose. Spurs of the Blue
Ridge, steep, pathless, and densely wooded, covered either flank. The
front, protected by the Shenandoah, was very strong. Communication with
both Ewell and Richmond was secure, and so long as he held the bridge
at Conrad’s store he threatened the flank of the Federals should they
advance on Staunton. Strategically the position was by no means
perfect. The Confederates, to use an expression of General Grant’s,
applied to a similar situation, were “in a bottle.” A bold enemy would
have seized the bridge, “corking up” Jackson with a strong detachment,
and have marched on Staunton with his main body.
“Had Banks been more enterprising,” says Dabney, “this objection would
have been decisive.” But he was not enterprising, and Jackson knew
it.[15]He had had opportunities in plenty of judging his opponent’s
character. The slow advance on Winchester, the long delay at Woodstock,
the cautious approach to New Market, had revealed enough. It was a
month since the battle of Kernstown, and yet the Confederate infantry,
although for the greater part of the time they had been encamped within
a few miles of the enemy’s outposts, had not fired a shot.
The tardy progress of the Federals from Woodstock to Harrisonburg had
been due rather to the perplexities of
their commander than to the difficulties of supply; and Banks had got
clear of the Massanuttons only to meet with fresh embarrassments.
Jackson’s move to Elk Run Valley was a complete checkmate. His opponent
felt that he was dangerously exposed. McClellan had not yet begun his
advance on Richmond; and, so long as that city was secure from
immediate attack, the Confederates could spare men to reinforce
Jackson. The railway ran within easy reach of Swift Run Gap, and the
troops need not be long absent from the capital. Ewell, too, with a
force of unknown strength, was not far distant. Banks could expect no
help from Frémont. Both generals were anxious to work together, and
plans had been submitted to Washington which would probably have
secured the capture of Staunton and the control of the railway. But the
Secretary of War rejected all advice. Frémont was given to understand
that under no circumstances was he to count on Banks,[16] and the
latter was told to halt at Harrisonburg. “It is not the desire of the
President,” wrote Mr. Stanton on April 26, “that you should prosecute a
further advance towards the south. It is possible that events may make
it necessary to transfer the command of General Shields to the
department of the Rappahannock [_i.e._ to the First Army Corps], and
you are desired to act accordingly.” To crown all, Blenker’s division,
which had reached Winchester, instead of being sent to support Banks,
forty-five miles distant by the Valley turnpike, was ordered to join
Frémont in the Alleghanies by way of Romney, involving a march of one
hundred and twenty miles, over bad roads, before it could reinforce his
advanced brigade.
Stanton, in writing to Banks, suggested that he should not let his
advanced guard get too far ahead of the main body; but be does not
appear to have seen that the separation of Banks, Frémont, and Blenker,
and the forward position of the two former, which he had determined to
maintain, was even more dangerous.[17] His lesson was to come, for
Jackson, by no means content with arresting Banks’ march, was already
contemplating that general’s destruction.
The situation demanded instant action, and in order that the import of
Jackson’s movements may be fully realised it is necessary to turn to
the main theatre of war. McClellan, on April 5, with the 60,000 men
already landed, had moved a few miles up the Peninsula. Near the
village of Yorktown, famous for the surrender of Lord Cornwallis and
his army in 1782, he found the road blocked by a line of earthworks and
numerous guns. Magruder, Jackson’s captain in Mexico, was in command;
but Johnston was still on the Rapidan, one hundred and thirty miles
away, and the Confederates had no more than 15,000 men in position. The
flanks, however, were secured by the York and the James rivers, which
here expand to wide estuaries, and the works were strong. Yorktown
proved almost as fatal to the invaders as to their English
predecessors. Before the historic lines their march was suddenly
brought up. McClellan, although his army increased in numbers every
day, declined the swift process of a storm. Personal reconnaissance
convinced him that “instant assault would have been simple folly,” and
he determined to besiege the intrenchments in due form. On April 10
Johnston’s army began to arrive at Yorktown, and the lines, hitherto
held by a slender garrison, were now manned by 53,000 men.
The Confederate position was by no means impregnable. The river James
to the south was held by the “Merrimac,” an improvised ironclad of
novel design, which had already wrought terrible destruction amongst
the wooden frigates of the Federals. She was neutralised, however, by
her Northern counterpart, the “Monitor,” and after an indecisive action
she had remained inactive for nearly a month. The York was less
securely guarded. The channel, nearly a mile wide, was barred only by
the fire of two forts; and
that at Gloucester Point, on the north bank, was open to assault from
the land side. Had McClellan disembarked a detachment and carried this
work, which might easily have been done, the river would have been
opened to his gunboats, and Johnston’s lines have become untenable. He
decided, however, notwithstanding that his army was more than 100,000
strong, that he had no men to spare for such an enterprise.
Magruder’s bold stand was of infinite service to the Confederate cause.
To both parties time was of the utmost value. The Federals were still
over seventy miles from Richmond; and there was always a possibility,
if their advance were not rapidly pressed, that Johnston might move on
Washington and cause the recall of the army to protect the capital. The
Confederates, on the other hand, had been surprised by the landing of
McClellan’s army. They had been long aware that the flotilla had
sailed, but they had not discovered its destination; the detachments
which first landed were supposed to be reinforcements for the garrison
of the fortress; and when McClellan advanced on Yorktown, Johnston was
far to the west of Richmond. The delay had enabled him to reach the
lines.[18] But at the time Jackson fell back to Elk Run Valley, April
17 to 19, fortune seemed inclining to the Federals.
Lincoln had been induced to relax his hold on the army corps which he
had held back at Manassas to protect the capital, and McDowell was
already moving on Fredericksburg, sixty miles north of Richmond. Here
he was to be joined by Shields, bringing his force for the field up to
40,000 men; and the fall of Yorktown was to be the signal for his
advance on the Confederate capital. Johnston still held the lines, but
he was outnumbered by more than two to one, and the enemy was
disembarking heavy ordnance. It was evident that the end could not be
long delayed, and
that in case of retreat every single Confederate soldier, from the
Valley and elsewhere, would have to be brought to Richmond for the
decisive battle. Jackson was thus bound to his present position, close
to the railway, and his orders from Johnston confined him to a strictly
defensive attitude. In case Banks advanced eastward he was to combine
with Ewell, and receive attack in the passes of the Blue Ridge.
Such cautious strategy, to one so fully alive to the opportunity
offered by McClellan’s retention before Yorktown, was by no means
acceptable. When his orders reached him, Jackson was already weaving
plans for the discomfiture of his immediate adversary, and it may be
imagined with what reluctance, although he gave no vent to his chagrin,
he accepted the passive _rôle_ which had been assigned to him.