Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
the Luray Valley, from Conrad’s Store northwards, the space between the
Blue Ridge and the Shenandoah was covered for the most part with dense
forest, and through this forest ran the road. Moving beneath the
spreading foliage of oak and hickory, Shields’ advanced brigade was
concealed from the observation of the Confederate cavalry; and the
signallers on the mountain, endangered by Frémont’s movement, had been
withdrawn.
North of Port Republic, between the foot-hills of the
Blue Ridge and the Shenandoah, lies a level tract of arable and meadow,
nearly a mile wide, and extending for nearly three miles in a northerly
direction. On the plain were the Confederate pickets, furnished by
three companies of Ashby’s regiment, with their patrols on the roads
towards Conrad’s Store; and there seemed little chance that Shields
would be able to reach the fords over the South River, much less the
Port Republic bridge, without long notice being given of his approach.
The cavalry, however, as had been already proved, were not entirely to
be depended on. Jackson, whose headquarters were within the village,
had already mounted his horse to ride forward to Cross Keys, when there
was a distant fire, a sudden commotion in the streets, and a breathless
messenger from the outposts reported that not only had the squadrons on
picket been surprised and scattered, but that the enemy was already
fording the South River.
Between the two rivers, south-west of Port Republic, were the
Confederate trains, parked in the open fields. Here was Carrington’s
battery, with a small escort; and now the cavalry had fled there were
no other troops, save a single company of the 2nd Virginia, on this
side the Shenandoah. The squadron which headed the Federal advanced
guard was accompanied by two guns. One piece was sent towards the
bridge; the other, unlimbering on the further bank, opened fire on the
church, and the horsemen trotted cautiously forward into the village
street. Jackson, warned of his danger, had already made for the bridge,
and crossing at a gallop escaped capture by the barest margin of time.
His chief of artillery, Colonel Crutchfield, was made prisoner, with
Dr. McGuire and Captain Willis,[4] and his whole staff was dispersed,
save Captain Pendleton, a sterling soldier, though hardly more than a
boy in years. And the danger was not over. With the trains was the
whole of the reserve ammunition, and it seemed that a crushing disaster
was near at hand. The sudden appearance of the enemy caused the
greatest consternation amongst the teamsters; several of the waggons
went off
by the Staunton road; and, had the Federal cavalry come on, the whole
would have been stampeded. But Carrington’s battery was called to the
front by Captain Moore, commanding the company of infantry in the
village. The picket, promptly put into position, opened with a
well-aimed volley, and a few rounds checked the enemy’s advance; the
guns came rapidly and effectively into action, and at this critical
moment Jackson intervened with his usual vigour.[5] From the left bank
of the North River he saw a gun bearing on the bridge, the village
swarming with blue uniforms, and more artillery unlimbering across the
river. He had already sent orders for his infantry to fall in, and a
six-pounder was hurrying to the front. “I was surprised,” said the
officer to whose battery this piece belonged, “to see a gun posted on
the opposite bank. Although I had met a cavalry man who told me that
the enemy were advancing up the river, still I did not think it
possible they could have brought any guns into the place in so short a
time. It thereupon occurred to me that the piece at the bridge might be
one of Carrington’s, whose men had new uniforms something like those we
saw at the bridge. Upon suggesting this to the general, he reflected a
moment, and then riding a few paces to the left and front, he called
out, in a tone loud enough to be heard by the enemy, ‘Bring that gun up
here!’ but getting no reply, he raised himself in his stirrups, and in
a most authoritative and seemingly angry tone he shouted, ‘Bring that
gun up here, I say!’ At this they began to move the trail of the gun so
as to bring it to bear on us, which, when the general perceived, he
turned quickly to the officer in charge of my gun, and said in his
sharp, quick way, ‘Let ’em have it!’ The words had scarcely left his
lips when Lieutenant Brown, who had his piece charged and aimed, sent a
shot right among them, so disconcerting them that theirs in reply went
far above us.”[6]
The Confederate battalions, some of which had been formed up for
inspection, or for the Sunday service, when the alarm was given, had
now come up, and the 87th Virginia was ordered to capture the gun, and
to clear the village. Without a moment’s hesitation the regiment
charged with a yell across the bridge, and so sudden was the rush that
the Federal artillerymen were surprised. The gun was double-shotted
with canister, and the head of the column should have been swept away.
But the aim was high and the Confederates escaped. Then, as the limber
came forward, the horses, terrified by the heavy fire and the yells of
the charging infantry, became unmanageable; and the gunners, abandoning
the field-piece, fled through the streets of Port Republic. The 87th
rushed forward with a yell. The hostile cavalry, following the gunners,
sought safety by the fords; and as the rout dashed through the shallow
water, the Confederate batteries, coming into action on the high bluffs
west of the Shenandoah, swept the plain below with shot and shell.
The hostile artillery beyond the stream was quickly overpowered; horses
were shot down wholesale; a second gun was abandoned on the road; a
third, which had only two horses and a driver left, was thrown into a
swamp; and a fourth was found on the field without either team or men.
The Federal infantry was not more fortunate. Carroll’s brigade of four
regiments was close in rear of the artillery when the Confederate
batteries opened fire. Catching the contagion from the flying cavalry,
it retreated northward in confusion. A second brigade (Tyler’s) came up
in support; but the bluffs beyond the river were now occupied by
Jackson’s infantry; a stream of fire swept the plain; and as Shields’
advanced guard, followed by the Confederate cavalry, fell back to the
woods whence it had emerged, five miles away on the other flank was
heard the roar of the cannonade which opened the battle of Cross Keys.
From the hurried flight of the Federals it was evident that Shields’
main body was not yet up; so, placing two brigades in position to guard
the bridge, Jackson sent
the remainder to Ewell, and then rode to the scene of action.
Frémont, under cover of his guns, had made his preparations for attack;
but the timidity which he had already displayed when face to face with
Jackson had once more taken possession of his faculties. Vigorous in
pursuit of a flying enemy, when that enemy turned at bay his courage
vanished. The Confederate position was undoubtedly strong, but it was
not impregnable. The woods on either flank gave access under cover to
the central ridge. The superior weight of his artillery was sufficient
to cover an advance across the open; and although he was without maps
or guide, the country was not so intersected as to render manœuvring
impracticable.
In his official report Frémont lays great stress on the difficulties of
the ground; but reading between the lines it is easy to see that it was
the military situation which overburdened him. The vicious strategy of
converging columns, where intercommunication is tedious and uncertain,
once more exerted its paralysing influence. It was some days since he
had heard anything of Shields. That general’s dispatch, urging a
combined attack, had not yet reached him: whether he had passed Luray
or whether he had been already beaten, Frémont was altogether ignorant;
and, in his opinion, it was quite possible that the whole of the
Confederate army was before him.
A more resolute commander would probably have decided that the shortest
way out of the dilemma was a vigorous attack. If Shields was within
hearing of the guns—and it was by no means improbable that he was—such
a course was the surest means of securing his co-operation; and even if
no help came, and the Confederates maintained their position, they
might be so crippled as to be unable to pursue. Defeat would not have
been an irreparable misfortune. Washington was secure. Banks, Saxton,
and McDowell held the approaches; and if Frémont himself were beaten
back, the strategic situation could be in no way affected. In fact a
defeat, if it had followed an attack so hotly pressed as to paralyse
Jackson
for the time being, would have been hardly less valuable than a
victory.
“Fortune,” it has been well said, “loves a daring suitor, and he who
throws down the gauntlet may always count upon his adversary to help
him.” Frémont, however, was more afraid of losing the battle than
anxious to win it. “Taking counsel of his fears,” he would run no
risks. But neither could he abstain from action altogether. An enemy
was in front of him who for seven days had fled before him, and his own
army anticipated an easy triumph.
So, like many another general who has shrunk from the nettle danger, he
sought refuge in half-measures, the most damning course of all. Of
twenty-four regiments present on the field of battle, five only, of
Blenker’s Germans, were sent forward to the attack. Their onslaught was
directed against the Confederate right; and here, within the woods,
Trimble had posted his brigade in a most advantageous position. A
flat-topped ridge, covered with great oaks, looked down upon a wide
meadow, crossed by a stout fence; and beyond the hollow lay the woods
through which the Federals, already in contact with the Confederate
outposts, were rapidly advancing. The pickets soon gave way, and
crossing the meadow found cover within the thickets, where Trimble’s
three regiments lay concealed. In hot pursuit came the Federal
skirmishers, with the solid lines of their brigade in close support.
Steadily moving forward, they climbed the fence and breasted the gentle
slope beyond. A few scattered shots, fired by the retreating pickets,
were the only indications of the enemy’s presence; the groves beyond
were dark and silent. The skirmishers had reached the crest of the
declivity, and the long wave of bayonets, following close upon their
tracks, was within sixty paces of the covert, when the thickets stirred
suddenly with sound and movement. The Southern riflemen rose swiftly to
their feet. A sheet of fire ran along their line, followed by a crash
that resounded through the woods; and the German regiments, after a
vigorous effort to hold their ground, fell back in disorder across the
clearing. Here, on the further edge, they rallied on their reserves,
and the Confederates,
who had followed up no further than was sufficient to give impetus to
the retreat, were once more withdrawn.
A quarter of an hour passed, and as the enemy showed no inclination to
attempt a second advance across the meadow, where the dead and wounded
were lying thick, Trimble, sending word to Ewell of his intention,
determined to complete his victory. More skilful than his enemies, he
sent a regiment against their left, to which a convenient ravine gave
easy access, while the troops among the oaks were held back till the
flank attack was fully developed. The unexpected movement completely
surprised the Federal brigadier. Again his troops were driven in, and
the Confederates, now reinforced by six regiments which Ewell had sent
up, forced them with heavy losses through the woods, compelled two