Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
destroy a large one in detail, and repeated victory will make it
invincible.’[10] And again: ‘To move swiftly, strike vigorously, and
secure all the fruits of victory, is the secret of successful war.’ ”
These maxims were the outcome of his studies, “drawn absolutely and
merely,” says Lord Wolseley, “from his knowledge of war, as learned
from the great leaders of former days;”[11] and if he made war by rule,
as he had regulated his conduct as a cadet, it can hardly be denied
that his rules were of the soundest. They are a complete summary of the
tactics which wrought such havoc in the
Valley. The order in which they are placed is interesting. “To mystify,
mislead, and surprise,” is the first precept. How thoroughly it was
applied! The measures by which his adversaries were to be deceived were
as carefully thought out as the maps had been closely studied. The
troops moved almost as often by country roads and farm tracks as by the
turnpikes. The longer route, even when time was of importance, was
often preferred, if it was well concealed, to the shorter. No
precaution, however trivial, that might prevent information reaching
the enemy was neglected. In order that he might give his final
instructions to Colonel Munford before marching to Richmond, he told
that officer to meet him at ten o’clock at night in Mount Sidney. “I
will be on my horse,” he wrote, “at the north end of the town, so you
need not inquire after me.”[12] “_Le bon général ordinaire_” would have
scoffed at the atmosphere of mystery which enveloped the Confederate
camp. The march from Elk Run Valley to Port Republic, with its
accompaniments of continuous quagmire and dreary bivouacs, he would
have ridiculed as a most useless stratagem. The infinite pains with
which Jackson sought to conceal, even from his most trusted staff
officers, his movements, his intentions, and his thoughts, a commander
less thorough would have pronounced useless. The long night ride to
Richmond, on June 22, with its untoward delays and provoking
_contretemps,_ sounds like an excess of precaution which was absolutely
pedantic.[13] But war, according to Napoleon, is made up of accidents.
The country was full of spies; the Southern newspapers were sometimes
indiscreet; and the simple fact that Jackson had been seen near
Richmond would have warned McClellan that his right wing was in
jeopardy. Few men would have taken such infinite trouble to hide the
departure from the Valley and the march across Virginia to attack
McClellan. But soldiers of experience, alive to the full bearing of
seemingly petty details, appreciate his skill.[14] According to the
dictum of Napoleon, “there are no such things as trifles in war.”
It was not, however, on such expedients that Jackson principally relied
to keep his enemy in the dark. The use he made of his cavalry is
perhaps the most brilliant tactical feature of the campaign. Ashby’s
squadrons were the means whereby the Federals were mystified. Not only
was a screen established which perfectly concealed the movements of the
Valley army, but constant demonstrations, at far distant points,
alarmed and bewildered the Federal commanders. In his employment of
cavalry Jackson was in advance of his age. His patrols were kept out
two or three marches to front and flank; neither by day nor by night
were they permitted to lose touch of the enemy; and thus no movement
could take place without their knowledge. Such tactics had not been
seen since the days of Napoleon. The Confederate horsemen in the Valley
were far better handled than those of France or Austria in 1859, of
Prussia or Austria in 1866, of France in 1870, of England, France, or
Russia in the Crimea.
In the flank march on Sebastopol the hostile armies passed within a few
miles, in an open country, without either of them being aware of the
proximity of the other, and the English headquarter staff almost rode
into a Russian baggage-train. At Solferino and at Sadowa, armies which
were counted by hundreds of thousands encamped almost within sight of
each other’s watch-fires, without the slightest suspicion that the
enemy lay over the next ridge. The practice of Napoleon had been
forgotten. The great cloud of horsemen which, riding sometimes a
hundred miles to the front, veiled the march of the Grand Army had
vanished from memory. The vast importance ascribed by the Emperor to
procuring early information of his enemy and hiding his own movements
had been overlooked; and it was left to an American soldier to revive
his methods.
The application of Jackson’s second precept, “to hurl
your own force on the weakest part of the enemy’s,” was made possible
by his vigorous application of the first. The Federals, mystified and
misled by demonstrations of the cavalry, and unable to procure
information, never knew at what point they should concentrate, and
support invariably came too late. Jackson’s tactical successes were
achieved over comparatively small forces. Except at Cross Keys, and
there he only intended to check Frémont for the moment, he never
encountered more than 10,000 men on any single field. No great victory,
like Austerlitz or Salamanca, was won over equal numbers. No
Chancellorsville, where a huge army was overthrown by one scarce half
the size, is reckoned amongst the triumphs of the Valley campaign. But
it is to be remembered that Jackson was always outnumbered, and
outnumbered heavily, on the theatre of war; and if he defeated his
enemies in detail, their overthrow was not less decisive than if it had
been brought about at one time and at one place. The fact that they
were unable to combine their superior numbers before the blow fell is
in itself the strongest testimony to his ability. “How often,” says
Napier, “have we not heard the genius of Buonaparte slighted, and his
victories talked of as destitute of merit, because, at the point of
attack, he was superior in numbers to his enemies! This very fact,
which has been so often converted into a sort of reproach, constitutes
his greatest and truest praise. He so directed his attack as at once to
divide his enemy, and to fall with the mass of his own forces upon a
point where their division, or the distribution of their army, left
them unable to resist him. It is not in man to defeat armies by the
breath of his mouth; nor was Buonaparte commissioned, like Gideon, to
confound and destroy a host with three hundred men. He knew that
everything depended ultimately upon physical superiority; and his
genius was shown in this, that, though outnumbered on the whole, he was
always superior to his enemies at the decisive point.”[15]
The material results of the Valley campaign were by no means
inconsiderable. 8,500 prisoners were either paroled or sent to
Richmond. 3,500 Federals were killed or wounded. An immense quantity of
stores was captured, and probably as much destroyed. 9 guns were taken
and over 10,000 rifles, while the loss of the Confederates was no more
than 2,500 killed and wounded, 600 prisoners, and 3 guns. It may be
added that the constant surprises, together with the successive
conflict with superior numbers, had the worst effect on the _moral_ of
the Federal soldiers. The troops commanded by Frémont, Shields, Banks,
Saxton, and Geary were all infected. Officers resigned and men
deserted. On the least alarm there was a decided tendency to
“stampede.” The generals thought only of retreat. Frémont, after Cross
Keys, did not think that his men would stand, and many of his men
declared that it was “only murder” to fight without reinforcements.[16]
When to those results is added the strategical effect of the campaign,
it can hardly be denied that the success he achieved was out of all
proportion to Jackson’s strength. Few generals have done so much with
means so small. Not only were the Valley troops comparatively few in
numbers, but they were volunteers, and volunteers of a type that was
altogether novel. Even in the War of the Revolution many of the
regimental officers, and indeed many of the soldiers, were men who had
served in the Indian and French wars under the English flag. But there
were not more than half a dozen regular officers in the whole Army of
the Valley. Except Jackson himself, and his chief of artillery, not one
of the staff had more than a year’s service. Twelve months previous
several of the brigadiers had been civilians. The regimental officers
were as green as the men; and although military offences were few, the
bonds of discipline were slight. When the march to M’Dowell was begun,
which was to end five weeks later at Port Republic, a considerable
number of the so-called “effectives” had only been drilled for a few
hours. The cavalry on parade was little better than a mob; on the line
of march they kept or left the ranks as the humour took them. It is
true that the Federals were hardly more efficient. But Jackson’s
operations were essentially offensive, and offensive operations, as was
shown at Bull Run, are ill-suited to raw troops. Attack cannot be
carried to a triumphant issue unless every fraction of the force
co-operates with those on either hand; and co-operation is hardly to be
expected from inexperienced officers. Moreover, offensive operations,
especially when a small force is manœuvring against the fraction of a
larger, depend for success on order, rapidity, and endurance; and it is
in these qualities, as a rule, that raw troops are particularly
deficient. Yet Jackson, like Napoleon at Ulm, might have boasted with
truth that he had “destroyed the enemy merely by marches,” and his men
accomplished feats of which the hardiest veterans might well be proud.
From April 29 to June 5, that is, in thirty-eight days, they marched
four hundred miles, fought three battles and numerous combats, and were
victorious in all. Several of the marches exceeded twenty-five miles a
day; and in retreat, from the Potomac to Port Republic, the army made
one hundred and four miles between the morning of May 30 and the night
of June 5, that is, fifteen miles daily
without a rest day intervening. This record, if we take into
consideration the infamous roads, is remarkable; and it well may be
asked by what means these half-trained troops were enabled to
accomplish such a feat?[17]
Jackson’s rules for marching have been preserved. “He never broke down
his men by long-continued movement. He rested the whole column very
often, but only for a few minutes at a time. He liked to see the men
lie flat on the ground to rest, and would say, ‘A man rests all over
when he lies down.’ ’[18] Nor did he often call upon his troops for
extraordinary exertions. In the period between his departure from Elk
Run Mountain to the battle of Port Republic there were only four series
of forced marches.[19] “The hardships of forced marches,” he said, “are
often more painful than the dangers of battle.” It was only, in short,
when he intended a surprise, or when a rapid retreat was imperative,
that he sacrificed everything to speed. The troops marched light,
carrying only rifles, blankets, haversacks, and ammunition. When long
distances were to be covered, those men who still retained their
knapsacks were ordered to leave them behind. No heavy trains
accompanied the army. The ambulances and ammunition waggons were always
present; but the supply waggons were often far in rear. In their
haversacks the men carried several days’ rations; and when these were
consumed they lived either on the farmers, or on the stores they had
captured from the enemy.
It is not to be supposed, however, that the ranks
remained full. “I had rather,” said Jackson, “lose one man in marching
than five in fighting,” and to this rule he rigorously adhered. He
never gave the enemy warning by a deliberate approach along the main