The Long Roll
and the Pope at Rome asked each morning for the war news, and so did
gaunt cotton-spinners staring in mill towns at tall smokeless chimneys.
Early in June Halleck was appointed commander-in-chief of all the armies
of the United States. What to do with McClellan, at present summering on
the James twenty-five miles below Richmond, came upon the board.
McClellan claimed, quite rightly, that here and now, with his army on
both sides of the James, he held the key position, and that with
sufficient reinforcements he could force the evacuation of Richmond.
Only give him reinforcements with which to face Lee's "not less than two
hundred thousand!" Recall the Army of the Potomac, and it might be some
time before it again saw Richmond! Halleck deliberated. General Pope had
come out of the west to take concentrated command of the old forces of
Banks, Sigel, Fremont, and McDowell. He had an attitude, had Pope, at
the head of his forty thousand men behind the Rappahannock! The armies
were too widely separated, McClellan's location notoriously unhealthy.
Impossible to furnish reinforcements to the tune asked for, Washington
might, at any moment, be in peril. It was understood that Stonewall
Jackson had left Richmond on the thirteenth, marching toward
Gordonsville.
The James River might be somewhat unhealthy for strangers that summer,
and Stonewall Jackson had marched toward Gordonsville. The desire at the
moment most at the heart of General Robert Edward Lee was that General
McClellan should be recalled. Therefore he guarded Richmond with
something less than sixty thousand men, and he made rumours to spread of
gunboats building, and he sent Major-General T. J. Jackson northward
with twelve thousand men.
In this July month there was an effect of suspense. The fortress was
taking muster, telling its strength, soldering its flag to the staff and
the staff to the keep. The besiegers were gathering; the world was
watching, expectant of the grimmer struggle. There came a roar and clang
from the outer walls, from the Mississippi above Vicksburg, from the
Georgian coast, from Murfreesboro in Tennessee, from Arkansas, from
Morgan's raids in Kentucky. There was fire and sound enough, but the
battles that were to tell were looked for on Virginia soil. Hot and
still were the July days, hot and still was the air, and charged with a
certain sentiment. Thunderbolts were forging; all concerned knew that,
and very subtly life and death and the blue sky and the green leaves
came freshlier across the senses. Jackson, arriving at Gordonsville the
nineteenth of July, found Pope before him with forty-seven thousand men.
He asked for reinforcements and Lee, detaching yet another twelve
thousand from the army at Richmond, sent him A. P. Hill and the Light
Division. Hill arrived on the second of August, splendid fighter, in his
hunting shirt, with his red beard! That evening in Jackson's quarters,
some one showed him a captured copy of Pope's Orders, numbers 12 and 75.
He read, crumpled the papers and tossed them aside, then turned to
Jackson sitting sucking a lemon. "Well, general, here's a new candidate
for your attention!"
Jackson looked up. "Yes, sir. By God's blessing he shall have it." He
sucked on, studying a map of the country between Slaughter Mountain and
Manassas which Hotchkiss had made him. In a letter to his wife from
Richmond he had spoken of "fever and debility" attending him during his
stay in that section of the country. If it were so he had apparently
left them in the rear when he came up here. He sat now tranquil as a
stone wall, in sight of the mountains, sucking his lemon and studying
his maps.
This was the second. On the sixth of August Pope began to cross the
Rappahannock. On the afternoon of the seventh the grey army was in
motion. All the eighth it was in column, the heat intense, the dust
stifling, an entanglement of trains and a misunderstanding of orders on
the part of Hill and Ewell resulting in a confused and retarded march.
Night fell, hot and breathless. Twenty-three thousand grey soldiers,
moving toward Orange Court House, made the dark road vocal with
statements as to the reeking heat, the dust, the condition of their
shoes and the impertinence of the cavalry. The latter was more
irritating than were the flapping soles, the dust in the throat, and the
sweat pouring into the eyes. The infantry swore, swerving again and
again to one side of the narrow road to let small bodies of horsemen go
by. It was dark, the road going through an interminable hot, close wood.
Officers and men were liberal in their vituperation. "Thank the Lord, it
ain't my arm!"--"Here you fellows--damn you! look where you are going!
Trampling innocent bystanders that way!--Why in hell didn't you stay
back where you belong?"--"Of course if you've positively got to get to
the front and can't find any other road it's our place to give you this
one!--Just wait a moment and we'll ask the colonel if we can't _lie
down_. It'll be easier to ride over us that way.--Oh, go to hell!"
The parties passed, the ranks of the infantry straightened out again on
the dark road, the column wound on through the hot, midnight wood. More
hoof-beats--another party of cavalry to be let by! They passed the
infantry in the darkness, pushing the broken line into the ditch and
scrub. In the pitchy blackness an impatient command lost at this
juncture its temper. The men swore, an officer called out to the
horsemen a savage "Halt!" The party pressed on. The officer furious,
caught a bridle rein. "Halt, damn you! Stop them, men! Now you cavalry
have got to learn a thing or two! One is, that the infantry is the
important thing in war! It's the aristocracy, damn you! The other is
that we were on this road first anyhow! Now you just turn out into the
woods yourself, and the next time I tell you to halt, damn you, halt!"
"This, sir," said a voice, "is General Jackson and his staff."
The officer stammered forth apologies. "It is all right, sir," said the
voice in the darkness. "The cavalry must be more careful, but colonel,
true aristocrats do not curse and swear."
An hour later the column halted in open country. A pleasant farmhouse
with a cool, grassy yard surrounded by an ornamental fence, white paling
gleaming in the waved lights, flung wide its doors to Stonewall Jackson.
The troops bivouacked around, in field and meadow. A rain came up, a
chilly downpour. An aide appeared before the brigade encamped
immediately about the farmhouse. "The general says, sir, that the men
may take the rail fence over there, but the regimental officers are to
see that under no circumstances is the fence about Mrs. Wilson's yard to
be touched."
The night passed. Officers had had a hard day; they slept perhaps
somewhat soundly, wrapped in their oilcloths, in the chilly rain, by the
smallest of sputtering camp-fires. The rain stopped at three o'clock;
the August dawn came up gloriously with a cool freshness. Reveille
sounded. Stonewall Jackson came from the farmhouse, looked about him and
then walked across the grassy yard. A little later five colonels of five
regiments found themselves ordered to report to the general commanding
the brigade.
"Gentlemen, as you came by did you notice the condition of the
ornamental fence about the yard?"
"Not especially, sir."
"I did, sir. One panel is gone. I suppose the men were tempted. It was a
confounded cold rain."
The brigadier pursed his lips. "Well, colonel, you heard the order. All
of you heard the order. I regret to say, so did I. Dog-gone tiredness
and profound slumber are no excuse. You ought--we ought--to have heard
them at the palings. General Jackson has ordered you all under arrest."
"Five of us, sir?"
"Five of you. Damn it, sir, six of us!"
The five colonels looked at one another and looked at their brigadier.
"What would you advise, sir?"
The brigadier was very red. "I have sent one of my staff to Mrs. Wilson,
gentlemen, to enquire the cost of the entire ornamental fence! I'd
advise that we pay, and--if we've got any--pay in gold."
By eight o'clock the column was in motion--a fair day and a fair
country, with all the harvest fields and the deep wooded hills and the
August sky. After the rain the roads were just pleasantly wet; dewdrops
hung on the corn blades, blackberries were ripening, ox-eye daisies
fringed the banks of red earth. The head of the column, coming to a
by-road, found awaiting it there an old, plain country woman in a faded
sunbonnet and faded check apron. She had a basket on her arm, and she
stepped into the middle of the road before Little Sorrel. "Air this
General Jackson?"
Stonewall Jackson checked the horse. The staff and a division general or
two stopped likewise. Behind them came on the infantry advance, long and
jingling. "Yes, madam, I am General Jackson. What can I do for you?"
The old woman put down her basket and wiped her hands on her apron.
"General, my son John air in your company. An' I've brought him some
socks an' two shirts an' a chicken, an' a pot of apple butter. An' ef
you'll call John I'll be obleeged to you, sir."
A young man in the group of horsemen laughed, but stopped abruptly as
Jackson looked round. The latter turned to the old woman with the
gentlest blue eyes, and the kindliest slow smile. "I've got a great many
companies, ma'am. They are all along the road from Gordonsville. I don't
believe I know your son."
But the old woman would not have that. "My lan', general! I reckon you
all know John! I reckon John wuz the first man to jine the army. He wuz
chopping down the big gum by the crick, an' the news come, an' he
chopped on twel the gum wuz down, an' he says, says he, 'I'll cut it up
for you, Maw, an' then I'm goin'.' An' he went.--He's about your make
an' he has light hair an' eyes an' he wuz wearing butternut--"
"What is his last name, ma'am?"
"His middle name's Henry an' his last name's Simpson."
"In whose brigade is he, and in what regiment?"
But the old woman shook her head. She knew only that he was in General
Jackson's company. "We never larned to write, John an' me. He wuz
powerful good to me--en I reckon he's been in all the battles 'cause he
wuz born that way. Some socks, and two shirts an' something to eat--an'
he hez a scar over his eye where a setting hen pecked him when he was
little--an' won't you please find him for me, sir?" The old voice
quavered toward tears.
Stonewall Jackson dismounted, and looked toward the on-coming column.
The advance was now but a few hundred yards away; the whole army to the
last wagon train had its orders for expedition. He sent for his
adjutant. "Companies from Orange County, sir? Yes, there are a number in
different regiments and brigades."
"Well, you will go, colonel, and halt the advance. See if there is an
Orange company and a private named John Simpson."
There was not. The woman with the basket was old and tired. She sat down
on the earth beneath a sign post and threw her apron over her head.
Jackson sent an aide back three miles to the main body. "Captain, find
the Orange companies and a private named John Simpson. Bring him here.
Tall, light-haired, light eyes, with a scar over one eye. If he is not
in the main column go on to the rear."
The aide spurred his horse. Jackson explained matters. "You'll have to
wait a while, Mrs. Simpson. If your son's in the army he'll be brought
to you. I'll leave one of my aides with you!" He spoke to Little Sorrel
and put his hand on the saddle bow. Mrs. Simpson's apron came down.
"Please, general, don't you go! Please, sir, you stay! They won't know
him like you will! They'll just come back an' say they can't find
him!--An' I got to see John--I just got to!--Don't go, please, sir! Ef
't was your mother--"