The Long Roll
the chill of the frost, the strength of the blast. In blander moods they
caressed her name. "Wish I could see the old pike once more!"--"Ain't
any road in the world like the Valley pike, and never was! _She_ never
behaved herself like this damned out-of-corduroy-into-mud-hole,
bayonet-narrow, drunken, zigzag, world's-end-and-no-to-morrow cow
track!"
It was not only the road. All nature had new aspects for the Confederate
soldier; day by day a deeper shade of personality. So much of him was
farmer that he was no stranger to the encampment of the earth. He was
weather-wise, knew the soil, named the trees, could _orientate_ himself,
had a fighting knowledge, too, of blight and drouth, hail, frost, high
wind, flood, too little and too much of sun fire. Probably he had
thought that he knew all that was to be told. When he volunteered it was
not with the expectation of learning any other manual than that of arms.
As is generally the case, he learned that what he expected was but a
mask for what he did not expect. He learned other manuals, among them
that of earth, air, fire, and water. His ideas of the four underwent
modification. First of all he learned that they were combatants, active
participants in the warfare which he had thought a matter only of armies
clad in blue and armies clad in grey. Apparently nothing was passive,
nothing neutral. Bewilderingly, also, nothing was of a steadfast faith.
Sun, moon, darkness and light, heat and cold, snow, rain, mud, dust,
mountain, forest, hill, dale, stream, bridge, road, wall, house,
hay-rick, dew, mist, storm, everything!--they fought first on one side
then on the other. Sometimes they did this in rapid succession,
sometimes they seemed to fight on both sides at once; the only attitude
they never took was one immaterial to the business in hand. Moreover
they were vitally for or against the individual soldier; now his
friend, now his foe, now flattering, caressing, bringing gifts, now
snatching away, digging pitfalls, working wreck and ruin. They were
stronger than he, strong and capricious beyond all reckoning. Sometimes
he loved these powers; sometimes he cursed them. Indifference, only, was
gone. He and they were alike sentient, active, conscious, inextricably
mingled.
To-night the pike was cool and hard. There were clouds above, but not
heavy; streams of stars ran between. To either side of the road lay
fields of wheat, of clover, of corn, banded and broken by shadowy
forest. Massanutton loomed ahead. There was a wind blowing. Together
with the sound of marching feet, the jingle of accoutrements, the
striking of the horses' hoofs against loose stones, the heavy noise of
the guns in the rear, it filled the night like the roar of a distant
cataract. The men marched along without speech; now and then a terse
order, nothing more. The main army was before them at Strasburg; they
must catch up. To the west, somewhat near at hand in the darkness, would
be lying Fremont. Somewhere in the darkness to the east was Shields.
Their junction was unmade, Stonewall Jackson and his army passing
between the upper and the nether millstone which should have joined to
crush.
The stars began to pale, the east to redden. Faintly, faintly the swell
and roll of the earth gathered colour. A cock crew from some distant
farmhouse. The Stonewall swung on, the 65th leading, its colonel,
Richard Cleave, at its head. The regiment liked to see him there; it
loved him well and obeyed him well, and he in his turn would have died
for his men. Undoubtedly he was responsible for much of the regiment's
tone and temper. It was good stuff in the beginning, but something of
its firm modelling was due to the man now riding Dundee at its head. The
65th was acquiring a reputation, and that in a brigade whose deeds had
been ringing, like a great bell, sonorously through the land. "The good
conduct of the 65th--" "The 65th, reliable always--" "The 65th with its
accustomed courage--" "The disciplined, intelligent, and courageous
65th--" "The gallantry of the 65th--"
The light strengthened; pickets were reached. They belonged to Taylor's
Brigade, lying in the woods to either side of the pike. The Stonewall
passed them, still figures, against the dawn. Ahead lay Strasburg, its
church spires silver-slender in the morning air. Later, as the sun
pushed a red rim above the hills, the brigade stacked arms in a fair
green meadow. Between it and the town lay Taliaferro. Elzey and Campbell
were in the fields to the east. General Jackson and his staff occupied a
knoll just above the road.
The Stonewall fell to getting breakfast--big tin cups of scalding
coffee! sugar! fresh meat! double allowance of meal! They broiled the
meat on sharpened sticks, using the skillets for batter bread; they
grinned at the sugar before they dropped it in, they purred over the
coffee. Mingling with the entrancing odours was the consciousness of
having marched well, fought well, deserved well. Down the pike, where
Taylor kept the rear, burst a rattle of musketry. The Stonewall
scrambled to its feet. "What's that? Darn it all! the Virginia Reel's
beginning!" An officer hurried by. "Sit down, boys. It's just a
minuet--reconnoissance of Fremont and Dick Taylor! It's all right. Those
Louisianians are damned good dancers!" A courier quitting the knoll
above the pike gave further information. "Skirmish back there, near the
Capon road. Just a feeler of Fremont's--his army's three miles over
there in the woods. Old Dick's with General Taylor. Don't need your
help, boys--thank you all the same! Fremont won't attack in force. Old
Jack says so--sitting up there on a hickory stump reading the Book of
Kings!"
"All right," said the Stonewall. "We ain't the kind to go butting in
without an invitation! We're as modest as we are brave. Listen! The blue
coats are using minies."
Down the pike, during an hour of dewy morning, the Louisiana Brigade and
Fremont's advance fired at each other. The woods hereabouts were dense.
At intervals the blue showed; at intervals Ewell dispatched a regiment
which drove them back to cover. "Old Dick" would have loved to follow,
but he was under orders. He fidgeted to and fro on Rifle. "Old Jackson
says I am not to go far from the pike! I want to go after those men. I
want to chase them to the Rio Grande! I am sick of this fiddling about!
Just listen to that, General Taylor! There's a lot of them in the woods!
What's the good of being a major-general if you've got to stick close to
the pike? If Old Jackson were here he would say Go! Why ain't he here?
Bet you anything you like he's sucking a lemon and holding morning
prayer meeting!--Oh, here are your men back with prisoners! Now, you men
in blue, what command's that in the woods? Eh?--What?" "_Von Bayern bin
ich nach diesem Lande gekommen._" "_Am Rhein habe ich gehort dass viel
bezahlt wird fur...._" "Take 'em away! Semmes, you go and tell General
Jackson all Europe's here.--Mean you to go? Of course I don't mean you
to go, you thundering idiot! Always could pick Caesar out of the crowd.
When I find him I obey him, I don't send him messages. ----! ---- ----!
They've developed sharpshooters. Send Wheat over there, General
Taylor--tell him to shake the pig-nuts out of those trees!"
Toward midday the army marched. All the long afternoon it moved to the
sound of musketry up the Valley pike. There was skirmishing in
plenty--dashes by Fremont's cavalry, repulsed by the grey, a short
stampede of Munford's troopers, driven up the pike and into the infantry
of the rear guard, rapid recovery and a Roland for an Oliver. The
Valley, shimmering in the June light, lay in anything but Sabbath calm.
Farmhouse and village, mill, smithy, tavern, cross-roads store, held
their breath--Stonewall Jackson coming up the pike, holding Fremont off
with one hand while he passes Shields.
Sunset came, a splendid flare of colour behind the Great North Mountain.
The army halted for the night. The Louisiana Brigade still formed the
rear guard. Drawn upon high ground to either side of the pike, it
lighted no fires and rested on its arms. Next it to the south lay
Winder. The night was clear and dark, the pike a pale limestone gleam
between the shadowy hills. Hour by hour there sounded a clattering of
hoofs, squads of cavalry, reports, couriers, staff. There was, too, a
sense of Stonewall Jackson somewhere on the pike, alert with grey-blue
eyes piercing the dark. Toward one o'clock firing burst out on the
north. It proved an affair of outposts. Later, shots rang out close at
hand, Fremont having ordered a cavalry reconnoissance. The grey met it
with clangour and pushed it back. Wheat's battalion was ordered
northward and went swinging down the pike. The blue cavalry swarmed
again, whereupon the Louisianians deployed, knelt first rank, fired rear
rank, rose and went forward, knelt, fired and dispersed the swarm. From
a ridge to the west opened a Federal gun. It had intent to rake the
pike, but was trained too high. The shells hurtled overhead, exploding
high in air. The cannonade ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Day
began to break in violet and daffodil.
As the hours went on they became fiery hot and dry. The dust cloud was
high again over advance with great wagon train, over main column and
rear. Water was scarce, the men horribly weary; all suffered. Suffering
or ease, pain or pleasure, there was no resting this day. Fremont, using
parallel roads, hung upon the right; he must be pushed back to the
mountains as they passed up the Valley pike. All morning blue cavalry
menaced the Stonewall; to the north a dense southward moving cloud
proclaimed a larger force. Mid-day found Winder deployed on both sides
of the pike, with four guns in position. The Louisianians sent back to
know if they could help. "No--we'll manage." A minute later Jackson
appeared. Wherever matters drew suddenly to a point, there he was
miraculously found. He looked at the guns and jerked his hand in the
air. "General Winder, I do not wish an engagement here. Withdraw your
brigade, sir, regiment by regiment. General Ashby is here. He will keep
the rear."
Ashby came at the moment with a body of horse out of the wood to the
east. He checked the black stallion, saluted and made his report. "I
have burned the Conrad Store, White House and Columbia bridges, sir. If
Shields wishes to cross he must swim the Shenandoah. It is much swollen.
I have left Massanutton Gap strongly guarded."
"Good! good! General Winder, you will follow General Taylor. Tell the
men that I wish them to press on. General Ashby, the march is now to
proceed undisturbed."
The second of June burned onward to its close, through heat, dust,
thirst, and relentlessly rapid marching. In the late afternoon occurred
a monstrous piling up of thunder clouds, a whistling of wind, and a
great downpour of rain. It beat down the wheat and pattered like elfin
bullets on the forest leaves. Through this fusillade the army came down
to the west fork of the Shenandoah. Pioneers laid a bridge of wagons,
and, brigade by brigade, the army crossed. High on the bank in the loud
wind and dashing rain, Jackson on Little Sorrel watched the transit. By
dusk all were over and the bridge was taken up.
On the further shore Ashby now kept guard between Fremont and the host
in grey. As for Shields, he was on the far side of the Massanuttons,
before him a bridgeless, swollen torrent and a guarded mountain pass.
Before becoming dangerous he must move south and round the Massanuttons.
Far from achieving junction, space had widened between Shields and
Fremont. The Army of the Valley had run the gauntlet, and in doing so
had pushed the walls apart. The men, climbing from the Shenandoah,
saluting their general, above them there in the wind and the rain,