LOUIS VISITS GENERAL MCCLELLAN
Louis’s heart gave a bound. He was to visit the great
commander-in-chief of the Army of the Potomac! He had seen General
McClellan before, of course, for the general was very popular with his
men and loved to roam about among them, but he had never had the chance
of speaking with so distinguished an officer.
The day was a quiet one through the great camp as Louis walked from the
quarters of the Goreville Volunteers, a distance of nearly two miles,
to where General McClellan had stationed himself and his staff. The
troops had not yet recovered from the shock experienced at Fair Oaks
and lay resting here, there, and everywhere, although the picket line
was ever on the alert.
For this occasion Louis had donned an almost new uniform, every
particular button of which shone its brightest. He had, moreover, had
his hair trimmed by a fellow-soldier who was a barber, and altogether
he presented a prepossessing appearance as he came up, saluted, and
told the orderly the object of his mission.
General McClellan was just then busy dictating reports to his secretary
and conversing with several of his officers, and Louis had to wait
nearly an hour before he was admitted to the presence of the commander.
When he was told to enter, General McClellan received him with a kindly
smile.
“Private Rockford, General Heintzelman reports that you were taken
prisoner by the rebels, carried off to Richmond, and that you had a
fair chance to look around the city before you escaped and got back
into camp. Is that true?”
“I did not have much of a chance to look around while I was a prisoner,
general. But I did look around a bit after I escaped and before I
started in this direction.”
“Did you take note of any of their fortifications, or the number and
disposition of their troops?”
“I took note of all I possibly could, sir--feeling that it was
knowledge worth getting for our side,” answered Louis, with pardonable
pride.
“Tell me your story. But be brief, for I am busy to-day. Never mind how
you were captured or who took you to Richmond.”
“I’ll tell you all I know in as few words as I can, sir,” and being
motioned to a camp chair, Louis sat down and related how he and the
others had been imprisoned in the pork-packing establishment, how he
and Hornsby had escaped and separated, and of his doings at the home
of Robert Dowling. At the mention of the spy’s name General McClellan
elevated his eyebrows for an instant, but did not otherwise betray his
surprise.
“Here is something of a plan I have drawn of the rebel fortifications
as I remember them,” the youth went on, and drew a roll of paper from
his pocket. “You can see I am no artist, sir. Those crosses represent
woods and those lines of dots are rebel troops. The little bars on the
fortifications are batteries.”
“Hum!” General McClellan spread the paper out on his camp table and
pored over it earnestly. “This line is the outskirts of Richmond?”
“Yes, sir. That box marked L. P. is Libby Prison, and that is the
Williamsburg road. That fortification is near the Mechanicsville
bridge, directly in front of these headquarters.”
“And what is that?” and General McClellan pointed upon the map with the
point of a pen.
“That is a fortification commanding the Chickahominy to the northeast
of the city. I heard that General Johnston used to stay there, and I
also heard the rebels have a large magazine there. And, sir, I heard
General Johnston is severely wounded and that General Lee will take his
place, and the rebels think Jackson will soon come down to Richmond
from the valley.”
At this General McClellan smiled again. “You have had your ears
wide open for one of your age,” he said. “This map will perhaps prove
of value, although it merely corroborates what our regular spies have
already furnished us with.” He looked at the paper again and continued
to ask questions, all of which Louis answered as well as he was able.
In fifteen minutes the interview was over. “One thing I wish to caution
you about, Rockford,” were the general’s final words. “Do not mention
Robert Dowling by name. The word may get back to Richmond and cause the
man who befriended you much trouble.”
“I will remember, general.”
“For a young man of your age you have done remarkably well. Keep on as
you have started and who knows but that you will one day be wearing a
general’s shoulder-straps?” and then the general bowed pleasantly and
turned away, while Louis saluted in his best manner and walked out. The
cordial reception had made Louis the general’s friend for life.
[Illustration: “KEEP ON AS YOU HAVE STARTED AND WHO KNOWS BUT THAT YOU
WILL ONE DAY BE WEARING A GENERAL’S SHOULDER-STRAPS?”--_Page 387._]
It must not be imagined that Louis had forgotten Hornsby. His first
words on getting into camp had been concerning his fellow-prisoner.
Nothing had been heard of the old soldier. As a matter of fact, the man
was recaptured not six hours after dropping from the prison window, and
it was only by good luck that he was not shot. Two days later he was
removed to Libby Prison, where he remained until the first exchange of
prisoners after the termination of the peninsula campaign.
Louis received an ovation when he returned to the ranks of the
Goreville Volunteers.
“He’s been a-dining with General McClellan,” said Callings. “Louis,
what did you have, quail on toast or stuffed turkey? Did he treat to
Havana cigars or Pittsburg stogies?”
“I pet you der cheneral vos calls him a pully poy,” put in Hans
Roddmann. “Und dot’s vot he vos--der pulliest poy in der camp, hey?”
And he slapped Louis so heartily upon the back that the young soldier
had the breath knocked out of him. Jerry Rowe said nothing, but stood
by, looking as sour as possible.
“The airs Louis Rockford puts on make me sick,” he grumbled to Benny
Bruce, later on.
“Don’t talk to me, Jerry Rowe,” answered Benny, with flashing eyes.
“You’re the biggest coward in the camp and I don’t care to recognize
you.”
“Call me a coward,” cried Jerry, in a rage. He went at Benny with his
fists, expecting the drummer boy to retreat. But Benny had heard enough
about Jerry and he determined to make a stand if it cost him his life.
He dodged Jerry’s first rush and then planted a blow on the big boy’s
neck which sent Jerry headlong to the grass.
“Hurrah!” called out a soldier, who saw the row. “Benny Bruce is giving
Jerry Rowe a long-deserved licking!” and the cry soon drew a crowd. Mad
with rage and mortification, Jerry leaped up and made another rush,
only to have the first dose repeated. Benny’s eyes burned like two live
coals.
“You’ve taunted me enough, Jerry Rowe,” he panted. “After this you
leave me alone, understand?”
“I’ll--I’ll kill you!” howled Jerry, again scrambling up. This time he
managed to hit Benny on the cheek, but in return came a smashing blow
on the nose, “a regular sockdolager,” so Harry Bingham said, and Jerry
staggered back with his face covered with blood. Benny followed him
up, when lo and behold, Jerry’s cowardly nature asserted itself and he
actually ran away from the aggressive little drummer boy! What a shout
went up!
“Hurrah for Benny Bruce!”
“He’ll be a man yet. Shake hands, Benny. Jerry Rowe won’t bother you
again, I’ll bet you a shilling.”
“Benny vos almost so much of a mans as Louis, py chiminatty!” said Hans
Roddmann. “Mine poy, I vos broud of you. Der best dings Cherry can do
is to desert und choin der enemy.”
“They won’t have him,” said Louis. “Benny, I’m glad to see you able to
stick up for yourself. I don’t believe in fist-fighting, but I guess
Jerry Rowe deserved all he got.”
“He’s been picking at me since we enlisted,” answered the drummer boy,
who was still panting from his exertions. “All I ask of him is to leave
me alone.”
None of the officers had witnessed the encounter, which took place
behind some bushes to the side of the camp, and the matter was hushed
up. After that Jerry Rowe took good care to leave Benny Bruce alone.
As soon as he could do so, Louis wrote a long letter to the folks at
home and with this sent the document received from Theodore Faily.
“There, I hope that makes everything right,” he said to himself, as he
dropped the communication into the mail bag. He was very happy to think
he had met Mr. Faily, but his happiness was cut short the next day when
word was brought in that there had been a fire on the docks and some
mail matter had been destroyed.
“Oh, was our mail in the bunch destroyed?” he asked, of the under
officer who brought the news.
“I don’t know, but I am afraid so,” was the answer, which made Louis’s
heart sink like a lump of lead in his bosom.
On the following morning there was a slight commotion in camp. Some
guerrillas had been captured, and Louis went to the spot to see them.
To his surprise Caleb Fox and Sam Jacks were among the prisoners. Both
were wounded, although not seriously.
“What are they going to do with those prisoners?” asked Louis, of one
of the guards.
“Shoot ’em, I guess,” was the answer. “They deserve it.” But Fox and
Jacks were not shot. Instead they were tried and sentenced to prison
until the end of the war,--with a black mark against each,--which meant
that they could not be exchanged.
“Well, I am glad they are out of the way,” was Louis’s comment, when he
heard of this.
For over a week matters were quiet in the great camp so far as the
Goreville Volunteers were concerned. On all sides the commands were
strengthened so far as such a course was possible, and again General
McClellan sent out his call for reinforcements and received less than a
tenth of what he hoped for, and what he deemed absolutely necessary.
In the meantime the Confederates were not idle. General Lee was
now in absolute control, and by his work the army of the South was
equipped and disciplined far better than ever before. Lee also began
to correspond with General Jackson and was assured that Jackson with
his command of the Shenandoah would be ready to unite with Lee’s forces
whenever wanted. Thus was extinguished the last hope the Union army had
of entering Richmond as a conclusion to the great peninsula campaign.
Although the Goreville Volunteers were idle, the Montgomery Grays
were decidedly active. About the middle of June a force of fifteen
hundred Confederate cavalry under General Stuart moved from Richmond
over to Hanover Court House, where they had a brush with a small body
of Union soldiers, put them to flight, and destroyed many military
stores from Hanover Court House to Tunstall’s Station, on the York
River. From the York they moved to New Kent Court House and then to
White Oak Swamp, thus taking a position directly in the rear of the
Union army. Nearly two hundred prisoners were taken, and this cavalry
raid was certainly the most daring of the whole campaign. Andy was in
this raid and acquitted himself with great honor by helping to capture
four Unionists, one supposed to be a spy, although the man never
acknowledged it.
This raid, along with other happenings, made General McClellan decide
to change his base of supplies from White House, on the York, to the
James River on the southern side of the peninsula. With this change of
base this story has nothing to do, although the happenings upon that
occasion, how the army goods were transported by boat and by wagon,
and how what was left behind was burned, would fill a volume. It was a
tremendous change, but a necessary one, and was made none too soon.
The last week in June found the two armies ready for the final
conflict--standing at bay, like two monsters, each measuring the
strength of the other. They were on the verge of seven days of almost
continual fighting. Everything that the two commanding generals could
well do had been done. McClellan was vainly calling for the increase
in troops he could not obtain, Lee was recruiting from every possible
source, while Jackson, still maneuvering in the valley to deceive
McDowell, was marching with all possible speed with the main body of
his soldiers to help guard the Southern capital.
On June twenty-fifth the contest began by the advance of the Union
forces in the neighborhood of Seven Pines. At the same time General
Jackson descended from the Shenandoah Valley and prepared for an
immediate and heavy attack upon the right wing of the Union army. This
was done after a consultation with General Lee, and through this means
General McClellan was forced to abandon his attack and henceforth act
upon the defensive.
The Seven Days’ battles began properly at Mechanicsville on the
twenty-sixth, and there followed in rapid succession the battles of
Gaines’s Mill, Allen’s Farm, Savage Station, Glendale, and several
others of lesser importance, topped by the terrific struggle at Malvern
Hill, where the fierce advance of the Confederates was at last stayed
by the Union forces, and General McClellan was allowed to withdraw to
Harrison Landing without further molestation.
To go into the details of the battles enumerated above would take far
more space than we have to spare for such purposes. If the advance
of the Confederate forces was masterly, equally so was the skillful
retreat of the Union troops. Every mile of the ground was contested,
as both sides fought their way through woods and swamps, and along
roads now heavy with mud and then again ankle deep with dust, the
Confederates with their capital and its supplies behind them, the Union
army carrying with it thousands of sick and wounded and all that it was
trying to save.
But all these wonderfully interesting details must be left to
the historians of the past and the future. We will pass on to the
adventures Louis and Andy were to experience in those trying times,
adventures more exciting than any they had yet encountered.