Within a few weeks after I began operations in Northern Virginia, I
received accessions to my command from various sources. I have before
spoken of the convalescents in the hospital at Middleburg, out of whom
I got some valuable service. The Confederate government did not furnish
horses to the cavalry, but paid each man forty cents a day compensation
for the use of his horse. When the trooper lost his horse, or it became
disabled, he was given a furlough to go to get another. A great many of
this class of men came to me, to whom I would furnish captured horses
in consideration of their going with me on a few raids. I made a
proposition to mount all the dismounted men of Fitz Lee's brigade in
consideration of their serving with me a short time. It was declined,
and they were sent over to Fauquier under command of an ambitious
officer, who thought, like Sam Patch when he leaped over Genesee falls,
that some things could be done as well as others. Reports of my forays,
which had been almost uniformly successful, had spread through the
army, and it seemed, after the thing had been done, to be a very easy
thing to surprise and capture cavalry outposts. The result of this
attempt at imitation was that all the dismounted men were returned as
prisoners of war via Fort Monroe, the mounted officer who commanded
them alone escaping capture.
About this time I received a valuable recruit in the person of Sergt.
Ames of the 5th New York cavalry, who deserted his regiment to join me.
I never really understood what his motives were in doing so. I never
cared to inquire. The men of my command insisted that I should treat
him simply as a prisoner, and send him back to join many of his
comrades whom I had sent to Richmond. After a long conversation with
him I felt an instinctive confidence in his sincerity. He came to me on
foot, but proposed to return to camp and mount himself if I would
receive him. It happened that a young man named Walter Frankland was
present, who also came on foot to join my standard. With my consent
they agreed to walk down to Fairfax that night, enter the cavalry camp
on foot and ride out on two of the best horses they could find. At the
same time, I started off on an expedition in another direction. I had
not gone far before I struck the trail of a raiding party of cavalry
that had been off into Loudoun committing depredations on the citizens.
I met old Dr. Drake walking home through snow and mud knee deep. He
told me that the Federal cavalry had met him in the road, while he was
going around to attend to the sick, and had not only taken his horse
but also his saddle-bags, with all his medicines. As the Confederacy
was then in a state of blockade, medicine was more valuable than gold,
and great suffering would be inflicted on a community by the loss even
of Dr. Drake's small stock. He told us that the marauders were not far
ahead, and we spurred on to overtake them. Fortunately, as they were
not far from their camps, they deemed themselves safe, and scattered
over the country a good deal.
Before going very far we overtook a party that had stopped to plunder a
house. As they were more intent on saving their plunder than fighting,
they scampered off, but we were close on their heels. We had
intercepted them and were between them and their camp, so they had to
run in an opposite direction. But very soon they came to a narrow
stream, the Horsepen Run, which was booming with the melted snow. The
man on the fleetest horse, who was some distance in advance of the
others, plunged in and narrowly escaped being drowned. He was glad to
get back even as a prisoner. The others did not care to follow his
example, but quietly submitted to manifest destiny. We got them all.
They were loaded down mostly with silver spoons, of which they had
despoiled the houses they had visited. But the richest prize of all
we got was old Dr. Drake's saddle-bags. I was strongly tempted to
administer to each one of the prisoners a purge by way of making them
expiate their offence. Now, when Dr. Drake parted with his saddle-bags,
he never expected to see them again, and supposed that as long as the
war lasted his occupation would be gone, as a doctor without medicine
and implements of surgery is like a soldier without arms. His surprise
and delight may be imagined when a few hours afterward his saddle-bags
and the captured silver were brought to him to be restored to the
owners.
We then proceeded on toward Fryingpan, where I had heard that a cavalry
picket was stationed and waiting for me to come after them. I did not
want them to be disappointed in their desire to visit Richmond. When I
got within a mile of it and had stopped for a few minutes to make my
disposition for attack, I observed two ladies walking rapidly toward
me. One was Miss Laura Ratcliffe, a young lady to whom Stuart had
introduced me a few weeks before, when returning from his raid on
Dumfries--with her sister. Their home was near Fryingpan, and they had
got information of a plan to capture me, and were just going to the
house of a citizen to get him to put me on my guard, when fortune
brought them across my path. But for meeting them, my life as a
partisan would have closed that day. There was a cavalry post in sight
at Fryingpan, but near there, in the pines, a large body of cavalry
had been concealed. It was expected that I would attack the picket,
but that my momentary triumph would be like the fabled Dead Sea's
fruit--ashes to the taste--as the party in the pines would pounce from
their hiding-place upon me.
A garrulous lieutenant had disclosed the plot to the young lady, never
dreaming that she would walk through the snow to get the news to me.
This was not the only time during the war when I owed my escape from
danger to the tact of a Southern woman. I concluded then to go in the
direction of Dranesville in search of game. When we reached Herndon
Station, I learned that the contents of a sutler's wagon, that had
broken down when passing there that day, were concealed in a barn near
by. The sutler had gone into camp to get another team to haul his goods
in. In the exercise of our belligerent rights, we proceeded to relieve
him of any further trouble in taking care of them. He had a splendid
stock of cavalry boots, with which he seemed to have been provided in
anticipation of the wants of my men. Now, loaded down with what was to
us a richer prize than the Golden Fleece, we started back, but could
not forbear taking along a cavalry picket near by which was not looking
for us, as it had been understood that we were to attack Fryingpan that
night, where preparations had been made to receive us. Once more I had
tempted fortune, and from "the nettle danger had plucked the flower
safety."
On my return to Middleburg I found Ames and Frankland there in advance
of me. They had entered the camp of the Fifth New York cavalry at night
on foot, and had ridden out on two of the finest horses they could find
in the stables. They had passed in and out without ever having been
molested or challenged by the guard. Ames had not had time to exchange
his suit of blue for a gray one, but Frankland was in full Confederate
uniform. It was a perfectly legitimate enterprise, certainly, as open
and bold as the capture in the night-time of the Palladium of Troy by
Ulysses and Diomede. But still the men were not satisfied of Ames's
good faith. They said that he had not betrayed Frankland because he
wanted to entrap us all at one time. A few days after that, I once more
put him to a test which convinced the men of his truth and fidelity. He
seemed to burn with an implacable feeling of revenge toward his old
companions in arms. I never had a truer or more devoted follower. He
was killed in a skirmish in October, 1864, and carried the secret of
his desertion to the grave. I had made him a lieutenant, and he had won
by his courage and general deportment the respect and affection of my
men. They all sincerely mourned his death.
Since the war I have often passed his lonely grave in a clump of trees
on the very spot where he fell. The soldier who killed him was in the
act of taking his arms off when one of my men rode up and shot him.
Ames is a prominent figure in the history of my command. It was my
habit either to go myself, with one or two men, or to send scouts, to
find out some weak and exposed place in the enemy's lines. I rarely
rested for more than one day at a time. As soon as I knew of a point
offering a chance for a successful attack, I gathered my men together
and struck a blow. From the rapidity with which these attacks were
delivered and repeated, and the distant points at which they were made,
a most exaggerated estimate of the number of my force was made. I have
before spoken of John Underwood, to whose courage and skill as a guide
I was so much indebted for my earlier successes. He was equally at home
threading a thick labyrinth of pines in Fairfax or leading a charge. He
was among the first everywhere, and I always rewarded his zeal. About
this time I had sent him down on a scout, from which he returned
informing me that a picket of thirty or forty cavalry had been placed
at Herndon Station on the Loudoun & Hampshire Railroad. This was the
very place where I had got the sutler's wagon the week before. I could
hardly believe it--I thought it must be another trap--for I could not
imagine why such a number of men should be put there, except for the
purpose of getting caught. I had supposed that the enemy had been
taught something by experience. I collected my men and started down,
though I did not expect to find any one at Herndon when I got there.
Fearing an ambuscade, and also hearing that the reserve at the post
stayed in a house, I thought I would try my luck in the daytime.
Besides, as most of my attacks had been made at night, I knew they
would not expect me in the day. Underwood conducted me by all sorts of
crooked paths through the dense forests until we got in their rear.
We then advanced at a walk along the road leading to their camp at
Dranesville, until we came upon a vidette, who saw us, but did not have
time either to fire or to run away. He was ours before he recovered his
senses, he was so much surprised. About 200 yards in front of us, I
could see the boys in blue lounging around an old sawmill, with their
horses tied by their halters to the fence. It was past twelve o'clock,
and the sun was shining brightly, but there was a deep snow on the
ground. They were as unconscious of the presence of danger as if they
had been at their own peaceful homes among the Green Mountains. It
happened to be just the hour for the relief to come from their camp at
Dranesville. They saw us approaching, but mistook us for friends. When
we got within 100 yards, I ordered a charge. They had no time to mount
their horses, and fled, panic-stricken, into the sawmill and took
refuge on the upper floor. I knew that if I gave them time to recover
from the shock of their surprise they could hold the mill with their
carbines against my force until reënforcements reached them.
The promptness with which the opportunity was seized is the reason that
they were lost and we were saved. They were superior in numbers, with
the advantage of being under cover. The last ones had hardly got inside
the mill before we were upon them. I dismounted and rushed into the
mill after them, followed by John De Butts. The enemy were all above
me. As I started up the steps I ordered the men to set fire to the
mill. I knew that this order would be heard overhead and increase
the panic. The mill was full of dry timber and shavings that would
have burned them to cinders in ten minutes. As I reached the head of
the stairway I ordered a surrender. They all did so. They had the
alternative of doing this or being roasted alive. In a minute more the
mill would have been in flames. Against such an enemy they had no
weapon of defence, and, in preference to cremation, chose to be
prisoners. On going out and remounting, I observed four finely
caparisoned horses standing in front of the house of Nat Hanna, a Union
man. I knew that the horses must have riders, and that from their
equipments they must be officers. I ordered some of the men to go into
the house and bring them out. They found a table spread with milk,
honey, and all sorts of nice delicacies for a lunch. But no soldiers
could be seen, and Mrs. Hanna was too good a Union woman to betray
them. Some of the men went upstairs, but by the dim light could see
nothing on the floor. Ames opened the door to the garret; he peeped in
and called, but it was pitch dark, and no one answered. He thought it
would do no harm to fire a shot into the darkness. It had a magical
effect. There was a stir and a crash, and instantly a human being was
seen descending through the ceiling. He fell on the floor right among
the men. The flash of the pistol in his face had caused him to change
his position, and in doing so he had stepped on the lathing and fallen
through. His descent had been easy and without injury to his person. He
was thickly covered with lime dust and mortar. After he was brushed
off, we discovered that we had a major. His three companions in the
dark hole were a captain and two lieutenants, who came out through the
trap-door, and rather enjoyed the laugh we had on the major. As we left
the house the lunch disappeared with us. It was put there to be eaten.
The major was rather dilatory in mounting. He knew that the relief was
due there, and was in hope not only of a rescue, but of turning the
tables and taking us with him to his camp. But fate had decreed
otherwise. He was admonished of the importance of time to us, and that
he must go right on to Richmond, where he had started to go the year
before.
As soon as possible, John Underwood, with a guard, went on in advance
with the prisoners. Just as we left the railroad station the relief
appeared in sight. I remained behind with a dozen men as a rear-guard,
to keep them back until Underwood had got far ahead. The relief party
hung on in sight of me for some distance, but never attacked. After I
crossed the Horsepen, which almost swam our horses, I started off at a
gallop, thinking the pursuit was over. This emboldened the pursuers,
and a few came on and crossed after me. I saw that they were divided,
and I halted, wheeled, and started back at them. They did not wait for
me, but got over the stream as fast as they could. One fellow got a
good ducking. I was now master of the situation. I drew up on a hill
and invited them to come across, but they declined. I was not molested
any more that day. A rather ludicrous thing occurred when we made the
attack at the station. There was a so-called Union man there, named
Mayo Janney. As he lived just on the outskirts of the picket line, he
was permitted to conduct a small store, and trade with Washington. He
had been down to the city, and, with other things, had brought out a
hogshead of molasses, which he intended to retail to his neighbors at
speculative prices. The element of danger in such a trade was, of
course, largely considered in estimating the market value of the
merchandise. Janney had his store in the vacant railroad depot. He had
just knocked out the bung of the barrel of molasses, and was in the
act of drawing some to fill the jug of a customer, when he heard the
clatter and yell of my men, as they rushed down on the terrified
pickets. As Herndon Station and the region round about was supposed to
be in the exclusive occupation of the army of the United States, he
could not have been more surprised at an earthquake, or if a comet had
struck the earth. Forgetting all about the molasses, which he had left
pouring out of the barrel, he rushed wildly to the door to see what was
the matter. He saw the Vermont cavalry flying in every direction in
confusion, and whizzing bullets passing unpleasantly close to his ears.
Now, to be a martyr in any cause was just the last thing which a man
in Fairfax, who had taken an oath to support the constitution of the
United States, had any idea of being. Janney's idea of supporting the
Union was to make some money out of it, and a living for his family.
But he did not consider that his oath required him to stay there to be
shot, or to help to bury or bind up the wounds of those who might be.
His idea of honor was as selfish and material as Sir John Falstaff's.
He preferred remaining a live man without it, to being a dead one who
died with it yesterday. So Janney ran away as fast as his legs could
carry him, and, if possible, his molasses ran faster than he did. He
did not return for several hours to view the field. When he at last
mustered up courage to go back, he found the molasses about shoe-deep
all over the floor, but not a drop in the barrel. Now, Janney's loyalty
to the Union was not altogether above suspicion. It was suspected that
he had taken the oath for profit, and probably to enable him to act as
a spy for me. The loss of his molasses proved his innocence; but for
that fact he would have been arrested and sent to board at the Old
Capitol on the charge of having given me the information on which I had
acted.
When I overtook my command at Middleburg, I found Dick Moran, after the
style of the ancient bards, in the street, rehearsing the incidents of
the day to an admiring crowd. I paroled the privates and let them go
home, as I could not then spare a guard to take them back to the
Confederate lines, which were at Culpepper. I put the four officers on
their parole to report at Culpepper to Fitz Lee, and sent with them,
simply as an escort, a Hungarian whom we called Jake. On the way out
they spent one night at a farmer's house. Now, Jake had been a soldier
under Kossuth, and having had some experience in Austrian perfidy, had
no sort of confidence in the military value of a parole. When time came
for the officers to go to bed, Jake volunteered to take their boots
down to the kitchen to be blacked. He had no fears of their leaving,
bare-footed, in the snow, as long as he held on to their boots. Jake
told me, with a chuckle, of his stratagem, on his return. He never
doubted that it kept his prisoners from going away that night.
DRANESVILLE, VA., March 24, 1863.
COLONEL:--I have the honor to report, on the 17th instant, at 1
P.M., the reserve picket post at Herndon Station, consisting of
twenty-five men, under command of Second Lieut. Alexander G.
Watson, Company L, First Vermont Cavalry, was surprised by Capt.
Mosby, with a force of forty-two men, and twenty-one of our men,
together with Maj. William Wells, Capt. Robert Schofield, Company
F, and Second Lieut. Alexander G. Watson, Company L, and Perley C.
J. Cheney, Company C (second lieutenant) captured, all of First
Vermont Cavalry; the three first were visiting the post. The
surprise was so complete the men made but little or no resistance.
The enemy were led on by citizens and entered on foot by a
bridle-path in rear of the post, capturing the vidette stationed
on the road before he was able to give the alarm. Every effort was
made, on receipt of the intelligence by me, to capture the party,
but without avail. Had Second Lieut. Edwin H. Higley, Company K,
First Vermont Cavalry, who had started with the relief for the
post, consisting of forty men, together with ten of the old guard,
who joined him, performed his duty, the whole party could, and
would, have been taken. I cannot too strongly urge that orders may
be given that all citizens near outpost must remove beyond the
lines. Such occurrences are exceedingly discreditable, but
sometimes unavoidable, not only calculated to embolden the enemy,
but dispirit our men. I am, &c.,
CHARLES F. TAGGART,
_Major, Commanding Post_.
COL. R. BUTLER PRICE,
_Commanding, &c._
NEAR PIEDMONT, VA., March 18, 1863.
GENERAL:--Yesterday I attacked a body of the enemy's cavalry at
Herndon Station, in Fairfax County, completely routing them. I
brought off twenty-five prisoners--a major (Wells), one captain,
two lieutenants, and twenty-one men, all their arms, twenty-six
horses and equipments. One, severely wounded, was left on the
ground. The enemy pursued me in force, but were checked by my
rear-guard and gave up the pursuit. My loss was nothing.
The enemy have moved their cavalry from Germantown back of Fairfax
Court House on the Alexandria pike.
In this affair my officers and men behaved splendidly, &c.
JNO. S. MOSBY,
_Captain, &c._
[_Indorsement._]
MAJ.-GEN. J. E. B. STUART.
HEADQUARTERS ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA,
March 21, 1863.
Respectfully forwarded for the information of the department and as
evidence of the merit and continued success of Captain Mosby.
R. E. LEE,
_General_.