SHERIDAN'S RIDE
There are as many different kinds of courage as there are different
kinds of men. Some men are brave because they were born so. They are no
more to be praised for their bravery than a bulldog deserves credit
because it is a natural born fighter or a hare deserves blame because
it specializes in running away. Some men belong to the bulldog class.
They are brave because it is natural for them to be brave. Others
belong to the hare-family and they show far more real courage in
overcoming their natural instincts than does the other for whom it is
natural to do brave deeds. Much also depends on the circumstances. We
all know from our own experience of athletes who can play a good
winning game, and who perform well against inferior competitors. The
rarer type, however, is the boy or man who can play a good up-hill game
and who with all the odds against him, is able to fight it out and
never to let up or give up until the last point is scored or the last
yard is run and who often is able to win against better, but less
dogged, less courageous competitors. It is so in battles. It is easy
for any commander to be courageous and to take unusual chances when he
is winning. The thrill of approaching victory is a stimulant which
makes even a coward act like a brave man. Even General Gates, the weak,
vacillating, clerkly, self-seeking, cowardly general of the
Revolutionary War, whose selfishness and timidity were in such contrast
to Washington's self-sacrifice and courage, was energetic and decisive
at the battle of Saratoga after Benedict Arnold, who was there only as
a volunteer, had made his brave, successful charge on the British
column in spite of Gates' orders. After attacking and dispersing the
reserved line of the British army, Arnold called his men together again
and attacked the Canadians who covered the British left wing. Just as
he had cut through their ranks, a wounded German soldier lying on the
ground took deliberate aim at Arnold and killed his horse and shattered
his leg with the same bullet. As he went down, one of his men tried to
bayonet the wounded soldier who had fired, but even while disentangling
himself from his dead horse and suffering under the pain of his broken
leg, Arnold called out, "For God's sake, don't hurt him, he's a fine
fellow," and saved the life of the man who had done his best to take
his. That was the hour when Benedict Arnold should have died, at the
moment of a magnificent victory while saving the life of a man who had
injured him. Gates went on with the battle, closed in on the British
and in spite of their stubborn defense, attacked them fiercely for
almost the only time in his career as a general and completely routed
them. There is no doubt that on that occasion after Arnold's charge
Gates displayed a considerable amount of bravery, yet such bravery
cannot really be termed courage of the high order which was so often
displayed by Washington, by William of Orange and later by his
grandson, William of England, by Fabius the conqueror of Hannibal and
by many other generals who were greatest in defeat.
Napoleon once said that the highest kind of courage was the
two-o'clock-in-the-morning courage. He meant that at that gray hour,
when the tide of life is at its ebb before the dawn, a man who is brave
is brave indeed. The best test of this kind of courage is in defeat.
Fabius showed that in the long, wasting campaign which he fought
against Hannibal, one of the greatest generals of his or any other age.
Following, retreating, harassing, Fabius always refused a pitched
battle until his enemies at Rome forced the appointment of Minucius as
joint dictator with him. In spite of the protests of Fabius, the army
was divided and the younger and rasher Minucius offered battle with his
army. He was like a child before the crafty Hannibal who concealed a
great force of men in ravines around an apparently bare hill and then
inveigled Minucius into attacking a small force which he sent up to the
top of this hill as a bait to draw him on. Once there the ambuscade of
Hannibal attacked the Roman army on all sides and almost in a moment it
was in disorder and a retreat was commenced which was about to become a
rout when Fabius hurried up and by his exhortations and steadfast
courage rallied the men, re-formed them, drove through Hannibal's
lighter-armed troops and finally occupied the hill in safety. The
grateful Minucius refused to act as commander any further, but at once
insisted upon thereafter serving under Fabius.
At the Battle of Boyne, that great battle between William of England
and his uncle, James II, which was to decide whether England should be
a free or a slave nation, William showed the same kind of courage. In
spite of chronic asthma, approaching age and a frail body, King William
was a great general. He never appeared to such advantage as at the head
of his troops. Usually of reserved and saturnine disposition, danger
changed him into another man. On this day, while breakfasting before
the battle, two field-pieces were trained on him and a six-pound ball
tore his coat and grazed his shoulder drawing blood, and dashing him
from his horse. He was up in an instant, however, and on that day in
spite of his feeble health and wounded shoulder, was nineteen hours in
the saddle. The crisis came when the English soldiers charged across
the ford of the Boyne River. General Schomberg, William's right-hand
and personal friend, was killed while rallying his troops. Bishop
Walker, the hero of the siege of Londonderry, had been struck by a
chance shot and the English, who had hardly obtained a firm foothold on
the opposite bank, commenced to waver. At this moment King William
forced his horse to swim across, carrying his sword in his left hand,
for his right arm was stiff with his wound, and dashed up to rally the
troops. As he rode up, the disorganized regiment recognized their king.
"What will you do for me?" he cried, and almost in an instant he had
rallied the men and persuaded them to stand firm against the attacks of
the ferocious Irish horsemen.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I have heard much of you. Let me see something
of you," and charging at their head, this middle-aged, wounded invalid
by sheer courage shattered the Irish and French troops and saved his
kingdom.
Our own Washington was never greater than in defeat and not once but
many times rallied a defeated and disheartened army and saved the day.
At the Battle of Monmouth, the traitorous Charles Lee had turned what
should have been a great victory into a disorderly retreat. After
outflanking Cornwallis, instead of pressing his advantage, he ordered
his men to retreat into a near-by ravine. Lafayette's suspicions were
aroused and he sent in hot haste to Washington who arrived on the field
of battle just as the whole army in tremendous disorder was pouring out
of the marsh and back over the neighboring ravine before the British
advance. At that moment Washington rode up pale with anger and for once
lost control of a temper which cowed all men when once aroused.
"What is the meaning of all this?" he shouted to Lee and when he
received no answer, repeated the question with a tremendous oath. Then
immediately realizing the situation, he sent Lee back to the rear and
wheeled about to stop the retreat and form a new front. Riding down the
whole line of retreating soldiers, the very sight of him steadied and
rallied them and in less than half an hour the line was reformed and
Washington drove back the British across the marsh and the ravine until
night put an end to the battle. Before morning the whole British force
had retreated, leaving their wounded behind and the Battle of Monmouth
had been changed by the courage and fortitude of one man from defeat
into a victory for the American forces.
The most striking instance in the Civil War of what the courage of one
brave, enduring, unfaltering man can do was at the Battle of Cedar
Creek. In the year 1864, General Sheridan, the great cavalry leader,
took command of the Army of the Shenandoah. Sheridan was an ideal
cavalry leader. Brave, dashing, brilliant, he had commanded more
horsemen than had any general since the days of the Tartar hordes of
Tamerlane and Genghis Khan. There was no watchful waiting with
Sheridan. This he had shown at the great mountain battle of
Chattanooga. At that battle, Missionary Ridge was the keystone of the
Confederate position. It was occupied by Confederate batteries and
swarming with Confederate troops. A storming party was sent from the
main body of the Union forces to drive out the Confederates who held
the woods on the flanks of the Ridge. The orders were to attack the
Confederates and hold the captured positions until the main body could
come up. Grant was watching the battle through his field-glasses and
saw the attacking party gain possession of the slopes of the Ridge.
Suddenly, to his surprise and horror, the whole regiment charged
directly up the Ridge. It was a mad thing to do for the top was held by
a tremendous force of Confederates and guarded by massed batteries.
General Grant called General Granger up to him and said angrily:
"Did you order those men up, Granger?"
"No," said the general, "they started up without orders. When those
fellows get started, all hell can't stop 'em."
General Grant then sent word to General Sheridan to either stop the men
or take the Ridge.
"I guess it will be easier to take the Ridge than it will be to stop
them," said Sheridan.
Before starting, he borrowed a flask and waved it toward the group of
Confederate officers who were standing on top of the Ridge in front of
the headquarters of Bragg, the Confederate general.
"Here's at you," he shouted, drinking to them. They could plainly see
his action through their field-glasses and immediately two field-guns,
which were known as Lady Breckenridge and Lady Buckner, were trained at
Sheridan and his group of officers and fired. One shell struck so near
Sheridan as to splash dirt all over him.
"I'll take those guns just for that," was all he said and, followed by
his officers, he dashed up the Ridge after the climbing,
attacking-party. The way was so steep that the men had to climb up on
their hands and knees while the solid shot and shell tore great furrows
in their ranks. Sheridan was off his horse as soon as the slope became
steep, and, although he had started after the charge, was soon at the
front of the men. They recognized him with a tremendous cheer.
"I'm not much used to this charging on foot, boys," he said, "but I'll
do the best I can," and he set a pace which soon brought his men so far
up that the guns above could not be depressed enough to hit them.
Behind him came the whole storming party clambering up on their hands
and knees with their regimental flags flying everywhere, sometimes
dropping as the bearers were shot, but never reaching the ground
because they would be caught up again and again by others. At last they
were so near that the Confederate artillerymen, in order to save time,
lighted the fuses of their shells and bowled them down by hand against
the storming party. Just before they reached the summit, Sheridan
formed them into a battle-line and then with a tremendous cheer, they
dashed forward and attacked the Ridge at six different points. The
Confederates had watched their approach with amazement and amusement.
When they found, however, that nothing seemed to stop them, they were
seized with a panic and as the six desperate storming parties dashed
upon them from different angles, after a few minutes' fast fighting,
they broke and retreated in a hopeless rout down the other side of the
Ridge. Sheridan stopped long enough to claim Lady Breckenridge and Lady
Buckner as his personal spoils of war and forming his men again, led
them on to a splendid victory.
As soon as he took command of the Army of the Shenandoah, aggressive
fighting at once began. Twice he defeated Jubal Early, once at
Winchester and again at Fisher's Hill, while one of his generals routed
the Rebels so completely in a brilliant engagement at Woodstock that
the battle was always known as the Woodstock Races, the Confederate
soldiers being well in front in this competition. Finally, General
Sheridan had massed his whole army at Cedar Creek. From there he rode
back to Washington to have a conference with General Halleck and the
Secretary of War. When that was finished with his escort he rode back
to Winchester, some twelve miles from Cedar Creek, two days later.
There he received word that all was well at his headquarters and he
turned in and went to bed intending to join the army the next day. Six
o'clock the next morning an aide aroused him with the news that
artillery firing could be heard in the direction of Cedar Creek.
Sheridan was out of bed in a moment and though it was reported that it
sounded more like a skirmish than a battle, he at once ordered
breakfast and started for Cedar Creek. As he came to the edge of
Winchester he could hear the unceasing roar of the artillery and was
convinced at once that a battle was in progress and from the increase
of the sound judged that the Union Army must be falling back. The
delighted faces of the Confederate citizens of Winchester, who showed
themselves at the windows, also convinced him that they had secret
information from the battlefield and were in raptures over some good
news. With twenty men he started to cover the twelve miles to Cedar
Creek as fast as their horses could gallop. Sheridan was riding that
day a magnificent black, thoroughbred horse, Rienzi, which had been
presented to him by some of his admirers. Like Lee's gray horse
"Traveler" and the horse Wellington rode at Waterloo, "Copenhagen,"
Rienzi was to become famous. Before Sheridan had gone far and just
after crossing Mill Creek outside of Winchester, he commenced to meet
hundreds of men, some wounded, all demoralized, who with their baggage
were all rushing to the rear in hopeless confusion. Just north of
Newtown he met an army chaplain digging his heels into the sides of his
jaded horse and making for the rear with all possible speed. Sheridan
stopped him and inquired how things were going at the front.
"Everything is lost," replied the chaplain, "but it will be all right
when you get there."
The parson, however, in spite of this expression of confidence, kept on
going. Sheridan sent back word to Colonel Edwards, who commanded a
brigade at Winchester, to stretch his troops across the valley and stop
all fugitives. To most men this would have been the only plan of action
possible, to stop the fugitives and rally at Winchester. Sheridan,
however, was not accustomed to defensive fighting and instantly made up
his mind that he would rally his men at the front and if possible, turn
this defeat into a victory. The roads were too crowded to be used and
so he jumped the fence into the fields and rode straight across country
toward the drumming guns at Cedar Creek, which showed where the main
battle was raging. From the fugitives, as he rode, Sheridan obtained a
clear idea of what had happened. His great rival, Early, had taken
advantage of his absence to obtain revenge for his previous defeats.
Just after dawn he had made an attack in two different directions on
the Union forces and had started a panic which had seized all the
soldiers except one division under Getty and the cavalry under Lowell.
The army which Sheridan met was a defeated army in full rout. As he
dashed along, the men everywhere recognized him, stopped running, threw
up their hats with a cheer and shouldering their muskets, turned around
and followed him as fast as they could. He directed his escort to ride
in all directions and announce that General Sheridan was coming. From
all through the fields and roads could be heard the sound of faint
cheering and everywhere men were seen turning, rallying and marching
forward instead of back. Even the wounded who had fallen by the
roadside waved their hands and hats to him as he passed. As he rode,
Sheridan took off his hat so as to be more easily recognized and
thundered along sometimes in the road and sometimes across country. As
he met the retreating troops, he said:
"Boys, if I had been with you this morning this wouldn't have happened.
The thing to do now is to face about and win this battle after all.
Come on after me as fast as you can."
[Illustration: Sheridan Hurrying to Rally His Men]
So he galloped the whole twelve miles with the men everywhere rallying
behind him and following him at full speed. At last he came to the
forefront of the battle where Getty's division and the cavalry were
holding their own and resisting the rapid approach of the whole
Confederate Army. Sheridan called upon his horse for a last effort and
jumped the rail fence at the crest of the hill. By this time the black
horse was white with foam, but he carried his master bravely up and
down in front of the line and the whole brigade of men rose to their
feet with a tremendous cheer and poured in a fierce fire upon the
approaching Confederate troops. Sheridan rode along the whole front of
the line and aroused a wild enthusiasm which showed itself in the way
that the first Rebel charge was driven back. Telling Getty's and
Lowell's men to hold on, he rode back to meet the approaching troops.
By half-past three in the afternoon, Sheridan had brought back all the
routed troops, reformed his whole battle line and waving his hat, led a
charge riding his same gallant black horse. As they attacked the
Confederate front, Generals Merritt and Custer made a fresh attack and
the whole Confederate Army fell back routed and broken and was driven
up the valley in the same way that earlier in the day they had driven
the Union soldiers. Once again the presence of one brave man had turned
a defeat into a victory.
Sheridan took no credit to himself in his report to Lincoln, simply
telegraphing, "By the gallantry of our brave officers and men, disaster
has been converted into a splendid victory."
"My personal admiration and gratitude for your splendid work of October
19th," Lincoln telegraphed back and the whole country rang with praises
of Phil Sheridan and his wonderful ride. The day after the news of the
battle reached the North, Thomas Buchanan Read wrote a poem entitled
"Sheridan's Ride," with a stirring chorus.
The last verse sang the praise both of the rider and the horse:
"What was done? what to do? A glance told him both,
Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath,
He dashed down the line, mid a storm of huzzas,
And the wave of retreat checked its course there because,
The sight of the master compelled it to pause.
With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;
By the flash of his eye, and the red nostrils' play,
He seemed to the whole great army to say,
'I have brought you Sheridan all the way
From Winchester, down to save the day.'"