On the morning of March 4th, 1862, Captain White marched from
Waterford to Leesburg, and when they reached the top of Catocton
Mountain they saw what desolation the retiring army was inflicting
on the country, and knowing what would follow the Yankees in their
advance, it did really appear that the people of their beloved and
beautiful Loudoun must leave their homes or be burned with them, for
all over the country could be seen the flames going up from the
stack-yards and mills, and the morning air was dark and heavy with
the gloom of the destruction which brooded over the land.
On arriving at Leesburg Gen. Hill’s troops were seen marching away,
the General and his staff being mounted, ready to leave the town
when the last soldier had gone out. Hill ordered White to remain and
act as he thought best, but to watch the enemy, and keep him advised
of all movements along the border.
The Captain remained in town until evening, when he went up among
the Quakers and encamped for the night, and for several days hung
around this section, watching for an opportunity to annoy the enemy,
but they did not appear desirous of being annoyed by him, for it was
almost two days after White left Waterford before the Michigan
cavalry appeared in that place; but from here their march to
Leesburg was rapid, and after that they remained very quiet for
several days, being only engaged in arresting citizens and operating
under the instigation of the tory citizens of the county who now
flocked into the desolated land, and as far as their power went,
destroyed every vestige of free will among the people, and turned
loose the demon of political persecution upon those unfortunate
people—whose only crime was loyalty to their old mother State.
The situation of the little company of scouts was now rather
precarious, cut off from supplies from both directions—their homes
and the army too—no regular organization of their own, no
quartermaster, and what rendered the matter worse, the men had made
no preparation for a campaign out of reach of their homes, and their
supply of clothing was very scanty. The Captain bestirred himself to
supply, as far as possible, all deficiencies, and made arrangements
to get cloth from the factory at Waterloo; and pretty soon he
learned that Lieut.-Col. Munford, with four companies of his
regiment, had been left to operate along the border.
To this gallant officer and gentleman he at once applied to have
himself and people admitted into his command, which request was
readily granted, and in the welcoming speech of the Colonel he
assured the little band of homeless wanderers that “the men of the
mountains welcomed the boys of the Potomac, and would gladly share
with them their blankets and their bread.”
Here they had a temporary home, and very soon their ranks filled up
to the number required by law for a company, and on the 19th of
March, under Col. Munford’s superintendence, the company was
regularly organized, Capt. White being unanimously chosen to command
it, with Frank M. Myers as 1st Lieutenant, Wm. F. Barrett 2d
Lieutenant, and R. C. Marlow 3d Lieutenant.
Lieut. Marlow was placed in general charge of the quartermaster
department, and Lieut. Barrett was sent to Culpeper on duty as a
recruiting officer.
Col. Munford kept Geary’s forces in constant fear and trembling, so
that his cavalry never ventured out of hearing of the infantry; and
it was no easy matter to make anything out of them.
On one occasion the Colonel came from Salem to Rector’s Cross Roads,
where he found some of the enemy’s pickets, and White, with about
half a dozen men, tried to capture them, but with all speed they
flew down the pike towards Middleburg, closely pursued by the
Confederates. On reaching the town, White’s party was in striking
distance, and succeeded in killing one and wounding another; but
here they ran into the 28th Pennsylvania, just in the act of forming
their line of battle, and but for a citizen, the Captain would have
gotten into serious difficulty.
As it was, he turned quietly and rode back to Munford’s people, who,
by this time, were almost in town, and the whole force moved slowly
back towards Rectortown. Capt. White halted about a mile from town
and watched the enemy, who marched out a short distance and
commenced rapid firing from infantry and artillery, but they were
too far away to do any damage at all.
Geary magnified this exploit, in the newspapers, into one the of
most terrible incidents of the war, reporting that he had surprised
the camp of the rebel guerrilla White, which was in a mountain cave,
and had captured a great quantity of war material besides about one
hundred prisoners.
In the course of Geary’s operations in Loudoun, he reported captures
of White’s men to the number of over six hundred, besides the killed
and wounded.
After Geary got his command on the railroad, Capt. White, by
permission of Col. Munford, made a raid in his rear at Salem, and
driving off the guard, took possession of all the baggage of the
entire 28th Pennsylvania, which he carried safely off with him; and
Col. Munford, soon after, came down on his commissary stores at
Piedmont, making a heavy capture of flour and many other articles,
as well as some negroes whom the Pennsylvania hero had stolen away
from their homes.
In the latter part of April, Munford was ordered to report to his
regiment, then lying on the Rappahannock, near the O. and A. R. R.,
and White went with him, but soon after reaching the camp of the 2d
regiment, through Col. Munford’s influence, he was ordered to report
to Gen. Ewell, to act on scouting and courier duty for that officer;
accordingly, he started at once for his new field of action, and
reached Gen. Ewell’s headquarters at Liberty Mills on the 1st of
May. Soon after which the division marched to Jackson’s department
in the Valley, crossing the Blue-Ridge at Swift Run Gap and
establishing camp at Auglebright’s, in whose house Gen. Ewell had
his headquarters.
The General was a stern, fierce old soldier, having been an officer
of the old army and on duty among the Indians and on the frontier
for many years. He was a rigid disciplinarian, and White’s men were
a great deal more afraid of him than of Yankees. One of his
abominations was to receive "don’t know" for an answer, and before
very long every man detailed for duty at the General’s headquarters
went with fear and trembling, for there were a great many things
which they really did not know, and when asked about them they
couldn’t say anything else.
It was an unfortunate time for such _greenhorns_ as White’s people
were to go on such duty as this, for the General had reached the
Valley just at the moment when Jackson was starting on his McDowell
expedition, and without any knowledge of the plans or intentions of
his superior, Ewell was compelled to lie still in camp with his
little army, while the troops of Banks gathered all around him, and
he was rendered extremely cross and impatient thereby; but one day
that peerless cavalier, Gen. Ashby, who had been with Jackson, rode
up to Ewell’s headquarters, and meeting the General, saluted him and
inquired how he did, to which Ewell replied, "I’ve been in hell for
three days! been in hell for three days, Gen. Ashby. What’s the news
from Jackson?"
Ashby replied, “Gen. Jackson says the Lord has blessed our arms with
another glorious victory,” and then proceeded to give him the
details of “Stonewall” and his army getting lost among the
mountains, but being finally found by the Yankee Generals, Milroy,
Schenck and Co., to their great discomfort.
The recital brightened the spirits of our General to such an extent
that the boys began to think there might be a warm place somewhere
away down in his rugged, iceberg of a heart, and they decided that
he wasn’t such a savage old bear after all, but the change didn’t
amount to much, and it was finally given up that “old Ewell” didn’t
love but one thing on earth, and that one thing was “Friday,” the
ugliest, dirtiest and most aggravating and thievish little wretch of
an Indian boy in the country.
However, his staff was composed of very clever gentlemen, especially
Capt. Brown, his special aid-de-camp, who was very accommodating and
pleasant, and all the boys liked him very much. Major Barbour, A. A.
General, too, was a favorite; so was Major Snodgrass, the
Quartermaster. But some of the Brigadiers were far from being
admired; and not one of the men would have acted as courier for Gen.
Dick Taylor, if they could have avoided it.
On one occasion a courier went into Ewell’s headquarters to make
some report, in the course of which he replied to one of the
General’s questions with the remark, "I passed Taylor’s Brigade,"
upon which Taylor, who was present, exclaimed, “How dare you speak
in that manner! I am _General_ Taylor, sir;” but Gen. Ewell, with a
glance of his fierce eye, remarked, “This is _my_ courier, sir,” and
went on with his questions.
Taylor was undoubtedly a splendid officer, but he was proud as
Lucifer, and therefore unpopular.
Gen. Elzey also commanded a brigade in the Division at that time,
and was rather popular with his couriers; but they were very fond of
the good-natured Gen. Trimble, and it was never any trouble to get
men to report to him for courier duty, provided Major Snodgrass was
supplied, as the Quartermaster’s department was first choice always.
Gen. Ewell also had a small cavalry brigade, composed of the 2d and
6th Virginia regiments, and commanded by Col. Munford, who had been
promoted to the colonelcy of the 2d regiment at the reorganization
of the army in April.
It was sometimes necessary to send couriers with Major Wheat, of the
celebrated “Tiger Battalion,” of Louisiana, who was very often on
detached service in the Luray Valley, and was also a very popular
man with White’s people. While camping at this place, some of the
boys determined to visit their homes, and accordingly four of them
deserted and made their way back to Loudoun and Fairfax.
About the middle of May the first heavy misfortune that befel the
company occurred.
Gen. Ewell was always anxious to get the news from Banks’ army in
the Shenandoah Valley, and Capt. White was always ready to exchange
camp life for the privilege of scouting. So taking with him his
first Lieutenant, and Capt. Brown of the 16th Mississippi Infantry,
with a small detail of his men, he left camp in the afternoon, and
crossing the river at Miller’s Bridge, they climbed the Massanutten
mountains. It was quite dark when the party reached the top, and the
night was cold, making the bivouac very uncomfortable, for without
blankets or overcoats, they had nothing but the rocky brow of the
Massanutten for a bed; and to crown everything, they had brought
nothing to eat—for, until arriving on the mountain top, it had not
been the intention of the party to wait for daylight to do their
scouting—so with fasting and freezing the weary night wore away, but
from their observatory the scouts looked down upon the camp fires of
the Federal army, and the position of each regiment was clearly
discerned.
When daylight came, which it did with a clear and bracing air to the
men on the mountains—while yet the valley country was shrouded in
mist and fog that fled from the day as the sun advanced, and rolling
its huge masses up the gloomy mountain wall broke away and hid
itself to wait again for the night to come down—the scouts bethought
them of breakfast, as _supper_ had occupied their waking hours
during the darkness, and the Captain sent them all back to camp
except Capt. Brown, Lieut. Myers and Serg’t Boyd Barrett, (recently
transferred from Co. K, 6th Va. Cav., to White’s Company,) who,
leaving their horses, descended the mountain on foot, intending to
try their fortune among the Yankee foragers.
Near the foot of the mountain the party halted at a cabin and asked
for something to eat, which, after some difficulty and a good deal
of rather impatient waiting, was finally obtained; and along with
the rations the Captain—by representing to the king of the wigwam
that himself and comrades were Yankees—received some interesting
information about the enemy, which he dispatched by Barrett to Gen.
Ewell.
The scouting party—now reduced to three—walked cautiously out into
the open valley country and soon found themselves inside of the
enemy’s lines.
They saw several squads and companies of the blue-coated troopers,
but did not come in contact with any, although several times they
had to hide themselves while the enemy passed by them, and finally
about noon reached the handsome residence of Mr. Rhodes, near Lacy’s
Spring, where they endeavored to make themselves known in their true
character as Confederates. This, however, was not so easily done,
for their dress about as closely resembled one uniform as the other,
and the “Jessie Scouts,” of Fremont’s hatching, were plentiful in
the Valley; and besides this, the Yankee camp was less than half a
mile distant, from which they were almost constantly receiving
visitors; consequently, under all the circumstances, argument was
thrown away, until, as a last resort, Lieut. Myers prevailed on one
of the ladies to examine the Virginia buttons on his coat. This,
with Capt. White’s elaborate argument, that “nobody but a Virginia
soldier ever did wear a Virginia button,” convinced the family, and
their dangerous predicament outside of the house was exchanged for a
place in the parlor, where, with closed blinds, they enjoyed a
splendid dinner and heard Mr. Rhodes detail the valorous doings of
the defenders of the “star spangled banner,” in the way of making
bloody assaults upon the hen-roosts, and fearless dashes into
spring-houses and stables in the Valley Department. Among other
things he informed them of two cavalrymen who had spent the night at
a house of rather doubtful repute, a short distance away, and whose
horses had left them during the night, but as soon as morning came
they had gone off to replace them from some citizen’s pasture,
leaving their saddles and bridles at the house, and Mr. R. thought
it probable they had returned with the stolen horses by that time.
White and his comrades decided at once to attempt the capture of the
gentlemen, and they set about it as soon as it was ascertained that
they were still at Cook’s.
Approaching the house, two fine horses, with full cavalry rig, were
seen tied to the fence in front of the door, and White made for them
immediately, leaving Brown and Myers to attend to the Yankees, one
of whom, coming to the door to see what was wrong with the horses,
was suddenly pounced upon by Capt. Brown and captured without
difficulty; but Myers had more trouble with his man, who staid in
the house and made no answer to the order to surrender, although it
was backed by the presentation of a big horse pistol, but commenced
to draw his revolver, and Myers, feeling extremely doubtful about
his horse pistol going the first time—a thing it had never done
yet—stuck it hastily in his belt, and snatching the Yankee’s half
drawn revolver, twisted it out of his hand, with the remark, "Guess
you’ll surrender now, won’t you?" to which the blue jacket replied,
he “guessed he would.”
The two Captains then mounted the horses, and leaving Myers to
follow with the prisoners, with instructions to wait on top of the
mountain until they found their horses and brought them up, started
back to their last night’s camp, but were unable to find it, and
after the party had got together again White proposed going on foot
with the prisoners, to Dr. Hansberger’s, while Brown and Myers
should hunt up the horses and bring them down, saying he would have
supper ready by the time they got there.
The arrangement was agreed to, and all started to put it into
execution, but as White was going down the mountain he passed a
house where several citizens were standing and inquired of them the
road. They answered him and he pushed on, but as soon as he had
passed, the citizens decided that it was a party of Yankees on a
scout, and hastily arming themselves, five of their number followed,
intending to capture them, and White, on seeing that he was pursued,
thought at once that they were Union bushwhackers going to rescue
the prisoners, and turning towards them he demanded why they were
following him, to which they replied by asking, “What are you doing
with those men?” White then drew his pistol, and Sheetz, the leader
of the citizens, raised his double-barrel gun. Both drew trigger at
once and both weapons missed fire, but the Captain was ready first,
and just as the citizen’s gun was raised again, White fired, his
bullet breaking Sheetz’s arm above the elbow. He immediately caught
his gun with the other hand, and was in the act of firing when
White’s pistol exploded again and his remaining arm fell, shattered
at the elbow precisely as the first one was. The other citizens all
run but one who hid himself in the fence corner along the road, and
White did the same, but after waiting some time, became impatient,
and raising his head above the top rail to look for his assailants,
the citizen fired at him with a small sporting rifle, the ball
taking effect near the right eye.
This ended the fight, and when Brown and Myers rode up about half an
hour later, they found the citizens in a terrible state of
excitement over the result of their unfortunate attack, one of their
number being stretched on the ground desperately wounded, while
Capt. White sat in a fence corner almost dead, in fact all who saw
him, supposed him to be dying. And the Yankee prisoners were
expecting every moment to be immolated, for, said they, "If the
rebels will treat each other in this manner, what won’t they do with
us?" And no sooner did Lieut. Myers dismount from his horse than
they ran to him for protection, and absolutely refused to leave him
for a single moment, until he wanted one of them to bring some water
from a spring near by, and the Lieutenant was compelled to actually
drive him from him then. Capt. Brown rode immediately on to camp, to
inform the company of the tragic winding up of the scout, and very
shortly a considerable number of the boys, accompanied by their
surgeon, Dr. William N. Lupton, with his ambulance, were on the
march for the scene of conflict, and on their arrival, before
learning the full particulars of the affair, it was all that Lieut.
Myers could do to prevent them from killing all the citizens engaged
in it.
Meantime the Captain had been making “his will,” and supposing he
was soon to be in the land of spirits, gave to the Lieutenant quite
a number of messages to be delivered to his wife and child in
Maryland, but his mind dwelt upon his company too, and every few
minutes he would exclaim, “Tell the boys to do as I did—never
surrender!”
Dr. Lupton examined the wound and pronounced it a dangerous one, but
not necessarily fatal by any means, and soon after he was placed in
the ambulance, and in great misery, moved to the house of a kind
citizen a few miles nearer to camp, where he remained for two or
three days, when his men carried him on a litter to the hospitable
home of Dr. Miller, on the river bank, where he remained until he
had sufficiently recovered to ride over to his friends at
Charlottesville.