About the 20th of June the army crossed the Blue Ridge, and moved
quietly towards the beleaguered capital; but the men did not know
any more about their destination than the enemy, who never knew,
until his artillery boomed upon McClellan’s flank at Richmond, that
Jackson had left the Valley. On arriving at Charlottesville, Capt.
White, now entirely recovered from the effects of his wound,
rejoined his company, and it now appeared that the little band of
scouts and couriers was to be the foundation upon which a larger
command was to be built up, for here the news was received that
Capt. George W. Chiswell, of Maryland, was on the march from that
State with a full company to join White’s Cavalry, and all the boys
began to look forward to the time when the irksome duty of waiting
upon the Generals and playing telegraph for an army, was to be
exchanged for the more congenial and pleasant one of once more
scouting on the frontier. Encamped at Charlottesville they had seen
a battalion of men commanded by Major John Scott, of Fauquier Co.,
Va., and organized by that officer to act as Partisan rangers. It
seemed that mainly through the influence of Major Scott, a bill had
been introduced into the Confederate Congress, and which afterwards
became a law, authorizing the formation of such bands, and offering
premiums in captured property for an independent border warfare upon
the outposts and communications of the enemy’s army, and this idea
struck the minds of White’s men very forcibly as containing the very
principle upon which their company had been formed, and the one they
most desired to have applied to their own particular case, and they
believed that in strict justice, Capt. White could get the authority
under the law to become a Partisan, as soon as his command was large
enough to justify it, and all hailed with joyful acclamation the
report that Maryland men were coming to join them; in fact the
advance guard of the company met them at Charlottesville in the
persons of Ed. J. Chiswell, Sam. White, Frank. Williams and Elijah
Viers.
Some anecdotes of Gen. Jackson, and the manner in which he was
regarded by his men, and the enemy too, were current in the army
during this campaign, and were true in idea if not in detail. Before
leaving camp at Mount Meridian, an order was issued instructing the
men not to tell what or whose troops they were, and to answer all
questions on the subject with Gen. Ewell’s abomination, "don’t
know," as a precaution against the enemy getting a knowledge of
Jackson’s movement from the Valley. One day the General saw a
soldier crossing a field towards some cherry trees, and as the great
abundance of cherries along the route had caused any amount of
straggling, he resolved to make an example of this man. So riding up
to him he inquired, “What division do you belong to?” "Don’t know,"
said the soldier. “What brigade?” asked the General; and again the
soldier replied, "don’t know." “Well,” asked Jackson, “what regiment
do you belong to?” thinking he had now found an answerable question;
but again the man replied, "don’t know," and with some asperity of
tone the General exclaimed, “What do you know, sir?” when the cute
“gray jacket” answered—"I know that old Stonewall ordered me not to
know anything, and damned if I ain’t going to stick to it."
The General turned and rode away without a word, smiling at the
extremely literal construction of orders which had saved the soldier
from the punishment he had meditated for him.
Gen. Jackson got aboard the cars at Louisa C. H., to go to Richmond,
and took a seat in the same car in which a Yankee Major, who had
been captured among some of the raiding parties on the Rail Road,
was being carried also to Richmond.
The Major entered into conversation with the quiet officer, not
knowing, of course, who he was talking to, and began explaining to
him the absolute certainty of McClellan’s capture of the Confederate
capital. After listening for some time to the manner in which each
division of Lee’s army was tied up by a stronger force from the
other side, “Stonewall” ventured the remark, "But suppose Jackson’s
army should move from the Valley and strike McClellan in flank and
rear while he is engaging Lee in front." “Oh,” said the Major,
"there’s no danger of that, Jackson has been badly crippled in his
engagements in the Valley, and is now hemmed in closely by Fremont’s
army, so that he can’t move." “But,” persisted the Confederate,
“suppose he should getaway and come to Richmond.” "No, I say it’s no
use to talk about that," said the Major, "for he can’t get away, it
is impossible." “Yes,” said the other, “and I say it is possible,
for he has already whipped Fremont, and his army will be in front of
Richmond in less than twenty-four hours.” The Yankee looked at him a
moment, and with an anxious expression asked, “Who are you, sir?” “I
am Gen. Jackson,” replied the hero; upon which the Major smacked his
hands together exclaiming, “Whipped again, by God!” and at once
subsided into silence.
When the army of Jackson reached its position and it was plain to
everybody that the time had come for the great battle, the men who
had followed “Stonewall” all over the Valley, and had seen his
banner wave in triumph on every field, were rendered still more
proud of their great leader by seeing, about noon on the day of
“Cold Harbour,” the men whose names were already encircled with a
halo of glorious deeds performed during the war, ride up and report
to Gen. Jackson for instruction.
Longstreet, A. P. Hill, Magruder, and Stuart, all acknowledged the
solemn soldier as their superior, and took his orders for the day’s
work.
That day’s work too was a sad and bloody one, and when night ended
the conflict, many were the corpses strewn over the carnage-stained
ground, and terrible arose the groans and shrieks of mangled men;
but the enemy still held the front and all thought the morning sun
must look down on a repetition of the same unchristian work.
Gen. Ewell was found about midnight by the men who were sent to him
to relieve the couriers who had passed with him through "Cold
Harbour’s" baleful death-fires, lying along his lines, which were
drawn close up to the enemy, waiting for some sign to commence anew
the work of slaughter; but when daylight broke over the battle lines
the men in blue had disappeared, and soon after, Gen. Lee found one
of White’s boys and sent him to find Gen. Stuart and take him to the
Commander-in-chief.
This conference ended in Stuart posting off to see what had become
of the enemy, and it wasn’t long until that enterprising cavalier
had found out all about him.
In the operations which followed, Gen. Ewell moved with his division
to Despatch Station, on the York River Rail Road; and as a matter of
course White’s cavalry went with him. On their way to that place
they passed Yankee camps where the fires were still burning, the
camp-kettles of old ham and vegetables, and the coffee, still
boiling; while at many of them there were wagon loads, in some
instances houses full, of supplies of all kinds on fire; but what
created the greatest excitement of all, was a report that the
Yankees had poisoned the wells all around their camps by throwing
into them the supplies of medicines which their surgeons could not
carry away in their hasty retreat.
These rumors grew out of the fact that large quantities of powder
and cartridges had been tumbled into some of the wells, and those
who drank the water readily imagined it to be poisoned, not only
from the taste, but also that several of them were made sick by it;
and all threatened summary vengeance on the prisoners, but the true
state of the case was soon discovered and the excitement quelled.
On arriving at the Station Gen. Ewell caused the railroad bridge
over the Chickahominy to be destroyed and a part of the track torn
up, and being now between McClellan and the White House, waited for
whatever force might come down the road.
About 4 o’clock in the afternoon a sound as of an enormous train of
cars was heard on the railroad, and every man was on the lookout for
something interesting to occur, supposing that the Yankees did not
know the road was cut and were attempting to run some trains
through, and knowing that if this should be the case they would
certainly meet a bloody overthrow at the bridge. The 13th Virginia
infantry was lying on the railroad, and White’s boys gathered on the
bank of the river, when soon, in the distance, appeared the most
singular looking affair any of them had ever seen on a railroad
track. It was a train of cars certainly, but high up over the
locomotive was built an affair that looked very much like a barn,
being made of plank and very long.
The general impression of the men at first sight was that it was a
contrivance from which the Yankees could fire at any rebels they
might discover, and thus keep the track clear; but there was very
little time to think much about it, for the iron-horse, under a full
head of steam, was carrying it at a rapid rate towards them, and
pretty soon the infernal machine leaped from the track into the
Chickahominy, and at the same moment a blaze of fire went up from it
that seemed to meet and melt into the blue of the sky, while an
explosion, so terrible that men lying on the ground a hundred yards
distant were lifted bodily, and in some cases had the blood forced
from ears and nostrils, broke out on the evening air. Just as soon
as they got their senses together White’s boys walked quietly off to
their horses, which had been feeding in an oat field a quarter of a
mile distant, and concluded they didn’t want to be around when
McClellan run his trains to the White House. This curiously
contrived affair must have contained three or four tons of powder
and artillery ammunition, for shells were exploding constantly from
the time the machine blew up until dark, but fortunately did no
damage.
The next day Col. Bradley T. Johnson, of the 1st Maryland,
(afterward Brigadier General of the Maryland Line,) and Capt. White
were prospecting along the river for the enemy, the Colonel having
with him a rifle cannon with which he occasionally “felt the woods”
on the opposite side, and in the evening elicited a reply from
several batteries, whose smoke rolled lazily up through the trees in
white, foggy-looking masses, and showed that the “Young Napoleon”
still had a line of battle there. During the firing Gen. Ewell,
accompanied by White’s company, rode out to Col. Johnson, who showed
him the Yankee positions, remarking, at the same time, “and by the
way, General, I think I heard the long roll.” By this time the
Colonel’s one iron gun was attracting considerable attention from
the Yankee artillery, and their shells were flying very plentifully
around him, when Gen. Ewell turned his horse, and remarking to his
escort "we’ll go back now, boys," rode over the hill towards
Despatch Station, and in so doing passed in full view of the enemy’s
line, who now opened warmly upon him, and just before reaching the
woods a heavy shot passed between the General’s head and his horse’s
neck, causing the old fellow to make a very sudden backward motion,
but he instantly righted up, and noticing that the shot had struck a
large pine tree about twenty feet from the ground, and cut it off so
clear and sudden that the upper part of it came down perpendicularly
and stuck in the ground beside the stump, he exclaimed "wasn’t that
beautiful; wasn’t that well done!" but some of the boys remarked
afterwards that they didn’t know exactly whether he had reference to
his dodge or to the cutting of the tree, and they were afraid to ask
him.
On the 30th of June Gen. Jackson’s corps crossed the Chickahominy at
Grapevine bridge, and pushing on after the retreating Yankees came
up with them at White Oak Swamp, where he had to fight them several
hours with his artillery before his army could get over. During the
arrangement for this fight Capt. White marched his company along the
battle-line with “Old Stonewall,” and after the latter had gotten
his seventy guns in position, we halted to watch the result. The
enemy was firing constantly, but Gen. Jackson made no reply until he
had everything arranged to his notion, when he gave the signal to
commence firing, and it was soon evident that he was more than a
match for the Yankees. While the roar of the guns was waking the
echoes of swamp and forest, Gen. Jackson rode along the line, where
the shells from the enemy’s batteries were flying the thickest, and,
greatly to our wonder, held one hand up as high as his shoulder
nearly all the time, but wonder turned to reverence when found that
our hero was praying to the God of battles to spare the lives of his
men and crown their arms with victory. Before long the bridge over
the swamp was uncovered, and Jackson’s infantry went across,
capturing several of the enemy’s guns and many prisoners. Here
White’s men got into a snap with some of the Pennsylvania Bucktail
riflemen, but the Captain led them in a charge, in which they
captured a whole set of German-silver wind instruments for a band,
and several prisoners, killing and wounding some of the “Bucktails.”
They also got a splendid suit of armor belonging to a Colonel, over
which they had a great deal of amusement, but in their experiments
with the breastplate they learned that it was bullet-proof against
Colt’s army revolvers and all the guns they could find, with one
exception, and that was the Maynard rifle, which tore a hole in it
large enough for a hen’s egg to pass through.
On the 1st of July we went to Malvern Hill, and the company was busy
enough during all of that long and bloody afternoon, carrying
dispatches for the several Generals operating in connection with
Ewell, and acting as provost guard to stop the soldiers from
straggling.
At the close of the battle, which continued until dark, Capt. White
took a detail of his men to Gen. Ewell, who had sent for him, and
found that officer, in company with Gen. Whiting, lying on the
ground to the left of the road, and with the advanced vedettes of
the army, conversing in whispers, the enemy being so close that they
could not talk in an ordinary tone without being heard by them; and
when White and his boys had crawled up to the General, finding him
with great difficulty, he sent them back, saying he was going to
advance his infantry line pretty soon, and had no scouting to do, as
he had found the enemy and they were in his front—so close that he
could throw a stone over their line.
White and his men crept back in the same noiseless manner to their
horses, where they waited anxiously for the opening fire of the
intended advance; but it was not made, or, if made, the Yankees had
gone, and the ever-memorable campaign of seven days’ battle around
Richmond was at an end; while with it ended the Northern policy of
conducting the war according to the established rules of humanity
recognized by civilized nations, for now McClellan, who had treated
the citizens inside of his military lines humanely, and had
respected their rights and protected their property, as far as
possible, from the usual pillaging that attends the movements of
every large army, was to give place to another who had nothing but
his brutality to recommend him to the favor of the “greatest and
best government the world ever saw,” which was now represented in
Washington City by a crew of foul birds of the devil’s own hatching,
whose names will make the cheeks of Americans crimson with shame as
long as American history is read; and Gen. Pope, from his
“headquarters in the saddle,” announced that henceforth the business
of his army should be to investigate the color of the coat tails of
the rebels, and that the time had arrived when a new era in military
tactics should dawn upon the astonished world through the
transcendent genius of “John the Pope,” and that under him the
battles of Abolitiondom should be fought with fire and sword,
according to the most approved rules laid down by the aborigines of
North America, with all the improvements which the Spanish greasers
of Mexico had been enabled to add from the familiarity of their
fathers with the horrible scenes of the infernal inquisition; all of
which had been revised and corrected within the sound of Mr.
Seward’s little tinkling bell for special use in the Grand Army of
“John the Pope,” and the world was assured that the war had
commenced in earnest; while those whose attention had heretofore
been called, by accident, to the career of Mr. Pope, and had formed
their opinion therefrom, predicted that women and children would
suffer now, for the chosen Sachem of the little-souled Yankee Nation
was on the war-path, and the influence of the Northern people in
whose hearts the God-given principle of chivalric forbearance
towards the weak and helpless had an abiding place, was literally
smothered to death in the smoky vengeance which the nigger crusaders
had manufactured for crushing the rebellion—“vide” Brownlow, Stevens
& Co.