Everything was very quiet in camp after the “cattle raid” until the
27th of September, when the eager longing of the “Ash by Brigade” to
go home was gratified, and General Rosser, in a beautifully touching
General Order, in which he reviewed the past campaign and paid
eloquent tributes to the fallen members of the command, announced
that he was ordered to proceed immediately to the Valley, and the
brigade marched out for the “promised land” again.
Colonel White had obtained a furlough, or rather a sick leave, and
Captain Myers commanded the “Comanches.” The season was the most
pleasant of the whole year, and the line of march was through a
beautiful (in part, a grandly magnificent) country, and
notwithstanding the unfavorable news from General Early’s
department, the “Laurel Brigade” moved with joyous hearts towards
“their own country.”
A journal of the march will tell best of its pleasures, and it is
inserted for the benefit of the men who made it.
Tuesday, September 27th.—Bade (we hope) a long farewell to the “Old
Virginia lowlands, low,” and turned our faces towards the grand old
mountain-bound Valley of the Shenandoah, and everybody is glad.
September 28th.—Passed Blacks-and-Whites and Burksville Junction;
camped sixty miles from Lynchburg.
September 29th.—Marched through Prince Edward by the C. H. and
camped in Charlotte county, thirty miles from Lynchburg. The people
down here reckon all distances “from Lynchburg.”
September 30th.—Marched at 9-1/2 A. M. into Campbell county, and
camped three miles from Lynchburg among the bushes; weather
delightful and news from Valley more so, for _they say_ Early has
whipped the Yankees.
October 1st.—Passed the great “Tobacco city,” a dingy old town;
crossed the James on a dilapidated bridge and took the road to
Lexington; raining all day.
October 2d.—Marching all day through the mountains, along the James
river and canal, and it is worth a whole year of life to ride for
the first time through this wildly picturesque country, but for the
men who love the mountains as we do, and have not so much as seen
them for five months, it is _more_ than glorious to find ourselves
in their very heart.
October 3d.—Still in the blessed old Blue Ridge, but passed
Lexington about 1 o’clock P. M. and camped near Fairfield; raining
very hard.
October 4th.—Passed Fairfield, Midway and Greenville; camped on the
famous Valley pike, seven miles from Staunton.
October 5.—Marched through Staunton to Augusta Church and turned to
the left; encamped near Bridgewater; General Rosser is a Major
General, with Wickham’s, Lomax’s and the old Ashby brigades; says he
is going to “run over everything in the Valley.” This country is
very different from the "land o’ cakes and brither Scots" we used to
find it; for since we were here it has been roughly handled, but we
get plenty of good water and pure air, and see the mountains just as
they have stood from the beginning, and that is satisfaction enough.
On the 6th of October, before daylight, it was ascertained that
Sheridan was retreating and Gen. Rosser immediately started with his
division in pursuit, pressing as rapidly as possible to the front,
but the scene was horrifying, for with the infernal instincts of his
worse than savage nature, the merciless fiend, Sheridan, was
disgracing the humanity of any age and visiting the Valley with a
baptism of fire, in which was swept away the bread of the old men
and women and children of that weeping land.
On every side, from mountain to mountain, the flames from all the
barns, mills, grain and hay stacks, and in very many instances from
dwellings, too, were blazing skyward, leaving a smoky trail of
desolation to mark the footsteps of the devil’s inspector-general,
and show in a fiery record, that will last as long as the war is
remembered, that the United States, under the government of Satan
and Lincoln, sent Phil. Sheridan to campaign in the Valley of
Virginia.
Rosser’s men tried hard to overtake them, and did capture a few, who
lingered to make sure work of a mill near New Market, but they were
instantly shot, and when night came the troops encamped near Brock’s
Gap, in a position where, all through the dark, they could see the
work of the “journeymen of desolation” still progressing.
Early next morning the advance was continued, and about 2 o’clock
the fire-fiends were overtaken at Mount Clifton, on Mill Creek,
above Mount Jackson, and so strongly posted at the fords, that
Rosser ordered Col. Dulaney to cross the creek some distance to the
right, and with Hatcher’s squadron of the 7th Va. Cavalry and
White’s battalion, attack them in flank, in order that they might be
forced to uncover the ford.
The crossing was effected without difficulty, but after marching up
the stream about half a mile, Capt. Hatcher met a force of the
Yankees coming down, and with his usual game he charged and drove
them in confusion towards Cedar Creek, and shortly after, the
battalion reached the top of a hill overlooking the ford and open
fields adjoining, where the Yankees were prepared to dispute
Rosser’s progress until they could get their wagons, and great
droves of cattle and sheep which they were driving with them down
the Valley, clear.
Col. Dulaney halted the battalion on the crest of the hill, and the
Yankees, perceiving it, commenced a brisk fire with Spencer and
Henry rifles, and at the same moment, what was afterward found to be
Custer’s brigade, began to form on a hill just opposite, in a field
that sloped gradually down to the road in which White’s men were
standing. The fire became too hot for comfort, and Capt. Myers rode
up to Col. Dulaney, who was coolly watching the Yankees, and said to
him, “Colonel, give us orders, and let us do something quick;” but
the Colonel only replied, “Be cautious;” and the Captain thinking
that he had not been understood, as the Colonel was somewhat deaf,
repeated his request for orders, but received the same reply, and
knowing that his men could not remain in that position a minute
longer, Myers gave the order to charge, which was performed in the
most brilliant style. There was a plank fence to open before getting
into the field, and here the long-range guns, which had been forced
upon the men some time before, were thrown away, and the
“Comanches,” numbering now less than two hundred, passed the fence,
and were within one hundred yards of three of Custer’s regiments,
one of which was in line and the other two rapidly forming; but no
halt was intended or attempted, and in a very brief space the
battalion was among the Yankees, neutralizing their superiority in
numbers and carbines by a very free use of their pistols and sabres.
The enemy stood quiet until their assailants had gotten in ten
steps, when they broke up in great confusion; and Gen. Rosser, at
the moment, rushed the 11th and 12th, regiments over, which
completed the business, and the Yankees fled in utter rout, losing
many men killed, wounded and captured, and all their trains and
stock. The battalion had several men wounded, among them Captain
Myers, but none were killed or very badly hurt.
Captain Hatcher had fought heavily on the right and also lost
heavily, but he pushed the retreating Yankees until dark.
The command of White’s Battalion now fell upon Lieutenant Nich.
Dorsey, Company B, and moved with the brigade to a position on the
“middle road,” at a stream known as Tom’s brook, where the division
halted on the evening of the 8th, and Lieutenant Dorsey was ordered
on picket with his battalion during the night. Very early in the
morning (9th) the Yankee sharpshooters made their appearance and
some very sharp skirmishing was engaged in, the men with carbines
being sent to the front under command of Lieutenant Chiswell, who,
with forty men, held a line more than a quarter of a mile in length
for more than an hour, but finally the 12th regiment on his right
was driven back, at the same moment a column of the enemy charged up
a road to the left, and being thus outflanked on both wings,
Lieutenant Chiswell and his men had to make a run for it on foot,
barely escaping capture by the Yankees, who pressed them very hotly,
and but for a gallant charge of the mounted men, led by Captain
Dowdell, who had just arrived and taken command a few minutes
before, these sharpshooters would have been captured.
The Yankee force in the road was driven back for two hundred yards,
but the flank firing compelled the battalion to retire, and now the
whole Confederate line, from the Valley pike to the back road, gave
way, and what had before been a boasting advance of Rosser’s men,
turned into a shameful rout and stampede which continued for several
miles, although only a comparatively small force of the enemy
pursued. The battalion lost severely in wounded, among whom was
Orderly Sergeant Thomas S. Grubb, of Company A, who was mortally
wounded, and died one week afterwards.
He was one of the first to join the old company and no more faithful
soldier, or honest, conscientious Christian gentleman ever lived to
defend the stars and bars, or died to consecrate its memory.
When the lines commenced to give way the artillery of Captain
Thompson was firing rapidly upon the advancing columns of the enemy,
and made desperate efforts to check the Yankees long enough to give
Rosser a chance to rally his people, but nothing could bring
anything like order out of the confused mass of fugitives that fled
so wildly from the field. They had been flanked, and without seeing
more than the skirmish line of the enemy, gave way to a panic that
increased each moment, and unaccountable as such things were, every
soldier knows that it only requires a shout in the rear to keep a
stampeded force on the run, and it was so now, for the author saw
fully six hundred veteran Confederate troops flying madly along the
“back road” with no pursuers but about thirty Yankees who were
afraid to ride closer than a mile to the demoralized crowd in their
front, and in this miserable retreat the gallant Thompson lost his
guns, but he held them until the main body of the enemy was around
him. Every wagon and ambulance that Rosser had brought down with
him, and every piece of artillery, fell into the Yankees’ hands. And
on this subject General Imboden got off a rather sharp specimen of
satire at the expense of Gen. Rosser. At the opening of the campaign
in the Wilderness in May, the brigade of Rosser had been highly
complimented by Generals Lee and Stuart for its desperately gallant
fighting, and General Rosser had christened it the “Laurel Brigade,”
in a General Order, which prescribed that the battle-flags should be
trimmed with laurel and the members should wear a badge of three or
five leaves of laurel. The brigade of Gen. Imboden had made a very
poor reputation for fighting, simply because it had not been in a
situation where much could be accomplished, as the enemy’s cavalry
in the Valley was all the time in vastly superior force, and well
handled.
When Rosser’s men were going down the Valley they flourished their
laurels proudly, and declared they were going to whip the Yankees
and then chase Imboden’s brigade to the mountains.
On the day of the stampede, when Rosser lost all his artillery, the
Yankees made an advance on Imboden in the Page Valley, who drove
them back and captured two guns, after which he sent his compliments
to Gen. Rosser, with a polite request to know how he would “trade
laurels for artillery.” The “Laurel Brigade” shouted “Bully for
Imboden,” and they never said any more about “chasing him into the
mountains.”
After the stampede, the Yankees went back towards Winchester, and
for ten days nothing was done but picket and scout, but on the 19th
Gen. Early made his advance on the enemy, in which he surprised and
routed Sheridan’s army, capturing a great quantity of artillery,
arms and camp equipage, with many prisoners; and was himself
surprised, his army routed, his artillery captured, and his wagon
train destroyed, all in one and the same day, constituting one of
the most remarkable cases on record, and the only one that ever
occurred in the war, where a Yankee army, after being routed,
returned the same day and inflicted a loss on its foe.
In this affair Gen. Rosser operated along the “back road,” to
Early’s left, and succeeded in whipping the Yankee cavalry there,
with small loss in men to himself.
White’s Battalion was engaged in skirmishing, but the enemy did not
press their right wing forward until Early had been driven on the
turnpike, and when that was known, Rosser retired also.
The battalion was engaged in no special service of much
consequence, for some time after the battle, and it was, in fact,
hardly a good squadron, so many of the men being absent, some on
detail to procure fresh horses, some on furlough, and many on sick
leave, while others again were absent without leave; but they were
the lucky ones who always avoided the fights, kept clear of camp
duty and court-martial, and yet had a reputation as soldiers, were
doted on by the ladies, and could make eloquent parlor speeches
about their devotion to the “Sunny South,” and tell of daring
deeds performed by themselves, which, like themselves, possessed
but one thing upon which the listener could rely, and that one
thing was falsehood.
About the 1st of November Col. White took his battalion to Loudoun,
and for several days was engaged in collecting cattle and sending
them to the army, an operation which he also performed in the
counties of Fauquier and Rappahannock, by which means the scarcity
in the Valley was counterbalanced and the troops furnished with
meat.
The brigade was now commanded by Col. O. R. Funsten, of the 11th,
Col. Dulaney having been severely wounded in the stampede on the
9th, and there was great interest taken in the question as to who
was to be Brigadier, many of the men expressing their preference for
Col. White, but, as before stated, he was not enough of a
disciplinarian for Gen. Lee.
The following letter of recommendation to President Davis, in his
favor, shows that his merit was appreciated by the great men of
Virginia:
“To his Excellency JEFFERSON DAVIS:
“We take great pleasure in recommending Colonel Elijah V. White as
a most fit successor to the gallant Gen. Thomas L. Rosser to the
command of the ’Laurel Brigade.’
“We are well aware that but little weight is generally attached to
a recommendation, by mere civilians, of military men for
promotion; yet we are so strongly impressed with the conviction of
Col. White’s peculiar fitness for the command of this
distinguished brigade that we cannot forbear to place our estimate
of his qualifications on record.
“The chivalric courage and dashing gallantry of this
battle-scarred hero, combined, as we are persuaded, with quickness
of apprehension and coolness in action, inspiring perfect and
enthusiastic confidence in the troops under his command, seem to
point him out as a worthy successor of the noble Rosser.
“Respectfully submitted,
“JOHN LETCHER,
“JOHN W. BROCKENBOROUGH.”
The battalion arrived in camp, eight miles above New Market, on the
19th, and the next day marched down the pike with the brigade to
meet the enemy, who had advanced in force as far as Rood’s Hill, but
only staid long enough for a slight skirmish with the Confederates,
and retired to Strasburg, after which White’s “people” were ordered
on picket, and remained at this duty until the 24th, when they
returned to camp only to prepare for a raid into the mountains.
On the morning of the 26th of November Gen. Rosser marched with two
brigades, his own and Gen. Paine’s, towards West Virginia, passing
through Brock’s Gap, and camping at Matthias’, on Lost river, a
place well-remembered as being the first night’s bivouac of every
expedition to that country, and the next morning the march was
continued all day and night, when about 9 o’clock A. M. of the 28th
the column advanced upon the forts at New Creek Station on the
Baltimore and Ohio Rail Road.
There was a strong force, of all arms, at this place, but the
General conducted everything so rapidly that almost before they knew
it he had surprised the fort where the infantry were stationed,
making prisoners of the garrison, and capturing all the artillery. A
charge was then made upon the Station, and all the horses of the
cavalry and artillery taken at the first dash, besides a number of
prisoners, but the greater portion of the Yankees, who were outside
of the fort, crossed the Rail Road bridge and escaped into the
mountains.
A large quantity of stores of all kinds fell into the hands of the
raiders, and they were busily employed in securing them when a
tremendous firing was heard near by, causing almost a panic, but it
was soon learned that the depot building had been set on fire and
the flames had reached about fifteen thousand rounds of fixed
ammunition for artillery that had been stored there, which caused a
sound very much like as if a heavy cannonade had opened in that
quarter.
As soon as everything was attended to the Division set out for the
Valley again, having destroyed the Rail Road for some distance,
captured about six hundred prisoners, seven pieces of artillery,
over a thousand horses and mules, and secured a large quantity of
plunder of all sorts, making it a highly successful raid, without
the loss of a man on the Confederate side, as the enemy were pushed
so close that they did not fire a gun.
The return was effected without difficulty, and the camp reached on
the 2d of December, where all remained quiet until the 15th, when
Colonel White started with the battalion for an independent raid
among the Swamp-Dragons of Western Virginia.
The weather was very cold, the ground covered with snow, and both
men and horses were badly prepared for such an expedition, nor could
anybody form an idea of what it was intended to accomplish, and as a
consequence the “Comanches” were rather savage at the prospect of a
useless winter campaign among the mountains, and in order to _get
any_ the company officers were obliged to take _all_ the men in
camp, who had horses lit to travel at all, which broke seriously
into the wagon-train _escort_, and left Co. “Q” with a small force.
Marching by Moorfield the Colonel halted opposite Petersburg, where
he was joined by the Company of the famous Capt. McNeill, of the
Moorfield Valley, and by Captains Woodson and Kirkendall, with their
companies, from the brigade, but all did not make his force more
than three hundred men.
The 18th was a rainy day, and the Colonel permitted the regiment to
lie in camp, but the camp was not more comfortable than the march.
About noon Henry Simpson, sometimes called the “reckless babe,”
started with three or four men to visit a shooting-match which some
citizens had told him of, and where it was supposed that some of the
“Swamps” could be found, but getting lost in the mountains they
brought up at a cabin where some of the aforesaid “Swamps” were
visiting. Henry and his party forced them to surrender, after which,
by blowing a horn, yelling, firing, and other equally characteristic
operations, they induced the people in the neighborhood to believe
that they were the crazy advance guard of an army of lunatics about
to be turned loose upon the country, and securing whatever of
rations they wanted, the scouts returned with their prisoners to
camp without being molested by the “Dragons,” a performance which no
other man than Henry Simpson could have accomplished.
The command marched out the next morning on the Franklin grade, and
during the day were fired at frequently, but at too great a distance
to do any harm; however, about noon a party of them came too near,
and were attacked by Mobberly, who killed one and chased the others
into the mountains, as he said, “as far as the devil went,” and
being asked how far that was, he replied, “as far as he could get
for the rocks.”
These “Swamp Dragons” were a different people from the
“bushwhackers,” the latter being only citizens armed with their
sporting guns, while the former were a sort of home organization,
armed by the United States, and who operated just as the Highland
outlaws of Scotland, in former days did, by coming in forays upon
the citizens in the low country, and appropriating whatever of their
property they pleased to their own use, supplying themselves and
families with bacon, beef, corn and flour from the defenseless
inhabitants, and if the latter objected to this blackmail proceeding
or attempted to follow their plunderers, they were unhesitatingly
shot by the “Swamp Dragons.” Whether or not they were in the pay of
the Government for such work as this, I do not know, but there is no
question of the fact that the United States furnished them uniforms,
arms and ammunition.
The road led by the house of a man named Bond, who was a Captain
among the Dragons, and on approaching it, the Confederates
discovered his Company on the side of the mountain, about a mile
distant, and from their appearance, the Colonel judged that they
would attack him, but after waiting on them awhile, he gave Mobberly
permission to make another charge, and the Dragons scattered, soon
disappearing entirely, when the command moved forward once more; but
Captain Bond had no reason to complain that the Scripture law of
“What measure ye mete it shall be measured to you again,” had not
been fulfilled, for White’s people took everything about the
premises they wanted, and if the whole truth must be told, a good
many that they didn’t want, as they passed his residence.
The command halted for the night near the town of Franklin, and in
the morning the extra Companies left the battalion; McNeil to return
to Moorfield, and Woodson and Kirkendall to go on toward the Valley,
by way of Monterey, while White, with his people, turned short to
the right, and climbed into the Alleghany mountains, at a point
where a tributary stream, to the South Branch of Potomac, cut close
along the base of the main mountain, and leaving only a narrow path,
up a perpendicular wall of rock that rose a hundred yards in height
from the water. Along the right bank of the stream was a little cove
of flat land, completely hemmed in by the mountain, and where the
Colonel decided to make some investigation of the business of the
Swamp Dragons, sending Capt. Myers with a party, at the same time,
up this mule path, to gain the overhanging mountain top and keep the
“Swamps” from getting the position on him, for if one hundred men
had been stationed on the top of the precipice, they could, with
stones, have whipped a thousand down in the cove.
On reaching the top, Myers sent Jack Dove, Henry Simpson, John
Stephenson, and two or three others, down a road towards some
houses, while with half a dozen others he struck out for a scout to
the southward, and after going about two miles, came to some cabins
where there were only women, but they told the scouts that their
husbands, brothers, sweethearts and all, were out with the
“Dragons.”
Here one of the men roused the ire of a lady, by attempting to take
a coverlet, to such an extent that she made an attack on him with
stones, and pressed him so close and hot, cursing him roundly all
the while, that Richards, unable to mount his mule, surrendered the
property, and soon after a rapid firing was heard in the direction
of the party over on the road, which compelled the Captain to return
to their assistance, and on approaching their position they were
found warmly engaged with a party of the Dragons, and it was with
great difficulty that Simpson and Stephenson, who were completely
cut off, rejoined their comrades. The Dragons could now be seen
skulking and creeping among the rocks and trees, on the mountain
side, in considerable numbers, and Myers judged it best to keep his
party well together and ready for emergencies, until the Colonel
should get through with his arrangements in the cove and come to his
assistance, which he did soon after, and the command moved down the
mountain to the west, through what the citizens called “Smoke Hole,”
a narrow gorge with the great walls of mountains on either side.
Arrived at a cabin, with greased paper for windows, and everything
else in keeping, a yearling colt and an enormous deer hound
volunteered to take service in the battalion, and followed the
column, which marched along a narrow path on the side of one
mountain for a half mile further, when suddenly, from the top of the
opposite one, the “Swamp Dragons,” in considerable force, opened a
hot fire, but as good luck would have it they fired too high. The
command was very much scattered, marching by file, and the head of
the column halted as it came out of the gorge below, which forced
the rear and centre to stand still under the fire, but the Colonel,
with about half a dozen men, charged instantly up the steep side of
the mountain, on which the “Swamps” were posted, gallantly led by
the colt and dog, who dashed into the foremost fire, and as soon as
the enemy found that they had waked up fighting people in earnest
they ran off; but one man, an old citizen with a sporting rifle,
resolved to kill somebody, and creeping through the bushes, had
levelled his gun on the Colonel, at ten steps, when Nich. Dorsey saw
him and warned White, who instantly fired on him with his pistol,
wounding him in the hip, and at the same moment Alonzo Sellman shot
him in the side, and the old man rolled over with the load still in
his rifle.
The other “Swamps” all made their escape, although they had nearly
equal force with the “Comanches,” and had all advantages possible in
position, with the latter so hemmed in that not one-fourth of them
could move. The old citizen was placed behind John Walker, and
carried down the mountain, but he soon died, and was left at a cabin
on the road where his son lived, and with no further attention than
to lay him on the ground, (except that the dog licked his face in
passing,) the battalion marched on, looking out for more trouble
with the Dragons. On approaching a house in a less wild and broken
country, a woman, mounted man-fashion, on a horse, met the command,
proclaiming that she was a rebel, and being shown the rifle of the
old citizen, who had been shot, she exclaimed, "It’s daddy’s gun; I
know it; he’s a damned old Yankee, and I hope you have killed him."
Col. White made no halt at her house, although his boys had cleaned
out pretty generally all the houses they had passed, but marched
quietly on and camped at the first hay stacks they had seen in the
mountains, in fact the only long forage found all day was buckwheat
straw in little round stacks, and a few fodder blades.
On the morning of the 21st, the “Comanches” waked up finding a foot
of snow on their blankets and more of it coming down, but they had
slept warm and sound beneath this extra covering, and soon as
possible the march was resumed for Petersburg, but it was a very
disagreeable one, the weather being excessively cold and the
“people” were forced to ford the South branch six times in deep
water, which told bitterly on the horses, and at the last one, which
was at Petersburg, some of the weak ones fell and the men had to
wade out, but an early camp with plenty of feed and good attention
made everything all ready for the mountain march in the morning.
The weather continued freezing cold, and the Colonel halted for two
nights and a day in the South Fork Valley, but on Christmas day the
battalion passed Brock’s Gap—the gateway to the Valley—and if there
was a sober man in the battalion, outside of Company E, I did not
see him; was with the command all day too.
The great business was now to get permission for the “Comanches” to
disband. The escaped convict from the devil’s penitentiary,
Sheridan, had made the destruction of forage in the Valley complete;
the snow lay deep upon the blue grass field, making it impossible
for the starving horses to glean the shadow of a subsistence from
them; and the worn-out Rail Road, with its rickety rolling stock,
was scarcely capable of carrying supplies to Early’s men at
Staunton, while the cavalry division, in camp at Swope’s Depot, six
miles west of that place, only had an allowance of six pounds of
wheat straw a day for the horses, and no grain at all, all of which
made White’s battalion swear that they would not winter in the
Valley, but all the exertions of the Colonel seemed to be fruitless,
for General Early declined to permit them to shift for themselves;
and now Company F, following the examples set by Companies A, B and
C, deserted in a body on the night of the 27th December, leaving
Company E the banner Company, as being the only one that did not
stain its reputation with the shame of desertion. The Colonel was in
Staunton trying to get permission to take his battalion to Loudoun,
and when Captain Myers called for the morning reports on the 28th,
they showed a force in camp all told of forty-three men and three
officers, viz: Company A, 18 men, 1 officer; Company B, 16 men, 1
officer; Company C, 3 men; Company E, 6 men, 1 officer; and when the
Colonel came in on the 30th and learned of the desertion of Company
F, he was so much troubled and excited over it that he declared he
would not try to do anything more for the “Comanches,” and would
never command them again, but the Loudoun boys gathered around their
Chief like children around a father, beseeching him to think better
of it, and not cast them away from his care entirely, and he
recalled his bitter words, promising to try again to have them
disbanded for this winter, as portions of General Fitz Lee’s
division had been done the preceding one; and on the last day of the
year he started again for Staunton, telling Captain Myers he would
dispatch to him the next day at Harrisonburg, telling him what to
do, and when on Sunday morning, January 1st, 1865, the Captain
entered the telegraph office at that place, he found the welcome
dispatch:
“Move out as soon as you like; take my horses with you to
Semper’s.
“E. V. WHITE, Lieut. Colonel.”
There was no time lost; but Myers had taken time by the forelock,
and before leaving camp in the morning, had ordered the border
Companies to move out for Loudoun, and Company E to go home, so that
he, being sixteen miles behind, did not overtake them until they
reached Front Royal.
A violent snow-storm was raging as they passed through Manassa Gap,
but it was no hindrance to them now; in fact, they were glad of it,
for it served to prevent scouting parties of Yankees from coming
out, and also shut other avenues through which news of them might
have been communicated to the enemy; and the little band of
“Comanches” felt very much like fugitives, for what they had seen
and experienced in the Valley, had impressed upon them, to a
considerable extent, the belief that the “starry cross” was being
enveloped in the gloom of annihilation, and the fact that their
Government was unable to support them, had tamed their spirits
wonderfully.
When they entered their paradise, for such Loudoun county seemed to
them, they found that the fire-fiends had been to work there too,
but not to the same extent they had practiced their inhuman
desolation on the Shenandoah; and now they were glad that the
“Quaker settlements” and “Dutch corner” of this county, were full of
men loyal to Yankee land, for, as the burning devils began their
work among the Union men first, it brought such influential
remonstrances to the powers that were, that the destruction was
partially averted; and then the gallant Mosby, with his partizans in
the mountains, had a most salutary effect in preventing the burners
from wandering too far from their line of march and too near the
mountains which run through this region. So that badly damaged
though they were, the people of Loudoun were far more removed from
the want of provisions that fell heavily upon their neighbors over
the Blue Ridge, and the soldiers, whose homes were here, found
themselves in the midst of what seemed to them an endless abundance.
The men whose homes were in Albemarle, were far the most fortunate
though, for, with an abundance of rations and forage, they were
entirely free from any fear of the enemy’s raiding parties, while
Company E, in Page and Shenandoah and Warren, were not only in a
destitute country, but in nightly danger of being “gobbled up” by
the scouting bands sent out by Sheridan’s army in the “lower
Valley,” but they betook themselves to the mountains and the “Little
Foot Valley,” or Powell’s Foot, as it is sometimes called, and
enjoyed themselves as only men can do who have continual danger to
add zest to their enjoyment of home and rest.
Of how the winter passed away, each individual had a different story
to tell, and it would be impossible to give them all in the history
of the battalion; but of two or three incidents that kept the men
from forgetting they were still soldiers, we must tell the history.
The three Companies, A, B and C, were scattered through Loudoun and
Fairfax counties, nominally under the command of Captain Myers, Co.
A, who held weekly meetings of his squadron at various points, but
apart from the meetings the men were under no restrictions or
control except such as the necessity for watching the Yankees and
keeping out of the way of their scouting parties imposed.
Company B staid, for the most part, in the mountain near Hughesville
and Leesburg, but Lieut. Chiswell had his headquarters near the
Potomac, and learning of a Yankee camp on the Maryland side, at
Edwards’ Ferry, he concluded to attempt a raid on their horses, and
early in February he got twenty-two of his men together, started
from Mrs. Mavin’s mill about 8 o’clock at night, leaving their
horses on the Virginia side. They crossed the river on the ice,
about three-quarters of a mile below the Ferry, and coming out on
the road made as good time as possible for the camp, but when within
one hundred yards of it were called upon by two vedettes to halt.
This brought on some firing, and without waiting a moment for the
Yankees to get ready, the Lieutenant and his men, giving the
customary yell, and keeping it up, charged at a double-quick into
the camp. The Yankees had not yet gone to bed, and rushed to see
what was coming, but one glance was sufficient for them it seems,
for Lieut. Chiswell says they could not have disappeared any quicker
than they did if the ground had opened beneath them and swallowed
them, but there was one exception, for one man (a soldier he was)
tried his utmost to fire his carbine, but it refused to go off, and
he was captured in the attempt to defend his camp; he and one other
were wounded, and one prisoner taken, and as soon as the camp was
cleared Lieut. Chiswell and some of his men hunted up and secured
fourteen good horses and rigging, the property of the 1st Delaware
Cavalry. While this was being done another party paid a visit to a
store near by, and Lieut. C. says, that considering the fact of
their having no light, he thinks they made a very fair selection of
goods.
After arranging matters to their notion the raiders returned to the
Virginia side with their spoils, bringing their one prisoner along,
but as soon as they got over the question arose “What will we do
with him?” and as none of the party was willing to escort the
gentleman to Richmond, which was the only place they could take him,
they proposed to him that if he would trade shoes with one of the
captors, who was bad off in that line, they would release him
unconditionally, a proposition which he eagerly accepted, and lost
no time in consummating the trade.
About Christmas a Federal brigade, commanded by General Deven, had
established itself in winter quarters near Lovettsville, in Loudoun
county, with its right wing protected by the Short Hill and its left
resting on the turnpike, near the Berlin Ferry on the Potomac; and
during the time they were there these troops had treated the
inhabitants of the country through which they scouted and foraged
with far more courtesy and consideration than was the custom of
Federal soldiers south of the Potomac. It is true that buildings in
the vicinity of their camps were in many instances stripped of their
planking to be used for the more comfortable fitting up of the
soldiers quarters, but as a general thing Deven showed that his
warfare was not upon helpless citizens, whose persons and property
were entirely at his mercy, and in this respect proved himself an
exception to the majority of commanding officers in the abolition
crusade upon the South, who only limited their license to the extent
of their power. And this forbearance on the part of Gen. Deven was
all the more remarkable from the fact that the indomitable Mobberly,
in company with a few others whose homes and sweethearts were in the
Federal lines, made almost nightly attacks upon the pickets, and
some nights this rough-riding scout with his little band would
commence at one end of the chain and make the entire circuit of the
camps, driving in every picket on the line, and keeping the
regiments under arms the whole night. It is easy to imagine what a
visitation of wrath this would have brought upon the citizens in his
power, from Sir “Headquarters-in-the-Saddle,” although they were as
innocent of any complicity in or knowledge of these forays as the
silent tenants of the graveyard, and because Gen. Deven looked upon
them with the judgment of the true soldier in an enemy’s country,
and acted like a soldier and not a barbarian, the people respected
him; but when his scouting parties went through the country piloted
by Means’ men, hen-roosts, milk-houses and ladies’ wardrobes were
invaded in the most approved style of genuine Yankee warfare, as was
invariably the case when the “Independent Loudoun Rangers” went out
on the war-path, and no dread of Mosby or White sharpened their
consciences.
This much for General Deven and his men.
In February, 1865, Colonel White came to Loudoun and taking a view
of the situation, resolved to try a raid into the Federal camp.
Mobberly, Lum Wenner and others who knew the Lovettsville country
almost as well as if they had made it, scouted for him and with
great difficulty obtained the information that the 6th New York
Cavalry was encamped nearest the Short Hill and had about two
hundred and fifty men in camp.
On the evening of the 17th, the Colonel quietly collected what force
he could in that part of the county, and at Woodgrove found he had
about eighty men all told, including Colonel R. P. Chew, of the
famous “Horse Artillery,” and a few of Mosby’s men, and about 9
o’clock the little squadron moved from the rendezvous, and passing
Neersville, crossed the Short Hill by a narrow path near St. Paul’s.
On clearing the mountain a small advance guard, led by Mobberly, was
sent out to capture the pickets, but very soon firing was heard, and
dashing rapidly forward the Colonel found that Mobberly and Frank
Curry had been compelled to shoot some of the enemy at the reserve
of the post, and knowing that success depended on surprising the
camp, he continued the charge.
On reaching the place the unwelcome discovery was made that instead
of two hundred and fifty—which was considered about as many as
White’s eighty men wanted—the enemy’s force had been increased that
day by the addition of over three hundred new men, making fully six
hundred, and it had something the appearance of fool-hardiness to
attack them, especially as a large portion were in strong log huts;
however, a good part of the new men were in tents along the side of
the camp where the attack was to be made, and their canvas walls
were not much protection against the bullets that White’s charging
command began to pour into them as soon as they became fairly headed
for them.
Great confusion was the result of the attack, and fully one hundred
and fifty prisoners, and as many horses, were captured at the first
onset, and if the Colonel had now been content to retire, he would
have had as much as he ought to have expected, but still ignorant of
the new force, he judged from the confusion that he was in a fair
way to become master of the camp, when, in fact, he had only
captured the outskirts, and had not reached the real camp, which, as
stated, was composed of huts, and under this wrong impression he
remained too long, for a veteran officer, Capt. Bell, coolly
proceeded to rally such of his men as were not too much demoralized,
and in a very brief space had about two hundred of them in line on
the opposite side of the extensive ground, with whom he advanced
very unexpectedly upon the raiders, who were compelled to retire
very precipitately, only bringing out about fifty horses and a dozen
prisoners; but the Colonel had lost nothing, only one of his men
being wounded, and he very slightly, so that all he got was clear
gain to his command.
On reaching Woodgrove again the command disbanded and prepared to
“lie low” until the inevitable scouring of the country by parties
from Devon’s camp was accomplished, which sunrise would be the
signal for commencing, and this was the last blow struck by the
famous battalion against the enemy in Old Loudoun, whose hills and
valleys were still darkened by the smoke of the burning barns and
grain of her people, which had been fired by the vandal foe whom the
35th battalion was organized to protect the Loudoun border against.