THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK
The engagement which took place in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, on
the nineteenth day of October, 1864, will take its place high up in the
list of the decisive battles of history. Like Blenheim and Balaklava,
Cedar Creek will be remembered while literature lasts. One of its
dramatic incidents furnished the theme for the poet's song, and
"Sheridan's Ride," like Horatius, will remain until the imagination can
no longer be thrilled by the recital of the record of heroic deeds. Thus
doth poesy erect monuments, more enduring than bronze or marble, to the
memory of the brave.
Yet, the events of that day have been greatly misconceived.[37] The
imagination, inflamed by the heroic verse of Read, and unaided by the
remembrance of actual personal experiences in the battle, sees only the
salient points--Gordon's stealthy march along the Massanutten mountain;
the union troops, in fancied security, sleeping in their tents; the
absence of their great leader; the morning surprise; the rout; the mass
of fleeing fugitives; the victors in exultant pursuit; Sheridan's ride
from Winchester; the magic influence of his arrival on the field, in
arresting the headlong flight of the panic stricken mob; the rally; the
reflux tide of enthusiasm; the charge back into the old camps; the
glorious victory that succeeded humiliating defeat.
With all due allowance for poetical license, the conception of this
battle which long ago became fixed in the public mind, does a cruel
injustice to the gallant men who were maimed or killed on that hard
fought field. Enveloped in the mists of receding years; obscured by the
glamour of poetry; belied by the vivid imagination of stragglers and
camp-followers who, on the first note of danger, made a frantic rush for
Winchester, seeking to palliate their own misconduct by spreading
exaggerated reports of disaster, the union army that confronted Early at
Cedar Creek, for many years made a sorry picture, which the aureole of
glory that surrounded its central figure made all the more humiliating.
It is due to truth and justice that every detail of that famous fight
should be told, to the end that no undeserved shadow may rest upon the
fame of the men and officers who took part in it--no unjust stain upon
their record.
History, so called, has been misleading. It is true that Sheridan's
narrative sheds much new light upon his part in the battle, and General
Merritt, one of the leading actors, wrote a paper upon it for the
Century series though I doubt if it has been generally read, or if
read, effective in modifying preconceived notions. An idea of that which
has been written in the name of history may be gained from an extract
taken from the American cyclopedia (vol. xvi) which says:
"He (Sheridan) met the fugitives a mile and a half from town,
(Winchester), and with a brigade which had been left in Winchester,
moved upon the enemy, who had begun to intrench themselves."
The absurdity of such "history" ought to be self evident. Imagine, if
you can, a brigade of infantry following Sheridan on his wild ride of
"twenty miles" and then rushing to attack an army which, according to
the tradition of which I have spoken, had just whipped four army corps.
Of course, the statement is an absurd one. No brigade came from
Winchester. No brigade could have come from Winchester; and had such a
thing been possible, it would have constituted but a slight factor in
the contest.
There were in the federal army on that eventful morning, seven brigades
of infantry (the Sixth corps) seven brigades of cavalry, not to mention
one division (Grover's) of the Nineteenth corps, (four brigades), making
eighteen brigades in all, that were neither surprised in their camps,
nor in the slightest degree demoralized at any time during the progress
of the battle; and which had forced Early to stop short in his headlong
career of victory long before the famous black charger brought his fiery
rider to the field. The Eighth corps which was surprised was a small
corps of only five brigades, and although after Kershaw's onset,
conducted by General Early in person, it was practically eliminated,
there was a fine army left which, crippled as it was, was fully equal to
the task of retrieving the disaster, and which, as the event proved,
needed only the guiding hand of Sheridan to put it in motion and lead it
to victory.
It is not, however, the purpose of this paper to give all the details of
that great battle, but to narrate what a single actor in it saw; to make
a note in passing of some things that do not appear in the official
records, that are not a part of the written history of the war; some
incidents that are important only as they throw light on that which is
bathed in shadow, though having for one of Custer's troopers an interest
in themselves; to do justice to the splendid courage displayed by the
cavalry, especially the Michigan cavalry, on that occasion; to pay a
tribute of admiration to the gallantry and steadfastness of the old
Sixth corps; and to the courage and capacity of the gallant Colonel
Lowell, who was killed.
Cedar Creek is a small stream that rises in the Blue Ridge, runs across
the valley, at that point but four miles wide, and pours its waters into
the Shenandoah near Strasburg. It is very crooked, fordable, but with
steep banks difficult for artillery or wagons, except where a way has
been carved out at the fords. It runs in a southeasterly course, so that
its mouth is four miles or more south of a line drawn due east from the
point where it deserts the foot-hills on the west side of the valley.
The valley, itself, is shut in between the Blue mountains, on one side,
and the Massanutten, a spur of the Great North mountain, on the other.
It is traversed, from north to south, by a turnpike road, a little to
the left of the center, which road crosses Cedar Creek between
Middletown and Strasburg.
On the night of October 18, 1864, the federal army was encamped on the
left bank of Cedar Creek, Crook's Eighth corps on the left flank, east
of the pike and nearly in front of Middletown; Emory's Nineteenth corps
to the right and rear of Crook and west of the pike; then, successively,
each farther to the right and rear, the Sixth corps, temporarily
commanded by General James B. Ricketts; Devin's and Lowell's brigades of
Merritt's (First) cavalry division; the Michigan cavalry brigade; and
last, but not least, Custer with the Third cavalry division. All faced
toward the south, though posted en echelon, so that, though Crook was
some three or four miles south of Middletown, a line drawn due east from
Custer's camp, intersected the pike a little north of that place. For
this reason, Early's flanking movement, being from the left through the
camp of Crook, could not strike the flank of the other corps,
successively, without shifting the line of attack to the north, while
the Sixth corps and the cavalry were able to confront his troops, after
their first partial success, by simply moving to the left, taking the
most direct route to the turnpike. The position which the Michigan
cavalry occupied was somewhat isolated. Although belonging to the First
division, it was posted nearer the camp of the Third.
The brigade consisted of the four Michigan regiments and Captain
Martin's Sixth New York independent horse battery. The First Michigan
was commanded by Major A.W. Duggan, a gallant officer who was wounded at
Gettysburg; the Fifth by Major S.H. Hastings; the Sixth by Major Charles
W. Deane; the Seventh by Lieutenant Colonel George G. Briggs, the latter
officer having only just been promoted to that position. The New York
battery had been with us but a short time, but Captain Martin and his
lieutenants ranked among the best artillery officers in the service.
For a few days, only, I had been in command of the brigade. General
Custer, who had led it from the time he was made a brigadier, in June,
1863, was promoted to the command of the Third division and, hastily
summoning me, went away, taking his staff and colors with him. I was
obliged while yet on the march, to form a staff of officers as
inexperienced as myself. It was an unsought and an unwelcome
responsibility.
For two or three days before the battle, our duty had been to guard a
ford of Cedar Creek. One regiment was kept constantly on duty near the
ford. The line of videttes was thrown out across the stream, connecting
on the left with the infantry picket line and on the right with Custer's
cavalry pickets. The Seventh Michigan was on duty the night of October
18, the brigade camp back about a mile from the ford.
No intimation of expected danger had been received--no injunction to be
more than usually alert. It was the habit of the cavalry, which had so
much outpost duty to perform, to be always ready, and cavalry officers
were rarely taken by surprise. Early's precautions had been carefully
taken and no hint of his purpose reached the union headquarters, and no
warning of any immediate or more than usually pressing danger was given
to the army.
But, somehow, I had a vague feeling of uneasiness, that would not be
shaken off. I believe now and have believed, for many years, that there
was in my mind a distinct presentiment of the coming storm. I could not
sleep and at eleven o'clock, was still walking about outside the tents.
It was a perfect night, bright and clear. The moon was full, the air
crisp and transparent. A more serene and peaceful scene could not be
imagined. The spirit of tranquility seemed to have settled down, at
last, upon the troubled Shenandoah. Far away, to the left, lay the army,
wrapped in slumber. To the right, the outlines of the Blue mountains
stood out against the sky and cast dark shadows athwart the valley.
Three-quarters of a mile away the white tents of Custer's camp looked
like weird specters in the moonlight. Scarcely a sound was heard. A
solemn stillness reigned, broken only by the tread of the single sentry,
pacing his beat in front of headquarters. Inside, the staff and brigade
escort were sleeping. Finally, a little before midnight, I turned in,
telling the guard to awaken me at once, should there be firing in front,
and to so instruct the relief.
I cannot give the exact time; it may be I did not know it at the time;
but it was before daylight that the sentinel awoke me. Not having
undressed, I was out in an instant, and listening, heard scattering
shots. They were not many, but enough to impel me to a quick resolve.
Rousing the nearest staff officer, I bade him have the command ready to
move at a moment's notice.
In an incredibly short space of time, the order was executed. The tents
were struck, the artillery horses attached to the gun carriages and
caissons, and the cavalry horses saddled. No bugle call was sounded. The
firing grew heavier, and from the hill where Custer was, rang out on the
air the shrill notes of Foght's bugle, telling us that our old commander
had taken the alarm. Rosser had attacked the pickets at the fords and
was driving them in. He had done the same on one or two mornings before,
but there was an unwonted vigor about this attack that boded mischief.
The federal cavalry had, however, recovered from their earlier habit of
being "away from home" when Rosser called. They were always "in" and
ready and willing to give him a warm reception. He found that morning
that both Merritt and Custer were "at home." In a moment, a staff
officer from General Merritt dashed up with orders to take the entire
brigade to the support of the picket line. Moving out rapidly, we were
soon on the ground. The Seventh Michigan had made a gallant stand alone,
and when the brigade arrived, the enemy did not see fit to press the
attack, but contented himself with throwing a few shells from the
opposite bank which annoyed us so little that Martin did not unlimber
his guns.
[Illustration: CHARLES R. LOWELL]
A heavy fog had by this time settled down upon the valley. The first
streaks of dawn began to appear, and it soon became evident that the
cavalry attack upon the right flank was but a feint and that the real
danger was in another quarter. Far away to the left, for some time,
volleys of musketry had been heard. With the roll of musketry was
intermingled, at intervals, the boom of cannon, telling to the practiced
ear, the story of a general engagement. The sounds increased in volume
and in violence, and it was no difficult matter to see that the union
forces were falling back for, farther and farther to the left and rear,
were heard the ominous sounds. From the position we occupied no infantry
line of battle was to be seen.
Soon after the Michigan brigade had taken its position at the front,
Colonel Charles R. Lowell rode up at the head of the Reserve brigade.
Colonel Lowell was a young man, not much past his majority, and looked
like a boy. He was a relative of James Russell Lowell, and had won
distinction as colonel of the Second Massachusetts cavalry. He had
succeeded Merritt as commander of the Reserve brigade. He had a frank,
open face, a manly, soldierly bearing, and a courage that was never
called in question. He was a graduate of Harvard, not of West Point,
though he had been a captain in the Sixth United States cavalry.
Colonel Lowell informed me that his orders were to support the Michigan
men if they needed support. No help was needed at that time. I told him
so. The enemy had been easily checked and, at the moment, had become so
quiet as to give rise to the suspicion that he had withdrawn from our
front, as indeed he had. A great battle was raging to the left, and in
response to the suggestion that the army seemed to be retreating, he
replied:
"I think so," and after a few moments reflection, said:
"I shall return" and immediately began the countermarch.
I said to him: "Colonel, what would you do if you were in my place?"
"I think you ought to go too" he replied and, presently, turning in his
saddle, continued: "Yes, I will take the responsibility to give you the
order," whereat, the two brigades took up the march toward the point
where the battle, judging from the sound, seemed to be in progress. How
little either of us realized that Lowell was marching to his death. It
was into the thickest of the fight that he led the way, Michigan
willingly following.[38]
A startling sight presented itself as the long cavalry column came out
into the open country overlooking the battle-ground. Guided by the
sound, a direction had been taken that would bring us to the pike as
directly as possible and at the same time approach the union lines from
the rear. This brought us out on a commanding ridge north of Middletown.
This ridge as it appears to a participant looking at it from memory,
runs to and across the pike. The ground descends to the south a half
mile, or more, then gradually rises again to another ridge about on a
line with Middletown. The confederate forces were on the last named
ridge, along which their batteries were planted, and their lines of
infantry could be seen distinctly. Memory may have lost something of the
details of the picture, but the outlines remain as vivid, now as then.
The valley between was uneven, with spots of timber here and there and
broken into patches by fences, some of them of stone.
The full scope of the calamity which had befallen our arms burst
suddenly into view. The whole battle field was in sight. The valley and
intervening slopes, the fields and woods, were alive with infantry,
moving singly and in squads. Some entire regiments were hurrying to the
rear, while the confederate artillery was raining shot and shell and
spherical case among them to accelerate their speed. Some of the enemy's
batteries were the very ones just captured from us. It did not look like
a frightened or panic stricken army, but like a disorganized mass that
had simply lost the power of cohesion. A line of cavalry skirmishers[39]
formed across the country was making ineffectual efforts to stop the
stream of fugitives who had stolidly and stubbornly set their faces to
the rear. Dazed by the surprise in their camps, they acted like men who
had forfeited their self-respect. They were chagrined, mortified, mad at
their officers and themselves--demoralized; but, after all, more to be
pitied than blamed.
But all these thousands, hurrying from the field, were not the entire
army. They were the Eighth corps and a part of the Nineteenth only, a
fraction of the army. There, between ourselves and the enemy--between
the fugitives and the enemy--was a long line of blue, facing to the
front, bravely battling to stem the tide of defeat. How grandly they
stood to their work. Neither shot nor shell nor volleys of musketry
could break them. It was the old Sixth corps--the "ironsides" from the
Potomac army, who learned how to fight under brave John Sedgwick.
Slowly, in perfect order, the veterans of the Wilderness and
Spottsylvania were falling back, contesting every inch of the way. One
position was surrendered only to take another. There was no wavering, no
falling out of ranks, except of those who were shot down. The next
morning, one passing over the ground where those heroes fought, could
see where they successively stood and breasted the storm by the dead men
who lay in line where they had fallen. There were two or three lines of
these dead skirmishers. The official record shows that the Sixth corps
on that day lost 255 men killed and 1600 wounded.
The two brigades had reached a point where the entire field was in view,
and were in position to resume their relation to the line of battle,
whenever the scattered fragments of the army could be assembled and
formed for an organized resistance to the enemy.
In the meantime it had been decided to mass all the cavalry on the left
of the line, opposite to where it had been in the morning. The order
came from General Merritt to continue the march in that direction, and
the long column led by Lowell turned its head toward the left of the
Sixth corps[40] and formed on the other side of the pike. Moving
across, parallel with the line which had been taken up by that corps,
the cavalry was exposed to a galling fire of artillery. One shell took
an entire set of fours out of the Sixth Michigan. Not a man left the
ranks. The next set closed up the gap. Custer was already there, having
been transferred from right to left while the two brigades of the First
division were out on the picket line. Crossing the pike, we passed in
front of his division. It was formed in line of brigades, each brigade
in column of regiments, mounted. It is needless to say that they were
faced toward the enemy. Custer, himself, was riding along the front of
his command, chafing like a caged lion, eager for the fray. Devin, with
Taylor's battery had been there for some time and, under the personal
direction of General Merritt, had been most gallantly resisting the
advance of the victorious enemy. The Michigan brigade took position in
front of Custer, Martin's battery next the pike. Lowell with the Reserve
brigade was stationed still farther in advance toward Middletown. The
Sixth corps made its final stand on the prolongation of the cavalry
alignment and from that moment the attacks of the enemy were feeble and
ineffective, the battle resolving itself, for the time being, into an
artillery duel in which Martin's battery took a prominent part.
It could not have been much later than nine o'clock when the two
brigades of cavalry arrived. Their coming was opportune. Who can say how
much it had to do in stopping the further progress of Early's attack?
It is now known that Early dreaded a flanking movement by the body of
horse which he saw massing in front of his right flank. The gallant
Lowell, who so bravely did his duty and who exhibited in every stage of
the battle the highest qualities of leadership, a few hours after his
arrival on the left laid down his life for the cause he so valiantly
served. He was killed by a bullet from the gun of a sharpshooter in
Middletown. He did not live to make a report and the story never has
been told officially of how he marched from right to left at Cedar
Creek.
Sheridan had not yet come up, but after his arrival, which he states in
his memoirs was not later than ten o'clock, Custer was moved to the
right flank, arriving in time to thwart a threatened flanking movement
by Gordon and Kershaw. It is evident that every strategic attempt of the
enemy, save the morning surprise, was checkmated by the union cavalry
and, it must be remembered, that it was the absence of cavalry on the
left which rendered the morning surprise possible.
The First division was now all together with General Merritt personally
in command. A part of Lowell's brigade, dismounted, was posted well to
the front, the Michigan brigade, mounted, in its rear. While in this
position, having occasion to ride up into the battery to speak to
Captain Martin, a sharpshooter in Middletown took a shot at us. The
bullet narrowly missed the captain and buried itself in my horse's
shoulder. Unlike the shell at Winchester, this wound disabled the old
fellow, so that he had to go to the rear and give way to a temporary
remount,--furnished by the commanding officer of the First
Michigan,--much to the regret of the old hero, for he was a horse who
loved the excitement of battle and relished its dangers.
Thus, for perhaps an hour (it may have been more) we stood in line
inviting attack. But the enemy, strongly posted behind fences and piles
of logs, with two ravines and fences separating us, seemed anxious to
"let well enough alone." Then Merritt rearranged his line. Devin's
brigade was posted next the pike, Lowell in the center, the Michigan
brigade on the extreme left. Martin's battery took position in an
orchard, on a rising point, which commanded the entire front and sloped
off to the rear, so that only the muzzles of the pieces were exposed to
the enemy's fire. Directly in front was a section of a battery which
Martin several times silenced but which had an aggravating way of coming
into action again and making it extremely uncomfortable for us. The
First, Sixth and Seventh were formed in line of squadron columns, the
Fifth a little to the rear as a reserve and support. A strong line of
mounted skirmishers held the front. The left was thrown somewhat
forward, menacing the confederate right.
Soon after the formation was complete and probably not far from eleven
o'clock, General Merritt with his staff came along inspecting the line,
and halting near Martin's battery, he expressed the most hearty approval
of the dispositions that had been made. While he was still talking, a
round shot from one of the enemy's guns ricochetted and nearly struck
his horse. He was very cool and gave his view of the situation in a few
encouraging words.
"The enemy," said he, "is almost as much surprised as we are and does
not know what to make of his morning's work and in my opinion, does not
intend to press his advantage, but will retreat as soon as a vigorous
assault is made upon his line."
These are, I am sure, almost the precise words uttered to me by General
Merritt before Sheridan came up. At least, if he was with the army at
the time, certainly General Merritt did not know it. They show what was
the feeling in that portion of the army which was not surprised, and
which did not fail, from the moment when the first shot was fired in the
early morning, to the last charge at dusk, to keep its face to the foe.
General Merritt also suggested, though he did not order it, that I send
a regiment to feel of the confederate right flank. He had an impression
that it might be turned. The Seventh Michigan was sent with instructions
to pass by the rear to the left, thence to the front, and attempt to get
beyond the flank of the enemy, and, if successful, to attack. After an
absence of about an hour, it returned and the commanding officer
reported that he found a line of infantry as far as he deemed it
prudent to go. The force in front of the cavalry was Wharton's
(Breckinridge's) corps, reinforced by one brigade of Kershaw's division.
Early's fear of being flanked by the union cavalry caused him to
strengthen and prolong his right. Rosser's cavalry, for some reason, did
not put in an appearance after the dash in the morning.
There was a lull. After the lapse of so many years, it would be idle to
try to recall the hours, where they went and how they sped. There was no
thought of retreat, slight fear of being attacked. All were wondering
what would be done, when cheering and a great commotion arose toward the
right. "Sheridan has come; Sheridan has come; and there is to be an
advance all along the line," sped from right to left, as if an electric
battery had sent the message, so quickly did it fly.
Sheridan did not pass to the left of the pike where the cavalry was, but
dashed along in front of the infantry for the purpose of letting the
army know that he was there and give it the inspiration of his presence.
History puts in his mouth the words: "It is all right, boys; we will
whip them yet; we will sleep in our old camps tonight." I was not near
enough to hear and do not pretend to quote from personal knowledge, but
whatever may have been his exact words, the enthusiasm which they
aroused was unmistakable. The answer was a shout that sent a thrill
across the valley and whose ominous meaning must have filled the hearts
of the confederates with misgivings. This was the first intimation we
had that Sheridan was on the ground, though he says in his memoirs, that
it was then after midday and that he had been up about two hours.
But the Sixth corps needed no encouragement. Nobly had it done its duty
during the entire progress of the battle. Sheridan and his staff,
therefore, busied themselves reforming and posting the Nineteenth corps
and strengthening the right where Custer was to be given the post of
honor in the grand flanking movement about to begin.
An ominous silence succeeded. Even the batteries were still. It was the
calm that precedes the storm. To those on the left, it seemed that the
dispositions were a long time in making. When one has his courage
screwed to the sticking point, the more quickly he can plunge in and
have it over the better. The suspense was terrible.
The Michigan brigade had ample time to survey the field in its front.
First, the ground descended abruptly into a broad ravine, or depression,
through which ran a small creek. Beyond the top of the opposite ascent
was a wide plateau of rather level ground, then another ravine and a dry
ditch; then a rise and another depression, from which the ground sloped
up to a belt of timber stretching clear across the front, almost to the
pike. In the edge of the timber was the enemy's main line of battle,
behind piles of rails and logs. Half way down the slope was a strong
skirmish line along a rail fence. Behind the fence, on a knoll, was the
battery, which had annoyed us so much. The brigade was formed with the
First Michigan on the right, the Seventh on the left, the Sixth and
Fifth in the center, in the order named. Each regiment was in column of
battalions, making three lines of two ranks each. Martin's battery was
to continue firing until the cavalry came into the line of fire.
At length, the expected order came. The bugles sounded, "Forward."
Simultaneously, from the right to the left the movement began. At first,
slowly, then faster. It was a glorious sight to see that magnificent
line sweeping onward in the charge. Far, far away to the right it was
visible. There were no reserves, no plans for retreat, only one grand,
absorbing thought--to drive them back and retake the camps. Heavens,
what a din! All along the confederate line, the cannon volleyed and
thundered. The union artillery replied. The roll of musketry became
incessant. The cavalry crossed the first ravine and moving over the
level plateau, came into a raking fire of artillery and musketry.
Pressing on, they crossed the second ravine and ditch. The slope was
reached and, charging up to the rail fence, the first line of hostile
infantry fell back. But the cavalry had gone too fast for the infantry.
Sheridan says faster than he intended, for his intention was to swing
his right wing and drive the enemy across the pike into the arms of the
left wing on the east side; the too swift advance of the First cavalry
division frustrated the plan. The brigade next to the pike, exposed to a
galling crossfire, wavered and slowly retired. The entire line then gave
way and retreated rapidly, but in good order, to the first ravine, where
it halted and reformed. In a short time the charge was again sounded.
This time the fence was reached. The right of the Sixth Michigan was
directly in front of the battery, as was also the First Michigan.
General Merritt, who was riding by the side of Major Deane, said:
"Major, we want those guns." "All right, we will get them," gallantly
responded the major, and through and over the fence rode the brave
cavalrymen. The First Michigan made a dash for the battery, but it was
not ours this time for, seeing that the Sixth corps had received a
temporary check, the cavalry once more fell back to the nearest ravine,
and whirling into line, without orders, was ready instantly for the last
supreme effort, which was not long delayed. The charge was sounded. The
infantry responded with a shout. This time the cavalry pressed right on
up the slope. The enemy did not stand to meet the determined assault but
gave way in disorder. The line pushed into the woods and then it was
every regiment for itself. The First, under Major Duggan, charged toward
the pike, but Devin, being nearer reached the bridge first. The Seventh,
under Lieutenant Colonel Briggs, charging through a field, captured,
seemingly, more prisoners than it had men. The Sixth, under Major
Deane, who knew the country well, did not pause until it reached
Buckton's Ford, on the Shenandoah river, returning late at night with
many prisoners and a battle flag for which Private Ulric Crocker, of
Troop "M," received one of the medals awarded by act of congress. The
Fifth, under Major Hastings, charged down a road leading to one of the
fords of the Shenandoah, Major Philip Mothersill, with one battalion,
going so far that he did not rejoin the command till the next day.[41]
Thus ended the battle of Cedar Creek. Darkness, alone, saved Early's
army from capture. As it was, most of his artillery and wagons were
taken.
It is needless to tell how Sheridan broke Early's left by an assault
with the Nineteenth corps and Custer's cavalry at the same moment of the
last successful charge upon his right. It was a famous victory, though
not a bloodless one. Of the gallant men who went into the fight that
morning on the union side, 588 never came out alive. Three thousand five
hundred and sixteen were wounded. Early did not lose so many but his
prestige was gone, his army destroyed and, from that moment, for the
confederacy to continue the hopeless struggle was criminal folly.
Cedar Creek was the ending of the campaign in the Shenandoah valley.
There was some desultory skirmishing, but no real fighting thereafter.
Among the wounded were Captain Charles Shier, jr. and Captain Darius G.
Maynard, both of the First Michigan cavalry. Captain Shier died on the
31st of October. He was wounded in the charge on the confederate
battery. Captain Shier was as gallant an officer as any who periled his
life on that famous battle field; and not only a fine soldier but a
polished scholar and an accomplished gentleman as well. He was a
distinguished son of the state of Michigan and of the noble university
which bears its name. In his life and in his death he honored both.
Massachusetts remembers the name and reveres the memory of Charles
Lowell. Mothers recite to their children the circumstances of his heroic
death, and in the halls of Harvard a tablet has been placed in his
honor. Charles Shier is a name which ought to be as proudly remembered
in Michigan and in Ann Arbor as is that of Charles Lowell in
Massachusetts and in Cambridge. But fate, in its irony, has decreed that
the nimbus which surrounds the brow of a nation's heroes shall be
reserved for the few whom she selects as types, and these more often
than otherwise idealized types chosen by chance or by accident. These
alone may wear the laurel that catches the eye of ideality and
furnishes the theme for the poet's praise. Others must be content to
shine in reflected light or to be forgotten. The best way is to follow
William Winter's advice and neither crave admiration nor expect
gratitude. After all, the best reward that can come to a man is that
intimate knowledge of himself which is the sure foundation of
self-respect. The adulation of the people is a fugitive dream, as
Admiral Dewey knows now, if he did not suspect it before.
In the original manuscript of the foregoing chapter, written in the year
1886, Lowell was represented as marching "without orders" from right to
left with his own brigade and the Michigan brigade. In the text the
words "without orders" have been omitted. This is not because my own
recollection of the events of that day is not the same now as then, but
for the reason that I am reluctant to invite controversy by giving as
statements of fact things that rest upon the evidence of my own
unsupported memory.
After the manuscript had been prepared, it was referred to General
Merritt with a request that he point out any errors or inaccuracies that
he might note, as it was intended for publication. This request elicited
the following reply:
"West Point, December 2, 1886.
"General J.H. Kidd,
"My Dear General:
"So much has been written as to the details of the war that I have
stopped reading the war papers in the best magazines, even. An
officer writes one month what is to him a truthful account of events
and the next month that account is contradicted by three or four in
print with dozens of others who content themselves with contradicting
it in talk. The account you send me of Cedar Creek is not more
accurate than the rest.
"The morning of the attack Lowell's brigade had been ordered to make
a reconnoissance on the 'Middle road.' This order was given by me the
evening before. The picket line of the First brigade was attacked
before the Reserve brigade moved out, and Lowell was ordered to hold
his brigade in hand to help the First brigade if the attack was
pressed.
"Soon after, the fighting on the left of our army was heavy, as shown
by the artillery fire, and stragglers commenced coming across towards
the back road. These were stopped and formed as far as possible by my
headquarters escort--the Fifth U.S. cavalry. About this time Devin's
brigade (my Second) was ordered to the left of our line to cover and
hold the valley pike.
"About ten o'clock, the remainder of the First division was moved to
the left of the infantry line and disposed so as to connect with the
infantry and cover the valley pike. This was soon done, the Second
brigade (Devin's) occupying the right, the Reserve brigade (Lowell's)
the center, and the First brigade (Kidd's) the left of the division
line of battle.
"This is the account of the first part of the battle taken from my
report written at the time. The movement of Lowell's brigade and your
own by agreement, and without orders, was impossible. We had all been
posted where we were as part of a line of battle, and any soldier who
took a command without orders from one part of a line to another
subjected himself to the penalty of being cashiered, as such action
might jeopardize the safety of an army.
"The principle of marching to the sound of battle when you are
distant and detached and without orders that contemplate the
contingency is well defined, but for a commander to leave without
orders one part of a line of battle because there appears to be
heavier fighting at another is all wrong and could not be tolerated.
"I should be glad to renew our acquaintance and talk over the war,
though as I have intimated I am sick of the fiction written with
reference to it.
"Truly yours,
W. MERRITT."
General Merritt in his letter omits one clause in his quotation from his
report written at the time which seems to me to have an important
bearing upon this question. The clause is as follows:
"The First brigade was at once ordered to the support of its picket
line."
Or to quote the passage in its entirety:
"About 4 a.m. on the 19th an attack was made on the pickets of the
First brigade near Cupp's ford, which attack, coupled with the firing
on the extreme left of the infantry line, alarmed the camps, and
everything was got ready for immediate action. The First brigade was
at once ordered to the support of its picket line, while the Reserve
brigade, which had the night before received orders to make a
reconnoissance on the Middle road, was ordered to halt and await
further orders. This brigade had advanced in the execution of its
reconnoissance to the picket line, and subsequently acted for a short
time with the First brigade in repelling the attack of the enemy,
feebly made on that part of the field. Soon after moving from camp
the heavy artillery firing and immense number of infantry stragglers
making across the country to the Back road from our left, showed that
it was in that direction the heavy force of the enemy was advancing.
The Fifth U.S. cavalry attached to the division headquarters was
deployed across the field and, together with the officers and
orderlies of the division staff did much toward preventing the
infantry going to the rear. About the same time the Second brigade
(General Devin) was ordered to move to the left of the line, cover
and hold the pike, and at the same time deploy men in that part of
the field to prevent fugitives going to the rear."
[Illustration: THOMAS C. DEVIN]
The rule about moving toward the sound of battle is succinctly stated by
General Merritt in his letter and does not admit of controversy. But I
may in all fairness call attention to the conditions that existed at the
time when it was asserted that Colonel Lowell took the responsibility to
move his brigade from the picket line to the rear, if not to the left,
and order the First brigade to follow. The division line of battle of
which the three brigades had been a part had been broken up. There was
no division line of battle. The First brigade had been ordered to
reinforce its picket line. The Reserve brigade which on the night before
received the order to make a reconnoissance in the morning was held to
support the First brigade and had "advanced as far as the picket line."
Devin's brigade had been ordered to the valley pike to hold it and
"deploy men to prevent fugitives going to the rear." May it not then be
said with truth that he was "distant and detached" and "without orders
that contemplate the contingency?" The enemy that attacked "feebly" had
disappeared. There was in sight no picket line either of the enemy's or
of our own. There was visible no line of skirmishers or of battle. The
"fighting on the left of our army as shown by the artillery fire" was
not only "heavy," as described by General Merritt, but indicated
clearly by the sound that the army was falling back. Lowell's movement
was under the circumstances entirely justifiable. That he moved from the
picket line to the rear voluntarily, and that he took the responsibility
to order the Michigan brigade to follow, is as certain as that when the
moon passes between the earth and the sun it causes an eclipse.
The march from the picket line to the pike was continuous. There was no
halting for formations of any kind. It is quite possible, however, that
the staff officer who conveyed the order from General Merritt found
Lowell in motion in the right direction and delivered the order to him
to cover the movement of both brigades. I do not remember receiving any
order except the one from Lowell until after reaching the pike.
One more point and this subject, which has been given more space perhaps
than it ought to, will be left to the reader. General Merritt's report
takes up the matter of arranging the division line of battle with the
formation at "about ten o'clock," with the Second brigade on the right,
next to the pike, the Reserve brigade in the center, and the First
brigade on the left. That was some time after the arrival of the two
brigades. The first position taken by the First brigade was next the
pike in rear of Lowell and Devin. Martin's battery was posted originally
close to the pike and it was while there that my horse was shot. I still
believe that it was not much after nine o'clock when we first formed on
the left of Getty's division. The subsequent rearrangement of the line
is referred to in the text and was exactly as described in General
Merritt's report.
The following table of killed and wounded in the Michigan cavalry
brigade in the Shenandoah Valley campaign is compiled from the official
records in the office of the adjutant general of Michigan:
First Fifth Sixth Seventh
Michigan Michigan Michigan Michigan Total
Winchester 16 8 7 8 39
Shepherdstown 1 5 1 0 7
Middletown 1 -- -- -- 1
Smithfield 2 4 2 3 11
On Picket 1 -- -- -- 1
Cedar Creek 3 5 6 2 16
By Mosby's Men -- 18 -- -- 18
Front Royal -- 2 -- 2 4
Newtown -- 4 -- -- 4
Tom's Brook -- -- 1 1 2
Berryville -- -- -- 1 1
---- ---- ---- ---- ----
Total 24 46 17 17 104
Recapitulation--Killed and died of wounds, Shenandoah Valley:
First Michigan 24
Fifth Michigan 46
Sixth Michigan 17
Seventh Michigan 17
----
Total 104
The following table of killed and wounded in the First cavalry division
in the battle of Cedar Creek is taken from the official war records:[42]
First Brigade--
Officers and men killed 10
Officers and men wounded 43
----
Officers and men killed and wounded 53
Second Brigade--
Officers and men killed 3
Officers and men wounded 16
----
Officers and men killed and wounded 19
Reserve Brigade--
Officers and men killed 9
Officers and men wounded 27
----
Officers and men killed and wounded 36
Total killed and wounded, First Brigade 53
Total killed and wounded Second and Reserve Brigades 55
It is thus seen that the First brigade lost in killed and wounded within
two of as many as both the other brigades--almost fifty per cent of the
entire losses of the division.
Custer's division of two brigades lost 2 killed and 24 wounded.
Powell's division of two brigades lost 1 killed, 8 wounded.
In other words, while the entire of the Second and Third
divisions--four brigades--lost but 35 killed and wounded, the Michigan
brigade alone lost 53 in this battle. Thirty-four per cent of the entire
losses killed and wounded in the cavalry corps were in this one
brigade.[43]
These figures give point to the statement of General Merritt in a
communication to the adjutant general of the First cavalry division,
dated November 4, 1864, that the list of killed and wounded in a battle
is presumptive evidence of the degree and kind of service performed.[44]
General Merritt also gives the Michigan brigade credit for "overwhelming
a battery, and its supports," in other words capturing the battery.