GARFIELD'S BOLD STRATEGY.
Garfield didn't wait for the scout's return. He felt that no time was to
be lost. The expedition which he had planned was fraught with peril, but
it was no time for timid counsels.
On the morning following Jordan's departure he set out up the river,
halting at George's Creek, only twenty miles from Marshall's intrenched
position. As the roads along the Big Sandy were impassable for trains,
and unsafe on account of the nearness of the enemy, he decided to depend
mainly upon water navigation for the transportation of his supplies.
The Big Sandy finds its way to the Ohio through the roughest and wildest
spurs of the Cumberland Mountains, and is a narrow, fickle stream. At
low-water it is not navigable above Louisa, except for small flat-boats
pushed by hand. At high-water small steamers can reach Piketon, one
hundred and twenty miles from the mouth; but when there are heavy
freshets the swift current, filled with floating timber, and the
overhanging trees which almost touch one another from the opposite
banks, render navigation almost impracticable. This was enough to
intimidate a man less in earnest than Garfield. He did not hesitate, but
gathering together ten days' rations, he chartered two small steamers,
and seizing all the flat-boats he could lay hands on, took his army
wagons apart, and loaded them, with his forage and provisions, upon the
flat-boats.
Just as he was ready to start he received an unexpected reinforcement.
Captain Bent, of the Fourteenth Kentucky, entering Garfield's tent, said
to him, "Colonel, there's a man outside who says he knows you. Bradley
Brown, a rebel thief and scoundrel."
"Bradley Brown," repeated Garfield, puzzled. "I don't remember any such
name."
"He has lived near the head of the Blaine, and been a boatman on the
river. He says he knew you on the canal in Ohio."
"Oh, yes, I remember him now; bring him in."
Brown was ushered into the general's tent. He was clad in homespun, and
spattered from head to foot with mud, but he saw in Garfield only the
friend of earlier days, and hurrying up to him, gave him a hearty grasp
of the hand, exclaiming, "Jim, old feller, how are yer?"
Garfield received him cordially, but added, "What is this I hear, Brown?
Are you a rebel?"
"Yes," answered the new-comer, "I belong to Marshall's force, and I've
come straight from his camp to spy out your army."
"Well, you go about it queerly," said Garfield, puzzled.
"Wait till you are alone, colonel. Then I'll tell you about it."
Col. Bent said in an undertone to Garfield, as he left the tent, "Don't
trust him, colonel; I know him as a thief and a rebel."
This was the substance of Brown's communication. As soon as he heard
that James A. Garfield was in command of the Union forces, it instantly
struck him that it must be his old comrade of the canal, for whom he
still cherished a strong attachment. He was in the rebel camp, but in
reality cared little which side was successful, and determined out of
old friendship to help Garfield if he could.
Concealing his design, he sought Marshall, and proposed to visit the
Union camp as a spy, mentioning his former intimacy with Garfield. Gen.
Marshall readily acceded to his plan, not suspecting that it was his
real purpose to tell Garfield all he knew about the rebel force. He
proceeded to give the colonel valuable information on this subject.
When he had finished, Garfield said, "I advise you to go back to
Marshall."
"Go back to him, colonel? Why, he would hang me to the first tree."
"Not if you tell him all about my strength and intended movements."
"But how kin I? I don't know a thing. I was brought into the camp
blindfolded."
"Still you can guess. Suppose you tell him that I shall march to-morrow
straight for his camp, and in ten days be upon him."
"You'd be a fool, colonel, to do that, and he 'trenched so strongly,
unless you had twenty thousand men."
"I haven't got that number. Guess again."
"Well, ten thousand."
"That will do for a guess. Now to-day I shall keep you locked up, and
to-morrow you can go back to Marshall."
At nightfall Brown went back to the rebel camp, and his report was made
in accordance with Garfield's suggestions.
The fact was, that deducting those sick and on garrison duty, Garfield's
little army amounted to but fourteen hundred in place of the ten
thousand reported to the rebel commander. This little army was set in
motion the next day. It was a toilsome and discouraging march, over
roads knee-deep in mire, and the troops necessarily made but slow
progress, being frequently obliged to halt. Some days they succeeded in
making but five or six miles. On the 6th of January, however, they
arrived within seven miles of Paintville. Here while Garfield was trying
to catch a few hours' sleep, in a wretched log hut, he was roused by
Jordan, the scout, who had just managed to reach the camp.
"Have you seen Craven?" asked Garfield eagerly.
"Yes; he can't be more'n two days behind me, nohow."
"God bless you, Jordan! You have done us great service," said Garfield,
warmly, feeling deeply relieved by this important news.
"Thank ye, colonel. That's more pay 'n I expected."
In the morning another horseman rode up to the Union camp. He was a
messenger direct from Gen. Buell. He brought with him an intercepted
letter from Marshall to his wife, revealing the important fact that the
Confederate general had five thousand men--forty-four hundred infantry
and six hundred cavalry--with twelve pieces of artillery, and that he
was daily expecting an attack from a Union force of ten thousand.
It was clear that Brown had been true, and that it was from him Gen.
Marshall had received this trustworthy intelligence of the strength of
the Union army.
Garfield decided not to communicate the contents of this letter, lest
his officers should be alarmed at the prospect of attacking a force so
much superior. He called a council, however, and put this question:
"Shall we march at once, or wait the coming of Craven?"
All but one were in favor of waiting, but Garfield adopted the judgment
of this one.
"Forward it is!" he said. "Give the order."
I will only state the plan of Garfield's attack in a general way. There
were three roads that led to Marshall's position--one to the east, one
to the west, and one between the two. These three roads were held by
strong Confederate pickets.
Now, it was Garfield's policy to keep Marshall deceived as to his
strength. For this reason, he sent a small body to drive in the enemy's
pickets, as if to attack Paintville. Two hours after, a similar force,
with the same orders, were sent on the road to the westward, and two
hours later still, a small force was sent on the middle road. The first
pickets, retreating in confusion, fled to the camp, with the
intelligence that a large body of Union troops were on their way to make
an attack. Similar tidings were brought by the two other bodies of
pickets, and Marshall, in dismay, was led to believe that he was menaced
by superior numbers, and hastily abandoned Paintville, and Garfield,
moving his men rapidly over the central route, occupied the town.
Gen. Marshall would have been intensely mortified had he known that this
large Union army was little more than one-fourth the size of his own.
But his alarm was soon increased. On the evening of the 8th of January,
a spy entered his camp, and reported that Craven, with _thirty-three
hundred men_, was within twelve hours' march at the westward.
The big general (he weighed three hundred pounds) was panic-stricken.
Believing Garfield's force to number ten thousand, this reinforcement
would carry his strength up to over thirteen thousand. Ruin and defeat,
as he fancied, stared him in the face, for how could his five thousand
men encounter nearly three times their number? They would, of course, be
overwhelmed. There was safety only in flight.
So the demoralized commander gave orders to break camp, and retreated
precipitately, abandoning or burning a large portion of his supplies.
Garfield saw the fires, and guessed what had happened, being in the
secret of Marshall's delusion. He mounted his horse, and, with a
thousand men, entered the deserted camp at nine in the evening. The
stores that were yet unconsumed he rescued from destruction for the use
of his own army.
In order to keep up the delusion, he sent off a detachment to harass the
retreat of his ponderous adversary and fill his mind with continued
disquiet.
The whole thing was a huge practical joke, but not one that the rebels
were likely to enjoy. Fancy a big boy of eighteen fleeing in dismay from
a small urchin of eight, and we have a parallel to this flight of Gen.
Marshall from an intrenched position, with five thousand troops, when
his opponent could muster but fourteen hundred men in the open field.
Thus far, I think, it will be agreed that Colonel Garfield was a
strategist of the first order. His plan required a boldness and dash
which, under the circumstances, did him the greatest credit.
The next morning Colonel Craven arrived, and found, to his amazement,
that Garfield, single-handed, had forced his formidable enemy from his
strong position, and was in triumphant possession of the deserted rebel
camp.