chapter 1
this war is a farce
Stonewall Jackson was angry. With ‘‘no other aid than the smiles of God,’’ his
brigade of Virginians had blunted the Federal advance and turned the fortunes of battle at First Manassas. But the rout of the Yankee army galled him as
an empty triumph. The Confederate commanders, Gen. Joe Johnston and
Gen. Pierre G. T. Beauregard, seemed content simply to hold the ground
Jackson had won them. Fretting about at a field hospital just after the battle,
Jackson unburdened himself on the surgeon who attended his broken finger.
‘‘If they will let me,’’ he declared, ‘‘I’ll march my brigade into Washington
tonight!’’
No one let him. As July slipped into August 1861, the Confederate army of
41,000 men sank into torpor in camps around the hamlet of Centreville, just
twenty miles from the defenses of Washington, D.C. An inept commissary
department and uncertain railroads kept the troops hungry in a rich harvest
season. Measles and chronic diarrhea laid low thousands. The liberal granting of furloughs thinned the ranks in equal measure. A shortage of arms—
the chief of ordnance had only 3,500 muskets, mostly antique flintlocks, on
hand—impeded recruiting.∞
Both the army and the civilian population of the South had expected that
Johnston and Beauregard would advance after First Manassas at least as far as
Alexandria. Sanguine spirits predicted the capture of Washington, D.C., and
the defection of Maryland, Kentucky, and Missouri to the Confederacy. Some,
beguiled by victory, considered the war all but over. A Virginia chaplain at
the front recalled meeting a high-ranking o≈cer just returned from Rich-
mond who assured him: ‘‘We shall have no more fighting. It is not our policy
to advance on the enemy now; they will hardly advance on us, and before
spring England and France will recognize the Confederacy, and that will end
the war.’’≤
Stonewall Jackson disagreed. He argued that only by carrying the fight
vigorously onto Northern soil could the South expect to prevail. Delay was
fatal. ‘‘We must give [the enemy] no time to think,’’ he wrote his wife Anna.
‘‘We must bewilder them and keep them bewildered. Our fighting must be
sharp, impetuous, continuous. We cannot stand a long war.’’≥ Confederate
inactivity after First Manassas was not simply a terrible blunder, Jackson
believed, but also a dangerous repudiation of the will of God. In His divine
providence, the Lord had given the Southern people a rare opportunity for
securing the fruits of independence through decisive action in His name. ‘‘If
the war is carried on with vigor,’’ Jackson assured Anna, ‘‘I think that, under
the blessing of God, it will not last long.’’ Despite his deeply felt fears, both
temporal and eternal, Jackson’s sense of o≈cial propriety sealed his lips. When
asked why the army did nothing, Jackson told his subordinates, ‘‘This is the
a√air of the commanding generals.’’∂
Unknown to Jackson, the commanding generals also were impatient to
strike a decisive blow, the more so as spies in Washington told them a reinvigorated, and hugely superior, Federal army under Maj. Gen. George B.
McClellan might at any moment move against them. But without more arms
and men, Johnston was loathe to advance beyond Fairfax Courthouse. At
Johnston’s request, President Je√erson Davis visited army headquarters on
September 30 to review the situation. For two hours Davis, Johnston, Beauregard, and Maj. Gen. Gustavus W. Smith pored over maps and shuΔed
through ordnance and troop-strength reports. ‘‘No one questioned the disastrous results of remaining inactive through the winter,’’ recalled Smith. ‘‘The
enemy were daily increasing in number, arms, discipline, and e≈ciency. We
looked forward to a sad state of things at the opening of a spring campaign.’’
Johnston pleaded for help. ‘‘Mr. President, is it not possible to increase the
e√ective strength of this army and put us in condition to cross the Potomac
and carry the war into the enemy’s country? Can you not by stripping other
points to the last they will bear, and even risking defeat in other places, put us
in condition to move forward?’’
How many more men would they need? Sixty thousand, said Johnston and
Beauregard; fifty thousand, thought Smith. Out of the question, retorted
Davis; the whole country demanded protection and arms and troops for
8
this war is a farce
defense. The generals were unrelenting. Better to risk almost certain defeat on
the north side of the Potomac than watch the army waste away during the
winter, at the end of which the terms of enlistment of half the force would
expire. But Davis was adamant. Reinforcements were impossible; there was no
course but to ‘‘await the winter and its results.’’ As heartsick as his generals,
Davis suggested a partial blow somewhere in the theater, perhaps a quick
strike across the Potomac near Williamsport, Maryland, or Harpers Ferry,
Virginia.∑
Unaware that the issue had been decided, Jackson called on General Smith,
who lay sick in his tent. Jackson apologized for disturbing him, but he had
come on a matter of ‘‘great importance.’’ Smith bade him proceed. Sitting
himself on the ground at the head of Smith’s cot, with a confidence perhaps
borne of his October 7 promotion to major general in the Provisional Army of
the Confederate States, Jackson o√ered up his war strategy. With his army of
raw recruits, McClellan dare not make a move until spring. Now was the time
to draw troops from other points and invade: Cross the Upper Potomac, seize
Baltimore, destroy the factories of Philadelphia and play havoc with Pennsylvania, take and hold the shores of Lake Erie. It could all be done, expounded
Jackson. We could live o√ the land; make ‘‘unrelenting war amidst their homes,
force the people of the North to understand what it will cost them to hold the
South in the Union at the bayonet’s point.’’ Smith must persuade Johnston and
Beauregard of the correctness—and righteousness—of his vision.
Smith shook his head. Impossible, nothing he might say would do any
good. But he must, countered Jackson. No, answered Smith, and to explain his
reluctance he o√ered to ‘‘tell Jackson a secret.’’
‘‘Please do not tell me any secret. I would prefer not to hear it.’’ But Jackson
must know. President Davis had ruled out an o√ensive; the South would wait
for McClellan’s advance, or for European recognition, as the case might be.
The passion left Jackson. ‘‘When I had finished,’’ recalled Smith, ‘‘he rose
from the ground, shook my hand warmly, and said, ‘I am sorry, very sorry.’
Without another word he went slowly out to his horse, a few feet in front of
my tent, mounted very deliberately, and rode sadly away.’’∏
union brigadier general Frederick W. Lander was a restless spirit. Strong
and fond of sports, Lander as a young man had parleyed an engineering
degree from Norwich University into an assignment as a civil engineer on the
Northern Pacific Railway survey of 1853. At home on the frontier, Lander
returned to the Northwest the following year to lead a surveying expedition
this war is a farce
9
from Puget Sound to the Mississippi River. Over the next four years, he
roamed the West as superintendent and chief engineer of the Overland Wagon
Road, fighting Indians and bears in about equal measure, and earning from
admiring Blackfoot guides the nom de guerre of ‘‘Old Grizzly.’’ By the end of
the decade, Lander had participated in five transcontinental surveys. When
not challenging nature, he dabbled in poetry, writing with the same force and
vigor that characterized his railroad work. In 1860 he married Jean Margaret
Davenport, an acclaimed British actress.
At the outbreak of the Civil War, the Lincoln administration appointed
Lander a civil agent and sent him on a confidential mission to Governor Sam
Houston of Texas, with authority to order Federal troops in the state to
support the governor. Later, as a volunteer aide on the sta√ of General McClellan, Lander distinguished himself in the engagements of Philippi and Rich
Mountain. That won him a commission as a brigadier general of volunteers
and command of a brigade in Brig. Gen. Charles P. Stone’s Corps of Observation near Poolesville, Maryland, across the Potomac River from a small Confederate force at Leesburg, Virginia.π
Lander shared Jackson’s yearning for action. In early October he traveled to
Washington to lobby for a new assignment. Ambushing Lincoln and Secretary
of State William H. Seward as they left the White House one evening, Lander
promised the president he could do great things if granted a special force.
With a handful of good men—loyal Virginians, whom he would raise himself
—Lander would strike south and erase the ‘‘cowardly shame’’ of Bull Run, or
die trying. Watching the rugged brigadier march o√, a bemused Lincoln
quipped to Seward: ‘‘If he really wanted a job like that, I could give it to him.
Let him take his squad and go down behind Manassas and break up their
railroad.’’
The commanding general of the army, Winfield Scott, took Lander more
seriously. On October 13 he o√ered Lander, whom he once called the ‘‘great
natural American soldier,’’ command of a newly created Department of Harpers Ferry and Cumberland, which embraced a 120-mile stretch of the strategically critical Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Thirty miles of the line cut
through hostile territory.∫
Lander accepted the assignment. He returned to Poolesville just long
enough to tender his resignation from McClellan’s moribund army, then
hurried back to the War Department to consult with Scott. Confederate cavalry and local militia had burned railroad bridges and torn up much of
10
this war is a farce
the track in Virginia, but Lander was confident that he could reopen the
line quickly.
A√airs in western Virginia certainly seemed propitious of success. McClellan’s successor to departmental command, Brig. Gen. William S. Rosecrans, had swept poorly led Southern forces eastward toward the Allegheny
Mountains. Reinforced and united under Maj. Gen. Robert E. Lee, the Confederates maintained a tentative presence in the Great Kanawha Valley, which
Rosecrans threatened to disrupt. Nearer to Lander’s new department, Brig.
Gen. Benjamin F. Kelley commanded a brigade of Ohio and loyal Virginia
regiments at Grafton in what was called the Railroad District of Rosecrans’s
department.Ω
Kelley was within striking distance of Romney, Virginia, a village of five
hundred with an importance far beyond its humble size. From Romney, the
excellent Northwest Turnpike ran east forty miles to Winchester, which was
key to the Confederate defense of the Lower Shenandoah Valley. Romney was
the principal town of the fertile South Branch Valley. Wide meadows on either
side of the South Branch of the Potomac River yielded large crops of corn and
o√ered ideal pasturage for cattle. Tucked among a patchwork of ridges, ravines, and low mountains on the east bank of the South Branch, Romney not
only controlled the valley, but it also commanded the sixty-mile length of
the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad most critical to Lander’s new department.
From Romney, the Confederates could reach the track in a short day’s march.
But with Romney in Federal hands, marauding Confederates would be hard
pressed to operate against the railway. Lander understood this, and he urged
General Scott to order Kelley to seize Romney and assume command of the
Department of Harpers Ferry and Cumberland until Lander arrived. Scott
complied, and on October 22 Lander repaired to his District of Columbia
home to prepare for his new post.∞≠
An unexpected clash the previous day involving his old brigade interrupted
Lander’s plans. General Stone had taken his Corps of Observation across the
Potomac to do battle with a Confederate force at Ball’s Blu√. In the ensuing
fiasco Col. Edward D. Baker, a close friend of President Lincoln, was killed and
the surviving Union troops were stranded. That evening a War Department
courier delivered a short telegram from McClellan to Lander’s E Street home
ordering the general to return to his former command. Lander set out at once
and the next morning took command of two thousand Federal troops on the
Virginia shore at Edwards Ferry, ten miles downriver from Ball’s Blu√. Lander
this war is a farce
11
was hit early in the day’s fighting. A Rebel bullet smashed into his left leg,
boring his bootstrap deep into the calf muscle. Refusing aid, Lander hobbled
about in agony until the fight was over. A surgeon then cleaned bits of boot
leather from the gaping hole, pronounced the wound ‘‘not at all dangerous,’’
then remanded Lander to the care of his wife. Spitting epithets over the poor
planning and wasted sacrifice of life that characterized Stone’s sorry little
campaign—‘‘This war is a farce,’’ he told a friend, ‘‘bloodless nerves ruin the
roast’’—Lander rode painfully back to his district home to convalesce. While
he laid abed, his chief patron, General Scott, retired, and George McClellan
replaced him as commanding general of the Northern armies. McClellan
wanted a quiet winter. Undoubtedly concerned that the impetuous Lander
would bring on a battle to reopen the Baltimore and Ohio as soon as he was
healthy, McClellan terminated his new military department.∞∞
inactivity was anathema to Stonewall Jackson. Rebu√ed in his calls for
an o√ensive, Jackson devoted himself to improving his brigade, already the
most e≈cient in Johnston’s army. Other commands melted away, as troops
took leave in large numbers to visit family or harvest crops, but Jackson
granted no furloughs. His devotion to duty was absolute, and he expected
nothing less from his o≈cers and men. When Col. Kenton Harper of the 5th
Virginia appealed to Jackson in late August for emergency leave to visit his
terminally ill wife, he met with a harsh rebuke. ‘‘General, my wife is dying! I
must see her!’’ implored Harper. A look of sadness betrayed Jackson’s inner
struggle, but he held firm. ‘‘Man,’’ he asked Harper, ‘‘do you love your wife
more than your country?’’ Harper’s answer was a letter of resignation.∞≤
Hypocrisy can sometimes catch the best of men unawares. While Colonel
Harper journeyed home to Staunton to bury his wife, Mary Anna Jackson was
on her way to Centreville to visit her husband. General Jackson commandeered an ambulance to meet her at the Manassas railhead, whisked her o√ to
church services with the Stonewall Brigade, and then set her up in a farmhouse
near headquarters. While Jackson drilled his brigade incessantly, Anna reveled
in army life, entertaining high-ranking callers and generally enjoying her role
as belle of the ball. Four times a day, in ninety-minute blocks, Jackson had the
brigade on the parade ground. Their firm stand at Manassas had earned the
Virginians and their commander the sobriquet ‘‘Stonewall.’’ But tenacity on
the defense was but one ingredient of military success; now they would learn to
march and attack as one. Said an early Jackson biographer: ‘‘Shoulder to
shoulder they advanced and retired, marched and countermarched, massed in
12
this war is a farce
column, formed line to front or flank, until they learned to move as a machine,
until the limbs obeyed before the order had passed from ear to brain, until
obedience became an instinct and cohesion a necessity of their nature.’’ Amid
the general apathy that had descended on the army, Jackson’s men worked
hard. When not drilling, they stood inspection, policed their camps, or picketed the perimeter. ‘‘Every o≈cer and soldier,’’ a≈rmed Jackson, ‘‘who is able
to do duty ought to be busily engaged in military preparation by hard drilling,
in order that, through the blessing of God, we may be victorious in the battles
which in His all-wise providence may await us.’’∞≥
It was not only his men who learned. Ever a close student of war, Jackson
reflected on his actions at First Manassas, and from them derived tactical
principles to guide him in the campaigns ahead. As a young lieutenant of
artillery in the Mexican War, Jackson had learned how to deploy artillery to its
best advantage. Running his section up to the walls of Chapultepec, far in
advance of the infantry, Jackson had given shot for shot with the heavy guns of
the castle until support reached him. His feat of daring inspired an assault that
carried the works and won the battle. Just as the daring of a few well-served
cannons might inspire the infantry, so too could their capture demoralize the
ranks, as happened when Jackson’s Virginians mowed down the gunners and
horses of Ricketts’s and Gri≈n’s regular batteries at Manassas.
Jackson’s ideas regarding the role of infantry were as aggressive as his
artillery tactics. ‘‘I rather think,’’ he said after First Manassas, ‘‘that fire by file
[independent firing] is best on the whole, for it gives the enemy an idea that
the fire is heavier than if it was by company or battalion [volley firing].
Sometimes, however, one may be best, sometimes the other, according to
circumstances. But my opinion is that there ought not to be much firing at all.
My idea is that the best mode of fighting is to reserve your fire till the enemy
get—or you get them—to close quarters. Then deliver one deadly, deliberate
fire—and charge!’’∞∂
No less important than controlling men in combat was the need to control
oneself. Jackson knew himself to be imperturbable under fire, but some had
mistaken his calm determination at Manassas for simpleminded indi√erence.
Paying a call on Jackson three days after First Manassas, Capt. John D. Imboden asked him the secret of his equanimity in battle. ‘‘General,’’ he inquired
pointedly, ‘‘how is it that you can keep so cool, and appear so utterly insensible
to danger in such a storm of shell and bullets as rained about you when your
hand was hit?’’
Perhaps because his battery had served Jackson faithfully at Manassas,
this war is a farce
13
P E N N S Y LVA N I A
Cumberland
.
Williamsport
Unger’s Martinsburg
Store
Bunker
Bloomery
Hill
Gap
Stephenson’s Charlestown
Depot
Harpers
Romney
R.
R.
M
ts.
B
aca
ig C
ny
he
Frederick
Ferry
Leesburg
Po
tom
ac R
.
Snicker’s
Gap
Manassas
Thoroughfare
t.
Gap
M
Gap
n
Front Royal Manas
Edinburg
tte
Manassas
u
sas G
n
ey Chester
a
Jct.
ap R
l
l
s
a
. R.
V
as
Mt. Jackson
Warrenton
Gap
ge
M
Franklin
ia
Meem’s
Thorton
dr
North Fork
an
Bottom Luray Gap
lex
A
.
New
& R
White House Bridge
ge R.
Market
Culpeper
an
C. H.
Or
Columbia Bridge
Rappah
an
Harrisonburg
Conrad’s
no
ck
t
Store
Cross Keys
.
S ou
R
n
R.
a
d
Orange
pi
a
Swift
Run
R
dle
C. H.
Fredericksburg
Gap
Mid R.
Port
Stanardsville
Republic Brown’s
Woodstock
Petersburg
hF
ll P
Bu
Monterey
o rk
ast
ur
eM
t.
Al
Pa
leg
Kernstown
She
Moorefield
Winchester
Berryville
h
oa
nd
Middletown
na
Newtown
Strasburg
po
n
P
c
ma
oto
M A RY L A N D
Bath
R.
&
B.
R. R
O.
Dam No. 5
C & O Canal
Hancock
Chesapeake & Ohio
Canal
McDowell
ue
ge
M
e&
g
an
George Skoch
.
ts
Al
ria
R.
Charlottesville
Cent
ral R
. R.
Hanover
Jct.
Jame
s R.
R.
Virg
inia
d
an
ex
Or
Meechum’s
Station
R. R.
Bl
d
Ri
Gordonsville
P.
R. F. &
Waynesboro
Lexington
Gap
Rockfish
Gap
Staunton
VIRGINIA
0
20
Miles
Richmond
map 1. Area of Operations, January–June 1862
Imboden was at ease asking the reticent and intensely private Jackson so
personal a question. And Jackson obliged him with an answer. ‘‘Captain,’’ he
said gravely, ‘‘my religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed.
God has fixed the time for my death. I do not concern myself about that, but
to be always ready, no matter when it may overtake me.’’ Pausing, he looked
the young captain in the face, then added, ‘‘That is the way all men should live,
and then all would be equally brave.’’∞∑
Although careful not to force his faith on them, Jackson had a profound
concern for the spiritual welfare of his men. In late October he invited the
Reverend Dr. William S. White, pastor of the Lexington Presbyterian Church,
which Jackson had attended in peacetime, to preach to the command. For five
days and nights White ministered to the Virginians, reserving time in the
morning and evening to lead the worship service at headquarters. Jackson
14
this war is a farce
thrilled to these spiritual retreats with ‘‘a beaming face and warm abandon
of manner.’’ He prayed with uncommon intensity, remembered White. ‘‘He
thanked God for sending me to visit the army, and prayed that He would own
and bless my ministrations, both to o≈cers and privates, so that many souls
might be saved. He pleaded with such tenderness and fervor that God would
baptize the whole army with His holy spirit, that my own hard heart was
melted into penitence, gratitude, and praise.’’∞∏
White unexpectedly found himself with more to do than spread the Gospel. On the morning of October 23, while White prepared for his daily ministrations, a troubled General Jackson handed him a letter he had just received.
White studied it closely:
Richmond, October 21, 1861.
Major-General Jackson, Manassas:
sir: The exposed condition of the Virginia frontier between the Blue
Ridge and Allegheny Mountains has excited the deepest solicitude of the
Government, and the constant appeals of the inhabitants that we should
send a perfectly reliable o≈cer for their protection have induced the Department to form a new military district, which is called the Valley District of the Department of Northern Virginia. In selecting an o≈cer for
this command the choice of the Government has fallen on you. This
choice has been dictated, not only by a just appreciation of your qualities
as a commander, but by other weighty considerations. Your intimate
knowledge of the country, of its population and resources, rendered you
peculiarly fitted to assume this command. Nor is this all. The people of
that district, with one voice, have made constant and urgent appeals that
to you, in whom they have confidence, should their defense be assigned.
The administration shares the regret which you will no doubt feel at being
separated from your command when there is a probability of early engagement between the opposing armies, but it feels confident that you will
cheerfully yield your private wishes to your country’s service in the sphere
where you can be rendered most available.
In assuming the command to which you have been assigned by general
orders, although your forces will for the present be small, they will be increased as rapidly as our means will possibly admit, whilst the people will
themselves rally eagerly to your standard as soon as it is known that you
are to command. In a few days detailed instructions will be sent you
this war is a farce
15
through the Adjutant-General, and I will be glad to receive any suggestions you may make to render e√ectual your measures of defense.
I am, respectfully, your obedient servant,
j. p. benjamin Acting Secretary of War
The good reverend might have expected Jackson to welcome the news. But
Jackson instead paced the ground in pained uncertainty. ‘‘Such a degree of
public confidence and respect as puts it in one’s power to serve his country
should be accepted and prized,’’ he conceded, ‘‘but, apart from that, promotion among men is only a temptation and a trouble. Had this communication
not come as an order, I should instantly have declined it, and continued in
command of my brave old brigade.’’∞π
Among his fellow generals, some thought it best that he decline. Beyond
question he had shown his mettle as a brigade commander, but would he do as
well in a larger role? Said one high-ranking skeptic, ‘‘I fear the government is
exchanging our best brigade commander for a second or third class major
general.’’∞∫
General Johnston was reluctant to part with Jackson and perturbed that
neither the president nor Secretary Benjamin had consulted him on the move.
So he stalled, ignoring an October 28 War Department order directing the
immediate reassignment of Jackson. Appeals for Jackson’s service rang loudly
from the Shenandoah Valley. ‘‘From the latest intelligence from that country I
am inclined to think that it may be expedient to send Major General Jackson
to his district,’’ Johnston conceded halfheartedly to Samuel Cooper, adjutant
general of the army. ‘‘It is reported that the enemy intend to repair the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad and put it in operation. It is of great importance to us
to prevent it. For this I will send General Jackson to his district whenever there
is a prospect of having such a force as will enable him to render service.’’∞Ω
November 4 brought a third set of orders for Jackson’s reassignment. With
or without troops, Jackson must go. In a letter to Anna that morning, he tried
to put the best face on matters. ‘‘I am assigned to the command of the military
district of the Northern frontier, between the Blue Ridge and the Allegheny
Mountains, and I hope to have my little dove with me this winter. How do you
like the program?’’ he asked playfully. ‘‘I trust I may be able to send for you
after I get settled. I don’t expect much sleep tonight, as my desire is to travel all
night, if necessary, for the purpose of reaching Winchester before day tomorrow. My trust is in God for the defense of that country. I shall have great labor
16
this war is a farce
to perform, but, through the blessing of our ever-kind Heavenly Father, I trust
that He will enable me to accomplish it.’’≤≠
One painful task remained to Jackson before leaving. He must bid farewell
to his old brigade. The regimental colonels came to his tent first to say goodbye. A deputation of regimental and company line o≈cers filed through a
little before noon. He cordially shook the hand of each. The last to enter the
tent was Lt. Henry Kyd Douglas, a brash young Virginian with a high opinion
of himself and an even higher opinion of his commander and the brigade he
was leaving. Everyone wished him well, ventured Douglas, but the men of the
Stonewall Brigade hoped he would not forget them. Jackson’s lips tightened
and his eyes brightened. ‘‘I am much obliged to you, Mr. Douglas, for what
you say of the soldiers; and I believe it. I want to take the brigade with me, but
cannot. I shall never forget them. In battle I shall always want them. I will not
be satisfied until I get them. Good-bye.’’
An hour later, on his favorite mount, ‘‘Little Sorrel,’’ Jackson rode out with
his sta√ to the parade field, where the brigade stood at close column of
regiments under a cold, slate-gray sky. Removing his hat, he o√ered his men
thanks for their sacrifices and a ‘‘heartfelt goodbye.’’ Then, rising in the stirrups and raising his arms, he exclaimed in his sharp, high-pitched western
Virginia drawl: ‘‘In the Army of the Shenandoah you were the First Brigade; in
the Army of the Potomac you were the First Brigade; in the Second Corps of
the army you were the First Brigade; you are the First Brigade in the a√ections
of your general; and I hope by your future deeds and bearing that you will be
handed down to posterity as the First Brigade in this, our second War of
Independence. May God Bless you! Farewell!’’≤∞
this war is a farce
17