Last Cavaliers Trilogy

by Gilbert, Morris

  Peyton smiled, a lazy, thoroughly charming, boyish grin. “I was glad to see that, you know. There are some very beautiful ladies in Richmond.” Peyton’s family owned an enormous mansion on the banks of the James River.

  Slyly Yancy said, “Might know you’d have noticed that, Peyton. But you better be a proper gentleman or Old Blue Light will tan your hide, no mistake.”

  “Don’t I know it, and there’s no way I’d take that chance. I’m not missing out on this war for anything,” Peyton said with uncharacteristic passion. “And I’m going to do whatever it takes to stay with Major Jackson, even if I have to get my father to pull some strings and appoint me personally to him.”

  Yancy considered this. “You know they’re going to activate him, probably soon. So you’re saying you’d resign your commission to the institute and join the army?”

  “Yes, I will,” Peyton answered sturdily. “What about you, Yancy? Have you thought about it?”

  “No, this month has been so crazy that I guess I hadn’t looked that far in the future. But I’m sure going to think about it.”

  Peyton sighed and wiped sweat from his aristocratic brow. “You might have plenty of time to do that now. There’s no telling how long Major Jackson may have to wait to see the governor.”

  But he was wrong. Jackson returned just a few minutes later. Wordlessly he mounted up and motioned Yancy and Preston to do the same. They made their way through the city and back to the fairgrounds. Jackson didn’t speak until they reached the camp, and then he ordered them to muster the men.

  When they were assembled, he addressed them with his typical lack of drama. But he was an intense man, and Yancy could sense his purpose and will and drive as a soldier. The cadets didn’t make a sound as he spoke.

  “Cadets, I’ve just met with Governor Letcher. The Virginia Volunteers are men and boys from all walks of life. They are dedicated and loyal and want to serve Virginia and the Confederacy, but they have no training. Some of the commanding officers assigned to them have a military background; some have not. It’s been decided that you men have the best training available, so you will be assigned as drill masters. You will teach them the orders, the march, the formations, and the small-arms drill.”

  There was some murmuring then among the cadets, most of them smiling with satisfaction. Yancy knew, indeed, that they had received the best education and training available in the South.

  Jackson allowed them a few minutes to digest this, and then he continued, “Tomorrow you will receive your assignments. I know that all of you will do your duty to the utmost of your abilities; and I know that the men you train will benefit to a great extent from your knowledge.” He made a half turn, his hands behind his back as if to leave, but then he turned, and even the cadets in the back rows could surely see the unearthly light in his fiery blue eyes. “I’m proud of you all. Very proud. Dismissed.”

  Basically, the cadets were snatched up. In two days they were drilling men in every vacant lot and little-used back street in Richmond. This left Major Jackson with very little to do, because the cadets were so expert and so disciplined that they had no need of oversight. Still, he visited each drill team every day. And though he was staying with friends in town, he came to the camp at the fairgrounds every night to get updates on the status of the volunteers the cadets were training. Each drill team had been assigned a captain, and each captain gave Jackson a daily report.

  Yancy had been appointed captain of a drill team which included his friends, Peyton Stevens, Sandy Owens, and Charles Satterfield. On the second night he reported to Major Jackson in his officer’s tent which had been established, though he was staying in town. Standing at strict attention he said, “Sir, I have learned more about the company that I have been assigned to, Raphine Company. Almost all of the men are from that little town in Rockbridge County. They were recruited and organized by Captain Reese Gilmer, whom you met yesterday. Since he formed the company, sir, they elected him as their captain, and he was confirmed by Secretary of War Walker when they reported for duty.”

  Jackson, seated at his camp desk with a single candle for light, nodded and muttered, “Good, good. And how do you find Captain Gilmer?”

  “Sir?” Yancy asked, mystified.

  “How do you find him? As a man, as a soldier, as an officer?”

  “But sir, I don’t know the man. I only met him yesterday. And—and—he is my superior officer. He’s a captain.”

  Jackson gave Yancy a cold, appraising look, and those ice blue eyes made him straighten and stand even more stiffly. “You, sir, are a drill team captain, and even though this does not outrank an army captain, in this peculiar situation you are his teacher and he is your student. And, Cadet, you are going to have to learn to be a judge of men. Not to judge them for their sins—no, no, no man ever has that right—but to see them, to instinctively know if they are honest and true and men of their word, and to try and estimate their intentions and abilities. In war, this is not only important, but it is crucial, both in summing up your allies and your enemies. And so give me your first impressions of Captain Gilmer.”

  Yancy swallowed hard. “Major Jackson, I believe he is an honorable man, anxious to serve Virginia and the Confederacy. He is humble enough to know that he hasn’t had the training that we have had, and so he eagerly learns all of our drills. But he still maintains a dignified control over his men and has an officer-like demeanor. He is anxious both for himself and his men to prove themselves brave and unwavering soldiers in this war.”

  “Good, good,” Jackson said, scribbling notes. “And, Cadet Tremayne, take notice of any particular men who distinguish themselves, whether in zeal or determination or marksmanship. I shall expect that in your further reports.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jackson looked up at him in the dim candle glow. “Cadet Tremayne, did you know that Robert E. Lee was appointed general of all forces in Virginia?”

  Yancy’s face lit up. “No, sir, we had not heard. This is good news, sir.”

  “Good news indeed. I had the privilege of serving under him in Mexico, and he has proved himself to be a good friend to me ever since then. And this means that things will change and quickly.”

  Yancy hesitated, for Major Jackson was a private man who always kept his counsel to himself. But then he reflected that the major had offered him this information, and therefore this opening. Summoning his courage, he asked, “Sir, please explain to me what you mean. Will the Virginia Volunteers be called up soon? Maybe immediately?”

  Somewhat to Yancy’s surprise, Jackson didn’t reprimanded him for his impertinence, and he did not hesitate. “Yes, they will. I’m certain. So drill them hard, Cadet Tremayne. Train them on orders and formations and the march, but especially drill them on small-arms battle and the bayonet. Soon even these young men will be facing battle, and I know that with the training of the institute, they will give a good accounting and serve out the enemy with all fury.”

  Major Thomas Jackson was not a man to be content babysitting raw recruits when the Confederacy was at war. Governor John Letcher was a Rockbridge County man and knew Jackson well. Jackson had come to the attention of Robert E. Lee when serving under him in Mexico, and several years earlier Lee had highly recommended him for a position at the University of Virginia. Jackson had also met other influential friends in Richmond, and he diligently sought his friends’ backings to get a position and a post in the army.

  His strategy worked. A mere six days after he had arrived in Richmond, Governor Letcher proposed Jackson for the rank of colonel to command the Virginia Infantry. The state convention promptly approved it.

  Jackson was sent to Lee, who was very glad indeed to see him and eager to put him to work. They had a meeting, and General Lee assigned him to his new post—Harpers Ferry.

  That night, Jackson went to the fairgrounds. Diligent to the last, he wanted his status reports, which he turned in daily to the secretary of war. And he wanted to say good-bye to hi
s cadets.

  He was somewhat surprised to see about a dozen cadets waiting for him outside his tent. When he rode up they formed into two rows and came to attention.

  Yancy stepped forward. “Colonel Jackson, sir, our drill captains have their reports ready. And also, these men would like to speak to you.”

  Jackson nodded curtly. “Come in, Cadet Tremayne.”

  Yancy went into the tent with Jackson, standing at attention as he settled himself behind the camp desk with the candle on it.

  “At ease, Cadet. Now, what’s all this about?”

  Yancy relaxed a bit, took a moment to frame his words, and then said, “Colonel Jackson, I would like to join the Virginia Volunteers. In particular, I hope to join you. We’ve heard that you’re going to form the 1st Brigade, and I would like to enlist.”

  “Good, good,” Jackson murmured under his breath. Then he looked up at Yancy, his eyes sparkling with an inner light. “And is that what all of the cadets out there wish to speak to me about? To join up?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well then. I’m going to swear you in, Cadet Tremayne. And from now on, you will be Sergeant Tremayne, assigned to my staff as my aide and courier.”

  “Sir! Thank you, sir!”

  “And as my staff assistant you will swear in any such able-bodied cadets as wish to join the 1st Virginia Brigade, and you will document their inductions.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Good, good. Now I’ll swear you in. Attention!”

  Yancy snapped back to attention.

  “Repeat after me, cadet:

  “ ‘I, Yancy Tremayne, of the county of Rockbridge, state of Virginia, do solemnly swear that I will support, protect, and defend the Constitution and the government of the Confederate States of America against all enemies, whether domestic or foreign; that I will bear true faith, allegiance, and loyalty to the same, any ordinance, resolution, or laws of any state, convention or legislature to the contrary notwithstanding; and further, that I will faithfully perform all the duties which may be required of me by the laws of the Confederate States of America; and I take this oath freely and voluntarily without any mental reservations or evasions whatsoever.’ ”

  The remainder of the document read:

  Subscribed and sworn to me

  In duplicate this 28th day of April, 1861.

  The above named has dark complexion, black hair and black eyes, and is six feet, two inches high.

  Colonel Thomas J. Jackson, C.S.A.

  When Yancy and Colonel Jackson finished dutifully filling out the solemn document, Jackson said, “I’m going to make out your certificate of induction. Pay attention.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Again by hand Jackson filled out the form:

  The Fairgrounds

  Richmond, Virginia

  April 28 th , 1861

  This is to certify that I have this day sworn Yancy Tremayne into the service of the Confederate States of America as a volunteer in the 1st Brigade, Virginia Infantry serving in the Army of Virginia.

  Thomas J. Jackson

  Colonel, C.S.A.

  “You got all that, Sergeant?” Jackson demanded.

  Yancy swelled until he thought he would burst. “Yes, sir!”

  “Then for your first duty as my aide, you’re going to have to copy these two documents fair. Then you’re going to have to swear in all those recruits out there and make two copies of each document. Meanwhile, direct each drill captain to me to make a daily report on our Virginian Volunteers here in Richmond. After that, report back to me and I will brief you on our upcoming posting. And after I brief you, then you will brief each new member of the 1st Brigade of our first mission.”

  “Yes, sir!” Yancy said snappily.

  Jackson regarded him shrewdly. “You know, Sergeant Tremayne, that the 1st Brigade is going to be formed from the 2nd, 4th, 5th, 27th, and 33rd Virginia Infantry Regiments.”

  “Yes, sir?” Yancy answered curiously.

  “But you’re the first volunteer for the 1st Brigade.”

  “I’m proud to be, sir. And thank you again for my promotion. I won’t let you down.”

  Yancy immediately returned to the cadets and organized the drill team captains to report to Colonel Jackson. Then he set up a camp table outside Jackson’s tent and began the tedious task of swearing in the cadets who were joining the Virginia Volunteers, although all of them wished to request the 1st Virginia Brigade.

  The first cadet he signed in was Charles Satterfield. Chuckins signed the handwritten forms and watched as Yancy painstakingly made out duplicate forms. Penmanship was not Yancy’s strong point and his spelling was not stellar, so he kept having to refer back to the originals that Colonel Jackson had made out for him.

  “There’s no printed forms for this?” Chuckins asked.

  “There were plenty when the call went out for volunteers,” Yancy answered, “but they were almost all used up. Colonel Jackson has a few left, but he wants to keep them in case it takes any time to get new printed forms to us. He told me to make handwritten copies for us, the cadets that are signing up.”

  “I could help you with those forms,” Chuckins said.

  “Yeah, you’re the best in penmanship, I know,” Yancy replied thoughtfully.

  “And you know, I’ve already memorized those forms,” Chuckins said diffidently.

  “What?”

  Chuckins shrugged. “Memorized them. I dunno. It’s just something I can do.”

  Gladly Yancy said, “Go find a chair, report back here, and help me out. I’ll take their oaths and induct them, and you can write them in.”

  It was almost one o’clock in the morning when Yancy reported back to Colonel Jackson. Of the fourteen cadets that had volunteered, Jackson called in Yancy, Peyton Stevens, Sandy Owens, and Charles Satterfield. They stood at uncomfortable attention in his tent.

  “At ease,” Jackson said.

  They assumed the at ease position, relaxing their postures and holding their hands behind their backs.

  Jackson, seated at his desk, frowned darkly. There was no seating for the cadets, which seemed to dissatisfy him. He rose and started pacing, his hands clasped behind him. “Gentlemen, I am not in the habit of addressing men in a personal manner. However, I have found that you four cadets have been exemplary, both in scholastics and in the military disciplines. Therefore I have made decisions concerning your positions, especially regarding the 1st Virginia Brigade, for which you have volunteered.”

  The four cadets nodded solemnly but did not speak.

  Jackson paced. “Sergeant Tremayne, I’ve already given you your posting. Since you have such a magnificent horse, we’re also inducting Midnight into the 1st Brigade. And, Stevens, I’m giving you a promotion to sergeant, as aide-de-camp and courier. But this is provisional if your horse, Senator, also joins the 1st Brigade.”

  Yancy had rarely seen Jackson’s humor at home, but no other VMI cadet had probably ever witnessed it.

  Peyton Stevens appeared nervous. “Sir, yes, sir. I’m—I’m—my horse is happy—that is, we volunteer.”

  “Mr. Owens,” Jackson continued.

  “Yes, sir!”

  “I know that getting gunpowder and grease on your breeches causes you great distress. But you are one of the best gunners in the institute. The Rockbridge Artillery has been assigned to the 1st Brigade, and it is my wish that you would serve with them.”

  It was true that Sandy Owens was something of a dandy, and he hated for his dynamic VMI uniform to get soiled or wrinkled. But that was for the carefree days when he was a cadet in the finest military school in the South, and these were days of war. He was best at artillery, and he loved artillery best. “Thank you, Colonel Jackson,” he said quietly. “I would be honored to serve with Reverend Pendleton.” Colonel W. N. Pendleton was the commanding officer of the Rockbridge Artillery, and he was also an Episcopal rector. Sandy attended his church.

  “So that brings us to you, Mr. Sat
terfield,” Jackson said. He sat down at the desk and shuffled through the pile of papers there.

  Chuckins was obviously so nervous he could barely talk. “Y–yes, sir. Me. Th–that brings us to m–me.”

  Jackson’s eyes sparked blue ice, and his set mouth had a slight tinge of amusement. He looked down and went through two more pages then looked up. “These documents are written in a fine hand.”

  “Th–thank you, sir.”

  “And there are no errors in the copy, none at all. That’s very unusual.”

  Chuckins swallowed hard. “I—I had them memorized, sir. The forms.”

  “I see. It seems to me, Mr. Satterfield, that you would make a fine clerk. As it happens, I need a clerk on my staff.”

  “Sir! May I volunteer for your staff?” Chuckins asked anxiously.

  “You may, and I accept. I’m promoting you to sergeant, and I’m appointing you as my chief clerk.”

  “Colonel, thank you, sir, thank you!”

  “You may not thank me when you see the paperwork it takes to sustain a brigade,” Jackson said drily. “All right, men, now I want to brief you on our posting. Please keep in mind that the regiments that will form the 1st Brigade have not been briefed yet. I prefer to keep my counsel to myself, for the most part, until I know I have a staff I can trust. I’ve known you men for a few years, and I feel I can trust you as I already know that you’re capable of discretion.”

  Yancy knew Jackson thoroughly believed that the fewer people that knew the movements of his men, the fewer chances the enemy had to learn them.

  Jackson continued, “General Lee has assigned us to Harpers Ferry.”

  The cadets exchanged puzzled looks.

  “Yes, the same Harpers Ferry that John Brown took,” Jackson said somberly. “We all witnessed his execution. The reason he took Harpers Ferry is that it is both a strategic and tactical target. Tactical because it’s a United States arsenal. The arsenal, with its ordnance manufacture, consists in a complex of government buildings, including an armory, an arsenal, and an enginehouse. And it’s a strategic target because a main stem of the Baltimore & Ohio railroad runs right through the town. In fact, it has double tracks, running east-west and west-east. Tons and tons of coal from the Appalachian mines in the Midwest run through that line to the East. And there’s a bridge across the Potomac at Harpers Ferry that runs through Maryland on its way to Baltimore and Washington. And that means supplies going to the Federal army.”