They Called Him Stonewall

by Davis, Burke;

  The troopers were busy all day. Among their chores was destroying a few surviving locomotives, which they did by firing cannon into the boilers at short range. They also came upon Yankee newspapers which commented sagely on McClellan’s strategy of “changing base,” and the cavalrymen joked over that. A dog fight, when one of the combatants ran, drew cries of, “Look at him changing his base!”

  At the Grapevine Bridge, Jackson was about the more mundane task of repairing his bridge so that he might cross the river. The Reverend Dabney was charged with repairs, but his party of soldiers moved so slowly that Jackson impatiently called in Major Claibourne R. Mason, one of the group of civilian specialists the General had gathered about him. And Mason, though he was not an engineer, quickly raised a stout bridge. Still, it was midaftermoon when Jackson himself crossed the incompleted structure and rode to the abandoned headquarters of McClellan in the Trent House. He was here in the late afternoon when General Magruder, after some confusing hours, attacked the Federal rear guard at Savage’s Station. This action took place not far from Jackson, but he made no effort to join it since his troops had not yet come over the bridge.

  Magruder’s attack, limited as it was, stood as the only substantial action of the day. The army had advanced only five miles, giving the enemy another day of grace to cross the dangerous swamp.

  Lee did not hide his chagrin in a dispatch to Magruder, who had been in the position of attack and thus drew the commander’s blame: “I regret very much that you have made so little progress today in the pursuit of the enemy.… We must lose no more time or he will escape us entirely.”

  Lee also sent Major Walter Taylor to talk with Magruder. Handsome John told Taylor with some vehemence the curious story of Jackson’s behavior during the day:

  General D. R. Jones, one of Magruder’s officers, had expected Jackson’s aid in the attack on Savage’s Station, since their troops held adjoining positions. Before the attack, Jones sent to Jackson for assurance of his co-operation, and got the reply: “I have other important duty to perform.” It went into the official records, and some were to hazard the guess that Jackson could not fight at this moment, since he had to say his prayers. There was a more logical explanation.

  When the messenger from Jones approached him, Jackson was making an effort to get troops over the river, and making little progress. He saw that he was three miles from the scene of skirmishing and could not move his brigades in time. Therefore, in his customary mood of reticence, he probably told the messenger of his “other important work”—meaning the essential river crossing.

  Whatever the explanation, it remained that Jackson had not spent a profitable day. His orders had been simple and clear, and his task did not appear too difficult; once more the Valley army had failed to shine. Lee might have justly asked himself if Stonewall seemed still in the grip of the inexplicable malady which had slowed him at Gaines’ Mill and immobilized him at Mechanicsville. From headquarters, it seemed that Old Jack had been a long time at repairing his bridge, and that once he crossed the river, he was in superb position to pounce on Savage’s Station, a short distance away.

  The entire army had achieved little; there was no brilliance to report. Longstreet and A. P. Hill had waited in reserve for developments which had not been forthcoming.

  Jackson spent an uncomfortable night. He went to sleep in the open soon after dark, having issued orders to march before dawn. Near midnight, a torrential rain burst over the Peninsula, ruining Jackson’s sleep. He rose and prepared to work through the night.

  At 3:30 A.M. he appeared at Magruder’s headquarters, and “Prince John,” Jackson’s old commander of the Mexican War, seemed pathetically happy to see him. Jackson gave assurances that the Valley troops would be moving at daylight, and Magruder could now bring himself to rest. His report read: “I then slept an hour—the first in forty-eight.”

  The enemy retreated in the night and the last dark hours found Lee working, determined on a course of action. He would seek to get between McClellan and the James and strike him heavily. Then, perhaps, not only would Richmond be saved. Perhaps the war hung in the balance, as well.

  13

  THE LONGEST OF ALL DAYS

  When the first gray light of Monday, June thirtieth, crept through the swamps of the Chickahominy country, Jackson was astir and working with great energy. His staff, aware of the wearing effects of this week, conspired to leave him late abed, but he was up soon after his usual hour. Dr. Hunter McGuire, who had intimate knowledge of the General’s physical condition, was struck by his unusual vigor this morning.

  Others, including John Gill, a headquarters courier, thought Jackson in “a bad humor,” and noted that both commander and command were wearied by constant fighting, marching, and lack of sleep and proper food. The Reverend Dabney later recalled the Jackson of this important day as exhausted by “the wear of gigantic cares.”

  Old Jack’s sleep last night, after being interrupted by the storm, was limited to a few uncomfortable moments in the damp bedclothes of a wagon. He stood by a campfire at dawn to dry his clothes, and soon rode in the direction of White Oak Swamp Bridge, already anxious about the moving of his column. Last night he had asked Colonel Munford to have his cavalrymen on the move just at the hour of sunrise. Munford, like the rest of the army, had been caught in the night storm, and his troopers were scattered. Of this morning, Munford wrote:

  “When I arrived, to my horror, there sat Jackson waiting for me. He was in a bad humor, and said, ‘Colonel, my orders to you were to be here at sunrise.’ I explained my situation, telling him we had no provisions, and that the storm and dark night had conspired against me. When I got through he replied, ‘Yes, sir. But Colonel, I ordered you to be here at sunrise. Move on with your regiment. If you meet the enemy drive in his pickets, and if you want artillery, Colonel Crutchfield will furnish you.’

  “I started on with my little handful of men. As others came straggling on to join me, Jackson noticed it, and sent two couriers to inform me that ‘my men were straggling badly.’ I rode back and went over the same story, hoping that he would be impressed with my difficulties. He listened to me, but replied as before, ‘Yes, sir. But I ordered you to be here at sunrise, and I have been waiting for you a quarter of an hour.’

  “Seeing that he was in a peculiar mood, I determined to make the best of my trouble, sent my adjutant back, and made him halt the stragglers as they came up.… When we came upon the enemy’s picket we charged, and pushed the picket every step of the way into their camp.”

  With the cavalry launched, Old Jack turned to his infantry. His orders today were of increased importance, and his haste indicated that he understood their urgency; he worked as if aware that yesterday’s slow pace had cost Lee the opportunity to destroy McClellan’s army.

  Jackson and Lee met early today. One soldier who watched them was Robert Stiles, to whom the scene appeared thus, forty years later:

  “Jackson began talking in a jerky, impetuous way, meanwhile drawing … on the ground with the toe of his right boot. He traced two sides of a triangle with promptness and precision; then starting at the end of the second line, began to draw a third projected toward the first.

  “This third line he traced slowly and with hesitation, alternately looking up at Lee’s face and down at his diagram, meanwhile talking earnestly; and when at last the … triangle was complete, he raised his foot, and stamped it down with emphasis, saying, ‘We’ve got him.’; then signaled for his horse … vaulted into the saddle and was off.”

  In his effort to trap McClellan, Lee was throwing four columns after the enemy. Jackson was to enter White Oak Swamp from the north. He had been given the place of greatest responsibility despite the lack of agressiveness on the part of the Valley army this week. Magruder had fumbled, and Lee had pulled him back to support A. P. Hill and Longstreet. The latter divisions would move eastward on parallel roads and strike McClellan on the south side of White Oak Swamp. Lee intended to engag
e the enemy in the vicinity known variously as Glendale, Riddell’s Shop and Frayser’s Farm.

  Jackson, whose twenty thousand were now alone in the Federal rear, was to strike to the south and roll the enemy into the path of the columns of Longstreet and A. P. Hill. Haste was essential to this battle plan, for McClellan was nearing the James, where the huge cannon of the gunboats would give him protection.

  As the men from the Valley neared the swamp, the very landscape seemed in league against their progress—for now they rode through unmistakable signs of Union rout. Near Savage’s Station they took many prisoners and the sick of a hospital “remarkable for the extent and convenience of its accommodations.” Jackson’s men spent some of the morning gathering spoils and sending to the rear skulkers and walking wounded of the enemy.

  An officer riding near Jackson commented that the prisoners were too numerous and were surrendering all too willingly. Jackson replied, “It’s cheaper to feed them than to fight them.” He was impressed by the prisoners, however. “They really appear gratified at the idea of being taken. I have never seen prisoners so contented.”

  The commander seems not to have noticed the spoils which struck the Reverend Dabney; among them, “mounds of grain and rice and hillocks of mess beef smoldering; tens of thousands of axes, picks and shovels.” John Casler, a private of the Thirty-third Virginia, saw “molasses knee deep in a railroad ditch, and great piles of burnt coffee. Some of it was burnt too much for use, but some was scorched just enough to be good.” This slowed the men, for such spoils were too precious to be passed by. Jackson galloped endlessly during the morning, trying to speed the march.

  As noon approached, with D. H. Hill charged with sweeping up prisoners and collecting loot, Jackson paused, probably at the side of a sandy swamp road, and wrote to Anna:

  Near White Oak Swamp Bridge

  An ever-kind Providence has greatly blessed our efforts and given us great reason for thankfulness in having defended Richmond. Today the enemy is retreating.… Many prisoners are falling into our hands.… I had a wet bed last night, as the rain fell in torrents, and haven’t seen much rest since.…

  You must give fifty dollars for church purposes, and more should you be disposed. Keep an account of the amount, as we must give at least one tenth of our income. I would like very much to see my darling, but hope that God will enable me to remain at the post of duty until, in His own good time, He blesses us with independence. This going home has injured the army immensely.

  Jackson then went toward the front, and began to examine the borders of White Oak Swamp, a forbidding scene. The bog seemed impenetrable in most places. It was an ill-shaped crescent whose dark waters sprawled through thick hardwood growth for some ten miles before draining into the Chickahominy. Today, as Jackson gazed over it, the swamp was like a vast stagnant river, high from recent rains. His infantry might break through the growth of briars, bamboo and vines under the great trees, but could not pass the endless pools and marshy depths. There appeared to be no openings in the thickets.

  The White Oak Swamp Bridge, where Jackson had appeared, was the safest and best means of passing the swamp. The Federals had crossed a few hours earlier and were still in evidence. Occasional shots from sharpshooters felled men in the growing Confederate column at this spot, leaving wisps of dim smoke in the far trees. D. H. Hill and Jackson studied the ground with field glasses. A few bluecoats were in the open, on high ground across the stream.

  A battery of enemy artillery was in sight, backed by what appeared to be a regiment of infantry whose men were asleep in an abandoned field. It was now a bit after noon, but Jackson did not hurry his reconnaissance. The bridge, he saw, was broken and could hardly be repaired in face of the enemy fire. There were other means of crossing the swamp—by fords lying to the right and left. But these had not been mentioned in Jackson’s orders.

  Old Jack’s humor was improved by now. Munford recalled: “When Jackson came up he was smiling, and he at once ordered Colonel Crutchfield to bring up his artillery, and very soon the batteries were at work.”

  It was not quite so simple, however. Jackson’s position overlooking the ruined bridge was a low bluff, most of it exposed to the enemy, so that guns must be brought up with care. Engineers and sweating soldiers worked for an hour or more to cut a road in a ravine; the guns came up while the cavalry paraded in front to screen them. Crutchfield placed twenty-eight big guns in a row, and the instant the cavalrymen galloped off, this battery fired in almost perfect unison upon Federal infantry in the wooded swamp.

  Captain Thomas Livermore, a young New Hampshire soldier, was in the Union ranks:

  “Hell seemed to have opened upon us … teams of six mules which belonged to a pontoon train … fled up the hill … stragglers and non-combatants fled in all directions, while the air was filled with clouds of dust and wreaths of smoke which spread out from the fierce clouds, breathing fire of bursting shells, and the ear was dimmed with explosions.…

  “… New York volunteers … attempted to escape … and retreated right down toward us. General Caldwell … galloped to our rear and cried out, ‘Fifth New Hampshire, rise up!’ and we rose, leveled our bayonets, and received the—at their points … after a little confusion they went back and behaved themselves.

  “The shot hit some of our men and scattered their vitals and brains upon the ground.… I saw a shot strike in the 2nd Delaware … which threw a man’s head perhaps twenty feet into the air, and the bleeding trunk fell over toward us.… I do not know that I have ever feared artillery as I did then.…”

  It was 1:45 P.M. when this salvo burst upon the enemy, and though it was accurate and devastating, it did not drive the Federals from the position. Jackson watched the enemy fire three or four rounds in reply and pull back most of their guns from the field, leaving three in the open. Jackson sent for Munford.

  “Colonel, move your regiment over the creek and secure those guns.”

  Hill and Jackson rode with Munford as the troopers approached the stream. The cavalryman glanced at the broken bridge, a “tangled mass which seemed to prevent a crossing,” and told Jackson it could not be used. Jackson waved an impatient hand.

  “Yes, Colonel. Try it.”

  Munford led the first squadron among the sprawling timbers in the water, and a few men “floundered over.” Before he could form up his men on the south bank, Jackson was barking.

  “Move on those guns, Colonel!”

  Munford got two squadrons across, and had a battery in the road challenge the Federal guns in an effort to drive the enemy from the vicinity of the bridge. Hill, Jackson and Munford were with the troopers when they reached the abandoned Union guns, but the rifle fire was so heavy that the officers turned off. Jackson went back swiftly over the route he had come, with Hill following. Munford disappeared, using a track into the heart of the swamp.

  Old Jack seemed suddenly weary as he returned from inspection of the enemy position, and though the ground about him stirred with action, he sat under a tree, heavy-eyed. His first visitor found him unresponsive.

  General A. R. Wright came from General Huger’s column, which was the nearest force to Jackson in the scheme of attack. Wright explained that he had been sent to make sure the area north of the swamp was free of the enemy, and that he had scouted along New Road, seeing no trace of the Federals. Wright then asked Jackson for orders.

  In a tone strange for him, Jackson said that he had no orders. Federals were in such strength in the swamp, Old Jack added, that Wright should retrace the safe route to Huger.

  Wright left Jackson. There was no suggestion that a staff officer accompany him or establish contact with Huger. Jackson simply remained under his tree. He fell asleep, and no one moved to disturb him. He seemed exhausted.

  Within a short time the departed General Wright, driven off at one ford, had gone some three or four miles from Jackson’s position and found a crossing of the swamp. He moved through without opposition. But there was no officer
to bring word to Jackson; and no indication from Jackson that he desired this information.

  D. H. Hill busied himself around the damaged bridge as Jackson slept. Hill was told by troops who had been trying to repair the bridge that the fire was too heavy for them. The brusque little general sent out a brigade on his own initiative, and this force crossed the creek and settled in a strip of woodland from which it drove the Federals. Hill had less success in finding men to work on the bridge. Survivors of earlier parties refused to return and remained adamant under a tongue-lashing from Hill. Another party tried the task, but was driven off, and Hill could find no more volunteers. Jackson slept on.

  Hill had discovered that General Franklin’s corps was the Federal force in front, and now, impatient to be at the enemy, Hill sent a messenger to General Huger. The messenger was to ask if Huger could not attack from his near-by road and drive the enemy from their position near the bridge.

  Precious time was passing. Already General Lee and President Davis, waiting to the southwest with Longstreet’s division, were wondering anew at Jackson’s immobility. They had expected to hear Stonewall’s attack earlier in the day, and to hear Huger’s men join the pursuit. Huger had not yet reported to headquarters that his road was blocked by felled trees, miles of them; he was even now cutting a new road through the forest to pass his guns.

  Jackson’s artillery still rolled, but it was becoming clear that the guns could not force a decision at this crossing; the enemy hung on stubbornly in the depths of the swamp. It appeared that Jackson, for the first time in his career, had literally given up the field. He still made no effort to examine fords above or below him, though at all other times he was keenly sensitive about his flanks and methodically sought chances for turning attacks. When Old Jack woke up, he sat on his log for a time, staring before him as if he had no interest in the fighting.