A messenger from Longstreet intruded upon Jackson’s rest. He was Captain J. W. Fairfax, who talked with the commander beyond earshot of the diarists of the staff. Longstreet had been put on the alert by cannon fire and wanted to know the exact state of affairs. Records were to omit Jackson’s reply to Fairfax, but it was likely a simple statement that the heavy force of the enemy had halted him at the bridge.
Sometime during the early afternoon, Jackson got a message from Colonel Munford, accompanied by some captured newspapers. It was news that on any other day would have electrified Jackson: Munford was deep in the swamp. He had located a trail leading to the south side of the swamp and had already tested it. He now awaited orders.
Jackson made no reply to this, nor did he stir from the afternoon’s lethargy to send an officer to inspect the crossing proposed by Munford. He simply took the newspapers.
That was not the only message to be deflected by Jackson’s inertia. General Wade Hampton, a fiery and capable South Carolina cavalry leader, came on the scene. Hampton said that he had been far into the swamp with a couple of his officers. In the pines to the left of the roadway, he had found a narrow, firm crossing of the stream. It was no more than ten or fifteen feet wide. Beyond it, unsuspecting, some Federal troops lay in a ravine. It was another opening by which the enemy might be struck and perhaps routed.
Jackson appeared interested. He asked Hampton if the hidden crossing could be bridged and sent the South Carolinian into the swamp to superintend the effort. Hampton was soon back at Jackson’s side.
Old Jack sat stolidly on his log, his cap far down on his nose, eyes shut. He was motionless until Hampton completed his report, which was to the effect that the crossing was ready, a bridge was built, and guns could be passed over it. Further, the enemy did not seem to suspect the immediate presence of a Confederate assault column.
Jackson then astonished Hampton. He rose and walked away. There was no word of thanks, commendation or approval, and no orders. Hampton was left to wonder at the unusual behavior of the Valley conqueror.
From the south, across the swamp, now came a heavy volume of cannon fire. Jackson could not know it, but these were the guns of Longstreet and A. P. Hill, whose divisions fought McClellan’s army alone. Lee had been forced to throw them into an unequal fight to prevent the enemy’s unchallenged parade to the safety of the James. The furious firing was the herald of great slaughter, for the outnumbered Confederate brigades were dashing in gallant, futile charges against Federal cannon at Frayser’s Farm. Jackson’s was but one of the missing parts of the un-co-ordinated army this afternoon; about fifty thousand Confederate troops lay idle in the swamplands while the deadly little battle wore on.
Jackson’s guns now began to slow. There was no sign that they were effective with their fire blasting into the deep woods, and they were drawing furious replies. The men who had been attempting to repair the bridge now gave up once and for all, announcing that they would no longer face the sniping from the timber. Jackson gave no orders, and the command remained in its place. The scene here quieted, and in the lengthening shadows supper fires began to smoke. From this bluff, the day of opportunity seemed to have been wasted, many officers thought. A number of men noted Jackson’s curious inactivity.
Douglas, though he could not recall “a moment when he rested,” wrote that Jackson “does not seem to have been his very self. If he had been up to the Stonewall standard that he had established in the Valley … he would have found the way to do more effective service that bloody day, and it would have been a sad one for the Army of the Potomac.”
D. H. Hill, who was near by during these hours later discovered to be so vital, wrote: “An important factor in this inaction was Jackson’s pity for his own corps, worn out by long and exhausting marches and reduced in numbers by its numerous sanguinary battles. He thought that the garrison of Richmond ought to now bear the brunt of the fighting.”
There was camp gossip, dating from this afternoon, that Jackson had expressed himself in this vein, saying that he did not intend that his men should do all the fighting; but there was no more than gossip, and the attitude was by no means characteristic in Jackson.
Colonel William Allan, chief of Jackson’s ordnance, though he defended his chief, thought Old Jack might have done more today: “Jackson, ignorant of the country, had in the swamp and Franklin’s veterans substantial causes of delay, but they were not such obstacles as usually held Jackson in check. Vigorous demonstrations at the fords, above and below, as well as at White Oak Swamp Bridge, would probably have secured a crossing at one point or another, and the tremendous prize at stake was such to justify any efforts.”
In any event, Jackson failed to storm the position, or even to try with his usual vigor; he had scouted conditions in the area, but not thoroughly; he had been in touch with near-by commanders but did not respond to the opportunities they presented. He had, as Hampton and others were to report, been asleep, or nearly so, in crucial hours of the afternoon.
A long furore was to rage over the Jackson of these hot, cannon-shaken hours at the edge of the White Oak Swamp, and critics were to become virtual scholars in the lore and gossip of Jackson’s command. The day was to be known as the low point in Jackson’s military career, though no one was to be able to present a thorough and authentic explanation of the General’s behavior during these hours. It was to be said that he was insane, that he was engaged in fanatic prayer, that he was sulking under Lee’s command, that he was husbanding the lives of his men, and that he was simply exhausted. There were bountiful physical factors to account for the performance, in the combination of lost sleep, poor food, possible fever, all at a time when Jackson was expected to direct the largest force he had ever commanded in a strange and difficult country. This week, moreover, saw the army fail in one test of command after another, with errors on the part of officers from Lee downward. Jackson’s role of today could have become of overwhelming importance only to veterans of a beaten army who looked back on lost chances of victory.
Eight months later, Stonewall was to write a calm report of the action and his role, in words giving no hint of regret or failure. He seemed to feel that no detailed explanation was necessary, considering the skill and tenacity of the enemy: “A heavy cannonading in front announced the engagement of General Longstreet at Frazier’s Farm, and made me eager to press forward; but the marshy character of the soil, the destruction of the bridge over the marsh and creek, and the strong position of the enemy for defending the passage, prevented my advancing until the following morning.”
As darkness closed in, Jackson sat with some of his staff at a campfire. The Reverend Dabney watched him closely as he ate. Jackson fell asleep with a bit of biscuit between his teeth.
He suddenly roused and looked about. “Gentlemen, let us get to bed, and rise early, and see if tomorrow we can’t do something.”
As if he were conscious that the day had been a failure, but that the blame lay with someone else, and not with him. On that note the sound of cannon fire died across the swamp, and Jackson’s camp fell silent amid the rising sounds of frogs and insects in the watery wilderness. Jackson slept.
14
SEVEN BLOODY DAYS AT AN END
Jackson was once more out early, on July first, moving with such alacrity as to suggest that yesterday had been only a nightmare. He ordered stragglers rounded up and put into action. Ewell’s troops, who had joined late yesterday, now became the rear guard. The enemy had left the bridge crossing of the swamp, and the Valley army pushed on.
It was not an easy march. Water was scarce, for one thing; the retreating enemy had thrown medicines into the wells and springs to save them from Confederate hands, and the water could not be drunk. There were plentiful spoils to be gathered, however.
Jackson’s division went into the front of the entire army, once it had crossed the swamp. Before daybreak it made contact with the main force of Lee’s army, Magruder’s troops, who had come up late l
ast night to relieve the worn regiments of Longstreet and A. P. Hill. The army pulled together in the early morning. Even General Huger advanced, finding his road now clear. The general officers sought Lee. On the Long Bridge Road, Lee met with Magruder, Longstreet and A. P. Hill. Some thought the commander had a wan look, and that the bitter disappointment of yesterday was in his face. Lee was calm and deferential in manner, however, as he spoke of the battle at Frayser’s Farm, and gave his orders for the day.
While these officers conferred, Jackson arrived at Willis Church, not far away. He had been active. Lee talked with a prisoner sent by Old Jack, a Federal surgeon taken at the Savage’s Station hospital, Dr. N. F. Marsh. This doctor asked for medicines and care for his wounded men. Lee offered all the help possible and began his efforts to have the wounded prisoners exchanged, a policy which was to endure for most of the war. Longstreet seized the occasion for espionage. He questioned Marsh as to the identity of Federal regiments the army had faced, but the doctor said he knew only General McCall’s division, to which he belonged. This general had been captured, and Longstreet, in his usual heavy fashion, bespoke his confidence for the day with:
“McCall is safe in Richmond; but if his division had not fought so stubbornly on this road, we would have captured your whole army. Never mind—we will do it yet.”
No other officers expressed such optimism. Lee, in fact, was dubious that he would be able even to direct affairs that day, because he was so weary that he could scarcely ride. He asked Longstreet to remain at his side so that the latter might take command of the army if the need arose. Lee and Longstreet now rode to Willis Church, where they met D. H. Hill, who was pessimistic indeed.
Hill told them that a chaplain from his division, the Reverend L. W. Allen, a native of this neighborhood, had given a doleful warning of the low bluff known as Malvern Hill, which rose, a mile and a half long and half a mile wide, in the swamp country near the banks of the James.
“If McClellan is there in strength, we had better let him alone,” Hill said.
Longstreet made another of his weighty jokes. “Don’t get scared, now that we have got him whipped.”
Lee did not enter this discussion, but he gave orders for an immediate push forward. Jackson, since his column was already in the road near the church, was to lead the chase of the enemy. Lee already had evidence that Stonewall was in an active mood today. Magruder had talked with Jackson and had offered to put his own men in front. Jackson had refused, saying that the Valley troops were fresher.
At about noon, D. H. Hill saw Jackson at hard labor: “Some time was spent in reconnoitering.… I saw Jackson helping with his own hands to push Reilly’s North Carolina battery farther forward. It was soon disabled, the woods around us being filled with shrieking and exploding shells.”
Lee was in an unusually tense mood. When General Jubal A. Early asked the commander for orders and expressed his anxiety that McClellan might escape, Lee snapped, “Yes! He will get away because I cannot have my orders carried out!”
Lee followed Jackson’s path to the front, where he found confusion once more threatening his plans. His position before Malvern Hill was by no means ideal; it had to lie along a marshy, jungle-grown creek called Western Run, which crossed the road and wound into deep woodlands. There was one map in the army with a reasonably accurate representation of this neighborhood, and Lee had that. General Magruder was already lost and out of position, and it took time to move him into his proper place. Meanwhile the enemy casually shelled the gathering Confederate horde.
Jackson had a close call from a shell, which he treated with indifference. Kyd Douglas watched him: “Nearly a mile in the rear of his line … sitting on the roadside with his back against a tree, writing a note … a shell from a Parrott gun struck the column in front of us and exploded. Five or six men were killed or wounded, and dust was thrown over the General and his paper. Without raising his head he shook the paper to relieve it and proceeded with his note.… When the message was finished and folded he rose, gave explicit instructions that the dead be carried out of sight and the wounded cared for, and rode off to the front.”
Jackson soon met Lee and Ewell, and the generals talked, with their staffs about them, as firing increased. An officer galloped up to report artillery being ruined by Federal fire. Jackson turned to ride away, but Lee protested.
“Colonel Crutchfield is there. He will know what to do.”
Jackson rode off as if he heard nothing, Pendleton and Douglas at his side, directly into the path of Union cannon fire. One shell bounced near by and howled over their heads, another whizzed between Jackson and Pendleton, and a third burst so near as to scatter dirt over Jackson and Sorrel. The horse went to his haunches in fright, and Jackson impatiently lifted him. At that moment a staff officer arrived from Lee with an order: “General Lee presents his compliments and directs that you return at once.” Jackson galloped from the exposed position.
Officers studied the Federal lines with care; they seemed all but unassailable. The crest of the hill was some 150 feet above the lowlands, and here McClellan had ranged his artillery in masses. Skirmishers held the foot of the slope, with the winding stream and thick woodlands adding protection. The Union infantry lay near the guns, regiment on regiment. Storming up the hill would be murderous, since men would be forced to climb slowly through fields of wheat, in sight of the guns. A millpond covered the right flank, and the artillery the left, from a position over a broad meadow. The enemy had seldom chosen so superb a position.
Lee sent Longstreet to examine the left, with an eye to developing an attack from that direction. Old Pete returned with the suggestion that Lee bring up all available guns—at least one hundred—and drive off the enemy artillery by firing at it from slight angles. An infantry assault could follow. Jackson disagreed with Longstreet. A frontal assault would be too costly, even with such precautions, he said. Why not a flank attack by the right?
Lee rode toward the ground Jackson indicated, but for some reason did not trouble to make a close study of it. The commander took a brief look and reached a decision: He would follow Longstreet’s suggestion. The orders went out. Guns were to be brought up quickly to the highest available ground, so that they could reach the enemy batteries. This meant cutting roads through woods, and that work was begun. Few guns appeared, however. D. H. Hill’s artillerymen had run out of ammunition, and their guns had been left behind White Oak Swamp. Lee’s chief of heavy ordnance, General W. N. Pendleton, was expected to bring up the reserve guns, but he was astray today, aimlessly searching for Lee. And Jackson’s artilleryman, Colonel Crutchfield, was ill; this was unknown at headquarters.
Three Confederate guns soon opened on the enemy—and were broken to pieces by the blazing Union line. Lee’s guns were opened one or two at a time before others were ready to support; McClellan’s gunners thus blasted them almost at their leisure. Lee had to watch much of this in futile wrath, for thick growth on the front prevented instant control. Once, in midafternoon, he counted a scant twenty guns challenging the entire line of the enemy. He fumed, for he had already sent this order: “Batteries have been established to rake the enemy’s line. If it is broken, as is probable, Armistead, who can witness the effect of the fire, has been ordered to charge with a yell.”
It was as clear to Lee as to the apprehensive infantrymen in the waiting lines that the cannonade might not last the afternoon, much less break the Federal line. There was little hope that the brigade led by Armistead would show the way to victory.
Lee made an effort to improve things. He once more turned to thoughts of flank attack, and at about three o’clock rode far out to Jackson’s left with Longstreet. He found a way to strike the enemy in this quarter, and was debating how he could best bring up the reserve troops, when he had messages from the front which canceled those plans. The messages later proved to be confused and erroneous. They indicated that the enemy was falling back, and that the leading brigade under Armistead was push
ing forward. Magruder, in particular, was now in a position to smash the enemy line. On strength of this news, Lee gave orders to carry out the original plan of attack.
Magruder’s men trotted into the open. Their nervous general had planned to launch fifteen thousand in this attack, but only one thousand came forth. Even these men were delayed by Magruder’s insistence upon making a speech to them. They went into close musket range of the Federals, just four hundred yards from the big guns. The lines were badly mangled. Reinforcements came up, but no more than five thousand were in the attack in this sector, attempting to storm a farmhouse on the forbidding hill. The attack was not a success. There was worse to come.
D. H. Hill, from his post near the center, had watched developments on either hand and had concluded that the day would pass without an attack. There would be the six or eight hours of lying under artillery fire, but nothing more punishing, for he believed that the slope could not be stormed.
When he heard Magruder’s firing, however, Hill assumed that this was the signal Lee had provided, and ordered his officers, “That must be the general advance! Bring up your brigades as soon as possible and join it.”
This was the beginning of wholesale slaughter. For though it was already nearing 7 P.M., and shadows were on the slope, there was yet time on this terrible hillside to wreck a division.
Most of the storming regiments were North Carolinians who went upward without hesitation. Hill was to write: “The courage of the soldiers was sublime.” On the open hill, however, there was only death. The enemy gunners redoubled their fire. In the storm of shell the finest regiments fell apart. One brigade, under General Garland, went halfway up the hill and was forced to lie down and await support. Colonel J. B. Gordon took a brigade to within two hundred yards of the crest. All over the hill were halted troops; hundreds were falling, especially officers and color-bearers. There was little artillery support. In the confusion of this massacre, and the drifting of other regiments over the field, Hill called on Jackson for reinforcements.
They Called Him Stonewall Page 26
