On September sixth, however, Jackson was trapped. Douglas witnessed his discomfort: “In the afternoon the General was called to General Lee’s tent. En route he met an open carriage containing two bright Baltimore girls, who at sight of him sprang from the carriage, rushed up to him, one took his hand, the other threw her arms about him, and talked with the wildest enthusiasm, both at the same time, until he seemed simply miserable. In a minute or two … they were driven away happy and delighted; he stood for a moment cap in hand, bowing, speechless, paralyzed.”
Jackson had missed church attendance of late, and on Sunday night, September seventh, he asked Douglas and young Joe Morrison to go into Frederick with him for worship. The General would not leave until he had gone through the formality of having a pass issued for them. Jackson rode in his ambulance, and the young officers on horseback. They went to the German Reformed Church, in the absence of a Presbyterian service.
Jackson sat quietly, and before the minister, a Reverend Zacharias, had more than opened his sermon, the General was fast asleep, chin on chest, and his cap fallen to the floor. He slept through most of the service, even while the pastor offered a daring prayer for the President of the United States, and members of the congregation stole looks at Stonewall. He roused only at the sound of the organ and the raising of a hymn.
Back in his camp, Jackson was obliged to carry on army business despite the Sabbath. He replied to Powell Hill, who had asked for a copy of the charges to be placed against him. Jackson gave him no satisfaction, saying that a copy would be sent to him if his case became the subject of a court-martial. In the meantime, the fretting General Hill was to remain with his men, uncertain as to when, where, or whether he might be given a trial; or on what charges he would be tried.
On Monday morning, disappointed at the absence of Enoch L. Lowe, a former Governor of Maryland who was expected to come and urge his people to join the Confederates, Lee released a proclamation to the people of the state. After damning the Federals for “suppression” of Maryland, the document explained that the Confederate army had come to free the state from domination and to restore its rights. The paper ended:
This, citizens of Maryland, is our mission, so far as you are concerned. No constraint upon your free will is intended; no intimidation will be allowed within the limits of this army, at least. Marylanders shall once more enjoy their ancient freedom of thought and speech. We know no enemies among you, and will protect all, of every opinion. It is for you to decide your destiny freely and without constraint. This army will respect your choice, whatever it may be; and while the Southern people will rejoice to welcome you to your natural position among them, they will only welcome you when you come of your own free will.
Many men of the army abandoned themselves to a holiday about Frederick, with resulting incidents that were to live long in memories. Stuart and von Borcke and the young officers of the cavalry staged a ball at the village of Urbana, outside Frederick, decorating their hall with the shell-torn regimental colors, dancing to music from a battle-tested regimental band. This occasion was interrupted by a raid from Federal cavalry, and the young women of the neighborhood who had gathered were forced to wait for an hour or so until, after midnight, the warriors returned.
One affair in Frederick brought Jackson a bit of anxiety. He had a report that some of his “foreign” troops, while in a store of the town, had insulted some Maryland women. Jackson instantly thought that the culprits must be men from Louisiana, and he ordered General Starke to parade his entire command through the Frederick streets, so that the guilty men might be identified. Starke rebelled. He had not only kept his men under rigid discipline, he said, but he had also arrested some officers for failure to enforce it. Starke would march his men through the town only if all other troops which might be guilty were ordered to do likewise. Jackson put him under arrest.
The crisis was passed with the discovery that the men involved came from another command. Starke’s men enjoyed the report that they were soldiers of Jackson’s own old brigade.
Here Jackson added to his staff a corporal who had lately been a Presbyterian ministerial student: James Power Smith, an aide who was to remain with him to the end. Smith, astonished at his call from Jackson, blushingly withstood inspection by civilian visitors to Jackson’s tent, and entered, expecting to be disciplined for some indiscretion:
“In a few minutes the General came in, and seating himself on the wooden stool brought from the mess hall of the Virginia Military Institute, he leaned his elbow on the little camp table with his face in his hands.… ‘I have merely sent for you to ask whether you would accept the position of aide-de-camp on my staff.’ It was like a clap of thunder from a clear sky. If he had said that I … was to be a major general, I could not have been more surprised.”
Smith soon reported for duty with a fine new mare, who, in high spirits, promptly kicked Jackson on the foot. “To the end of our life together,” Smith recalled, “he thought I rode a kicking horse, and invariably pulled away from me when I rode up to him.”
Smith’s mates of the Rockbridge Artillery scoffed when he told his news, but when they were convinced, he was carried around camp on their shoulders until a captain threatened “the whole lot, aide-de-camp and all, would be sent to the guard house.”
These diversions came to an end on September ninth, for then Lee called Jackson into his tent and began to unfold further plans of the invasion. There was one last precaution Lee must take before sweeping farther north. He must make the rear secure by wiping out the Federal garrisons at Harpers Ferry and Martinsburg, along the Potomac. Lee would take the main army west of Hagerstown, Maryland, and wait for the outposts to be taken.
Lee told Jackson that the outposts should be captured, as well as the towns seized, and that made the problem delicate and complex. He meant that three forces should be sent against Harpers Ferry: Jackson with his whole division would come against the town from the south. Lafayette McLaws and R. H. Anderson, with brigades from Longstreet’s division, would work over rough Maryland countryside to take Maryland Heights, which overlooked Harpers Ferry from the north bank of the Potomac. And General John G. Walker, whose troops were fresh from Richmond, would seize Loudoun Heights, also a commanding position over the town. All these moves were essential to take both town and garrison.
It meant a serious division of Lee’s strength in the face of the enemy, a course Longstreet had opposed with all his stubborn will during the week’s discussions. The plan offered dizzying possibilities, however. If McClellan remained quiet, as Lee was positive he would, then the army could divide for this maneuver, clear the Virginia border and concentrate once more about Hagerstown. That would place Harrisburg, the Pennsylvania capital, about seventy miles away. Even the greatest Northern cities would be in striking distance. Lee could interrupt the flow of men and supplies from the great Midwest.
While Lee and Jackson talked in the commander’s tent, Longstreet approached. He was on the point of leaving when he found Lee in consultation, but his heavy voice was recognized, and he was invited to join the conversation. He was unalterably opposed to the plan, and when Lee continued to expound it, Longstreet sat sulkily. He argued for the dispatch of the entire army to Harpers Ferry, a more laborious course, but one which would not involve the classic blunder of dividing force in the front of the enemy.
Lee was in no mood to heed Longstreet’s advice of caution. He outlined the orders and promised written copies for the general officers. Longstreet and Jackson left and other officers involved were called by aides. General Walker soon sat before Lee; and as the plan was explained, with the aid of a map, Walker sat open-mouthed. Lee traced the proposed route down to the Potomac, and smiled at Walker’s stare.
“You doubtless regard it hazardous to leave McClellan on my line of communication, and to march into the heart of the enemy’s country?”
Walker nodded.
“Are you acquainted with General McClellan? He is an able gene
ral, but a very cautious one. His enemies among his own people think him too much so. His army is in a very demoralized and chaotic condition, and will not be ready for offensive operations—or he will not think it so—for three or four weeks. Before that time I hope to be on the Susquehanna.”
The orders were soon prepared. Colonel R. H. Chilton, a West Pointer on Lee’s staff, was entrusted with the handling of the papers. He made a copy for each of the general officers involved. The orders were complete and concise, outlining the entire plan of operation, and including routes to be followed by each segment of the divided army. The move was to begin in the morning.
Jackson got his copy of the order during the evening, marked “Confidential. Special Order 191.” He read it carefully. Jackson determined to send D. H. Hill a copy of this order since Hill had briefly, and technically, come under Jackson’s command as the army crossed the river. Under this order, Hill was to march with Longstreet.
Jackson copied the order in his own remarkable handwriting. It went to Hill’s headquarters, where it was read. Some officer on Hill’s staff—it could not be determined just which officer—concluded that the copy of this order previously received from Lee was now of no value, and could be thrown away. He wrapped it about three cigars, and thoughtlessly thrust the package into his pocket.
Unaware of the adventures of the two flimsy sheets of paper which were to play so fateful a role in this campaign of invasion, Jackson began the movement as scheduled, on Wednesday, September tenth. He made a rather amateurish effort at deceiving the enemy as he trotted through the Frederick streets. In the hearing of a number of townspeople, he asked in a loud voice for a map of Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. He also stopped passers-by to ask information on roads leading northward—whereas his route lay along the Potomac, crossing to the southern side, approaching Martinsburg, and then taking Harpers Ferry from the rear.
One last visit was made by Jackson in Frederick, at the home of a Dr. Ross, the Presbyterian minister. Jackson found the pastor still abed and left a note with a servant, refusing to disturb the minister. The command then trailed out of town. Kyd Douglas noted with emphasis that the route did not pass the house of elderly Barbara Frietchie, who was an invalid of ninety-six, and in no condition to be justly included in a Whittier poem.
The road lay west through Middletown, a farm village lying in a broad valley of unsurpassed beauty, and here Jackson found the Union spirit untrammeled. Two pretty girls decked in red, white and blue ribbons stood at the roadside, waving United States flags. The girls laughed at the General, and as he lifted his cap to them, they flapped their colors under his nose. “We evidently have no friends in this town,” Old Jack said to his staff. Douglas recorded that the girls blushed and retreated.
On September eleventh, hurrying on, Jackson made a thrust at Martinsburg, but the garrison escaped to Harpers Ferry. Old Jack stopped at the Everett House, a hotel in Martinsburg, and the public besieged him. A crowd gathered, but Jackson, pleading the call of duty, fell back before them. He said he must get off dispatches to General Lee. He went to work behind locked doors and shuttered windows.
Men, women and children pecked at the windows, shouting for Jackson. Some hung about his horse, which they thought to be Sorrel and not simply a temporary mount; before a sentinel intervened, the crowd had plucked handfuls of hair from the animal’s mane and tail, for the making of bracelets and other souvenirs.
Someone soon forced a window open. Roses were flung in at Jackson. The General gave up with a gruff, pleased, “Now admit the ladies.”
They came in a rush, taking his hands, chattering happily at him. Small boys asked to join his ranks, little girls asked furloughs for their fathers. One girl asked for a button from his coat, and he cut off one for her. As if that were a signal to dismember him, the crowd lunged forward. Buttons disappeared from his coat, even at the rear, where boys stripped them from his coattails. Jackson smiled and stammered, at a complete loss, “Thank you, thank you.” He went through a few moments of autographing when the buttons were gone. He signed a book for a young girl and then, since the besiegers lacked paper, he had foolscap brought, and scrawled over and over the all-but-illegible “T. J. Jackson.” A woman begged for a lock of hair, and the General, passing a quick hand over his thin locks, took alarm. He brought the interview to an end, and officers moved the crowd from the building.
At noon he disappeared for an hour or so, and his staff could not find him. The officers thought he was visiting on a back street of the town, eating lunch with a “plain old man and his wife” who had a son marching in his old brigade.
Early on the next day, September thirteenth, destined to be a day of misfortune for Lee and the army, Jackson moved toward Harpers Ferry. Before noon his vanguard looked down on the town. There was no sign of McLaws or Walker across the river. Jackson went into camp.
On this day, too, Powell Hill saw the approach of battle and could no longer contain himself. Impatient to be removed from arrest, he asked Douglas to intercede for him with Jackson. Hill said only that he wanted no other man to command his troops in action; he offered no apologies.
It was surprisingly simple. Jackson listened as Douglas spoke of Hill’s desire to fight and sent him instantly to order Hill to active command. General Branch was notified of the change; and the red-haired Hill, stubborn and able in battle, and Jackson’s lone experienced division commander, was once more ready for action. Jackson’s righteous anger at a breach of discipline could not overcome his respect for a sturdy fighter. The commander had succumbed to Hill’s plea without even a comment.
Jackson was not ready to storm Harpers Ferry, for all the forces were late. The surrounding hills were bare of troops, and old Jack’s signal officers got no response to their insistent flagging. The General spread his men and took precautions to prevent the garrison’s escape. He waited.
Back in Frederick, on this day, the slow advance of the Federal army arrived, skirmishers leading the vast force of almost ninety thousand men. McClellan was creeping now, precisely as Lee had calculated when he dared to order the division of the Confederate army. The Federals were concentrating, drawing in more supplies, asking reinforcements, taking measured steps of caution.
At noon, the men of the Twelfth Army Corps appeared in Frederick, among them the Twenty-seventh Indiana Volunteers. The soldiers halted in a grove near the village, broke ranks and stacked their arms. On this site, so recently, the Confederate troops of D. H. Hill had camped. There was still the gamy odor of their rags and their crude facilities.
In Company F of the Twenty-seventh Indiana, Private B. W. Mitchell stacked his gun with others and stooped to take from the ground three cigars, encased in a wrapper of heavy paper. He was attracted by the writing on this paper: “Confidential.” It was addressed from the Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia, and dated September ninth. It seemed to be an order for marching, and was undoubtedly Rebel.
Mitchell called to his sergeant, John M. Bloss. The sergeant read the names of Longstreet, Jackson, McLaws and Walker, and the signature itself: “By command of Gen’l. R. E. Lee, R. H. Chilton, A. A. Gen’l.” Perhaps Bloss appropriated the cigars; he took Mitchell and his paper to their commander, General Silas Cosgrove. The General in turn sent it to his commander, General A. S. Williams.
In the headquarters of Williams was Colonel Samuel Pittman, an Old Army man who had served with Chilton of Lee’s staff. Pittman instantly recognized the handwriting. The document was genuine. It went upward to McClellan’s headquarters.
The small man who found pleasure in likening himself to Napoleon must have reached the climax of his career as he grinned over the lost order. He accepted it as authentic, for within an hour his military personality was transformed. He had the army driving forward, as if he knew precisely what moves should be made and would brook no delay. It was a new McClellan who moved to the chase.
The order spared none of Lee’s secrets. It read, in part:
The army wil
l resume its march tomorrow, taking the Hagerstown Road. Gen’l. Jackson’s command will form the advance, and after passing Middletown with such portions as he may select, take the route toward Sharpsburg, cross the Potomac at the most convenient point, and by Friday morning take possession of the B.&O.R.R., capture such of the enemy as may be at Martinsburg and intercept such as may attempt to escape from Harpers Ferry.
Gen’l Longstreet’s command will pursue the main road as far as Boonsboro, where it will halt with reserve supply and baggage wagons of this army.
The order was even more specific about the moves of General McLaws, General Anderson and General Walker. McClellan, tracing the marching order of the Confederates on his map, could envision the supreme opportunity to destroy Lee. The Confederates could not conceivably pull together the isolated columns before he was among them. McClellan wrote to Lincoln:
“Here is a paper with which, if I cannot whip Bobbie Lee I will be willing to go home.”
He was to have in answer to his trumpeting of confidence only the sober reply from Lincoln:
“Destroy the Rebel army if possible.”
It appeared that McClellan would do just that. His cavalry bobbed up where Lee had least expected it. And to the west, where D. H. Hill’s troops lay along South Mountain, anticipating nothing more adventurous than skirmishing, there rolled a crashing prelude to battle. From Turner’s Gap, Hill’s men saw thousands of campfires and knew that they faced the Federal army, and not simply a couple of cavalry brigades.
Lee puzzled over the new aggressiveness and the startlingly perceptive moves of McClellan, but did not allow this to deter action to save his army. Hill was ordered to hold South Mountain as long as possible, with the aid of Stuart, who was covering the passes. More than that, Lee sent backward the heavy column of Longstreet for rear-guard action. Until the three columns of assault returned from Harpers Ferry, McClellan must be held off.
They Called Him Stonewall Page 34
