“I am not sufficiently advanced to give an opinion. We are busy. Will tell you all as soon as I can, and will have it satisfactory.”
Hooker was entertaining guests at a review on this day, ministers from Sweden and Prussia, as well as a clutch of Washington politicians and officials.
By April thirtieth, Lee was positive that Hooker’s main assault would come from upstream, and he began to shift some of his regiments away from the Fredericksburg area. Fog hung heavily in rear of the lines of the left. In that direction lay a vast entangled forest of black jack oaks and stunted scrub called the Wilderness. Through this unlovely country ran one good road, the Plank Road, running west from Fredericksburg and entering the Wilderness at a place called Salem Church. This highway divided in the scrub, joined again at a point some ten miles from Fredericksburg, only to separate once more. The one road thus afforded a network of trails in the Wilderness, with one of the chief junctions at the place known as Chancellorsville, which was marked by a single brick house in a clearing of about one hundred acres.
Lee and Jackson were fully aware of this country, but on April thirtieth still had to give their attention to the banks of the Rappahannock, near the old Fredericksburg battlefield. Here the Federal guns on the opposite hills commanded the bottom lands and made it dangerous to launch an attack on the enemy regiments which had already crossed to the south side. The two commanders studied the terrain with care, discussing the possibility of assault, and Lee said, “I will give orders for it, if you think it can be done.”
Jackson rode out to make a further inspection, moving slowly through a sifting rain, studying the big guns. He at last concluded with regret that it would be unwise to attack here on the river. He asked Lee what remained to be done.
Lee referred him to the map, and ran a finger over the darkened area of the Spotsylvania Wilderness. He was convinced, Lee said, that Hooker would push his columns through this country to hit at the Confederate left. He gave Jackson orders to move in that direction on the following morning—Friday, May first.
With him, Jackson was to take General McLaws with the three brigades Longstreet had left behind. Early’s division, with a bit of support from Mississippi troops and some good artillery, would hold the river front. Jackson must get into the Wilderness and meet Hooker’s advance. The army must not fight here against the river bank.
Jackson was not surprised. He had already had Hotchkiss make detailed maps of the region which included the Wilderness, and for himself had made a copy extending the ground far to the west so that he would have wide room for maneuvering.
Just after midnight of May first, Jackson got into his new uniform and passed orders to put the troops in motion. When a warm, soft day came, the corps was well on its way to the Plank Road, where it was to turn to the west. General Rodes and his men led, with A. P. Hill and Trimble’s old division, under General Colston, in their rear. It was a tiny force to throw into the path of Hooker, who was driving through the scrublands, but at about 8 A.M. Jackson settled his men near Chancellorsville, around the lines of a jaunty vanguard commanded by General R. H. Anderson. There were reports that the woods out front were acrawl with the enemy.
Reports of the enemy’s approach increased, and men in the shallow trenches of the front line became anxious. One of them asked General Anderson what they would do in the face of so many Yankees. “Fight,” Anderson snapped. “General Lee says so.”
By the time Jackson reached the scene, McLaws and his men were also in line, and six brigades faced the enemy. Jackson robbed the men of even this comfort, for he got them up and marched forward. One column moved over the section of the road known as the Old Turnpike toward the Chancellorsville clearing, and the other moved on the Plank Road toward the same objective. The bulk of Jackson’s corps, when it came up, would follow the second column.
Old Jack began the forward push at 11 A.M.; and had taken no more than a few steps when Yankee scouts noted his move. At eleven twenty the first gun of the battle of Chancellorsville sounded, and a gray shellburst hung over the tangled scrub. Jackson was riding with the southernmost wing on the Plank Road. To his right, he heard, McLaws had been caught up in a musket fight. Jackson’s front also met the enemy. A battle was building up.
McLaws sent a brief message: He was faced by vast numbers of the enemy. He was waiting far short of the Chancellorsville clearing. A flank attack, McLaws thought, might be launched from the Plank Road. The Federals were alert on each road. Jackson was making plans to blast his way through with artillery, when he opened a dispatch from Stuart:
“General: I am on a road running from Spotsylvania C.H. to Silvers, which is on Plank Road three miles below Chancellorsville.… I will close in on the flank and help all I can when the ball opens.… May God grant us victory.”
Jackson scratched a reply on the back of the dispatch: “I trust that God will grant us a great victory. Keep closed on Chancellorsville.”
Old Jack had completed his note when Lee came up and assumed charge of the ground; he explained to Jackson that he had left Early on the river to hold off the Federals in the rear. Lee listened as Jackson described the situation in the forest. The enemy, Stonewall said, had seemed timid. In case it was needed, a flank movement could be made to the south, where the ground favored it. Lee went out of sight to reconnoiter, leaving Jackson to direct affairs.
At about 4 P.M., after hours of minor skirmishing, Jackson rode to Catharine Furnace—an old ironworks—and here met Jeb Stuart.
These two came under artillery fire when they went to a knoll to study the country, and could learn little of what lay to the west of them. Jackson rode back and forth along his line; and after a time, when the forward push halted, he went up to a South Carolina regiment in the vanguard. A shrewd line officer, Captain Alex Haskell, greeted Jackson.
“What is it, Captain Haskell?”
“Ride up here, General, and you will see it all.”
Jackson and A. P. Hill and their staffs rode with Haskell a short distance to a point from which they had a view rare in this country, a clear look over miles of the stunted growth, to Chancellorsville itself. The triple lines of the enemy were in plain sight. The position of Hooker was based on earthworks and would be difficult to storm, perhaps impossible.
For the first time, it was clear that Hooker had been brought to a stand. From this point there would be serious fighting. Lee’s force of 60,000 must find some means of reducing the odds held by Hooker’s 130,000.
Jackson’s somewhat distracted manner as he watched the enemy hinted that he was groping for the solution. He studied the Federals for a long time, as if he were not satisfied with what he saw.
He turned to Haskell: “Hold this ground until 9 o’clock tonight. You will be relieved.” He then entrusted the young officer with the passwords for the night, which were “Liberty” and “Independence.” Jackson went in search of Lee, whom he found in a stand of scrubby pine. It was near dark when the officers turned their horses out of the Plank Road and went under the trees to escape the fire of an enemy sharpshooter. Lee dismounted and sat on a log, beckoning Jackson.
Lee asked for a report on the left of the line. Jackson described the timorous action of the Federals throughout the afternoon and then told Lee of the fortified line in which the Federals now lay. Old Jack expressed the positive opinion that Hooker was making some kind of feint, or that his plans had miscarried. “None of them will be on this side of the river tomorrow,” he said.
Staff officers watched Lee’s firm shake of the head. “I hope you may be right,” Lee said. “But I believe Hooker will deliver his main attack here. He would not have gone to such lengths and then give up without effort.”
Jackson said once more, quietly, that he thought the enemy would fall back and cross the Rappahannock to the north bank.
Lee turned to a canvass of the possible means of attack for tomorrow. The thick tangle on the right prevented a move in that direction. Perhaps the troops should be hurled straight
ahead, despite the forbidding Union rifle pits. Lee suggested a careful study of the front, and picked Colonel T. M. R. Talcott from his staff; Jackson sent Boswell with him. The two engineers left the commanders in the grove and went forward on foot, in the light of a rising moon. One of their first sights was unforgettable, the whitened face of a dead Confederate picket whose body hung on a fence.
Lee and Jackson and the other officers waited, becoming chilled. Lee asked Jackson detailed questions about the chances of a flank attack by the left. Jackson could tell him little about the roads, except that he had seen them briefly from his hill in the late afternoon. He could not be sure how good they were, nor how wide, nor whether they would hide a force from the enemy.
There was a stir in the roadway as they talked, and Jeb Stuart reported: Fitz Lee and his troopers had found an uncovered Federal flank in the woodland. Stuart said his men had been able to come quite near the enemy because Hooker had sent his cavalry on a raid to the south. The unprotected flank could be approached from the Confederate left, if suitable roads could be found.
Lee asked Stuart about the roads, and the cavalry chief was soon riding away to make an investigation. He had been gone but a short while when Talcott and Boswell returned, and they confirmed all that Jackson had said of the Yankee line in the front. It seemed impregnable. An attack there would be ill-advised. Enemy troops were still digging tonight, and the thick trees in the front would prevent artillery fire against the entrenchments.
By the light of a lantern, Lee studied his map, and the conversation became more animated. Officers crowded closer. The generals were in agreement that the enemy must be attacked as soon as possible. Lee was thinking aloud, asking himself how he might get at the enemy. Jackson spoke:
“You know best. Show me what to do, and I will try to do it.”
This scrap of the conversation struck Talcott as significant at the time, before it became apparent that Jackson was receiving orders for the supreme stroke of his career.
Lee had at last made up his mind. He stood and ran his finger rather vaguely over the left-hand roads on the map. The details, he said, would be left to Jackson. He would choose the exact route, launch the troops and arrange the timing of the assault Lee gave only one specific order: “Stuart will cover you with the cavalry.”
Jackson gave a quick reply, with a salute. “My troops will move at 4 o’clock.”
Lee nodded and told him to check the enemy’s position in the morning. Jackson left the place.
He halted a few hundred yards away and dismounted in the woodland with Smith and Pendleton. It was becoming colder and Jackson had neither coat nor blanket. He at first refused Pendleton’s offer of a cape, but under insistent pleas he pulled it about him and lay on the damp earth. He stirred after a brief nap and went to Pendleton, who slept against a tree. Jackson draped the cloak about the young aide and went back to his place on the ground. When Pendleton rose in the darkness of early morning, Jackson was asleep without cover. The General began to sneeze.
Old Jack went to a campfire near by and sat on a cracker box, holding his hands near the warmth. A tall figure came into the light, the Reverend Lacy, Jackson’s chief chaplain and a man thoroughly familiar with this neighborhood, where his family owned lands. Lacy had arrived late in the night and had already conferred with General Lee on the roads of the region.
Jackson invited Lacy to sit on one end of the cracker box. There was a brief interrogation:
“Is there a road over which I could hit the enemy in the flank—either flank?”
“There is nothing on the right, but you could use several roads to the left. They lead to the turnpike beyond Chancellorsville.”
Jackson gave Lacy a map and a pencil. “Draw it here for me.”
Lacy marked off a road, but one which lay near by and soon crossed into the lines of the enemy.
“That one is too near. I want to get well around behind the enemy, and without being seen. You don’t know of another road?” Jackson asked.
“There is none that I know of. But there must be some sort of trail from Catharine Furnace into the Plank Road, for moving the iron ore.”
“Who can tell us about it?”
The owner of the smelting furnace had a young son who knew the country well, a boy named Charles Wellford, Jr. He might guide officers over the flank. Jackson was excited. He aroused Jed Hotchkiss, explained the situation and sent him with Lacy to find the elder Wellford. They were to determine whether there was such a road as he needed, and whether it would pass big guns. Hotchkiss would hurry back with the news, and Lacy would find young Wellford to act as guide.
It was still dark when the two men left. Jackson was joined at the fire by Colonel Armistead Long, and the pair sat in silence until the shivering Jackson complained of the cold. Long brought him a cup of coffee from a neighboring fire. While Old Jack drank, his saber fell from its place against a tree. Long picked it up—wondering, he later said, if this were an ill omen. Jackson buckled the weapon about his waist.
Lee came. He sat by the fire on another of the numerous cracker boxes the enemy had left here recently and talked with Jackson. They speculated over whether Hooker would attack this morning and spoil their planned maneuver. Jackson told Lee of the mission of Lacy and Hotchkiss, but said little else.
Hotchkiss arrived hurriedly. There was a road on the flank, he reported. Wellford had shown him a covered route that would put the army well to the enemy’s rear.
“I have sketched it,” Hotchkiss said. “If you would like to see it.”
He drew up a cracker box between Lee and Jackson and opened his map. He traced a well-defined track: it was about twelve miles long and ran southwest from Catharine Furnace until it crossed what was known as the Brock Road. Here was a slight detour of some two thousand feet to the south to avoid a clearing, and then back into Brock Road, going north into the Plank Road. Lee and Jackson missed no detail, and Hotchkiss answered their questions with clarity. The generals were soon satisfied.
“General Jackson,” Lee asked, “what do you propose to do?”
Jackson put his finger on the route they had discussed. “Go around here,” he said in a calm voice.
Lee then turned to discuss the business of the day. “And what do you propose to make this movement with?”
Jackson did not hesitate. “With my whole corps.”
Lee’s eyes turned briefly to Old Jack’s face, and then to the map.
“And what will you leave me?”
“The divisions of Anderson and McLaws.”
In short, Jackson proposed to hurl all of his men through the Wilderness in a vast flanking attack, leaving Lee to face Hooker’s vast force with a puny line of under fifteen thousand men.
If Jackson’s audacity surprised Lee, or made him fearful of facing the enemy with the skeleton of an army, he gave no sign.
“Well, go on.”
Lee began to scratch out orders. Jackson went to prepare for the road.
Some of the troops at breakfast yelped a few cheers as he passed but soon quieted, seeing signs of trouble in Jackson’s face. It was much later than he had planned—five o’clock—when the leading company left the Plank Road and wound through the Wilderness toward the iron furnace. The order of march was: Rodes, Colston (who had the old Stonewall Brigade), and A. P. Hill. The files were long and were followed by wagon trains heavy with ammunition and by jolting ambulances.
When the march had begun, and Jackson saw the first troops well along the narrow woods track, he returned to Lee. It was their last meeting. It was 7 A.M., May second.
Jackson slowed Sorrel, and after the generals had passed brief words which no one could overhear, Jackson gave a familiar gesture. He pointed down the road and glanced at Lee from beneath his cap. Lee looked after him as he disappeared in the forest.
The day was pleasant until the sun rose high, when the men became thirsty and shrugged out of their jackets. The road was firm but soft underfoot, without being
either dusty or muddy. Progress was at first rapid. Few officers had been told what was planned. The inquisitive von Borcke wrote: “All was bustle and activity as I galloped along the lines … Jackson’s corps was marching in close columns in a direction which set us all wondering what could be his intentions, but we would as soon have thought of questioning the sagacity of our admired chief as of hesitating to follow him blindly wherever he should lead.”
The march was almost without incident. Jackson minimized one danger when he found an exposed stretch of roadway on heights near the iron furnace. His men had been seen by Federals, and a few shells dropped into the clearing. Jackson had them run over the ground here at double time and had swung aside the wagons into an even more remote woodland trail. Jackson placed a brigade here to guard his vulnerable column.
Old Jack constantly hurried his officers. Once, while riding with General Colston, Jackson pointed out that this was indeed a Virginia Military Institute caravan. Rodes and Colston had been assistant professors in Lexington, and Munford of the cavalry had been cadet adjutant. The others recalled more V.M.I. men who marched with the army: Stapleton Crutchfield, General Whiting, James Lane, of the class of 1854; and Lindsay Walker, class of 1845. There were perhaps a dozen officers of field rank who had been comrades in Lexington.
Jackson turned to thoughts of the enemy: “I hear that General Hooker has more men than he can handle. I should like to have half as many more as I have today, and I would throw him into the river.… We have always had to put all our troops in fighting line, and never had enough when we needed them most.”
The officers went on with the subdued rumbling of the column all about them. The march until noon seemed almost peaceful.
In the Federal lines there was no lack of warning. Jackson’s secret had been known almost from the start but, because of an incredible chain of circumstances, was to be disregarded until it was too late.
It remained for Hooker to misinterpret the reports of dozens of competent officers. His mood today was not at all that of the day before, when he had timidly pulled back his advance and canceled plans to attack. One of his generals, Regis de Trobriand, recalled the morning:
They Called Him Stonewall Page 43
