by Thomas Dixon
CHAPTER XVII
THE FATAL VICTORY
On the banks of the Potomac General Scott had massed against Beauregardthe most formidable army which had ever marched under the flag of theUnion. Its preparation was considered thorough, its numbers all thatcould he handled, and its artillery was the best in the world. All theregular army east of the Rockies, seasoned veterans of Indian campaigns,were joined with the immense force of volunteers from the NorthernStates--fifty full regiments of volunteers, eight companies of regularinfantry, four companies of marines, nine companies of regular cavalryand twelve batteries of artillery with forty-nine big guns.
In command of this army of invasion was General McDowell, held to be themost scientific general in the North.
To supplement Beauregard's weakness as a commanding General in case ofemergency, Joseph E. Johnston was placed at Harper's Ferry to guard theentrance of the Shenandoah Valley, secure the removal of the invaluablemachinery saved from the Arsenal, and form a junction with Beauregardthe moment he should be threatened.
The movement of General Patterson's army against Harper's Ferry had beentoo obviously a feint to deceive either Davis or Lee, his chief militaryadviser. Johnston was given ten thousand men and able assistantsincluding General Jackson.
On the tenth of July Beauregard, anxiously awaiting information of theFederal advance, received an important message from an accomplishedSouthern woman, Mrs. Rose O'Neal Greenhow. She had remained inWashington as Miss Van Lew had in Richmond, to lay her life on the altarof her country. During the administration of Buchanan she had been aleader of Washington society. She was now a widow, noted for her wealth,beauty, wit and forceful personality. Her home was the meeting place ofthe most brilliant men and women of the old regime. Buchanan was herpersonal friend, as was William H. Seward. Her niece, a granddaughter ofDolly Madison, was the wife of the Little Giant of the West, Stephen A.Douglas.
Before leaving Washington to become the Adjutant General of Beauregard'sarmy Colonel Thomas Jordan had given her the cipher code of the Southand arranged to make her house the Northern headquarters of the Southernsecret service.
Her first messenger was a girl carefully disguised as a farmer'sdaughter returning from the sale of her vegetables in the Washingtonmarket. She passed the lines without challenge and delivered her messageinto Beauregard's hands.
With quick decision Beauregard called his aide and dispatched the newsto the President at Richmond:
"I have positive information direct from Washington that the enemy will move in force across the Potomac on Manassas via Fairfax Court House and Centreville. I urge the immediate concentration of all available forces on my lines."
The Southern commander began his preparations to receive the attack.
The house on Church Hill had not been idle. Richmond swarmed withFederal spies under the skillful guidance of Socola.
General Scott knew in Washington within twenty-four hours thatBeauregard was planting his men behind the Bull Run River in a positionof great strength and that the formation of the ground was such withBull Run on his front that his dislodgment would be a tremendous task.
The advance of the Federal army was delayed--delayed until the last gunand scrap of machinery from Harper's Ferry had been safely housed inRichmond and Fayetteville and Johnston had withdrawn his army toWinchester in closer touch with Beauregard.
And still the Union army did not move. Beauregard sent a trusted scoutinto Washington to Mrs. Greenhow with a scrap of paper on which waswritten in cipher the two words:
"Trust Bearer--"
He arrived at the moment she had received the long sought information ofthe date of the army's march. She glanced at the stolid masked face ofthe messenger and hesitated a moment.
"You are a Southerner?"
Donellan smiled.
"I've spent most of my life in Washington, Madam," he said frankly. "Iwas a clerk in the Department of the Interior. I cast my fortunes withthe South."
It was enough. Her keen intuitions had scented danger in the man'smanner, his walk and personality. He was not a typical Southerner. Theofficials of the Secret Service Bureau had already given her evidence oftheir suspicions. She could not be too careful.
She seized her pen and hastily wrote in cipher:
"Order issued for McDowell to move on Manassas to-night."
She handed the tiny scrap of paper to Donellan.
"My agents will take you in a buggy with relays of horses down thePotomac to a ferry near Dumfries. You will be ferried across."
The man touched his hat.
"I'll know the way from there, Madam."
The scout delivered his message into Beauregard's hands that nightbefore eight o'clock.
At noon the next day Colonel Jordan had placed in her hands his answer:
"Yours received at eight o'clock. Let them come. We are ready. We relyupon you for precise information. Be particular as to description anddestination of forces and quantity of artillery."
She had not been idle. She was able to write a message of almost equalimportance to the one she had dispatched the day before. With quicknervous hand she wrote on another tiny scrap of paper:
"The Federal commander has ordered the Manassas railroad to be cut toprevent the junction of Johnston with Beauregard."
The moment the first authentic information reached President Davis ofthe purpose to attack Beauregard he immediately urged General Johnstonto make his preparations for the juncture of their forces.
And at once the President received confirmation of his fears of hisGeneral-in-Chief. Johnston delayed and began a correspondence ofvoluminous objections.
July 17, on receipt of the dispatch to Beauregard announcing the plan tocut the railroad, the President was forced to send Johnston a positiveorder to move his army to Manassas. The order was obeyed with ahesitation which imperiled the issue of battle. And while on the march,Beauregard's pickets exchanging shots with McDowell's skirmish line,Johnston began the first of his messages of complaint and haggling tohis Chief at Richmond. Jealous of Beauregard's popularity and fearfulof his possible insubordination, Johnston telegraphed Davis demandingthat his relative rank to Beauregard should be clearly defined beforethe juncture of their armies.
The question was utterly unnecessary. The promotion of Johnston to thefull grade of general could leave no conceivable doubt on such a point.The President realized with a sickening certainty the beginning of aquarrel between the two men, dangerous to the cause of the South. Theirfailure to act in harmony would make certain the defeat of the rawrecruits on their first field of battle.
He decided at the earliest possible moment to go in person and preventthis threatened quarrel. Already blood had flowed. With a strong columnof infantry, artillery and cavalry McDowell had attempted to force theapproaches to one of the fords of Bull Run. They were twice driven backand withdrew from the field. Longstreet's brigade had lost fifteenkilled and fifty-three wounded in holding his position.
The President hastened to telegraph his sulking general the explicitdefinition of rank he had demanded:
Richmond, July 20, 1861.
"General J. E. Johnston,
"Manassas Junction, Virginia.
"You are a General of the Confederate Army possessed of the power attached to that rank. You will know how to make the exact knowledge of Brigadier General Beauregard, as well of the ground as of the troops and preparation avail for the success of the object for which you cooeperate. The zeal of both assures me of harmonious action.
"Jefferson Davis."
As a matter of fact the President was consumed with painful anxiety lestthere should not be harmonious action if Johnston should reach thefield in time for the fight. His own presence was required by law atRichmond on July 20, for the delivery of his message to the assembledCongress. It was impossible for him to leave for the front before Sundaymorning the 21st.
The battle began at eight o'clock.
General McDowell's army had moved to this attack hounded by the clamorof demagogues for the immediate capture of Richmond by his "Grand Army."
Every Northern newspaper had dinned into his ears and the ears of animpatient public but one cry for months:
"On to Richmond!"
At last the news was spread in Washington that the army would move andbivouac in Richmond's public square within ten days. The march was to bea triumphal procession. The Washington politicians filled wagons andcarriages with champagne to celebrate the victory. Tickets were actuallyprinted and distributed for a ball in Richmond. The army was accompaniedby long lines of excited spectators to witness the one grand struggle ofthe war--Congressmen, toughs from the saloons, gaudy ladies fromquestionable resorts, a clamoring, perspiring rabble bent on witnessingscenes of blood.
The Union General's information as to Beauregard's position and army wasaccurate and full. He knew that Johnston's command of ten thousand menhad begun to arrive the day before. He did not know that half of themwere still tangled up somewhere on the railroad waiting fortransportation. Even with Johnston's entire command on the ground hisarmy outnumbered the Southerners and his divisions of seasoned veteransfrom the old army and his matchless artillery gave him an enormousadvantage.
With consummate skill he planned the battle and began its successfulexecution.
His scouts had informed him that the Southern line was weak on its leftwing resting on the Stone Bridge across the river. Here the long drawnline of Beauregard's army thinned to a single regiment supported at somedistance by a battalion. Here the skillful Union General determined tostrike.
At two-thirty before daylight his dense lines of enthusiastic men swunginto the dusty moonlit road for their movement to flank the Confederateleft.
Swiftly and silently the flower of McDowell's army, eighteen thousandpicked men, moved under the cover of the night to their chosen crossingat Sudley's Ford, two miles beyond the farthest gray picket ofBeauregard's left.
Tyler's division was halted at the Stone Bridge on which the loneregiment of Col. Evans lay beyond the stream. He was ordered to feign anattack on that point while the second and third divisions should creepcautiously along a circuitous road two miles above, cross unopposed andslip into the rear of Beauregard's long-drawn left wing, roll it up in amighty scroll of flame, join Tyler's division as it should sweep acrossthe Stone Bridge and together the three divisions in one solid masscould crush the ten-mile battle line into hopeless confusion.
The plan was skillfully and daringly conceived.
Tyler's division halted at the Stone Bridge and silently formed as thefirst glow of dawn tinged the eastern hills.
The dull red of the July sun was just coloring the sky with its flamewhen the second and third divisions crossed Bull Run at Sudley's Fordand began their swift descent upon the rear of the unsuspecting Southernarmy.
As the sun burst above the hills, a circle of white smoke suddenlycurled away from a cannon's mouth above the Stone Bridge and slowly rosein the still, clear morning air. Its sullen roar echoed over the valley.The gray figures on the hill beyond leaped to their feet and looked.Only the artillery was engaged and their shots were falling short.
The Confederates appeared indifferent. The action was too obviously afeint. Colonel Evans was holding his regiment for a clearer plan ofbattle to develop. From the hilltop on which his men lay he scanned withincreasing uneasiness the horizon toward the west. In the far distanceagainst the bright Southern sky loomed the dark outline of the BlueRidge. The heavy background brought out in vivid contrast the woods andfields, hollows and hills of the great Manassas plain in the foreground.
Suddenly he saw it--a thin cloud of dust rising in the distance. As therushing wall of sixteen thousand men emerged from the "Big Forest,"through which they had worked their way along the crooked track of ararely used road, the dust cloud flared in the sky with ominous menace.
Colonel Evans knew its meaning. Beauregard's army had been flanked andthe long thin lines of his left wing were caught in a trap. When thefirst rush of the circling host had swept his little band back from theStone Bridge Tyler's army would then cross and the three divisions swoopdown on the doomed men.
Evans suddenly swung his regiment and two field pieces into a new lineof battle facing the onrushing host and sent his courier flying toGeneral Bee to ask that his brigade be moved instantly to his support.
When the shock came there were five regiments and six little fieldpieces in the Southern ranks to meet McDowell's sixteen thousandtroops.
With deafening roar their artillery opened. The long dense lines ofclosely packed infantry began their steady firing in volleys. It soundedas if some giant hand had grasped the hot Southern skies and was tearingtheir blue canvas into strips and shreds.
For an hour Bee's brigade withstood the onslaught of the two Federaldivisions--and then began to slowly fall back before the resistless wallof fire. The Union army charged and drove the broken lines a half milebefore they rallied.
Tyler's division now swept across the Stone Bridge and the shatteredConfederate left wing was practically surrounded by overwhelming odds.Again the storm burst on the unsupported lines of Bee and drove themthree quarters of a mile before they paused.
The charging Federal army had struck something they were destined tofeel again on many a field of blood.
General T. J. Jackson had suddenly swung his brigade of five regimentsinto the breach and stopped the wave of fire.
Bee rushed to Jackson's side.
"General," he cried pathetically, "they are beating us back!"
The somber blue eyes of the Virginian gleamed beneath the heavy lashes:
"Then sir, we will give them the bayonet!"
Bee turned to his hard-pressed men and shouted:
"See Jackson and his Virginians standing like a stone wall! Let usconquer or die!"
The words had scarcely passed his lips when Bee fell, mortally wounded.
Four miles away on the top of a lonely hill sat Beauregard and Johnstonbefogged in a series of pitiable blunders.
The flanking of the Southern army was a complete and overwhelmingsurprise. Johnston, unacquainted with the ground, had yielded theexecution of the battle to his subordinate.
While the two puzzled generals were waiting on their hill top for theirorders of battle to be developed on the right they looked to the leftand the whole valley was a boiling hell of smoke and dust and flame.Their left flank had been turned and the triumphant enemy was rollingtheir long line up in a shroud of flame and death.
The two Generals put spurs to their horses and dashed to the scene ofaction, sending their couriers flying to countermand their first orders.They reached the scene at the moment Bee's and Evans' shattered lineswere taking refuge in a wooded ravine and Jackson had moved his men intoa position to breast the shock of the enemy's avalanche.
In his excitement Johnston seized the colors of the fourth Alabamaregiment and offered to lead them in a charge.
Beauregard leaped from his horse, faced the troops and shouted:
"I have come to die with you!"
The first of the reserves were rushing to the front in a desperateeffort to save the day. But in spite of the presence of the twoCommanding Generals, in spite of the living stone wall Jackson hadthrown in the path of the Union hosts, a large part of the crushed leftwing could not be stopped and in mad panic broke for the rear towardManassas Junction.
The fate of the Southern army hung on the problem of holding the hillbehind Jackson's brigade. On its bloody slopes his men crouched withrifles leveled and from them poured a steady flame into the ranks of thecharging Union columns.
Beauregard led the right wing of his newly formed battle line andJackson the center in a desperate charge. The Union ranks were piercedand driven, only to re-form instantly and hurl their assailants back totheir former position. Charge and counter-charge followed in rapid andterrible succession.
The Confederates were being slowly overwhelm
ed. The combined Uniondivisions now consisted of an enveloping battle line of twenty thousandinfantry, seven companies of cavalry and twenty-four pieces ofartillery, while behind them yet hung ten thousand reserves eager torush into action.
Beauregard's combined forces defending the hill were scarcely seventhousand men. At two o'clock the desperate Southern commander succeededin bringing up additional regiments from his right wing. Two brigades atlast were thrown into the storm center and a shout rose from thehard-pressed Confederates. Again they charged, drove the Union hostsback and captured a battery of artillery.
The hill was saved and the enemy driven across the turnpike into thewoods.
McDowell now hurried in a division of his reserves and re-formed hisbattle line for the final grand assault. Once more he demonstrated hisskill by throwing his right wing into a wide circling movement toenvelop the Confederate position on its left flank.
The scene was magnificent. As far as the eye could reach the glitteringbayonets of the Union infantry could be seen sweeping steadily throughfield and wood flanked by its cavalry. Beauregard watched the cordon ofsteel draw around his hard-pressed men and planted his regiments withdesperate determination to hurl them back.
Far off in the distance rose a new cloud of dust in the direction of theManassas railroad. At their head was lifted a flag whose folds droopedin the hot, blistering July air. They were moving directly on the rearof McDowell's circling right wing.
If they were Union reserves the day was lost.
The Southerner lifted his field glasses and watched the drooping flagnow shrouded in dust--now emerging in the blazing sun. His glasses werenot strong enough. He could not make out its colors.
Beauregard turned to Colonel Evans, whose little regiment had foughtwith sullen desperation since sunrise.
"I can't make out that flag. If it's Patterson's army from thevalley--God help us--"
"It may be Elzey and Kirby Smith's regiments," Evans replied. "They'relost somewhere along the road from Winchester."
Again Beauregard strained his eyes on the steadily advancing flag. Itwas a moment of crushing agony.
"I'm afraid it's Patterson's men. We must fall back on our lastreserve--"
He quickly lowered his glasses.
"I haven't a courier left, Colonel. You must help me--"
"Certainly, General."
"Find Johnston, and ask him to at once mass the reserves to support andprotect our retreat--"
Evans started immediately to execute the order.
"Wait!" Beauregard shouted.
His glasses were again fixed on the advancing flag. A gust of windsuddenly flung its folds into the bright Southern sky line--the Starsand Bars of the Confederacy!
"Glory to God!" the commander exclaimed. "They're our men!"
The dark face of the little General flashed with excitement as he turnedto Evans:
"Ride, Colonel--ride with all your might and order General Kirby Smithto press his command forward at double quick and strike that circlingline in the flank and rear!"
There were but two thousand in the advancing column but the moral effectof their sudden assault on the rear of the advancing victorious men,unconscious of their presence, would be tremendous. A charge at the samemoment by his entire army confronting the enemy might snatch victory outof the jaws of defeat.
Beauregard placed himself at the head of his hard-pressed front, andwaited the thrilling cry of Smith's men. At last it came, theheaven-piercing, hell-quivering, Rebel yell--the triumphant cry of theSouthern hunter in sight of his game!
Jackson, Longstreet and Early with sudden rush of tigers sprang at thethroats of the Union lines in front.
The men had scarcely gripped their guns to receive the assault when fromthe rear rose the unearthly yell of the new army swooping down on theirunprotected flank.
It was too much for the raw recruits of the North. They had marched andfought with dogged courage since two o'clock before day--without pausefor food or drink. It was now four in the afternoon and the blazing sunof July was pouring its merciless rays down on their dust-covered andsmoke-grimed faces without mercy.
McDowell's right wing was crumpled like an eggshell between the combinedcharges front and rear. It broke and rushed back in confusion on hiscenter. The whole army floundered a moment in tangled mass. In vaintheir officers shouted themselves hoarse proclaiming their victory andordering them to rally.
Wild, hopeless, senseless, unreasoning panic had seized the Union army.They threw down their guns in thousands and started at breakneck speedfor Washington. With every jump they cursed their idiotic commandersfor leading them blindfolded into the jaws of hell. At least they hadcommon sense enough left to save what was left.
The fields were covered with black swarms of flying soldiers. They cutthe horses from the gun carriages, mounted them and dashed forwardtrampling down the crazed mobs on foot.
As the shouting, screaming throng rushed at the Cub Run bridge, a welldirected shot from Kemper's battery smashed a team of horses that werecrossing. The wagon was upset and the bridge choked.
In mad efforts to force a passage mob piled on mob until the panicenveloped every division of the army that thirty minutes before wassweeping with swift, sure tread to its final victorious charge.
Across every bridge and ford of Bull Run the panic-stricken thousandsrushed pellmell, horse, foot, artillery, wagons, ambulances, excursioncarriages, red-jowled politicians mingling with screaming women whosefaces showed death white through the rouge on their lips and cheeks.
For three miles rolled the dark tide of ruin and confusion--with not oneConfederate soldier in sight.
It was three o'clock before the train bearing the anxious ConfederatePresident and his staff drew into Manassas Junction. He had heard nonews from the front and feared the worst. The long deep boom of thegreat guns told him that the battle was raging.
From the car window he saw rising an ominous cloud of dust rapidlyapproaching the Junction. To his trained eye it could mean but onething--retreat.
He sprang from the car and asked its meaning of a pale trembling youthin disheveled, torn gray uniform.
Billy Barton turned his bloodshot eyes on the President. His teeth werechattering.
"M-m-eaning of w-what?" he stammered.
"That cloud of dust coming toward the station?"
Billy stared in the direction the President pointed.
"Why, that's the--the--w-w-wagoners--they're trying to save the pieces Ireckon--"
"The army has been pushed back?" the President asked.
"No, sir--they--they never p-p-ushed 'em back! They--they just jumpedright on top of 'em and made hash out of 'em where they stood! Thank Goda few of us got away."
The President turned with a gesture of impatience to an older man,dust-covered and smoke-smeared.
"Can you direct me to General Beauregard's headquarters?"
"Beauregard's dead!" he shouted, rushing toward the train to board itfor home. "Johnston's dead. Bee's dead. Bartow's dead. They're alldead--piled in heaps--fur ez ye eye kin see. Take my advice and get outof here quick."
Without waiting for an answer he scrambled into the coach from which thePresident had alighted.
The station swarmed now with shouting, gesticulating, panic-stricken menfrom the front. They crowded around the conductor.
"Pull out of this!"
"Crowd on steam!"
"Save your engine and your train, man!"
"And take us with you for God's sake!"
The President pushed his way through the crowd.
"I must go on, Conductor--the train is the only way to reach thefield--"
"I'm sorry, sir," the conductor demurred. "I'm responsible for theproperty of the railroad--"
The panic-stricken men backed him up.
"What's the use?"
"The battle's lost!"
"The whole army's wiped off the earth."
"There's not a grease spot left!"
The Presiden
t confronted the trembling conductor:
"Will you move your train?"
"I can't do it, sir--"
"Will you lend me your engine?"
The conductor's face brightened.
"I might do that."
The engine was detached to the disgust of the panic-stricken men and thecool-headed engineer nodded to the President, pulled his lever and thelocomotive shot out of the station and in five minutes Davis alightedwith his staff near the battle field. By the guidance of stragglers theyfound headquarters.
Adjutant General Jordan sent for horses and volunteered to conduct thePresident to the front.
While they were waiting he turned to Mr. Davis anxiously:
"I think it extremely unwise, sir, for you to take this risk."
The thin lips smiled:
"I'll take the responsibility, General."
The President and his staff mounted and galloped toward the front.
The stragglers came now in droves. They were generous in their warnings.
"Say, men, do ye want to die?"
"You're ridin' straight inter the jaws er death."
"Don't do it, I tell ye!"
The President began to rally the men. As they neared the front he wasrecognized and the wounded began to cheer.
A big strapping soldier was carrying a slender wounded boy to the rear.
The boy put his trembling hand on the man's shoulder, snatched off hiscap and shouted: "Three cheers for the President! Look, boys, he'shere--we'll lick 'em yet!"
The President lifted his hat to the stripling, crying:
"To a hero of the South!"
The storm of battle was now rolling swiftly to the west--its roargrowing fainter with each cannon's throb.
The President, sitting his horse with erect tense figure, dashed up thehill to General Johnston:
"How goes the battle, General?"
"We have won, sir," was the sharp curt answer.
"'We have won, sir!' was the short, curt answer."]
The President wheeled his horse and rode rapidly into the front linesuntil stopped by the captain of a command of cavalry.
"You are too near the front, sir, without an escort--"
The President rode beside the captain and watched him form his men fortheir last charge on the enemy. He inspected the field with growingamazement. For miles the earth was strewn with the wreck of the Northernarmy--guns, knapsacks, blankets, canteens--and Brooklyn-made handcuffs!
Their defeat had been so sudden, so complete, so overwhelming, it wasimpossible at first to grasp its meaning.
He passed the rugged figure of Jackson who had won his immortal title of"Stonewall." An aide was binding a cloth about his wounded arm.
The grim General pushed aside his surgeon, raised his battered cap andshouted:
"Hurrah for the President! Ten thousand fresh men and I will be inWashington to-night!"
The President lifted his hat and congratulated him.
The victory of the South was complete and overwhelming. Jefferson Davisbreathed a sigh of relief for deliverance. Within two hours he knew thatthis victory had not been won by superior generalship of his commandingofficers. They had been outwitted at every turn and overwhelmed by theplan of battle their wily foe had forced upon them. It had not been wonby the superior courage of his men in the battle which raged fromsunrise until four o'clock. The broken and disorganized lines of theSouth and the panic-stricken mob he had met on the way were eloquentwitnesses of Northern valor.
His army had been saved from annihilation by the quick wit and daringcourage of a single Brigadier General who had moved his five regimentson his own initiative in the nick of time and saved the Confederatesfrom utter rout.
Victory had been snatched at last from the jaws of defeat by anaccident. The misfortune of a delayed regiment of Johnston's army wassuddenly turned into an astounding piece of luck. The sudden charge ofthose two thousand men on the flank of the victorious army had produceda panic among tired raw recruits. McDowell was at this moment master ofthe field. In a moment of insane madness his unseasoned men had throwndown their guns and fled.
The little dark General in his flower-decked tent had made good hisboasts. And worse--the Northern army had proven his wildest assertionstrue. They were a rabble. The star of Beauregard rose in the Southernsky, and with its rise Disaster stalked grim and silent toward thehilarious Confederacy.
The South had won a victory destined to prove itself the most fatalcalamity that ever befell a nation.
