“He doesn’t look old enough to be in the Army,” Buford said.
“He graduated from West Point last year,” Stoneman said. “Last in his class. He was probably making a list of attendees for General McClellan. McClellan’s malaria’s flared up and he won’t be with us.”
“What a shame,” Buford said.
Stoneman looked at Buford trying to read his face, but gave up. “Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Buford replied.
Stoneman walked to the front of the room where a wide map board was supported across two easels. “Gentlemen! Gentlemen if you please. Please come forward and have a seat.” He waited until the five generals were seated across from the map. “Generals Edwin Sumner, Samuel Heintzelman, Erasmus Keyes, Fitz John Porter and William Franklin, may I present Major John Buford, the commander of my light cavalry, and his second in command, Captain Paul Van Buskirk.” He moved to sit down with the other generals.
“Thank you, General Stoneman,” Buford said. “The Army of Northern Virginia is lined up in front of Richmond with its right anchored at Drewry’s Bluff on the James River, and its center and left lined up behind the Chickahominy River. As you gentlemen may know, the Chickahominy’s flooding over its banks and the Rebs have burned most of the bridges.”
“Do you know who’s in command now?” General Franklin asked.
“Yes, sir,” Buford replied. “The overall commander is General Joe Johnston. His right wing’s commanded by General James Longstreet. His left wing’s commanded by General G.W. Smith. His reserves are under the command of John B. Magruder.”
“What’s your estimate of his total force?” Heintzelman asked.
“About sixty thousand men, sir,” Buford replied.
“That man Pinkerton has General McClellan convinced it’s double that,” Heintzelman said.
“I could be wrong,” Buford admitted, “but I can’t imagine that we missed half the Confederate army, sir.” He looked up as the lieutenant colonel that had admitted them stepped through the doors. “Sir?”
“The Confederates are advancing in force,” the lieutenant colonel announced. He glanced down at the message in his hand. “The center of the attack is reported to be about a mile west of the seven pines. That’s all I have.”
“Seven Pines is what the locals call this crossroad,” Paul said, pointing to the map.
“That’s your corps, General Keyes,” Heintzelman said.
Keyes was on his feet. “Silas Casey’s brigade holds the earthworks there. He’s got six thousand raw recruits.”
Heintzelman looked alarmed. “If he folds, my corps will be isolated with their backs against the flooded river.”
“Somebody over there is clever,” General Sumner said as he started for the door.
“Buford.” General Stoneman put on his hat. “Go see if you can identify the Confederate units involved so that we can decide who to move in support of Casey.”
“Yes, sir.” Buford ran out with Paul right behind him.
As they were retrieving their horses, Captain Custer appeared. “Hey, you.” He walked toward Paul. “We’re not finished.”
“Yes we are.” Paul punched him on the chin, then swung onto his horse and raced after Buford, leaving Custer sprawled in the horse manure.
~
When Buford’s cavalry reached Seven Pines, the sounds of battle were terrific. As they rode forward, it became apparent that the Confederates had broken through General Casey’s initial defenses and were now occupying the Union redoubt. Casey, however, had done a fine job of rallying his inexperienced troops and they were fighting fiercely from their second line of defense.
Buford knew that it would take some time before General Keyes could send reinforcements and, judging that the situation here was tenuous, he signaled his squadron to attack.
Paul wasn’t surprised by Buford’s decision and led two troops to the left of the earthworks while Buford raced off to the right with the other two troops.
The Confederate attack, at this point, was not proceeding as planned. General James Longstreet had gotten lost; General Benjamin Huger had misunderstood the time of attack; Joe Johnston and G. W. Smith could not hear the gunfire and were waiting impatiently for the battle to start. As a result, only D.H. Hill was currently engaging Casey and both II and III Federal Corps were unmolested.
Although Buford’s cavalry was only a squadron, the shock value of the fast-moving troops and rapid fire weapons encouraged Casey’s forces and demoralized Hill’s division enough to lock the Confederate and Union forces in a stalemate until 4:00 PM when Keyes arrived with reinforcements. At nearly the same moment, Longstreet arrived to reinforce Hill and Hill immediately sent four regiments from Longstreet’s command to attack Keyes’s right flank.
The Union flank collapsed under the attack and Keyes’s troops had retreated all the way back to the Williamsburg Road, a mile and a half beyond Seven Pines crossroads, before he could stop and reorganize them.
General Sumner, the Union II Corps commander, judged what was happening from the sounds of battle and sent General John Sedgwick’s division over a bridge that was on the brink of being swept away in the flooding river. The now evenly matched battle continued to rage until after the sun had set.
May 31, 1862
White House Plantation, Virginia
When he reported to McClellan, who was in bed, Buford was surprised to see how very ill the general looked. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Close the door, John.” McClellan waved his hand weakly.
Buford pushed the door shut and walked back to the bed. “You look like hammered shit, George.”
McClellan made a face to show his disapproval of the profanity but then he smiled. “Trust you to tell me the truth in any circumstances.”
“I may have been a bit too blunt,” Buford admitted.
“How badly were we beaten?”
Buford shrugged. “The Reb’s butcher bill was higher than ours. It could be argued that we won. Not that we weren’t lucky as hell, but…”
“They haven’t stopped our march. Our siege guns will be in range of Richmond in less than a week.”
“Why not counterattack now? Johnston was badly wounded, Smith’s in command and he’s reportedly sick.”
“Smith’s not up to it, even if he was well.”
Buford nodded, realizing that McClellan wasn’t going to discuss a counterattack. “Lee’s Jeff Davis’s Military Advisor,” he said. “He’s most likely to replace Smith.”
“Which Lee?”
“The old man. Robert.”
“Robert E. Lee,” McClellan said. “He’s a cautious man. I don’t think we have to worry about him.”
“Not for a few days, anyway. Why did you send for me, George?”
“I don’t know. I was feeling poorly, wanted to see a friendly face and thought of you.”
“You must have a hell of a fever, George.”
McClellan chuckled. “I made a mistake in transferring your cavalry to General Stoneman’s command. Now your intelligence is filtered before I hear it.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you about recon cavalry for years…”
McClellan waved his hand. “Sit down and talk to me, John. There won’t be a battle today. Just talk to me about old times or something besides this awful war. Just honest talk between classmates.”
“Okay.” Buford dragged a chair closer to the bed.
“Do you know my wife, Nelly?”
Buford had known Ellen Marcy quite well several years ago, when she was engaged to A.P. Hill, but he decided not to say so. “I saw her at your wedding.”
“Oh that’s right. Then you’ll recall that the twenty-second was our second anniversary.”
Buford didn’t remember but nodded. “Time flies.”
“I wish I could have been with her to celebrate.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet.”
McClellan gave him a hard look. “What do you mean by
that?”
“Nothin’,” Buford replied in surprise.
“I apologize,” McClellan said after a moment. “The fever.”
“Yeah. Must be.”
McClellan sighed. “Why is it that you dislike me, John? Do you still hold a grudge from the time we were cadets?”
“I suppose I do. A little grudge, anyway.”
“Is there something else? Do you consider me incompetent?”
Buford considered ducking the question but didn’t. “No, I don’t think you’re incompetent, I think you’re intemperate, George.
“Me? I rarely drink.”
“No. I mean intemperate in your behavior. Calling the President of the United States a well-meaning baboon and a gorilla and then snubbing him by going to bed when he came to call on you at your home was – well – it was just stupid.”
“I am the general-in-chief of all Union armies,” McClellan said heatedly. “The public and my soldiers love me. I could be dictator if I wished to be. Who is Lincoln to question my military decisions? He was a private in the Illinois Militia who was elected as Captain by the popular vote of the men in his company. He has no military training and has never even taken part in a major battle.”
“He’s the President of the United States, George, the Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces and your boss, according to the framers of the Constitution. You’ve come to take yourself too seriously. Without Salmon Chase pushing you and influencing President Lincoln, you wouldn’t have been named general-in-chief.”
McClellan’s eyes flashed. “That will be all, Major.”
Buford stood up and dragged the chair back to its original position. “So much for honest talk between old friends, huh, George?”
“You’re dismissed.”
Buford walked out and closed the door behind him. “What are you lookin’ at?” he snarled at Captain Custer, who was standing in the hallway.
Custer folded his arms. “Not much, sir.”
June 1, 1862
Seven Pines, Virginia
Generals Benjamin Huger and James Longstreet’s divisions resumed the attack at dawn, but they were met by the fresh troops of Union General Israel B. Richardson’s division from II Corps and General Joseph Hooker’s division from III Corps. The battle lasted until about 11:30 AM when the Confederates withdrew. McClellan, who had left his sickbed when he heard the cannon fire, overruled his commanders who were preparing to counterattack.
June 12, 1862
Richmond, Virginia
General Robert E. Lee, the new commander of the Army of Northern Virginia looked up at the knock on his door. “Come in, please.”
Colonel Jeb Stuart came through the door and saluted.
Lee waved his hand. “Have a seat please, Colonel.”
Stuart took off his hat and sat down.
“I must know if the Union right flank in the Shenandoah Valley of western Virginia is vulnerable. Can you discover that for me?”
“Yes, sir. When did you want me to start?”
“As soon as we have pushed General McClellan back from Richmond. We may need you until then. I estimate a week. Two at the most. During that time I would ask you to give thought to the mission I just proposed.”
Stuart gave him a blank look.
“Perhaps I have not made myself clear. I want you to plan carefully before undertaking the mission to explore the Federals’ right flank. Not only must I know troop strength in the Shenandoah Valley but I must know what troops might be available to quickly reinforce those troops.”
“Yes, sir. I will, sir.”
“Very well.”
“Is that all, sir?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Stuart stood, put on his hat and saluted. “Thank you, sir.” When Lee nodded, he turned and nearly ran from the building to where Johnny Van Buskirk was waiting for him. “We’re gonna ride all the way around the Yankees.”
Johnny handed Stuart’s horse’s reins to him. “Do what?”
“You heard me. General Lee wants to know if the Yankees’ right flank is vulnerable.”
“We can find that out by riding to their right flank and riding back,” Johnny said.
The two men mounted their horses.
“Yes, but if we pass beyond the Yankees’ right flank, no one will be expecting us. We can raid the northern units from behind. Raise hell, capture horses, take prisoners – and it won’t take much longer than riding back the way we came.”
“I don’t understand why you want to do it, Beauty.”
“Fame,” he said with a grin. “I want people to remember the name of J.E.B. Stuart long after I’m dead, and this is the way to make that happen.”
Johnny continued to give him a puzzled look.
“When we pop up north of the Federal troops it’s going to send panic waves through Washington. The northern newspapers will be howling about Jeb Stuart’s cavalry in their midst. The southern papers will be reveling in our heroics. Then, when we ride into Richmond, they’ll meet us with bands, parades and dozens of pretty girls.”
“General Lee isn’t going to be among your admirers, Beauty.”
“Nonsense. Anyone who has reached the rank of major general understands the importance of heroes.”
“I still think you’re mad.”
“That may be. Are you with me?”
“Of course.”
“Then let’s get going.” Stuart kicked his horse.
June 24, 1862
White House Plantation, Virginia
General George Stoneman walked out of the mansion to meet Buford, who was standing in the driveway holding his horse’s reins while his squadron waited on the road below. “Whatever you said to him has really set him off, John.”
Buford saluted. “It wasn’t my intention.”
“What did you see out there?”
“Lee’s getting ready to move against us as soon as Thomas Jackson gets here from the Shenandoah Valley.”
Stoneman looked down the long driveway toward the mounted cavalry. “Is that blood on Lieutenant Van Buskirk’s sleeve?”
“Yes, sir. We tangled with some Confederate cavalry. I lost one man and had four wounded including Pea. I think we gave more than we got.”
“From here it looks like Van Buskirk’s lost a lot of blood.”
“We got the bleeding stopped and he refused to retire to the rear. What’s the plan, sir?”
“General McClellan wants to move the siege artillery to the high ground on Nine Mile Road. In view of your report, that’s probably going to have to happen sooner than he planned.” Stoneman looked back toward the house to see if anyone was listening. “The general intends to direct operations from here over the telegraph. I’m, frankly, a little unsure of the idea, so I want you patrolling all avenues of approach.”
“So you’ll be here with General McClellan instead of with your division?”
“That’s what General McClellan wants.”
Buford looked up at the house. “Is he still sick in bed?”
“He’s up, but not well. Hence the telegraph.”
Buford decided to withhold any comment. “Anything else, sir?”
“No. Report to me at the first sign of a Confederate advance and I’ll send you reinforcements.”
Buford saluted, then mounted his horse and rode back down the driveway to the road.
“What did he say?” Paul asked.
“He said you should be in the field hospital,” Buford replied.
“Was that an order?”
“No, it was just a suggestion that you should follow.” He signaled the Sergeant Major and started down the road toward Richmond.
Paul rode out beside him. “What else did he say?”
“McClellan wants to move the siege guns closer.”
“How much closer?”
“About a mile and a half. To that high ground near Old Tavern.”
“Old Tavern is one of the crossroads at Oak Grove. We’re not in possession of that
crossroad. Our pickets keep getting pushed off by D.H. Hill’s pickets.”
“I’m pretty sure that McClellan knows that,” Buford said.
“So, what are our orders, exactly?”
“To patrol all avenues of approach.”
“We’ll have to split the force to platoon level to do that,” Paul argued.
“Not if we take that high ground ourselves.”
“You’re proposing that we take the ground by ourselves that McClellan wants to take with the whole army?”
“I don’t imagine he was planning on using the whole army.”
Paul didn’t reply but the sour expression on his face made his opinion obvious.
“There’s only a few of Hill’s pickets there,” Buford said. “You just said so yourself.”
“Those pickets have Hill’s entire infantry division behind them. They’ll crush us.”
“If Hill comes up with reinforcements, we’ll run. But I don’t think he will.”
“Run?” Paul said in a tone of disbelief.
“Retreat’s a recognized tactic, Pea. There’s nothing cowardly about it.”
Paul took a moment to reply. “Major, that might have been Beauty and my brother that we skirmished with. I hate the idea that they might think that they chased us off.”
“How would you like the idea of them thinking that we were dead fools for standing and fighting a force that’s ten times our size?”
“If I was dead, what would I care?”
“Ah shut it. We’re gonna take that hill and hold it as long as we can. End of discussion.”
“Yes, sir.”
~
Johnny Van Buskirk handed the brass telescope to Jeb Stuart. “That’s Pea and Buford on the high ground. They’re probably watching for Stonewall.”
Stuart looked for himself, then gave the telescope back to Johnny. “I don’t like the idea of them holding that crossroads with the railroad tracks being that close. McClellan could bring his siege guns forward on railcars and have them up on top of that hill in a couple of hours. From there they can hit Richmond.”
The Way of All Soldiers (Gone For Soldiers) Page 14
