Basically, Stuart wanted permission to launch an independent foray into Pennsylvania, passing around Hooker’s army before the latter began a full-scale pursuit. He would dog the Yankees’ heels, monitoring not only Pleasonton’s movements but those of his infantry and artillery comrades. If and when the enemy crossed into Maryland, he would notify Lee, then ride hard to link with Ewell’s vanguard on the Susquehanna. En route, he hoped to penetrate close enough to Washington, D.C., to scare the wits out of the local populace, including Abraham Lincoln and his minions.5
Ample precedent testified to what Stuart might accomplish on such a mission. In June 1862, he had left besieged Richmond to raid along the north bank of the Chickahominy River and into the rear of the Army of the Potomac, then under Major General George B. McClellan. With barely 1,000 troopers, he rode the length of McClellan’s position, evaded a massive pursuit force, and brought Robert E. Lee the intelligence he needed to strike successfully at McClellan’s right flank. As a direct result of the daring mission—during which Stuart’s men sacked several supply bases, inflicting millions of dollars in materiel losses, at the cost of a single casualty—McClellan’s grip on the Confederate capital had been forever broken.
Stuart’s success seemed to call for a repeat performance—perhaps more than one. Ten weeks after encircling McClellan, the cavalry leader led 1,500 troopers and two horse artillery pieces into the rear of John Pope’s Army of Virginia between the Rappahannock and Rapidan Rivers. By severing communication lines, plundering the enemy’s commissariat, and distracting and discomfiting Pope, Stuart helped turn the Second Manassas (Bull Run) campaign into a resounding Confederate victory. Finally, early in October 1862, Stuart launched a second circuit of the Army of the Potomac, one that carried his 1,800-man column as far north as Dick Ewell’s present bailiwick in lower Pennsylvania. After seizing supplies and mangling miles of Union-controlled railroad, Stuart returned at his leisure to home base, having suffered all of three casualties. This second ride around McClellan presaged the relief of the general once hailed throughout the North as a “young Napoleon.”6
Cavalry Conference, Rector’s Cross Roads, June 24, 1863
With so much glorious history to his credit, Stuart had every reason to expect that Lee would favorably entertain his latest request to visit the Union rear. The opening lines of Lee’s June 23 communiqué seemed to confirm this belief: “Your proposed plan of operations promises many benefits and, of course, entails some risks. You are the best judge of whether the movement can be accomplished in good season, and without damage to your gallant command.”7
So far so good—as he absorbed these words, Stuart must have envisioned another exciting excursion through hostile territory. He hungered for such an opportunity, if only to help relieve the stigma he and his command had received two weeks earlier near Brandy Station, an Orange & Alexandria Railroad depot along the upper Rappahannock. On June 9 Stuart’s troopers—then on the eve of joining Lee’s invasion force—had been surprised, throttled, and nearly routed during a predawn attack by 8,500 Federal cavalrymen under Pleasonton. Recovering from the shock of the assault, Stuart had engineered a multi-pronged defense that held back the upstart Yankees and salvaged a bloody draw.
The day-long combat had ended with the enemy’s retreat. Yet the narrow margin by which the Cavalry Division of the Army of Northern Virginia had escaped disaster had brought the wrath of editors and politicians on Stuart’s head for the first time in the war. A proud man, fiercely protective of his hard-won reputation as the conflict’s most successful cavalry leader, Stuart had regarded his men’s efforts at Aldie, Middleburg, and Upperville as installment payments in restitution. And yet the verbal barbs directed at him in the wake of Brandy Station continued to sting. Stuart realized he must do more, must strive harder, to erase the stain on his own reputation and that of his command.8
When he read the balance of Lee’s dispatch, however, Stuart’s hopes for a renewed demonstration of his prowess in independent command began to fade:
“General Longstreet, however, has raised objections to your proposal that I believe warrant serious consideration. I wish you to read carefully his comments, contained in the enclosed note, and consult closely with him, as well as with your subordinates, as to your future course. It may be that this is not the time to detach yourself from the army, which will require the closest support as it prepares to enter the enemy’s homeland. Please advise me of your decision at the earliest opportunity.”9
A concerned Stuart scanned the brief letter to which Lee had alluded. He was mildly surprised to find that it bore Longstreet’s handwriting, an indication of its importance. Surprise was quickly followed by disappointment. In a few sentences, the leader of the First Corps, to whose command Stuart had been attached, advised strongly against any leave-taking. Longstreet desired that the cavalry, with the exception of a brigade or two to be left to guard the passes in the army’s rear, should stick close to the main army as it moved through Maryland and into Pennsylvania. With Pleasonton’s horsemen drawn off, there was no need for Stuart to remain east of the Blue Ridge. He should head for the Potomac, crossing the river in the vicinity of Shepherds town, and then cover the front and flanks of A.P. Hill. In closing, Longstreet urged that Lee not be denied the powers of perception that only mounted units could provide:
“It is as true now as it has ever been, that we cannot afford to stumble blindly through a country intimately familiar to the enemy, one he will doubtless defend with every resource at his disposal.”10
Then and later, Stuart made no effort to conceal his chagrin at Longstreet’s observations, especially since they appeared to have the tacit support of Lee. As the cavalry leader confided to his closest subordinates, he particularly objected to Longstreet’s concluding sentence, which Stuart interpreted as a veiled criticism of his earlier expeditions. At bottom, he discounted the logic in Longstreet’s arguments. For one thing, if he left a part of his command behind in Virginia, as Longstreet suggested, why would he need to guard the army’s rear as it advanced north? As for covering Lee’s flanks, a brigade of cavalry, mounted infantry, and partisan rangers under Brigadier General John Imboden had been brought up from the Shenandoah Valley to handle the task; it was now advancing on the army’s left flank, albeit well west of it. Stuart likewise considered unfounded Longstreet’s concern that the cavalry must travel in advance of the infantry. Even as Longstreet wrote, another recently attached brigade of western Virginia horsemen, under Brigadier General Albert G. Jenkins, was escorting Ewell through south-central Pennsylvania. No, thought Stuart, by any objective criteria, Longstreet’s concerns were overblown, his arguments unpersuasive. Moreover, he suspected they were aimed less at protecting the army from unforeseen dangers than at denying the cavalry an opportunity to win glory and distinction, an opportunity unavailable to its comrades.11
The problem was that, given his rank and influence, Longstreet’s objections—although framed as mere suggestions—carried more than a modicum of weight. Stuart saw that his only hope of overriding them lay in the course Lee had mentioned, consultation with his subordinates. If his brigade commanders strongly dissented from Longstreet’s viewpoint, Stuart might yet persuade Lee to grant him the authority to penetrate Yankee lines and, thereafter, to act as he thought best. Therefore, the next morning, the 24th, Stuart called to Rector’s Cross Roads Brigadier Generals Wade Hampton, Fitzhugh Lee (the army leader’s nephew) and Beverly Holcombe Robertson, along with Colonel John R. Chambliss, Jr. These men commanded four-fifths of the force that had been assigned directly to Stuart for the invasion. At Stuart’s request, the leader of the fifth brigade, Brigadier General William Edmondson Jones, remained with his command, the largest in the division, near Ashby’s Gap, ten miles to the northwest. Jones, an argumentative, prickly-tempered Virginian (his nickname was “Grumble”) was no friend of Stuart, who feared the man would register a resounding “no” were any head count taken this day. Stuart had something of a legitimate reason for exc
luding him from the planning conference: Jones, who was widely regarded as the finest outpost commander in the cavalry, could not be spared from his present position, so close to the assumed location of the enemy.12
But if Stuart expected the attendees at his war council to support his plan of campaign, he was soon disabused of this notion. After briefing his lieutenants on his intentions, as well as on Longstreet’s arguments against them and R.E. Lee’s apparent willingness to accept these at face value, he called on his subordinates to state their views. He was taken aback by the result.
As the junior officer in the group, John Chambliss spoke first. Displaying a talent for evasiveness and fence-straddling, the colonel suggested that both Stuart’s and Longstreet’s views were well-taken. That said, he shut his mouth and sat down. It seemed obvious that Chambliss, while desirous of supporting his immediate superior, was not about to refute the reasoning of the lieutenant general widely regarded as Robert E. Lee’s most trusted subordinate.
Next to speak was Beverly Robertson, who had been assigned to Stuart despite the latter’s conviction that the old dragoon was excitable, unreliable, and downright incompetent. That Stuart’s feelings were well known did not augur well for Robertson’s support of his plan of campaign. Moreover Robertson was aware of Longstreet’s stipulation that Stuart, if he cut loose from the army, must leave behind a substantial force. Perhaps suspecting that he was one of those to be denied an adventure in the enemy’s rear, Robertson readily announced his opposition to an independent mission he professed to view as injudicious and untimely.
Stuart was confident that his plan would fare better with his closest friend in the cavalry, the fun-loving and adventurous Fitzhugh Lee, whose support might carry weight with his uncle. To Stuart’s surprise and chagrin, however, he, too, voted in the negative, albeit with obvious regret. It turned out that Fitz, who was then recovering from a disabling bout with rheumatism, feared he could not endure such a lengthy and taxing operation as Stuart had in mind. He, like Robertson, objected to being left behind while his colleagues sought glory behind enemy lines.13
Stuart’s only hope of carrying the day now rested with Wade Hampton. If his senior lieutenant voiced strong support for the proposed expedition, Stuart might yet overcome the objections of the others. But this hope also died, as Stuart probably suspected it would. Although a highly competent cavalryman—tactically astute, fearless under fire, an expert swordsman and marksman—Hampton, a non-professional soldier, viewed men and events from a perspective denied to a West Pointer or an Old Army veteran. At 43, he was also 15 or 20 years older than some of his colleagues, whose dreams of martial glory he did not share. For Hampton, war was not a genteel tournament or a defining test of masculinity; itwas a disagreeable business, to be won as quickly and as efficiently as possible.
In these and other respects, Stuart and his senior lieutenant were polar opposites. While they treated each other with conspicuous respect and unfailing courtesy, they eyed each other warily. In Stuart’s view Hampton was too conservative, too slow to think and act when a quick, dramatic gesture seemed called for. For his part, the South Carolinian considered his Virginia-born superior headstrong, impetuous, too willing to risk all—including the lives of his officers and men—when the odds against success loomed large. Then, too, the generals’ relationship had suffered a rift at Brandy Station, where Hampton’s beloved younger brother, Lieutenant Colonel Frank Hampton of the 2d South Carolina Cavalry, had died in a pistol and saber duel against ten times as many opponents. Hampton’s chief of staff, writing years after the war, opined that his boss never forgave Stuart for allowing the Yankees to surprise him and force the division to fight frantically on the defensive.14
In addition to questioning some aspects of Stuart’s leadership, Hampton was skeptical of the value of raids, especially those that lacked clear-cut objectives and carefully constructed timetables; such ventures produced only disabled horses and exhausted riders. The tall, husky brigadier had led several independent missions of his own, but each was based on hard intelligence of enemy positions and strengths and adhered to a carefully honed itinerary. The operation Stuart had in mind possessed none of these virtues—moreover, Hampton suspected that it lacked the requisite margin for error. His primary concern was that Stuart, once inside enemy lines, would prove unable to conform his movements to those of the army he was expected to support. Indeed, given the dubious effectiveness of long-distance communication, he doubted that Stuart would locate Ewell’s headquarters short of stumbling upon it. For these and other reasons, he joined Chambliss, Robertson and Fitz Lee in opposing the proposal.
Stuart, his ambitions thwarted, saw no recourse other than to accept the decision of the majority. He felt an acute sense of regret when, later that day, his old protégé, the partisan leader John Singleton Mosby, reached Rector’s Cross Roads following an extended reconnaissance of enemy positions beyond the Blue Ridge. With characteristic audacity, the master scout had ridden through the bivouacs of Hooker’s widely scattered command, picking up timely intelligence at every turn. To Stuart, Mosby made a breathless report of his mission, adding his opinion that the confused and lethargic Yankees seemed likely to remain indefinitely in northern Virginia. Mosby urged a full-scale movement through or around the enemy; he even offered to guide Stuart all the way to the Susquehanna.15
Mosby’s strongly voiced recommendations made it even harder for his patron to reject them in favor of the more prudent course Longstreet had advocated and Stuart’s own lieutenants had endorsed. Yet he did so, informing the partisan that preparations were already underway to cross west of the mountains and take position on the army’s flanks. Although at the time Mosby expressed regret over Stuart’s decision, in later years he permitted hindsight to readjust his memory. In at least two of his voluminous postwar writings, the “Gray Ghost” contended that he not only acquiesced in Stuart’s course but argued persuasively in its favor. In so doing, he claimed to have made a material contribution to the success that crowned the cavalry’s operations in the North.16
Stuart’s Cavalry Rides North, June 25, 1863
Riding out of Rector’s Cross Roads on the warm, dry morning of June 25, Stuart vowed to adhere to the plan of campaign he had reluctantly accepted. As Beverly Robertson had anticipated, Jones’s brigade and his own were left in place to guard the far rear while the bulk of the division closed up on the invasion column. As overall commander of the rear echelon, Robertson was charged with guarding the line between Ashby’s and Snicker’s Gaps, preventing Hooker from striking the army’s rear as it moved north, and, should the Union leader instead turn south against lightly guarded Richmond, alerting Lee to this threat against his communications.
Robertson’s primary mission was to keep close tabs on Hooker. If the Army of the Potomac crossed its namesake river, he was to quit his post and attach himself to Lee’s column. Robertson’s orders were clear-cut and unambiguous, and he had the manpower to carry them out. Unaccountably, however, he idled in the mountains long after Hooker shifted toward the Potomac crossings late on the 25th; nor did he inform Lee of the movement. Furthermore, he ignored repeated orders to close up in the army’s rear, orders conveyed by courier from Stuart’s headquarters. So, at any rate, Stuart later claimed—Robertson vehemently denied ever receiving any such communications.17
The upshot was that on the last day of June Stuart, now aware of the magnitude of his subordinate’s dereliction, relieved Robertson from command and forcefully ordered both brigades, under Jones, to lower Pennsylvania. There they rejoined the rest of the division, enabling these 3,000 men to see gainful employment during the balance of the invasion. Robertson protested his removal—which he ascribed to Stuart’s displeasure with his vote at the June 24 conference—but to no effect. The brigadier never again served in the Army of Northern Virginia; he closed out his war service in command of a training camp in North Carolina.18
Reduced to a command 4,500 strong—one bereft of hors
e artillery, all of the cavalry’s guns having been left in the Valley or on the Potomac—Stuart rode hard to overtake the army at the head of the brigades of Hampton, Chambliss, and Lee (a still-recuperating Fitz riding in an ambulance on the first leg of the trip). Passing through Ashby’s Gap, the cavalry fanned out to cover the rear and flanks of Longstreet’s corps as it proceeded north via Berryville, Summit Point, Bunker Hill, and Martinsburg, to Williamsport on the Potomac, which they reached on the 26th. Late that day, the troopers covered the crossing of the divisions of Major Generals John Bell Hood and LafayetteMcLaws. Afterward, they forded the river downstream from the infantry. Once on Maryland soil, they galloped north to the headquarters of Ambrose P. Hill. For the remainder of the journey north, Stuart rode at the forefront of Hill’s corps in company with the now-recovered Fitz Lee. Chambliss’s brigade covered the western flank of the army, while sharing rearguard duties with Hampton, whose command also protected the right flank, the most exposed and vulnerable element of the invasion force.19
Hampton’s men performed the lion’s share of the scouting duties on the road north. Early in the war the South Carolinian had formed one of the most enterprising and effective bands of scouts in Confederate service—adventurous youths in their late teens and early twenties who thought nothing of roaming behind enemy lines, often clothed in Union blue, where they gleaned intelligence from incautious Yankees and talkative civilians. On this occasion, the youngsters more than earned their pay. Early on the 26th they reported the transfer of Hooker’s headquarters from Fairfax Court House to Edwards’s Ferry and then across the Potomac to Poolesville, Maryland. That same day they monitored the crossing of the V and XII Corps, Army of the Potomac, to a point near the mouth of the Monocacy River. Hampton’s patrols also located the advance guard of Hooker’s army, the I Corps of Major General John F. Reynolds, on the roads between Barnesville and Jefferson, Maryland. Other scouts observed—from a prudent distance—the movements of Buford’s and David M. Gregg’s divisions of Yankee cavalry as they moved north of the Potomac. The outriders even noted the approach from the vicinity of Frederick, Maryland, of a third body of blue riders. This column, then a part of the defense forces of Washington, D.C., would soon become the Third Cavalry Division, Army of the Potomac, under Brigadier General H. Judson Kilpatrick.20
Dixie Victorious: An Alternate history of the Civil War Page 20
