For the next few hours, Sheridan readied his men for an attack. Early did little to impede this work, though around 1:00 p.m. he made a halfhearted and short-lived move north. But he was outnumbered and no longer enjoyed the element of surprise. His three-mile line was thin and poorly defended on its flanks. The more numerous Union forces, on the other hand, were reinvigorated and had something to prove after their ignominious flight that morning.
Sheridan ordered a general advance late in the afternoon. The movement started well, but as the lines converged, Early’s left overlapped the Union right and could have begun to roll it up. But Sheridan ordered a brigade under General McMillan to charge the angle of the flanking force, which cut them off from the main body. That charge was “the death-knell of the Confederacy,” according to one observer.7 Meanwhile, Custer’s cavalry were forming for their own charge. Overcome with emotion, George rode up to Sheridan and threw his arms around him before returning to lead his cavalrymen against the disrupted rebel flank. “Custer’s troopers sweeping across the Middletown meadows and down toward Cedar Creek, took many of them prisoners before they could reach the stream,” Sheridan wrote, “so I forgave his delay.”
“It was apparent that the wavering in the ranks of the enemy betokened a retreat,” Custer recalled, “and that this retreat might be converted into a rout.” Custer charged ahead, breaking the rebel left as the rest of the army made contact down the line. He fought across the same ground that had been contested earlier that day, pausing and reforming to press the increasingly disorganized foe. “Here mingled lay the dead and wounded of both armies,” wrote Lieutenant Colonel John W. Bennett of the 1st Vermont Cavalry, “and as our men gazed upon the naked forms of their dead and wounded comrades—the former entirely and the latter partially stripped by our inhuman foe—the deep murmurs that ran along the ranks foreshadowed the impetuosity of the coming charge.”8
Custer’s men moved forward in plain view of the retreating enemy, who were being pressed back on Meadow Brook and Cedar Creek beyond. “Seeing so large a force of cavalry bearing rapidly down upon an unprotected flank and their line of retreat in danger of being intercepted,” Custer wrote, “the lines of the enemy, already broken, now gave way in the utmost confusion.” Rebels threw down their weapons and ran for it, and “in a headlong and disgraceful manner sought safety in ignominious flight.” As one reporter put it, the charge “swept the enemy off the face of the earth before it every where.”9
A small group of enemy troops rallied across Cedar Creek and delivered some hot fire to their pursuers at short range. Custer kept up the momentum and dashed forward with the 1st Vermont and 5th New York. “Hearing the charge sounded through our bugles,” Custer wrote, “the enemy only stood long enough to deliver one volley; then, casting away his arms, attempted to escape under cover of the darkness.”
“Confused and terrified the enemy threw down their arms and trampled upon each other in their frantic attempts to escape,” Lieutenant Colonel Bennett recalled. “My men rushed upon them as though they were the appointed avengers of their comrades slain. Considering our numbers, the slaughter was fearful.”10 There developed what Custer called “an exciting chase after a panic-stricken, uncontrollable mob. . . . prisoners were taken by hundreds, entire companies threw down their arms, and appeared glad when summoned to surrender.”
“The road was full of charging cavalry,” Confederate Private George Q. Peyton recalled, “and I saw Custer with his long curls hanging down his back.”11 The pursuit continued into evening, through Strasburg and miles beyond. George said later, “The darkness of the night was intense, and was only relieved here and there by the light of a burning wagon or ambulance to which the affrighted enemy in his despair had applied the torch.”12 A bridge collapsed over a stream south of Strasburg, forcing many wagons to be abandoned. Others were ridden down and halted. James Sweeney and Frederick Lyons of the 1st Vermont Cavalry in Custer’s division ordered one wagon to halt. The driver said, “The General ordered the ambulance to go on.”
“What General?” Sweeney said.
“General Ramseur,” the driver replied. Sweeney was wearing a light-colored jacket, and the driver had mistaken him for a rebel.
“That is the very man I am looking for,” Sweeney said, and they captured the ambulance, the general, his surgeon, and his flag, which was emblazoned “On to Victory.”13
Ramseur had been the hero of the morning’s battle, rolling up the Union left flank and routing two Corps. He was a tested combat leader who had been in most of the major engagements in the east.14 Morris Schaff described him as “dark eyed, stern [and] dignified.”15 In the course of that day’s battle, he had two horses shot out from under him and was wounded in the arm but kept fighting until a musket ball pierced his lungs.
Custer learned of his friend’s plight and had him taken to Sheridan’s headquarters, at the Belle Grove mansion, to be tended to. There, Ramseur saw his West Point friend Henry DuPont, first in the Class of May 1861, then a captain with the 5th U.S. Artillery. DuPont would be awarded a Medal of Honor for standing by his guns that day while the Union line collapsed in the face of Ramseur’s assault. Henry had been present at the going-away party Custer hosted at Benny Havens for Ramseur and Wesley Merritt in April 1860. In fact, five of the six cadet revelers were on the field of Cedar Creek that day. They were missing John Pelham of Alabama, who had been killed at the Battle of Kelly’s Ford, in March 1863. Ramseur asked for Merritt, but he was away with his troops and did not return in time.
Ramseur died the next day at Sheridan’s headquarters. He asked Custer to cut a lock of his hair for his precious wife, Nellie. His last words were “I die a Christian and hope to meet her in heaven.” The day before the battle he had received word Nellie had given birth to a baby girl.16
The victory at Cedar Creek had come at a high cost: over 5,700 Federals killed, wounded, or missing, compared with 2,900 of Early’s men. But it ended up being a Union win, which is more than could have been said at midday. The Federals seized over fifty guns, numerous battle flags, countless wagons, and hundreds of prisoners. The mood at Belle Grove was exultant. When Custer saw Sheridan that night, he hugged him and whirled him about in the air, shouting, “By God, we’ve cleaned them out and got the guns!” He did the same to Torbert, who responded “There, there, old fellow; don’t capture me!”17
There was gratitude all around for the near escape that changed a surprise defeat into an unexpected triumph. Grant ordered a salute fired and wired the secretary of war: “Turning what bid fair to be a disaster into a glorious victory, stamps Sheridan, what I have always thought him, one of the ablest of generals.” Lincoln offered Sheridan “the thanks of the nation” and his “own personal admiration and gratitude” for the operations in the valley and “the splendid work of October 19.”18 Sheridan asked for “the brave boys, Merritt and Custer, [to be] promoted by brevet.” And Custer praised his men that their “conduct throughout was sublimely heroic, and without a parallel in the annals of warfare.”19 Custer was chosen to escort a delegation of soldiers to Washington to present ten captured Confederate battle flags to the War Department.
Libbie had gone to Newark around this time to visit her cousins, saying as she left, “It would be my bad luck to have Autie come in my absence.” A few days later, she read in the morning paper that George had arrived in Washington. She ran to her room and threw herself on her bed, crying, “I’ve missed him, I’ve missed him.” But soon after, the front bell rang and George came bounding up the stairs, snatched Libbie from the bed, and carried her about the room.20 They rushed back to Washington for the presentation on October 24.
Custer’s men rode a bus up Pennsylvania Avenue to the War Department with a rebel flag flying out each window, to cheers from the passersby. “The soldiers in the city were jubilant,” one report said, “and when they met Custer and his men in the street, would give the soldiers a hug, and some of the old soldiers would kiss Custer’s hand.”21 Secreta
ry Stanton met each of the men in turn and heard the stories of how they captured the flags.22 Custer recounted tales of his men’s heroism, saying their victory was “the most complete and decisive which has been achieved in the Shenandoah.” The soldiers who had captured the flags were informed they would be awarded medals, and Custer was promoted to major general. Stanton shook Custer’s hand, saying, “General Custer, a gallant officer always makes gallant soldiers.”23 “The third division wouldn’t be worth a cent if it wasn’t for him!” one of Custer’s youthful lads interjected, to good-natured laughter.
Electoral politics hung heavily over the lighthearted scene. The 1864 presidential election was coming up on November 8, and Lincoln had needed victories in the field to boost his reelection chances. His challenger was George McClellan, who was still an officer on active duty, a War Democrat running on a peace platform as a means of unifying the fractured opposition party. Earlier in the year, Lincoln had doubted his chances for a second term; the war had dragged on longer than most anyone initially thought it would, and some Republican Radicals wanted to dump Lincoln because they thought he could not win. But ultimately the party rallied behind the president, who dumped Vice President Hannibal Hamlin and ran with War Democrat and former Tennessee senator Andrew Johnson under the National Union party banner. Their slogan was “Don’t change horses in the middle of the stream.”
McClellan was hampered by his running mate, Ohio congressman George H. Pendleton, a Peace Democrat whose desire to stop the war at any cost was viewed as too radical. McClellan’s main selling point was that as a military leader he could bring peace with honor, something that had eluded Lincoln. But three days after McClellan was nominated, Sherman entered Atlanta, stealing much of his thunder. Sheridan’s subsequent triumphs in the valley bolstered Lincoln’s claims that he would soon bring the war to a close, achieving peace not only with honor but with victory.
Southern newspapers mocked the administration for exploiting military success for political gain. “The Sheridan Fight—Magnificent Election Bulletins” ran an October 31 headline in the Richmond Daily Dispatch. Anti-Lincoln Northern papers objected as well. But the facts on the ground were powerful arguments against McClellan’s central campaign theme. If Lincoln could win the war, there was no need for Little Mac in the White House.
“My doctrine ever has been that a soldier should not meddle in politics,” George wrote Libbie around this time.24 But Custer was involved in the campaign whether he liked it or not. The same day Cedar Creek was fought, his name appeared, probably without his foreknowledge, in a newspaper article entitled “The Fighting Generals for Lincoln.”25 The presentation of the captured rebel battle flags at the War Department and Custer’s promotion were a national news story. George had never supported Lincoln, but as a professional soldier he felt his political views did not matter. Lincoln was commander in chief, and Custer was subject to his orders. Furthermore he was well aware of the career risks he faced by being associated with McClellan.
Little Mac stirred passions among his supporters and detractors alike. There was always a lingering suspicion that George, having been on McClellan’s staff, harbored a secret affinity for him, which of course he did. “Autie adored General McClellan,” Libbie wrote. Even years after having served on his staff and while facing his own challenges as a general officer, “his worship of McClellan was still with him.”26
Custer’s reputation as a McClellan protégé had sometimes made things difficult for him in Washington. In the winter of 1863–64, he received a letter from a senator who was to vote on his much-delayed confirmation as a brigadier general. “Before I can vote for your confirmation,” the senator wrote, “I desire to be informed whether you are what is termed, ‘a McClellan man.’”27 Libbie frequently faced the same question during her time in Washington in 1864, but she never rose to the bait, knowing that if she spoke the truth it would be all the worse for George. In January 1864, Custer wrote to his soon-to-be father-in-law, Judge Bacon, that he suffered “no little anxiety” over the confirmation vote. “You would be surprised at the pertinacity with which certain men labor to defame me,” he said. “It was reported that I was a ‘copperhead,’ a charge completely refuted.” He said he was “trusting to time to vindicate me.”28
During his visit to Washington after Cedar Creek, George released a statement that was widely reprinted in the press, which was intended to remove all doubt about his views on the Democratic Peace Platform and proposals for an armistice: “I am a peace man, in favor of an ‘armistice’ and of sending ‘Peace Commissioners,’” he wrote. “The Peace Commissioners I am in favor of are those sent from the cannon’s mouth. The only armistice I would yield to would be that forced by the points of our bayonets.” He felt that proposing an armistice was “madness” given the successes of the armies in the field, and were a general to call for a halt to fighting when the enemy was crumbling on the battlefield, he would be “cashiered for cowardice and treachery.” Rather than talking peace, he counseled that the armies at the front should be reinforced, and the matter pressed vigorously. Moreover, alluding to the election but not being able as a professional officer to make a political statement, he added, “Let the people, at the proper time, speak in such tones as will guarantee to the soldiers in the field a full and hearty support.”29 It was taken as an endorsement of Lincoln, but read literally it endorsed no one.
Emmanuel Custer disapproved of his son’s public stance. George wrote a lengthy defense of his opinion, emphasizing the risks he had taken in battle and the need to press on to victory to justify the sacrifices that had been made. “Since the South has chosen to submit our troubles to the arbitrament of the sword,” he stated flatly, “let the sword decide the contest.”30
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CUSTER’S COUNTERINSURGENCY
While Union and Confederate main battle forces were contending in the valley, a parallel unconventional struggle was being waged that led to one of the most controversial events of Custer’s Civil War career. “There are some things in the lives of all of us that we can’t refer to with pleasure,” Confederate cavalryman John W. Munson wrote, “and the hanging and shooting of some of our men, by order of General Custer, and in his presence, is one of those which Mosby’s men rarely refer to. Neither it, nor what followed as a result of it, are happy memories to any of us.”1
As Sheridan’s army moved back and forth through the valley dueling with Early in the summer and fall of 1864, his rear areas were bedeviled by Confederate raiders under the leadership of John Singleton Mosby. Mosby commanded the 43rd Battalion, 1st Virginia Cavalry, raised under the Partisan Ranger Act of 1862, which authorized the formation of special units to conduct irregular warfare operations against Union forces. Mosby’s Rangers operated principally in Union-occupied northern and northwest Virginia, an area that became known as Mosby’s Confederacy.
Mosby’s men were “a fit looking set of fellows,” one reporter who spent time with the partisans wrote, “well dressed, and most of them commissioned officers of the rebel army, who prefer the romantic life of marauders to that of civilized warfare in the field. Some of them were well mounted, well dressed, and a majority of them were provided with Union overcoats. They were nearly all of them apparently highly intelligent and well-educated men, armed with sabres and revolvers, very few having carbines. They seemed well disciplined, and exhibited the utmost confidence in the Colonel.”2 Most of the Confederate ranger units had been disbanded by 1864 due to lax discipline and the sense in Richmond that their operations amounted to little more than state-sanctioned banditry. But Mosby maintained strict controls over his men and imposed the order of a regular military unit, which he consistently claimed they were.
Mosby’s operations targeted Union supply trains, bridges, canals, and railroads. They raided lightly guarded encampments and Union depots, taking prisoners when possible, and generally made life difficult for the Northern occupiers. Federal forces hunted Mosby relentlessly, but
they always came up short, and legends of his encounters and escapes grew over the years, earning him the nickname the “Gray Ghost.” Libbie Custer related a story that Mosby was rumored to have given a lock of his hair to a girl near Washington to give to Lincoln with his compliments, “and he would take dinner with him within ten days.”3 Herman Melville’s epic poem “The Scout toward Aldie” captures the air of uncertainty and dread in Union rear-areas in Virginia in those days:
The cavalry-camp lies on the slope
Of what was late a vernal hill,
But now like a pavement bare—
An outpost in the perilous wilds
Which ever are lone and still;
But Mosby’s men are there—
Of Mosby best beware.
Custer’s run-ins with Mosby began as soon as his command moved into Virginia after Gettysburg. In mid-July 1863 he reported “some little bushwhacking” going on, noting that “Mosby is reported at Aldie.”4 In August 1863, Custer formed “a party of 300 picked men, under an excellent officer, to hunt up Mosby.” Pleasonton reported optimistically that Custer “has strong hopes they will either capture Mosby or drive him out of the country.”5 But Mosby eluded Custer’s hunters as he had many in the past.
Mosby presented the same unconventional challenges that vexed regular force commanders before and since. Sheridan initially believed that it would not take much effort to secure northern Virginia. After the Battle of Cedar Creek, he claimed that “one good regiment could clear [Mosby] out any time, if the regimental commander had spunk enough to try.”6 It was the type of misconception that has plagued many American officers faced with insurgency: that a small amount of determined force would end the troubles.
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