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John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Ashby. (search)
followed by Ashby, to Winchester, where he threw the guidon, with a laugh, to a friend, who afterwards had it hung up in the Library of the Capitol at Richmond. Iii. The work of Ashby then began in earnest. The affair with General Banks was only a skirmish — the wars of the giants followed. Jackson, nearly hemmed in by bitter and determined foes, fell back to escape destruction, and on his track rushed the heavy columns of Shields and Fremont, which, closing in at Strasburg and Front Royal, were now hunting down the lion. It was then and there that Ashby won his fame as a cavalry officer, and attached to every foot of ground over which he fought some deathless tradition. The reader must look elsewhere for a record of those achievements. Space would fail me were I to touch with the pen's point the hundredth part of that splendid career. On every hill, in every valley, at every bridge, Ashby thundered and lightened with his cavalry and artillery. Bitterest of the bitter
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., chapter 3.32 (search)
dressed front of holiday soldiers on parade. There was no straggling, no lagging; every man stood to his work, and advanced with the steady tramp of the true soldier. The ranks were thin, and the faces travel-worn; but the old flag floated in the winds of the Potomac as defiantly as on the banks of the Shenandoah. That bullet-torn ensign might have been written all over, on both sides, with the names of battles, and the list have then been incomplete. Manassas, Winchester, Kernstown, Front Royal, Port Republic, Cold Harbour, Malvern Hill, Slaughter Mountain, Bristow Station, Groveton-Ox Hill, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, were to follow. And these were but the larger names upon the roll of their glory. The numberless engagements of minor character are omitted; but in these I have mentioned they appear to the world, and sufficiently vindicate their claim to the title of heroes. I seemed to see those names upon their flag as the old brigade advanced that day, and my whole heart
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., A fight, a dead man, and a coffin: an incident of 1864. (search)
ch by some negligence had been left upon his person, he fired upon his guard. The bullet missed its aim-and the guard firing in turn, blew out Lieutenant Cole's brains. A singular coincidence comes to the writer's memory here. The mother of the young ladies whose adventures are here related, had on this day gone to attend the funeral of young Carlisle Whiting at the Old Chapel some miles distant. Young Whiting had been killed by a Federal prisoner, whom he was conducting south, near Front Royal. The prisoner's pistol had been overlooked; he drew it suddenly, and fired upon his guard, the bullet inflicting a mortal wound. At nightfall the Federal troops had torn the house to pieces, taken all which they could not destroy, and had vanished. Mountjoy had succeeded in getting off with his men. At six o'clock on the next morning poor Braxton breathed his last, still holding the hand of the young lady, which seemed to be all by which he had clung to life. Then a strange and