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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 9. (ed. Frank Moore) 159 5 Browse Search
Robert Underwood Johnson, Clarence Clough Buell, Battles and Leaders of the Civil War: Volume 2. 85 1 Browse Search
Frederick H. Dyer, Compendium of the War of the Rebellion: Regimental Histories 82 8 Browse Search
Maj. Jed. Hotchkiss, Confederate Military History, a library of Confederate States Military History: Volume 3, Virginia (ed. Clement Anselm Evans) 70 0 Browse Search
Robert Lewis Dabney, Life and Commands of Lieutenand- General Thomas J. Jackson 48 0 Browse Search
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 10. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones) 44 0 Browse Search
The Annals of the Civil War Written by Leading Participants North and South (ed. Alexander Kelly McClure) 36 0 Browse Search
Horace Greeley, The American Conflict: A History of the Great Rebellion in the United States of America, 1860-65: its Causes, Incidents, and Results: Intended to exhibit especially its moral and political phases with the drift and progress of American opinion respecting human slavery from 1776 to the close of the War for the Union. Volume II. 35 1 Browse Search
Jubal Anderson Early, Ruth Hairston Early, Lieutenant General Jubal A. Early , C. S. A. 34 0 Browse Search
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 7. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones) 34 0 Browse Search
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Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 1. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), Strength of General Lee's army in the Seven days battles around Richmond. (search)
ackson and Ewell, which the victories of Cross Keys and Port Republic had rendered disposable. General Johnston states in ackson and Ewell, which the victories of Cross Keys and Port Republic had rendered disposable. I made these statements froght at Kernstown, McDowell, Middletown, Winchester, and Port Republic, and Ewell's having fought at Front Royal, Middletown, Winchester, Cross Keys, and Port Republic; and all of them having done very rapid and extensive marching. In Jackson's threemand of the Stonewall brigade, states, in his report of Port Republic, that the total strength of the brigade was one thousanes of the division. The loss in the brigade was 199 at Port Republic, leaving only 1,135 in it. That was the largest brigadeue, then, without taking into consideration the loss at Port Republic, there could only have been thirty-five men and officerithdrawn from the Valley sooner. He came as soon after Port Republic as was practicable, it being necessary so to baffle and
e, when a courier from the Georgian, Colonel Johnson, arrived, and informed him that Blenker and Milroy, with their Dutch division, were advancing eastward in Western Virginia, and that his small force of fifteen hundred men was falling back before them. When this news was received, Jackson, finding his original command fully rested, left Ewell's force of ten thousand at McGackeysville, and sallied out during the night, none knew whither. Keeping to the mountains until he arrived at Port Republic, he struck the Valley Pike there, proceeded on, by night and day, towards Staunton, and then, without entering the town, shaped his course north-west through the mountains. After a fatiguing march of seventy miles in three days, through valleys, over mountains, and along frightfully muddy roads, he arrived at nine A. M., May tenth, in sight of Colonel Johnson's little force, which was drawn up in a narrow valley, at a village called McDowell, with the heavy brigades of Milroy and Blenke
, fired every load from his three pistols, and brought every thing away safely.) Soon we were moving long the road to Port Republic, the enemy pressing closely. Ashby's eagle eye was upon them, as watching for an excuse to give them battle. An excountless acts of daring and chivalry! Having retreated during the night, we halted two miles from the village of Port Republic, and watched a further development of the enemy's plans. Shields's division was on the east, and Fremont's on the we nearly parallel, and it seemed the latter was desirous of attacking Jackson while Shields should cross the bridge at Port Republic and get in the rear: the commanders were in sight of each other, and not more than two miles apart. But if they imaghad we been less active, Shields would have advanced up the east bank of the river, and, having secured the bridge at Port Republic, would have crossed over, and got in front. It was fortunate, therefore, that Jackson had been able to out-race them
he strikes with his right hand and his left the columns of Fremont and Shields, closing in from east and west to destroy him-strikes them and passes through, continuing his retreat up the Valley. Then comes the last scene -finis coronat. At Port Republic his adversaries strike at him in two columns. He throws himself against Fremont at Cross Keys and checks his advance; then attacks Shields beyond the river, and after one of the hottest battles of the war, fought nearly man to man, defeats hone for music. A joke was a mysterious affair to him. Only when so very broad and staring, that he who ran might read it, did humour of any sort strike Jackson. Even his thick coating of matter-of-fact was occasionally pierced, however. At Port Republic a soldier said to his companion: I wish these Yankees were in hell, whereupon the other replied: I don't; for if they were, old Jack would be within half a mile of them, with the Stonewall Brigade in front! When this was told to Jackson, he
the spring of 1862, when Jackson made his great campaign in the Valley, crushing one after another Banks, Milroy, Shields, Fremont, and their associates. Among the brilliant figures, the hard fighters grouped around the man of Kernstown and Port Republic at that time, Ashby was perhaps the most notable and famous. As the great majority of my readers never saw the man, a personal outline of him here in the beginning may interest. Even on this soil there are many thousands who never met that der of wonders to me, a few months afterwards, was that this unknown youth, with the simple smile, and the retiring, almost shy demeanour, had become the right hand of Jackson, the terror of the enemy, and had fallen near the bloody ground of Port Republic, mourned by the whole nation of Virginia. Virginia was his first and last love. When he went to Harper's Ferry in April, 1861, with his brother Richard's cavalry company, some one said: Well, Ashby, what flag are we going to fight under
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Stuart's ride around McClellan in June, 1862. (search)
rew back, marshalled his great lines, darkening both the northern and southern banks of the Chickahominy, and prepared for a more decisive blow at the Confederate capital, whose spires were in sight. Before him, however, lay the Southern army, commanded now by Lee, who had succeeded Johnston, wounded in the fight of Seven pines. The moment was favourable for a heavy attack by Lee. Jackson had just driven before him the combined forces of Shields and Fremont, and on the bloody field of Port Republic ended the great campaign of the Valley at one blow. The veterans of his command could now be concentrated on the banks of the Chickahominy against McClellan; a combined advance of the forces under Lee and Jackson might save the capital. But how should the attack be made? In council of war, General Stuart told me he proposed an assault upon General McClellan's left wing from the direction of James River, to cut him off from that base. But this suggestion was not adopted; the defences
light passing through the foliage overhead, revealed his pale face, closed eyes, and bleeding breast. Those around him thought that he was dying. What a death for such a man! All around him was the tangled wood, only half illumined by the struggling moonbeams; above him burst the shells of the enemy, exploding, says an officer, like showers of falling stars, and in the pauses came the melancholy notes of the whippoorwills, borne on the night air. In this strange wilderness, the man of Port Republic and Manassas, who had led so many desperate charges, seemed about to close his eyes and die in the night. But such was not to be the result then. When asked by one of the officers whether he was much hurt, he opened his eyes and said quietly without further exhibition of pain, No, my friend, don't trouble yourself about me. The litter was then raised upon the shoulders of the men, the party continued their way, and reaching an ambulance near Melzi Chancellor's placed the wounded Ge
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Facetiae of the camp: souvenirs of a C. S. Officer. (search)
ious General Stonewall Jackson. Jackson's aversion to profanity was proverbial in the army. It was known to excite his extreme displeasure. Colonel Wtherefore stopped abruptly, hung his head, and awaited in silence the stern rebuke of his superior. It came in these words, uttered in the mildest tone: That's right, Colonel-get 'em up! XI. Another anecdote of Jackson-but this one, I fear, has crept into print. Some readers, however, may not have seen it. After Port Republic, the General was riding along the line when he heard the following colloquy between two soldiers of the Stonewall Brigade. Curse the Yankees! I wish they were in hell, every one of them! I don't. Why don't you? Because if they were, Old Jack would be following 'em up close, with the old Stonewall Brigade in front! Jackson's face writhed into a grin; from his lips a low laugh issued; but he rode on in silence, making no comment. Xii. General Cā€” was proverbial for hi
no fire, but a plenty of snow. I saw him on his return at Winchester, and compared notes. The weather was bad, but Bumpo's spirits good. He had held on to his musket, remaining a high private in the rear rank. Some of these days he will tell his grandchildren, if he lives, all about the days when he followed Commissary Banks about, and revelled in the contents of his wagons. Altogether they had a jovial time, in spite of snow and hunger and weariness. The days hurried on, and Port Republic was fought. Private Bumpo continued to carry his musket about. He had now seen a good deal of Virginia-knew the Valley by heart ā€” was acquainted with the very trees and wayside stones upon the highways. Riding with me since, he has recalled many tender memories of these objects. Under that tree there, he lay down to rest in the shade on a hot July day. On that stone he sat, overcome with weariness, one afternoon of snowy December. There's the road we fell back on! Yonder is the hol
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 went to greet
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