Browsing named entities in Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 6. (ed. Frank Moore). You can also browse the collection for J. Bankhead Magruder or search for J. Bankhead Magruder in all documents.

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e flagship Westfield, that vessel came out to meet her, and Com. Renshaw sent an officer and pilot on board, when the Mary's crew learned for the first time that Magruder was in command at Virginia Point, with heavy reenforcements, threatening active hostilities. The Mary A. Boardman crossed the first bar of the harbor in compare swarming to the attack. Their batteries — the four before mentioned — were all active. They had crossed with upward of three thousand infantry, commanded by Magruder in person, bringing artillery on the cars. At this time it was as dark as Erebus; a blackness illumined only by the flash of cannon, the bursting of shell, and resently returns, finding her task anticipated. Capt. Law of the Clifton puts off in a gig from that vessel to Commodore Renshaw, with a message received from Gen. Magruder on shore. It gives the Union fleet until ten o'clock to leave Galveston on peril of destruction. Almost directly after the return of Capt. Law to his stea
Rebel reports and Narratives. General Magruder's despatch. headquarters, Galveston, Texas. This morning, the first January, at three o'clock, I attacked the enemy's fleet and garrison at al expedition, in which every officer and every man won for himself imperishable renown. J. Bankhead Magruder, Major-General. Houston telegraph account. Huston, Texas, January 5, 1863. As General Magruder was on his way to Texas, accompanied by Judge Oldham, Major Forshey and others, the subject of retaking Galveston Island was brought up. The difficulties of the undertaking were canrawn to Half Moon Shoals, twelve miles distant, and awaited signal. At about five o'clock (General Magruder says three, and a spectator says four, but we timed it by telegraph and are exact — it was nutes before five, Houston time,) all things on shore being in readiness, the ball opened, Gen. Magruder firing the first gun. The boats at once put on steam and hurried to the scene. They must have
the close of a hard-fought battle, but the beginning of one, with a fierce, exultant, determined host advancing. The river roaring in its might, just bursting through the breach, must be dammed in an instant. The flood must be stopped at once or all is lost. There has been no moment like it during the war. It was a critical hour — that sunset hour on Sunday at Pittsburgh Landing, but there the torrent had been stemmed all through the day. It was an eventful moment at Malvern Hills, when Magruder led up his whisky-maddened men to that terrible artillery fire of our forces; but that was the last spasm of a foe exhausted by seven days fighting. But here, at this moment, in this wood, this clearing, may have been the turning-point of the destiny of this nation, the welfare of the human race for all coming time. Now is the hour for the stringing of the nerves, the bracing of hearts, the clenching of teeth! Flesh and blood must become adamant. Sickles, looking down the turnpike, di