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Eversole (Kentucky, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
all strip of timber, which then stood in the fields a little east of New Erection church. Before sunrise next morning (Saturday) Hunter was stirring. Lloyd C., a young Marylander, the picket on the hilltop east of us, rode rapidly into the little hidden bivouac and shook the old war horse, Captain John H. McNeill, wrapped in his buffalo, fast asleep in the leaves in a fence corner. In an instant he mounted and led his men to the crest of the wooded ridge, near and a little south of the Eversole place. From this point, the hill being cleared to its crest on its east side, the enemy was plainly seen with his glass. McNeill was puzzled. Moving towards Staunton out of the southern edge of Harrisonburg they went in a steady flow. There they go, said he. Every ear was catching his words. He would not permit a single man to show his head above the crest, though at so great distance from the enemy. After gazing at the scene, with sundry ejaculations, he exclaims, Where do they go
Bridgewater, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
Port Republic road and see if they were there. No sooner done that Ah! there go the rascals—horse, foot, and dragoon, he cried. Taking the glass myself I could plainly discern the whole movement; here a body of infantry, then see the artillery horses tugging up the hill beyond the Butler house, now and then a horseman, no doubt an officer, spurring up the hill at one side of the moving column, in a full trot towards their front. A courier was now dispatched in haste to Imboden via Bridgewater with a message McNeill dictated to me warning him he was being flanked in this way by the entire force of Hunter. What its effect was upon that officer we shall see a little further on in my story. Hurrah for John McNeill, a prompt and gallant fighter, always hanging on the flanks and rear of an advancing enemy. Down from that hill, first northward to the Green mount road at Tom Harrison's-pushing right into Harrisonburg on one side as Hunter's rear guard pressed out on the other—s
Lynchburg (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
him referring to movements in the Valley. Hourly inquires after Hunter were received from Richmond. General Breckinridge at Meechum's. A little later, Generel John C. Breckinridge arrived at Meechum's with a long train filled everywhere and on top with troops. Boarding the train as it came to a stop, report was made to General Breckinridge that Hunter was now south of Lexington, pressing on. He at once gave order to reverse engine and return to Charlottesville, so as to hasten to Lynchburg to intercept Hunter. While in the coach a small cloud passed overhead, and for a few minutes it hailed hard, driving many of the soldiers under the cars. I knew General Breckinridge, having been most kindly treated by him during his short Valley campaign in reward for what he chose to term the prompt and efficient service of my office before and during the battle of New Market; and I took advantage of the hail-storm, which kept me in his coach, to ask that I be given order to return to
Charlottesville (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
egrams came from him and went to him referring to movements in the Valley. Hourly inquires after Hunter were received from Richmond. General Breckinridge at Meechum's. A little later, Generel John C. Breckinridge arrived at Meechum's with a long train filled everywhere and on top with troops. Boarding the train as it came to a stop, report was made to General Breckinridge that Hunter was now south of Lexington, pressing on. He at once gave order to reverse engine and return to Charlottesville, so as to hasten to Lynchburg to intercept Hunter. While in the coach a small cloud passed overhead, and for a few minutes it hailed hard, driving many of the soldiers under the cars. I knew General Breckinridge, having been most kindly treated by him during his short Valley campaign in reward for what he chose to term the prompt and efficient service of my office before and during the battle of New Market; and I took advantage of the hail-storm, which kept me in his coach, to ask t
United States (United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
's column rose black over Gambill's hill, a little further on. They continued to pour over the hill in solid columns as we returned towards Harrisonburg, and came on quietly, their horses at a walk. Staunton was quickly warned; the Harrisonburg office closed, and our little squad on horseback waited their coming at the court-house and corner of east Market street, not wishing to leave till the last moment. In a few minutes a squad of cavalry appeared on the little eminence, where the United States court-house now stands, halted a moment, began firing upon us, and drove upon us at break-neck speed. One of our party was dismounted at the moment girthing his saddle when this little episode began. These men were dressed in gray, and not thinking of Jesse Scouts, we were saying to one another these were some of our own men just come in on some side road, when we observed them elevate their pistols and fire. And as we put spurs to our horses, our visitors, having already lessened —
Port Republic (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
to Harrisonburg at night. Next day (Friday) Hunter entered Harrisonburg, halting overnight, and proceeding without opposition up the Valley on Saturday by the Port Republic road. Charge through Harrisonburg. All day Friday the air was full of flying reports. All felt the enemy was at the doors. But men knew nothing. A sinhe Valley pike visible further south, yet they keep agoina out of the edge of the town. It was suggested by one standing near that he throw his glass on the Port Republic road and see if they were there. No sooner done that Ah! there go the rascals—horse, foot, and dragoon, he cried. Taking the glass myself I could plainly t the edge of town. General, cried McNeill, you are flanked; you are almost surrounded by Hunter's whole army. Where is Hunter? Imboden asked. On the Port Republic road, and yonder, pointing east or southeast, rejoined McNeill. Did you not receive my message? I did, but I could not believe it, was the reply. The parl
Mount Sidney (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
me now it was so literally—instantly everybody, everything was turned about and moving quick, and sometimes double-quick, and for a time with much confusion, southward towards Staunton. General William E. Jones to the rescue. Jones, a good fighter, but sometimes severe in his manner, had been ordered to hasten up and oppose Hunter and protect the railroad at Staunton. Unadvised yet of Hunter's route and marching down the Valley pike northward, he met Imboden and McNeill not far from Mt. Sidney at nightfall, and bivouacked there. This was Saturday night, and it rained all night, and Hunter was on ground new to Jones. Jones felt himself without sufficient force; and, more, he was in an ugly humor, as the sequel will show. About dark or later a courier galloped up to the little chicken-coop of an office in which three telegraph operators lay, two of them trying to sleep: General Jones's orders are one of you go at once and open an office at Meechum's River Depot, in Albemarle
Mount Crawford (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
being in turn driven back. But the whole encounter is but a skirmish, one or two being wounded, a single piece of artillery a half mile to our rear sending only a shot or two into the enemy as we fall back. Our men retired sullenly towards Mount Crawford and Hunter's whole force went into camp at Harrisonburg. A ride to Hunter's rear. It was now night. What was worse, none knew what to think of the fate of the Valley. We felt we were about to be driven out of it. Loving dearly our oldked, high-fenced lands by a second force emerging from the woods a little further south. The men became much mixed up, but were speedily brought to order and led out by that cool, brave man in language more forcible than graceful. Entering Mt. Crawford, McNeill met Imboden on horseback, coming to meet him at the edge of town. General, cried McNeill, you are flanked; you are almost surrounded by Hunter's whole army. Where is Hunter? Imboden asked. On the Port Republic road, and yond
Harrisonburg, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
Hunter's Raid, 1864. from the Richmond Dispatch, July 8, 1900. A charge through Harrisonburg-a ride to the rear. In search of gallant McNell—Gen. Wm. E. Jones and the telegraph Operators—Gen. John C. Breckinridge at Meechum's River Depot. （One evening, not long ago, several comrades of the Confederate war were sitting quietly together in Harrisonburg, Va., relating in turn little incidents of war experiences. It was argued that these minor experiences, while felt by every one to be of little value, and almost always told for the pleasure one seems to have in living the days over again, and in bringing up images of persons and things endeared to memory by association, yet that they do form parts of a great tragedy of history; and that if the personal recollections of every veteran, Confederate and Federal, could be secured, and properly edited, and chronologically arranged, a vast series of volumes could be produced, possessing universal interest. The following recol<
Albemarle (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.9
Sidney at nightfall, and bivouacked there. This was Saturday night, and it rained all night, and Hunter was on ground new to Jones. Jones felt himself without sufficient force; and, more, he was in an ugly humor, as the sequel will show. About dark or later a courier galloped up to the little chicken-coop of an office in which three telegraph operators lay, two of them trying to sleep: General Jones's orders are one of you go at once and open an office at Meechum's River Depot, in Albemarle county. Mounting my horse, I galloped over to see the General, and found him seated at the foot of a giant white oak tree, apparently intent on some map of the country, and alone. Approaching in company with Captain Alexander Baker, quartermaster of the post at Harrisonburg, General Jones, I come for specific orders, I said. We have three men here, which is to go? * * * I don't care which, he jerked out, but one of you go instantly, or I'll put you all in irons. I believed my contentio
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