Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 27.
Reverend J. William Jones, Ed.

I have been thinking for some time that I would jot down my recollections of General J. E. B. Stuart's raid on Catlett's Station during the war between the States. I was a private in Company G, 4th Virginia cavalry, but not one of those who could fight a battle or conduct a campaign, for I never knew anything about a battle except what occurred right in front or pretty near to me. So I shall only try to describe what I saw and did. I am a poor hand to recollect dates and places, but of circumstances I can remember a great deal. I see by a map of the battlefields of Virginia that there was a skirmish at Catlett's August 21 and 23 and October 24, 1864. I think it must have been on the two former dates that the raid of which I write occurred, for I know we were in and about there two days.

On the 21st we had been marching all day, and passed through the town of Warrenton not a great while before night. My regiment came to a halt just in the town. We were received by the citizens with open arms, and what was much more to our liking, with a bountiful supply for the inner man. All were not able to take advantage of what was offered, as we only stopped for a few seconds. Fortunately for myself, I halted just opposite a store containing almost everything, and the occupant thereof rushed out, bearing in one hand a plate piled up with apple pies and in the other a plate filled with dried or smoked fish. I made a grab, and got a goodly portion of pie in one hand and a number of fish in the other. Many of the other soldiers did the same. Never did viands taste better. The ‘pies’ were consumed then and there, and the fish kept for future use. [304]

Soon after leaving the town we were halted in an open field. Night was coming on, and ominous clouds were looming up, with lightning and thunder. Soon it began to rain in torrents. I have always maintained I never saw it rain so hard before or since. The storm was soon over, and then commenced the fun. It was laughable to see the men standing on their heads, or getting their feet up in the air to let the water run out of their boots. By the time we started again it was pitch dark, and not one of us privates, I will venture to say, knew where we were going. I surely did not. On we plodded, hour after hour, with the darkness so dense that you couldn't see your file leader. We crossed several streams very much swollen by the recent rains, which made fording very difficult, but on we went. There were two regiments in front of mine in the line of march. One, I think, was the gallant 5th, led by that dashing officer, Colonel Tom Rosser, now General.

Somewhere about midnight, when nothing was to be heard but the splash, splash of the horses' feet in the wet roads, the stillness was suddenly broken by a tremendous yell far to the front. We in the rear knew then something had been found. Orders soon came down the line to quicken up. The yelling at the front became fiercer and fiercer. By the time my regiment got upon the scene of action, it was pretty much all over, and by the flashes of lightning we found that we were standing in the midst of the Federal tents. Just then Colonel Rosser, with his sword drawn and dripping with blood, rode up to General Stuart, who was close by, and said in his own emphatic language: ‘General, I have been giving them h—ll, cutting and slashing right and left.’

It was a pitiable sight to see those Federal soldiers running here and there, and clad only in their night garments, which consisted, of course, only of undergarments. They had no hats nor shoes, and wherever one was seen he was soon captured or cut down. It was an awful and exciting time. Soon after my regiment came up Captain William B. Newton, of Company G, was ordered to take a squad of men and proceed to the railroad to cut the telegraph wire. I formed one of the squad, but what we were to cut with I could not see. Sabres are good for cutting flesh and breaking bones, but they can't cut suspended wire very easily. Some of the Gloucester cavalry got mixed up with us as we proceeded in the pitch dark. Finally we reached the railroad at a high embankment, and it was well for us that we did, for by the flashes of lightning, which were still very vivid, we could see, by climbing to the top of the embankment, a [305] line of Federal infantry drawn up ready for action. Captain Newton called for volunteers to climb a pole and cut the wire. We had all seen the danger ,and knew the risk, and as we had nothing to cut with, and a telegraph pole is not the easiest thing in the world to climb, we were rather slow to respond. But there was a volunteer. He was a small man from the Gloucester troops that had joined us. As he jumped to the front, he exclaimed: ‘I will go; Gloucester has never backed out yet,’ and up he went. He had reached the top of the pole and was trying his best to get the wire in two, when there came a vivid flash of lightning and the Yankees saw him. They were not slow in firing a volley right across the track. It seemed to me the whole heaven was full of bullets. The man up the pole dropped down with a thud. We were sure he had been killed. but the next moment he rolled down the embankment and jumped up all right. We could do nothing with the wire, so Captain Newton took us back to the company. Out from the tents were packed all of General Pope's headquarters wagons, and many others, I suppose. Several had been set on fire, which illuminated the camp in every direction. I got permission to do a little foraging on my own hook, and rode down among the burning wagons.

There were many laughable scenes, as well as serious ones, that memorable night. I don't suppose time can ever efface them from my memory. As I passed in the rear of one wagon—and I ought to mention here that these wagons were all packed and ready to move out at any moment—I saw a soldier trying to get the cork out of a bottle. He got impatient with the obstinate cork and so he struck the neck of the bottle on the wagon tire. There was an explosion, and he dropped the bottle like a hot cake. I yelled to him that he was a fool; that that was the best stuff he ever drank; that it was champagne. He said there was plenty of it in the wagon. I made him hand me out a bottle, which I stored away in my saddle-pockets. I then proceeded to a wagon which had not been molested. Two fine, fat horses were tied behind it. I untied one of them and transferred my saddle from my own horse to this old Yankee cuss, and I had ample time to regret it afterwards. I had no notion of turning my horse adrift, for I considered him as fine an animal as there was in the service. After changing saddle and bridle to the other horse, I tied the halter strap of my horse in the ring of the saddle. I then climbed up into the wagon, which was chock full of camp equipage. I soon slashed the cover off with my knife, [306] so that I could have full play. I tackled a big leather trunk, and as I heaved it out on the ground it struck the front wheel and the top and bottom parted company. It evidently belonged to an officer of high rank. The first thing I pulled out was on elegant cocked hat with royal black plumes. Then followed dress uniform coats and pants, and fatigue jackets, all with epaulets, and superb underwear of every description. I was rich. I strapped to my saddle and around my person everything that I needed, and some things that I had better have left where I found them; but then I didn't know. Among other valuable things was an elegant pair of field-glasses. I put the strap of the case over my neck. There was a cylindrical tin box, a foot or more long, containing drawings and maps. I should have carried those to General Stuart, but I did not, and left them where they were. Then I found my ‘evil genius,’ which was a pint flask half full of good whiskey. I sampled it then and there. When I had enough I mounted my new capture and started out. I hadn't gone far when I was hailed by a man standing over a five-gallon runlet, with the head knocked in. He asked me if I didn't want something to drink. I took out the flask which I had gotten from the trunk, and handed it to him, first unscrewing the top. He simply immersed it in the whisky and let it run full, and handed it back to me.

I was sitting on my horse, and screwing on the top with the reins hanging loose, when all on a sudden the Yankees, who had crept up under cover of darkness, opened a terrible fire on us. At the first discharge the old Yankee horse bolted right over a wagon pole, and on he went into pitch darkness, through bushes and over gullies. Before I could gather up the reins he was running away with me. At the first bound the halter strap to the horse I was leading broke. As a second mishap, one stirrup leather gave way. I had to hold on by my knees. Whither he was carrying me I could not tell, for it was dark, and the bushes were raking me fore and aft, and I expected every moment to be dragged off. I finally succeeded in hauling him up. Then I felt around to see what damage had been done. And ‘I am sorry to relate,’ I was as poor a man as you would wish to see. Every vestige of my plunder was gone, except the field-glasses, which were around my neck. The bushes had scraped me clean; haversack and all were gone. I couldn't find my company, and I didn't know where I was. I stopped and tried to locate myself and to listen. While so engaged I heard some one groaning, apparently far below me. I could not understand it, so I [307] called to know who was there, and the reply came back: ‘It's me; Harry Finney.’ And sure enough, it was Lieutenant H. B. Finney, of the Powhatan troop. He begged me to help him, saying he was badly hurt. I then found that I was standing on the edge of a very deep gully, and Lieutenant Finney was at the bottom of it. I fastened my horse and went to his rescue. He could scarcely walk. His horse had played him an ugly trick. I managed to get him up the steep bank and put him on my horse, and as daylight was coming on, took him back to the rear. During the day I got another horse and put him on it, and he joined some of his own company. I soon found some of my comrades, and together we rejoined the regiment. I learned from some of the men that a soldier from the 6th regiment had captured my lost horse. I lost no time in hunting him up, but had hard work getting him back. After much persuasion and many promises, I finally succeeded. Had I stuck to him all the time, I should have come out of that raid much better off than I did.

We captured a great many prisoners, among them a woman in man's uniform and with a gun; destroyed quantities of stores and wagons, brought off all the horses, and got back without the loss of a single man, so far as I know.

Thus, Mr. Editor, I have tried to jot down my recollections of one of the most remarkable rides and raids that it was my good fortune to be in during the war.