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John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., One of Stuart's escapes. (search)
One of Stuart's escapes. I. I never pass the little village of Verdiersville, on the road from Orange Court-House to Chancellorsville, without casting a glance upon a small house — the first upon the right as you enter the hamlet from the west. There is nothing remarkable in the appearance of this house; and unless some especial circumstance directed to it your attention, you would pass it by completely without notice. A small wooden mansion, such as every village contains; a modest, rather dilapidated porch; a contracted yard in front, and an ordinary fence of narrow palings, through which a narrow gate gives access to the road — there is the whole. Now why should this most commonplace and uninteresting of objects cause the present writer, whenever he passes it, and however weary he may be, to turn his horse's head in the direction of the little gate, pause on his way, and remain for some moments gazing in silence at the dilapidated porch, the tumble-down fence, and the
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., From the Rapidan to Frying-Pan in October, 1863. (search)
l ever better understood the difficult art of coolly retiring without loss, and promptly advancing to his former position at the right moment. As in other sketches, the writer will aim rather to present such details and incidents as convey a clear idea of the actual occurrence, then to indulge in historical generalization. Often the least trifling of things are trifles. In October, 1863, General Meade's army was around Culpeper Court-House, with the advance at Mitchell's Station, on the Orange road, and General Lee faced him on the south bank of the Rapidan. One day there came from our signal-station, on Clarke's Mountain, the message: General Meade's Headquarters are at Wallack's, and Pleasanton's at Cumberland, Georgia. General Fitz Lee thereupon sent to General Stuart, after the jocose fashion of General Fitz, to ask why Pleasanton had been sent to Cumberland, Georgia. The message should have been Cumberland George's-the house, that is to say, of the Rev. Mr. George, in the
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Jackson's death-wound. (search)
vantages to the Federal troops that an assault there was impossible, and the result of the consultation was the adoption of Jackson's suggestion to attack the enemy's right. Every preparation was made that night, and on the morning of May second, Jackson set out with Hill's, Rodes's, and Colston's divisions, in all about twenty-two thousand men, to accomplish his undertaking. Chancellorsville was a single brick house of large dimensions, situated on the plank-road from Fredericksburg to Orange, and all around it were the thickets of the country known as the Wilderness. In this tangled undergrowth the Federal works had been thrown up, and such was the denseness of the woods that a column moving a mile or two to the south was not apt to be seen. Jackson calculated upon this, but fortune seemed against him. At the Catherine Furnace, a mile or two from the Federal line, his march was discovered, and a hot attack was made on his rear-guard as he moved past. All seemed now discovered
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Corporal Shabrach. (search)
usiness connected with the Quartermaster's Department of our regiment, and I will describe for your instruction the passport office, and the way you get a passport. I thought at first I would not need one, because my orders were approved by several high officers, and last by Major Taylor, Adjutant-General of the army, by command of General Lee, and nobody had demanded any other evidence of my right to travel before I reached Richmond. Uncle Robert will not allow his provost-marshals at Orange or Gordonsville to deny his sign-manual, and I was under the mistaken impression that I could enjoy the luxury of taking back a lot of shoes and blankets to the Quattlebum Rifles, without getting a permit on brown paper from some Major or Captain in Richmond. I accordingly went to the cars, and on presenting my orders to the melancholy young man with the musket and bayonet, posted there, found his musket drop across the door. When I asked him what that meant, he shook his head and said I h