Imboden's dash into Charlestown. [from the Baltimore Sunday sun, August 30, 1903.]
A war incident in which the Ninth Maryland Federal Regiment Figured—An act of kindness that was remembered.About the 15th of October, 1863, General Imboden's Brigade was encamped in Rockingham county, Virginia, when he received an order from General Lee to proceed to Berryville, meet General Stuart there and in conjunction with him make an attack on Harper's Ferry and Charlestown, and, if possible, capture both. General Sullivan's (Federal) Brigade was at the Ferry, and the Ninth Maryland (Federal) Regiment of Infantry and a squadron of cavalry at Charlestown, which is eight miles from the Ferry. Imboden had to guard all the gaps in the mountains from Beverley to Harper's Ferry, and consequently never had his full brigade in camp together at one time. At this time he had less than 1,000 men with him. General John D. Imboden raised the Staunton Artillery before the war, and it was the first battery that took the field in Virginia. It [12] took a very conspicuous part in the first battle of Manassas, and on account of the skillful way his guns were handled that day Imboden was promoted from captain to brigadier-general. Both Johnston and Beauregard complimented him in their official reports of that battle. Imboden's Brigade, at the time of the order mentioned above, was composed of the Sixty-second Virginia Mounted Infantry, commanded by that distinguished officer, Colonel George W. Smith, a graduate of the Virginia Military Institute; the Eighteenth Virginia Cavalry, by the General's brother, Colonel George W. Imboden, now a prominent lawyer in West Virginia; White's Battalion, by Major Robert White, late Attorney-General of West Virginia; the Maryland Battalion, by Major Sturgis Davis, of Maryland, who had won his laurels under Turner Ashby; Gilmor's Battalion of Rangers, by Harry Gilmor, of Baltimore, who was as rough and daring a rider as ever drew a saber; McNeil's Rangers, of Hardy and Hampshire counties, West Virginia, commanded by Captain John H. Mc-Neil. This was the company that later in the war, under the immediate command of Jesse McNeil, son of Captain J. H. McNeil, first lieutenant of Company D, rode into Cumberland, Md., and brought out two major-generals, Crook and Kelly, from the very midst of their commands. Finally, McClanahan's Battery, commanded by Captain John H. McClanahan, a Texan, who had served under Ben McCullough in Texas until it got too peaceable there for him. So, as may be seen, our General had in his brigade a lot of choice spirits, and was well equipped to make a daring raid into the enemy's lines. The writer had the honor to command a section of McClanahan's Battery. Some years ago a Yankee major, giving an account of the capture of Charleston, said:
‘The Johnnies had some pretty darned smart officers during the war, and some of them that did the most effective work were the least heard of. Imboden was one of them. He was a smashing good soldier, had the true instincts of a cavalryman, and was as much at home in the saddle for a three days ride to raid an outpost, as he would have been playing bean poker for apple brandy in a crossroads grocery in the Shenandoah mountains.’Now, nothing delighted a Confederate soldier's heart more than [13] to be ordered to the lower valley of Virginia. They used to speak of it as the ‘land where the flowers always bloomed and the birds always sung.’ They never failed to meet a warm and cordial welcome there from the noble women who were so devoted to the cause we were fighting for. Every may from that section able to carry arms was in the Confederate army. Some belonged to the Stone-Brigade, some to Stuart's Cavalry, and some to Chew's celebrated Battery of Horse Artillery. There were two companies of cavalry —the Clark Cavalry, Company D, 6th Virginia, and Baylor's Company, Company B, 12th Virginia. Most of the men in these two companies were from the counties of Clark and Jefferson, sons of well-to-do farmers, who from early boyhood were accustomed to riding and handling the fine horses for which that section was celebrated. On one occasion I heard a distinguished Confederate officer say of them that he did not believe there were ever two finer bodies of mounted men on earth. Our advance arrived in Berryville late in the evening of the 17th of October, and drove a scouting party of the enemy out of town. We did not find Stuart there, as we expected, our scouts reporting that he could not cross the Shenandoah river on account of high water. The General decided to attack Charlestown alone, if he could find out what was there. A council of war was held and Major Davis volunteered to go to the vicinity of Charlestown and find out. To this the General agreed, and went into camp to take a short rest before his return. The Major knew two renegade Southerners who lived within a mile of the place, and he aroused one of them about midnight and demanded the information he desired. The man told him that his brother (who held a position under the bogus Yankee Virginia Government), was in the town and that the (loyal) people there were very much incensed against him and that he was afraid he would be handled roughly if he was captured. But he said that if the Major would allow him to get his brother out he would give him the information he desired. This was agreed to, and the Major obtained the necessary information, and returned to camp in time for us to get to Charlestown by daybreak. The rays of light from the approaching day began to peep over the Blue Ridge and a long stretch of fog hung over the Shenandoah like a lake reaching toward the ferry. The landscape around the town was dotted with handsome country residences, for Charlestown is in the midst of a rich farming country. The town lay sleeping before us, the inhabitants little dreaming that their friends and deliverers [14] were so close around them, or that they would soon be awakened by the boom of Confederate guns, and hear the joyful sound of Confederate horsemen dashing over their streets. I was with my section on the Berryville pike, and my orders from the General were that as soon as the pickets were driven in we should make a dash for the courthouse, where he said the enemy was quartered, and open on it promptly, as there was no time to lose. My boys were enthusiastic when they heard the order and were eager for the command to move. The General sent Captain McNeil and his adjutant, Captain F. B. Berkeley, in with a flag of truce to demand an immediate and unconditional surrender. Colonel Simpson, the officer in command, gallantly replied: ‘Come and take us if you can.’ We met them just before we got to the courthouse and they said: ‘Hurry up, Lieutenant, they have refused to surrender. The building is loopholed and you will have to be quick or they will kill your men before you can unlimber.’ As we entered the town a small boy came out of a house and I called him to show me the way to the courthouse. His eyes sparkled with excitement and he said: ‘Take me up behind you, and I will show you.’ When we got near the courthouse he said: ‘As soon as you turn that corner you can see it.’ I said to the youngster: ‘Now, you get off, for they will fire on us as soon as they see us and you might be killed.’ He replied: ‘Oh! please let me go along with you; I am not afraid.’ I had to pull him off my horse and, as he struck the ground, he called after me: ‘I am going, anyhow.’ And he did, sure enough. As we turned the corner I saw the Yankees standing at the big windows with their guns in their hands. The courtroom was in the second floor. Just as we got unlimbered I heard the Yankee officer give the command to fire, and as I gave the same command, they poured a volley into us, but, strange to say, did not kill a single man. We fired several times rapidly, and soon the courthouse was obscured by the smoke. I discovered that they had stopped firing and gave the command to my men to cease firing. When the smoke cleared away I saw that the enemy had gone. We were so close and the room was so high that our shots had gone under them and I found that we had only wounded one man, a field officer. Poor fellow! he was lying, horribly wounded, on the courthouse steps. He had on a beautiful sword, which he said had been presented to him, and which he asked to be allowed to retain. We fixed him as comfortably as we could and laid the sword by his side. The enemy [15] had gone out of town by the Harper's Ferry road, but were almost immediately charged by the 18th Regiment, and threw down their arms. Captain Julian Pratt made a dash for the color bearer and secured the colors. Colonel Simpson broke through our lines and struck out for the ferry with Harry Gilmor in hot pursuit, but reached the troops coming to his relief before Harry overtook him. A lucky man! As soon as I saw that the Yankees were out of the courthouse I sent two men with a wagon and four horses, which we discovered hitched up near the courthouse, to go in and load up with plunder, for the Yankees had left everything behind in their flight. I especially gave orders to get all the knapsacks and blankets possible. I did not see my captain any more until the next day at Front Royal. We were looking forward to having a supply of blankets and clothing to last the company through the winter, but to our bitter disappointment the men had loaded the wagon with drums—thirteen drums—drums of all sorts and sizes. I turned them over to Colonel Smith, of the 62d, and he organized a fine drum corps. The General came along and said: ‘Hurry up and get out of town, for the enemy are coming in heavy force from Harper's Ferry.’ Captain M. Frank Imboden was put in charge of the prisoners and he took them through the town at a double quick, followed by the small boys, black and white, yelling and jeering at them. We followed and found the streets full of girls, waving their handkerchiefs and cheering with wild delight, but they soon changed their tunes when they found that we were going to leave them again in the hands of the hated enemy. They begged and entreated us to stay, and although we hated to do it we had to go, and go fast, for a much larger force than we had came into one end of the town as we went out of the other. I tried to get the girls to leave the streets so that I could rake it with a parting load of canister, but they were too enthusiastic to do so and we would not have risked a hair of their dear heads to kill a thousand Yankees. The enemy followed us as far as Berryville and made several desperate and gallant efforts to recapture their friends, making it warm for us and giving us a running fight all all the way. We fired our guns en echelon, some firing and some retreating. Several times they came near capturing them. At one place, I remember especially, they got on our right flank and within a few feet of us before we could turn our guns about, when Major Gilmor charged them and saved us. Just as he made the dash at them his [16] horse was killed, but in a second he was on another horse and right after the man who had shot his horse. In the charge he recaptured two of our men that the enemy had taken. The Yankee Major in his account says: ‘Imboden, with half a dozen shells and a volley or two of carbine and pistol shots and considerable dash, had scooped in pretty nearly as many as his own force numbered. Our folks were never very proud of that day's work. The whole day was a stern chase, but occasionally, when Imboden was pressed too closely and was in need of time to keep the prisoners plunder ahead out of the way, he stopped long enough to give us a sharp taste of fighting that showed the metal that was in him.’ In another page of the Major's story he says: ‘Our guns were well at work and as Minor was short of officers I was directing one of his sections, when, with a whoop and a yell, out of a thick undergrowth a little to our rear, came a couple of Harry Gilmor's squadrons, with that dare-devil sabreur leading them, not more than fifty yards away, and, of course, it did not take long for them to “git there.” The rush was so sudden and unlocked for that our support gave way and Gilmor made straight for our guns, rode right over and past them, sabers slashing and pistols firing as they went. I had been tugging like blazes at my revolver, but could not get the blamed thing out, and as they rode over us a long-legged, redheaded fellow made a vicious slash at me over the wheel. I promptly dodged under the muzzle of the gun and he did not reach me. “Fours left wheel” rang out and back they came before you could draw your breath. I laid for the son of saber that had reached for me before, for I had got my gun out by this time. I did not see my read-headed friend, but a handsome, dark-mustached youngster, a boy in looks, was making a point to run me through. Durn my buttons, gentlemen, if that sabre did not look as long as a fence rail. I dropped flat under the gun's axle and the boy swept past. As far as my experience goes that dash of Gilmor's was one of the handsomest things of the kind that occurred during the war.’ The Major is mistaken about the two squadrons. Harry hardly had one with him at that time. The poor prisoners were on foot and we were mounted, so they had a hard time of it, but as soon as their friends stopped the pursuit we gave them a good rest. We got safely back to our camp in Rockingham. Our loss of killed and wounded was not great. An interesting incident in this connection is that these prisoners [17] got to the Valley pike at Newmarket (I think it was) where their officers were paroled and put in charge of Major Houston Hall, of the 62d Virginia (Mounted) Infantry. The gallant and amiable Major hired conveyances for the whole party at Newmarket, and, a sufficient store of old apple brandy having been laid in, the journey to Staunton was made very pleasant for all hands. The truth of the proverb that ‘Kindness is never thrown away’ has seldom been better illustrated than in this case. Some time during the winter of 1864-65 Major Hall had the misfortune to be captured, and was sent to Fort Delaware for safe keeping. I was there at the same time and recollect very well when the news was brought into our barracks that a new regiment had come to release the one that had for some time been doing guard duty on the island. In a little while word of inquiry for Major Hall of the 62d Virginia, was passed through the barracks. The Major answered the call and went off with the orderly, wondering what was wanted with him, and so did we who waited for his return. This return took place just after the tattoo was beaten on the garrison drums, when Major Hall came into his division of barracksunder the friendly escort of a couple of officers of the newly arrived guard regiment. It did not take long for the Major to explain that this regiment was the Eleventh Maryland and that he had been out to dinner with their mess. That he had been well dined by somebody was evident to the meanest capacity. The Eleventh remained on guard over us for several weeks, and Major Hall spent most of his time, during the days, in the quarters of its officers, returning at night to barracks. The beautiful Valley of Virginia was overrun and its people robbed and plundered many times. At the close of the war there was scarcely a barn or mill standing from Harper's Ferry to Staunton, and the renegade Hunter destroyed many of its beautiful country residences. The returning survivors of the great struggle found only ruin and desolation, but with the same heroic spirit that inspired them through the bloody struggle they went to work and in a few years the valley bloomed like a rose garden, barns, mills, residences, fences were built, and now everything looks lovely. But they haven't forgotten the cause they fought for nor the heroes who fell in its defense. Go into their cemeteries and you will find beautiful monuments erected to the memory of the noble dead; go into their homes and you will find matrons with silvered heads, who can tell you of scenes of horror that they have witnessed, and their eyes will grow 2 [18] bright again when they tell you of the deeds of daring and gallantry of the men who wore the gray.
