4
Oddly enough, there was no tension at supper that evening. Cort and Anne were more than cordial toward each other, and Jamie could sense a real feeling of affection between them. Anne was a beautiful woman and Cort a handsome man. After supper, Jamie left them to chat while he took a walk around the grounds. He strolled down into the slave quarters and, whenever possible, listened to the slaves talk, some of the older ones in their native tongues. Usually though, the slaves fell silent at his approach. A lot of the homes were no more than shacks, but Jamie suspected that for many, had they wanted a better place to live, they could have fixed up the shacks, for there was lumber stacked all over the place.
But that still did not excuse slavery.
On the walk back to the mansion, Jamie muttered to the night, “What am I doing here? I live in the West. This isn’t my fight.”
He walked and thought for over an hour. Back at the mansion, he found that Cort had already gone to bed, and Anne to her room. Jamie was shown to his room and elected to read from the stack of newspapers he’d found in the downstairs. Many were several months old, but much of what they contained was still news to Jamie.
Jamie read that just after the fall of Fort Sumter, a mob of angry New Yorkers had stormed the offices of the pro-Southern New York Herald and threatened to smash and destroy everything in sight if the publisher did not display the stars and stripes.
Jamie learned that Jefferson Davis, the president of the Confederacy, had stated that war was not necessary if the North would just leave the South alone.
Lincoln had then issued a call for seventy-five thousand men to suppress the South . . . he believed then that he could do that in three months.
Jefferson Davis called for a hundred thousand volunteers. And they answered the call in droves. The upcoming war took on an almost mystical aura.
Kentucky, Maryland, and Missouri refused to send men to aid Lincoln, but neither would the governors of those states openly support the South.
Confederate troops had seized the Gosport Naval Yard at Norfolk and managed to salvage the burned-out hulk of the USS Merrimack and refit it, naming it the CSS Virginia. The Confederates also seized eleven hundred heavy naval guns.
Slowly, the battle lines were being drawn. In Florida, Fort Pickens held and beat back Rebel attacks.
On May 20, 1861, when North Carolina finally seceded from the Union, the eleven state confederacy was complete and both sides were ready for war . . . just about.
The Union forces at that time numbered just slightly more than thirteen thousand regular army troops. Thousands and thousands more were undergoing training at a fever pitch, but they were not yet ready for combat. Federal militias were being activated, and were on the march, such as the elite Seventh New York Militia, the Sixth Massachusetts, the Vermont Volunteers, the Guthrie Grays from Ohio, the Michigan Volunteers, the Twelfth New York Militia, and dozens of other local militia units, large and small.
But the South had their local units as well, such as the Louisiana Zouaves, a mostly French-speaking unit, who patterned their uniforms after the famous French Zouave regiments who fought in North Africa. A few of the many others included Virginia’s Old Dominion Rifles, Sussex Light Dragoons, the red-shirted Wheat’s Tigers—another Louisiana based unit led by six-foot, four-inch, three-hundred-pound Major Roberdeau Wheat—and the South Carolina Volunteers.
Jamie laid aside his papers and magazines and went to bed. So far there had been a lot of hot air coming from both sides, and damn little action.
All that was about to change.
As he was drifting off to sleep, Jamie wondered why Cort had worn such a secret smile all during and after dinner. He woke up around midnight at the sounds of a galloping horse, followed by muted conversation on the front porch. The rider soon rode off, and the great house grew dark. Sensing no danger, Jamie turned over in the feather tick and went back to sleep.
* * *
During breakfast, Captain Woodville explained the secret smile.
“I’ve been what? ” Jamie blurted.
“You’ve been commissioned a major in the Army of the Confederacy, sir,” Cort said.
“By whose orders?”
“General Lee, Major. You are to assume command immediately of two companies of Confederate guerrillas and commence harassing the enemy, sir.”
“The rider I heard last night.”
“Yes, sir. General Lee telegraphed all his commanding officers that could be handily reached by wire, seeking their opinion on your commission, and I am proud to say the returning word was unanimously in favor.”
“Well, I’ll just be damned!” Jamie blurted, then cut his eyes to Anne. “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Woodville.”
She laughed and poured them all fresh coffee. “No need to apologize, Major MacCallister. I’m very happy for you.”
“General Lee predicted that three days from now, when I am to ride with you to a staging area about thirty miles from here, volunteers would be lined up fifty deep and an acre across to join you, Major,” Cort said.
“I never commanded men before.”
Cort smiled. “You just thought you weren’t commanding them, Major. But they were following you.”
Anne almost blurted out that she could certainly testify to the accuracy of that. She bit back the words just in the nick of time.
That would have really shocked her husband right down to the soles of his polished cavalryman’s boots.
* * *
Since they were to be guerrillas, Jamie was adamant about uniforms: there were to be no military uniforms worn in his unit.
“Then you run the risk of being shot as spies,” Lee pointed out.
“Not as long as we stay in our own territory,” Jamie countered. “Although the Yankees might not see it quite that way,” he added with a smile.
Lee and his other generals agreed—Johnston had been unable to attend. He was meeting with President Davis.
Jamie was stunned at the size of the contingent that had volunteered to ride with his command. Hundreds of men had arrived at the staging area in hopes of being chosen to ride with MacCallister’s Marauders—that name not of Jamie’s choosing, but of Cort’s.
Jamie stepped in front of the group and shouted, “I want men who can ride like the wind, shoot like Davy Crockett—and remember this: I fought beside Davy for days at the Alamo—and who possess the courage to charge the gates of hell at my command!”
The entire group of men stepped forward.
Lee shook his head, smiled sadly and murmured, “Brave lads all.”
Jamie had read over the records of the officers who had volunteered and chose Captain Jim Sparks from Texas as commanding officer of First Company, and Captain Pierre Dupree of Louisiana as commanding officer of Second Company. As his command sergeant major, he chose an Alabama man, a career soldier who had left the Federal forces after years of brave and loyal service, and many commendations, to fight for his homeland: Louie Huske.
“Make out a list of the men you want,” Jamie told his two captains and his sergeant major. “They’ve got to be men who can get along with each other, and men who will stand. When you’ve done all that, we’ll go over the lists together, interview the men, and choose together.”
Each company would be comprised of one hundred and three men and officers. They would carry only light rations, depending for the most part on the good will and generosity of the people of the South for food. Each man would carry four pistols, two on their person and two on special-made saddle holsters, one left and right, butt facing to the rear. Each man would carry one Sharps .54 caliber carbine. Cort tried to persuade Jamie to add sabers to the list of weapons, but Jamie stood his ground against them. He would equip each Marauder with a long-bladed Bowie knife. The officers could carry sabers if they chose to do so—and they all did—but the rest of Jamie’s men would carry Bowie knives.
Before any further men were chosen, Jamie personally selected the horses. He would have preferred the tough mountain horses that he knew and loved, but mustangs were impossible to find in Virginia. The horses he chose were not the prettiest of the lot, but they were tough and strong. He chose no animal that he knew had been raised on grain, for grain was something that was going to be hard to come by. The color of the horses was also very important, for he wanted no horse that would stand out, day or night.
Lee and J. E. B. Stuart watched Jamie closely that first day and part of the second. By then, they knew they could not have picked a better man to command the guerrillas. Jamie MacCallister had proven himself in battle dozens of times over the years, and he had the unwavering loyalty and respect of the men.
Lee and Stuart summoned Jamie to a meeting at the close of his second day at the staging area.
“Jamie,” Lee opened the meeting, held in a tent set off in a meadow, away from any unfriendly ears and eyes—and Lee knew they were about. “The Army of the Shenandoah is ready. General Johnston has just over ten thousand men, trained and ready to fight.” He moved his finger along a map spread out on a table. “They’re here.” His finger left that position and moved along another line. “Up here and over here, under the command of General Robert Patterson, are the Union forces, some twenty thousand of them. Patterson is a fine man, but he is too old and much too timid for a field command. General Winfield Scott made a blunder by appointing him to command the Union forces now preparing to advance on Harper’s Ferry. Scott will soon discover his mistake, but it will be too late.
“Begin training your Marauders hard, Major, for I am going to thrust you all into the lion’s mouth very soon. You and your Marauders are going to cross the river and begin harassing actions against Patterson’s green and unproven troops. I want you to convince Patterson that he has many more men attacking him than he does in truth. Buy us some time, Major. For God’s sake and the sake of the Confederacy, buy us some time.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“I know you will. Here is the reason for your daring actions: General Irvin McDowell is training thousands of troops to add to Patterson’s force. General Beauregard’s troops will be shifted over here to add to our forces. It is going to be a great battle, Major. One that we can win if we play our cards close to the vest. Johnston is going to let Patterson think he has him on the run. As Patterson advances, Johnston is going to retreat from Harper’s Ferry, pulling the Yankees deeper into the trap. The Yankees may or may not fall for the trap—I suspect they will sense something is wrong and quickly turn around and head back across the Potomac. If that is the case, we put another plan into action.”
Jamie studied the map for several long moments, his frontiersman’s mind working hard.
“If you have anything on your mind, Major,” Stuart said, “for God’s sake, share it.”
“What does intelligence say about McDowell’s force over here on this flank?” Jamie asked.
“Many of them green troops or old, inactive veterans, poorly trained and poorly equipped. They are short on supplies and short on weapons and ammunition.”
“And the major offensive is scheduled to begin . . . when?”
“As near as our spies can pinpoint it, the date will be July 8th. We’ll be ready by that time. McDowell’s troops will not be ready.”
J.E.B. Stuart said, “We will, in all probability, be facing the largest army ever assembled in North America. Probably more than thirty-five thousand men.”
Jamie’s finger drew a circle around another area. “This place here, what’s this called?”
Stuart looked at the map. “Bull Run.”