THE BATTLE OF BULL RUN (JULY, 1861)
At Richmond. Gen. Robert S. Garnett. Orders Received. At Manassas. Installing Signal Stations. Strategic Opportunities. Beauregard’s Suggestions. McDowell’s Moves. Orders sent Johnston. Johnston Marches. Patterson remains Ignorant. The Odds against Us. Marked Batteries, etc. Blackburn’s Ford. An Infantry Skirmish. An Artillery Duel. New Plan Needed. Plan Adopted. McDowell Overpersuaded. In the Confederate Lines. McDowell’s New Plan. Beauregard’s Plan. How it Failed. Tyler at Stone Bridge. At the Signal Station. Beauregard Informed. A Pause. The Dust Cloud. The Action Begun. Bee and Bartow come in. The Generals go to the Left. Watching the Battle. Johnston and Beauregard Arrive. Reinforcement sent for. McDowell’s Four Idle Brigades. Two Hours’ Fighting. The Henry House Hill. Cummings’s Brilliant Coup. The Federal Collapse. Leaving Signal Station. Stragglers in the Rear. Davis and Jackson. Lost Opportunities. Order checking Kershaw. Order stopping Pursuit. Affairs on the Right. Jones and Longstreet. Bonham takes the Lead. Bonham Halts. Overcaution in New Commanders. The Final Scene. Return from the Field. Hill’s Report. Inaction of Council.
I ARRIVED in Richmond, Saturday night, June 1, reported for duty Monday morning, and received my commission as captain of Engineers. Engineer officers were in demand, but President Davis remembered my appearing with Maj. Myer before the Military Committee of the Senate, in connection with the system of signals, and I was first ordered to start in Richmond a little factory of signal apparatus, such as torches, poles, and flags. I was told that I would soon be sent to install the system in some one of the small armies being collected at several points.
I was quickly ready, and anxious for orders, which for some cause were delayed. Gen. Robert S. Garnett was in Richmond at the time, organizing a force for service in West Virginia, and made application for me upon his staff, but it was refused. He had been Commandant of the Corps of Cadets during my first year at West Point, and the impression I formed of him as a soldier is not lower than that formed of any other officer I have ever known. In every one else I have seen some mere human traits, but in Garnett every trait was purely military. Had he lived, I am sure he would have been one of our great generals.
He lost his life, however, in his first affair, July 13, 1861, near Carrick’s Ford, Va., and in a characteristic manner. With ten of his men, who were raw troops, he had halted to delay the enemy at a creek crossing. His men were nervous under a sharp fire, and Garnett remarked that “they needed a little example.” He stepped out in full view of the enemy and walked slowly back and forth, a target for the sharpshooters.’ He was presently shot dead, just when he was prepared to withdraw.
Nearly the whole of June passed while I was kept, from day to day, awaiting orders. Near the end of June, I was ordered to organize five batteries of artillery into a battalion, and prepare them for the field. I was forming classes for the instruction of officers, and making requisitions for supplies when new orders came, sending me to signal duty with Beauregard at Manassas.
I had just decided to have my wife come on to Richmond, and she was en route when I had to leave. I regretted giving up the Artillery Battalion. It would have been a decided step in advance had we inaugurated, so soon, a battalion organization of several batteries. We came to it about a year later, but meanwhile our batteries had been isolated and attached to infantry brigades. So they fought singly, and in such small units artillery can do little.
On July 2, I arrived at Manassas, reported to Beauregard, was assigned to duty upon his staff, and ordered to install the system of signals for use in the coming battle. It was certain that a battle must be fought soon.
Federal armies were being collected in West Virginia under McClellan; on the upper Potomac threatening Winchester, under Patterson; at Alexandria under McDowell; and, at Fortress Monroe, under Butler. These armies were mostly raw troops, but among them were the 75,000 three-months men, first called out in April, and they were now fairly well disciplined.
Their terms of service would begin to expire soon after the middle of July, and it was sure that some use would sooner be made of them. For we were then less a military nation than ever before or since, and neither side recognized its own unpreparedness.
By June 24 McDowell had submitted a plan of aggressive operation, and July 8 had been named as the date of the proposed movement. Gen. Scott had urged longer delay, and that the three-months men should be allowed to go, and their places supplied with the three-years men now being enlisted. Political necessities, however, overruled his objections. Fortunately for the Confederates, with all their resources the Federal forces were not able to move before the 16th, and when they did move, they consumed four days more, from the 17th to the 20th inclusive, in about 20 miles of marching and in preliminaries. Battle was only delivered on July 21, and the crisis of this battle occurred about 3:30 P.M.
We shall see that not only every day of that delay, but even every hour of it, was essential to the Confederate victory which resulted.
So on my arrival at Manassas, July 2, there was really more time to install the signals than I expected, for “rumors of the foe’s advance” now swelled upon almost every breeze. I had brought with me from Richmond all necessary equipment and I had only to select men and train them. I soon made acquaintances and got the names of some intelligent privates, who might later be promoted. I had these detailed and put upon a course of instruction and practice. Meanwhile I procured a horse, and between times began an exploration of the country to find what facilities it offered for lines of signals.
The topography was far from favorable. Our line of battle had been chosen behind the stream of Bull Run, about three miles north of Manassas, and the course of the stream was generally wooded and bordered with small fields and pastures, giving few open stretches. I was not sanguine of rendering any valuable service, but fortunately had time to examine the country, and, as will be seen, the line was found which disclosed the enemy’s attack in time to defeat it.
About a mile east of Manassas, on the farm of a Mr. Wilcoxen, was a high rocky point having a good outlook over a valley to the north and west. I made this point a central station, and by a little clearing here and there got two straight six-mile ranges. One was northwest to a bluff over Bull Run valley on our extreme left, near the house of Van Ness, just above the Stone Bridge by which the Warrenton Turnpike crossed Bull Run. The other was north, to Centreville, about three miles beyond the Run, opposite our centre. A third station was found near the house of McLean, opposite our right centre, and a fourth near our headquarters at Centreville. This was the utmost the topography permitted, and the men were encamped at the stations and set to practising by day and night.
Where the opponents have each two armies in the field, each has the opportunity to combine his whole force upon his adversary.
This was the situation in Northern Virginia. McDowell, at Alexandria with 35,000 men, and Patterson near Harper’s Ferry, about 50 miles away, with 15,000, were opposed by Beauregard at Manassas with 22,000, and Johnston at Winchester with 11,000.
No effort was made by the Federal commander-in-chief to unite Patterson’s force with McDowell’s, but McDowell was assured that Patterson should threaten Johnston, and keep him in the Valley, so that McDowell would have Beauregard only to deal with. The Confederate armies, unfortunately, had no commander-in-chief.
In theory the power resides with the President, but his action is apt to be slow and comparatively inefficient. In the approaching battle this was well illustrated. Although the enemy was so slow as to allow amazing time, and the battle was saved, it was, as it were, “by the skin of our teeth” and without any of the fruits of victory.
Beauregard had proposed to the President on June 12 to take the aggressive and unite the two armies in an attack upon Alexandria. It was disapproved, but Beauregard did not let the matter drop.
On July 13 he sent Col. Chestnut, a staff-officer, to Richmond, to urge the concentration of the two armies and a prompt offensive movement. A formal hearing was had by the President, with Cooper and Lee, but the proposition was rejected, on the good ground that the enemy was as yet practically within his fortified lines, where he could not be attacked, and could bring up, at his leisure, Patterson and other reinforcements. The only effective way to combine the two armies was to make it a surprise to the enemy when away from his fortifications.
About noon, July 16, McDowell put his army in motion. There were ten brigades in four divisions, comprising about 30,000 men, with 49 guns. He did not bring his whole force, but left in reserve, in the works behind him, Runyon’s division of over 5000 men. This large division would have been of greater value on the field, and he should have had at least 100 guns, for artillery is the best arm against raw troops. The four divisions moved by different roads, converging toward our advanced positions about Fairfax. They made on the first day only short marches of six or eight miles, going into camp far outside of our picket lines, so as not to divulge the movement. This was so well managed that, although rumors reached the Confederates, yet nothing was known until next morning. Then our advanced posts were driven in and a few of our pickets were captured. At this moment Johnston’s army should have been ready to march to Beauregard over roads previously selected and reconnoitered. The men should even have been kept for days encamped where they could quickly stretch out on the proper roads. For many contingencies beset all marches, and preparation saves hours big with fate.
The whole day of the 17th was lost to the Confederates by the news having to go to the President. Beauregard, sometime during the day, telegraphed him as follows:—
“MANASSAS, July 17, 1861.
“The enemy has assailed my outposts in heavy force, I have fallen back on the line of Bull Run, and will make a stand at Mitchell’s Ford. If his force is overwhelming, I shall retire to the Rappahannock railroad bridge, saving my command for defense there, and for future operations. Please inform Johnston of this, via Staunton, and also Holmes. Send forward any reinforcements at the earliest possible moment, and by every possible means.—G. T. BEAUREGARD.”
Apparently after some deliberation, the Executive acted, for about 1 A.M. on July 18, Johnston in Winchester received a telegram. It is worthy of study as a model not to be followed in such cases. It was as follows:—
“RICHMOND, July 17, 1861.
“Gen. Beauregard is attacked. To strike the enemy a decisive blow all of your effective force will be needed. If practicable, make the movement, sending your sick and baggage to Culpeper C. H. either by railroad or by Warrenton. In all the arrangements exercise your discretion.—S. COOPER, Adj’t. and Ins. General.”
When Johnston came to make his report of the battle of Bull Run he wrote as follows of this message:—
“About one o’clock in the morning of July 18 I received from the Government a telegraphic despatch informing me that the northern army was advancing upon Manassas, then held by Gen. Beauregard, and directing me, if practicable, to go to that officer’s assistance, after sending my sick to Culpeper C. H. In the exercise of discretion conferred by the terms of the order, I at once determined to march to join Gen. Beauregard.”
President Davis took great offense at this language and ordered the word “after” before the words “sending your sick” to be erased from the report in the records. He resented also Beauregard’s speaking of this order in his report as only permissive, and not mandatory. And even in his book, written after the war, he claims that the order was a “positive” one, and considers it “strange that any one has construed it otherwise.”
The words “if practicable” are always of such doubtful interpretation that they should be excluded from all important orders. They leave matters in doubt. Every order should be distinctly either the one thing or the other. Lee used the phrase at Gettysburg, in ordering Ewell to press a routed enemy, and lost his victory by it.
It is notable, too, that this order not only failed to urge haste, but, by injunctions concerning sick and baggage by rail, implied that time would permit, which it did not. Exclusive use of the railroad by the troops was absolutely necessary.
Had Johnston felt any reluctance to the movement, or had Patterson’s attitude been in the least threatening, excuses would have been easy to make for non-compliance. But Johnston was a good soldier, and he lost no time in taking the road. He quickly arranged for the best route of march, and for the indispensable help of the railroad in moving his infantry. His leading brigade was under command of Jackson, soon to show the world the stuff of which he was formed, and to earn an immortal name. Jackson’s brigade left camp at noon, and at ten 0’clock that night bivouacked at Paris, 17 miles, fording the Shenandoah and crossing the Blue Ridge en route. This is an average of about one and three-quarters miles an hour and is an excellent march under the circumstances.
The other three brigades, Bee’s, Bartow’s, and Elzey’s, made about 13 miles, and encamped at the Shenandoah, itself a good march. Next morning, Friday, the 19th, Jackson’s brigade covered the remaining six miles from Paris to the railroad station at Piedmont, 34 miles from Manassas by 8 A.M. Trains were awaiting it, and by 10 A.M. it was off, arriving at Manassas about 1 P.M. say, 2500 strong and coming 57 miles in 25 hours. The other brigades arrived at Piedmont during the afternoon; but although the railroad had promised to deliver all four brigades in Manassas by sunrise Saturday, the 20th, only two more regiments, the 7th and 8th Ga., of Bartow’s brigade—about 1400 men—were sent. The cavalry and artillery continued their march by the wagon road, but the infantry waited at Piedmont, some of it for two days, and without rations. The trouble was that the railroad had no relays of employees, and was unable to hold its men at constant work.
On the 20th Johnston himself went with the 4th Ala., the 2d Miss., and two companies of the 11th Miss., about a thousand men. These were the last troops to arrive in time for the opening of the battle.
During the night, the 6th N.C., 10th Va., 3d Tenn., and 1st Md. were taken—about 2000 men—under Kirby Smith and Elzey. These, arriving at Manassas before noon on Sunday, were hurried to the battlefield, six miles, arrived at the critical moment at the critical point, and changed defeat into victory. The remaining 2500 of Johnston’s 11,000 (the 9th Ga., 2d Tenn., 13th Va., the Ky. Battalion, and eight companies of the 11th Miss.) only arrived the day after the battle, having been nearly four days making the 57 miles.
On the 19th, while Johnston was waiting at Piedmont, one of Beauregard’s staff arrived to suggest that Johnston should march by Aldie, and fall upon McDowell’s flank at Centreville, while Beauregard attacked from Bull Run. It was an unwise scheme, and Johnston’s decision to unite the two armies out of the presence of the enemy was safest.
Meanwhile, by monumental mismanagement, Patterson’s army might as well have been upon another planet. He had been notified that McDowell would advance on the 16th, and that he must hold and occupy Johnston. Accordingly, on the 15th he advanced from Martinsburg to Bunker Hill. He remained all day on the 16th at Bunker Hill, and on the 17th moved as far as Charlestown, in the direction of Harper’s Ferry. Here he remained until after the battle on the 21st. On the 18th he telegraphed:—
“The enemy has stolen no march on me. I have kept him actively employed and, by threats and reconnoissances in force, caused him to be reinforced. I have accomplished, in this respect, more than the General-in-Chief asked, or could well be expected in face of an enemy far superior in numbers.” Only on the 20th did he find out that something had happened, and he reports: “With a portion of his force Johnston left Winchester by the road to Millwood on the afternoon of the 18th. His whole force was about 35,200.”
These telegrams are fair specimens of the colossal misinformation often conveyed in official reports. Johnston, in his narrative, humorously suggests that the overrating of each other’s strength, by opposing commanders, resulted probably from the same feeling which made his antagonist’s sword seem to Gil Blas “d’une longueur excessive.” If Johnston’s sword had been as long as Patterson believed, it would have been creditable in the latter to approach even within 14 miles.
And now, at sunrise on the 17th, McDowell is in front of our pickets at Fairfax, and within 10 miles of our line of battle, and he is to have us at the mercy of his superior force until the afternoon of the 21st—say four days and a half. If the shades of departed warriors watched the contest, the odds among them against us at this stage must have been high. Against their force, our position and our organization were both inferior. Our line of battle was nearly seven miles long, and communications in rear of it were poor and crooked. Our six brigades were all independent of each other, no divisions having been formed, and there were, besides, several unbrigaded regiments and batteries, making a command too complex to be efficiently handled, especially with an inexperienced staff. Apart from their superior numbers, the effective division organization of the Federals, and especially their batteries of regular artillery with each division, would seem enough to insure Federal victory even for a front attack by brute force. This might have been made, even on the afternoon of the 17th, by a bold pursuit of our advanced guard, which comprised but one brigade.
For the slowness of the Federal advance that day (it holds the record for slowness) McDowell was personally responsible. He had issued to his troops a good order of march, in which he called attention to the strength of each column, and its ability to cope with all it was likely to meet, even without the help of the other columns. But he had spoiled the moral effect of his own language and practically demoralized his brigade commanders by one unwise caution.
It “would not be pardonable in any commander to come upon a battery or breastwork without a knowledge of its position.” That caution meant more to McDowell’s officers than appears on its face. For the newspaper reporters of those days, with the appetite for sensations which still distinguishes the craft, had made a great bugbear of “masked batteries.” The term originated at the attack upon Fort Sumter, where a certain battery was constructed, masked by a house which was destroyed just before opening fire. After that masked batteries figured on every field and in every event. When Butler was repulsed at Big Bethel it was a masked battery which did it. When Schenck’s railroad reconnoissance from Alexandria on June 17, accidentally ran into Gregg’s reconnoissance from Manassas at Vienna, and was fired into by Kemper’s six-pounders, the mysterious masked battery got the credit. Soon, to read the newspapers, one might believe the woods were infested with such batteries, not to mention “Louisiana Tigers” and “Black Horse Cavalry,” two other scarecrow names which had caught the reporters’ fancies, and been made to do enormous duty.
Now, the threat conveyed in McDowell’s order implied the real existence of formidable dangers, and is doubtless responsible for the excessive caution which consumed the day in making an advance scarcely over five miles. Beauregard’s advanced guard had not sought to delay the Federals, but had fallen back beyond Centreville, where it bivouacked; and, early next morning, it crossed Bull Run and took position in the Confederate line of battle.
Beauregard had concentrated the bulk of his force between Union Mill’s Ford, on the right, and Mitchell’s Ford on the left, in which space—about three miles—he had, in order from the right, Ewell’s, D. R. Jones’s, Longstreet’s, and Bonham’s brigades, with only Early in reserve some 250 yards behind. Longstreet. Cocke’s brigade held Ball’s Ford, and Evans with the 4th S.C. and Wheat’s La. Battalion held the Stone Bridge, two and three miles to the left.
On the morning of the 18th the slow advance of the Federals was resumed, and about noon Tyler’s division occupied the hills overlooking the valley of Bull Run, opposite Blackburn’s and Mitchell’s fords. McDowell was not with his advanced forces. He had ridden far to the left to reconnoitre, with a view to turning our right flank—a duty he might have more wisely confided to his staff. During his absence a small affair occurred at Blackburn’s Ford, terminating favorably for the Confederates.
Tyler’s instructions were to reconnoitre our position and to threaten our left so as to draw attention to that quarter, but not to bring on a general engagement. These instructions were our salvation, for our army was weak and badly posted and could not have withstood a vigorous attack by the force in front of us. Both of our flanks were in the air, and Bull Run could be crossed by infantry in many places. Our centre was a large salient whose lines the enemy could enfilade. The ground on their side was commanding and afforded close approach under excellent cover. On our side it was low and gently rising to the rear, giving no cover whatever, except of the woods. Our whole force present on the field was about 21,000, of whom about 5000 (Evans’s and Cocke’s commands) were too far to the left to be available. McDowell’s force available was about 37,000.1
Tyler, about noon, brought up some guns and began firing at the few points in our territory where he could discern signs of our presence.2
After cannonading for some time without drawing reply, Tyler ordered Richardson’s brigade to scour the woods in front, and a squadron of cavalry with two guns to advance on the road to Mitchell’s Ford. Two of our guns under Kemper fired upon the cavalry when it came into view. It was quickly withdrawn, and Tyler soon decided to withdraw Richardson also. Meanwhile, this brigade had suddenly become engaged. It had found itself on a low bluff overlooking Bull Run, scarcely 50 yards away, a thin fringe of woods intervening. Just across the creek was Longstreet’s brigade, about 1400 strong, occupying the low opposite bank of the stream. Immediately both sides opened fire, and a portion of Longstreet’s men, finding themselves in the lower position and on open ground, broke to the rear badly. Longstreet rode among and rallied them, and soon led them back, the enemy’s line having also withdrawn under cover. Longstreet called upon Early for reinforcement, and the 7th La. was sent forward to him. Meanwhile the Federals made a second advance and poured in another volley and fell back. These tactics were repeated several times, Longstreet meanwhile attempting to cross some of his men over the ford to meet the enemy. The 7th La., however, on one of the Federal advances, had opened fire while still behind Longstreet’s line. This fire in the rear threw Longstreet into such confusion that the order to cross was recalled. Our line was in bad shape when the Federal attack ceased and their force was rapidly withdrawn. Two companies, however, under Captain Marye had crossed the stream, and these pursued the enemy’s retreat for some distance and brought back some 20 prisoners and 100 muskets. This gave an air of victory to the termination of the infantry combat.
There then followed a sharp artillery duel, for about 45 minutes. The Federals engaged eight guns (two 20-Pr. and two 10-Pr. Parrott rifles; two 6-Pr. guns and two 12-Pr. howitzers), and fired 415 rounds. The Confederates engaged seven guns, four 6-Pr. guns and three 3-inch iron rifles, made in Richmond, firing a 6-Pr. Burton and Archer projectile. They fired 310 rounds. Our guns stood in the open plateau about 150 yards behind our infantry line, and were hidden from the enemy’s view by the thin fringe of tall timber along the creek. This saved us from a speedy defeat, for our limbers and caissons were without cover until Longstreet ordered them brought forward on the flanks, and kept them behind the trees. Thus neither of the combatants could see more of the other than the smoke of his guns, and the fire was but little better than random.
Our guns belonged to the Washington Arty. of New Orleans, the oldest and best drilled organization of artillery in the Confederacy, and it illustrates the lack of professional skill among our volunteers to know that a favorable report was made upon the Burton and Archer projectile, from its performance in this affair, where it was used for the first time. Yet, the first competent test, made of it a few weeks later, showed it to be entirely worthless and caused its manufacture to be at once discontinued. It would not fly point foremost, but “tumbled” and had no range.
Besides these three rifles with ineffective ammunition, a fourth Confederate gun, a brass 6-Pr., soon became useless from an enlarged vent. During the first half of the affair, however, the enemy’s fire was not accurate and all went well. There was then a pause during which they managed to improve their aim, and, when they resumed, our men soon realized how they were overmatched. Capt. Eshleman was wounded and Capt. Squires called for reenforcement. Longstreet had no more artillery available, and ordered Squires to withdraw gradually, one gun at a time, but meanwhile to keep up a slow reply.
Just then, as so often happens when a battle is becoming desperate, the enemy ceased to fire, and allowed Squires, who deserved it, the honor of the last shot, and Beauregard the invaluable morale of the first victory. In this duel the Confederates had one killed, five wounded, and six horses disabled. The Federals two killed, two wounded. In the whole affair the losses were:—
On the night of the 18th McDowell found himself compelled to make a change in the plan of attack which had been decided on in Washington before starting. That had contemplated turning of our right flank. But his reconnoissance in that direction had found the country so wooded and broken, and with so few good roads, as to be unfavorable for operations. His next thought was of direct attack upon our front. That was, beyond question, his best opportunity.
We had, practically, no intrenchment, and there were gaps, sometimes wide ones, between out brigades. Holmes’s brigade of two regiments (the 2d Tenn. and 9th Ark.), coming from Acquia Creek, did not arrive until late on the 19th. The confusion caused in our ranks by Tyler’s demonstration—for it can scarcely be called an attack—indicates that a serious effort with the whole force at hand would have succeeded.
McDowell had disapproved of Tyler’s affair, upon his return from his reconnoissance, and seems to have misunderstood the facts. In his official report he writes that this affair had shown us to be too strong to be attacked at Blackburn’s Ford. He also states that the Stone Bridge was mined and defended by a battery and a heavy abattis, and that his only alternative was to seek a route to turn our left flank. No one of these statements was correct. At Stone Bridge there was neither abattis, earthwork, nor mine. There were only two 6-Pr. guns with the 4th S.C. regiment and Wheat’s La. battalion—say 1400 men; There were no other supports within a mile.
The movement decided upon, however, promised excellent results if it could be carried out before Beauregard was reinforced. It was decided to turn the Confederate left by crossing Bull Run above the Stone Bridge. This involved further loss of time in reconnoissance, but confidence was felt that Patterson would keep Johnston in the valley, so the engineers were ordered to find the desired roads. It was not dreamed that Johnston’s forces were crossing the Blue Ridge as the sun was setting that afternoon.
McDowell proposed to make his reconnoissance by main force, driving in our pickets and developing our exact position and strength, but he weakly allowed himself to be persuaded, instead, into a reconnoissance by stealth, which is less to be depended upon.
It is worthy of note that upon three occasions in this advance McDowell was persuaded by his leading subordinates to modify orders which he had issued and these modifications lost him the battle. The first occasion was on the 17th, when his army only marched some five or six miles, as already noted. McDowell wished to have the march prolonged to 12 miles, but yielded to persuasion to go into bivouac when half the distance was covered. That practically lost the entire day.
The second occasion was the reconnoissance by stealth to which he now consented. It occupied a day and a half and went miles astray, as may now be seen, in finding the shortest route. It was noon on the 20th when the engineers made their report of having found a concealed road crossing Bull Run at Sudley Ford, and the march was decided upon. From their present camps the average distances to be covered by the turning brigades were between nine and ten miles. McDowell proposed that they should make four miles that afternoon, leaving only six for the next morning. For the third time his officers proposed, and McDowell consented to, a change. It would be more convenient, they urged, to remain in their camps that afternoon and night, and to march a couple of hours earlier in the morning, say at 2.30 A.M. Orders were issued, accordingly, for the 21st. When they came to be executed, the routes of various commands were found to interfere, and although there was a bright moon, and the country was open and roads good, the head of column was about four hours in covering the first four miles. This involved a further loss of at least two hours.
It is now time to revert to the Confederate lines and note what had happened on the 19th and 20th. An attack in force by the Federals had been expected each morning, and its non-occurrence gratefully appreciated. It might be supposed that our time would have been busily used to intrench, erect batteries, and provide abattis and obstructions, but almost nothing of the sort was done. It required a year’s experience to educate our army to the value of such work, although the enemy meanwhile not only set us many examples, but had given us some severe object lessons. On the 19th Holmes’s brigade had arrived from Acquia Creek. It took position behind Ewell, on our right flank. Jackson’s brigade also arrived and was placed in reserve behind Mitchell’s Ford. On the 20th Johnston arrived in person, also the 7th and 8th Ga. of Bartow’s brigade, the 4th Ala., and the 2d Miss. of Bee’s. These troops were placed in reserve behind Blackburn’s Ford. As already told, these were the only troops of Johnston’s army to arrive in time for the beginning of the battle, though another brigade under Kirby Smith arrived in time to turn the wavering scale about 3 P.M. on the 21st.
It is strange that all this could go on in such close proximity to the Federal army without discovery through some negro or deserter. It is still stranger that McDowell seems to have had no scouts out, upon either flank, who might easily have learned it. Only one intimation reached him of what was going on, and that he refused to credit. Gen. Tyler was an experienced railroad manager, and from the hills north of Bull Run, on the 19th, he had listened to the exhaust of many engines bringing heavy loads into Manassas from the direction of the Valley. He correctly guessed that they were bringing Johnston’s army, and reported the facts and his conclusions to McDowell, not only on the 19th, but again on the 20th. The suggestions were received very coolly, and no steps were taken to find out.
From Centreville the Warrenton pike runs straight southwest for many miles. At two miles it crosses Cub Run, a tributary of Bull Run, on a high wooden bridge. In the retreat this bridge became blocked and many guns were lost there. At four miles it crosses Bull Run on Stone Bridge. A little beyond Cub Run a farm road to the right, by a circuitous route of six miles, leads to Sudley Springs ford of Bull Run, which is two miles above Stone Bridge in an air-line. From Sudley, on the south side of Bull Run, a road to the southeast crosses the Warrenton pike a mile beyond Stone Bridge and leads to Manassas. McDowell’s plan was as follows: Tyler with three brigades was to take position opposite the Stone Bridge, make demonstrations, and be prepared to cross. McDowell in person would conduct the five brigades of Hunter’s and Heintzelman’s divisions by the circuitous road, cross Bull Run at Sudley Ford, and attack Stone Bridge in the rear. As soon as it was carried Tyler’s three brigades would cross, and the eight brigades, united behind our left flank, could easily sweep our entire line.
There was, however, one bad feature. The circuitous route by which the five brigades would march would take them dangerously far from his other forces, should Beauregard take the offensive and attack his left at the moment when this turning column was entangled in the circuitous road. The fear of such an attack induced McDowell, while actually on the march, to halt his rear brigade—Howard’s—and leave it behind, until the four other brigades had crossed Bull Run and were in action on the south side. That brigade was thus out of use for four critical hours, and when it rejoined, the battle had been lost. Its only service was in covering the retreat.
Meanwhile, by a coincidence, Beauregard had planned to make the very attack which McDowell had feared, and at the very time when he was stretched out on the circuitous road. As Johnston was Beauregard’s senior, he was now in command of the joint forces, but as Beauregard was more familiar with the situation, it was left to him to decide upon the order of battle. By uniting the two armies, the Confederates had prepared a surprise for the Federals, but, to reap the full benefit, it should be sprung upon them before they became aware of their danger. Beauregard’s order of battle proposed, to cross. Bull Run with our three right brigades, envelop the enemy’s exposed left flank, and drive it toward Centreville. As soon as this battle was joined it would be taken up to the left, by adjoining brigades, in succession. We now had eight brigades concentrated on a front of about three miles, and, opposed to them, McDowell had left but three brigades. We could never hope for a more favorable opportunity to quickly crush these three brigades and be prepared to meet in detail those which McDowell would have to bring back from his right. Unfortunately, however, we failed to improve the opportunity, and it vanished. The history of our failure is as follows:—
Had Beauregard been in command, the so-called “orders” issued would have been immediate, and have been put into process of execution at dawn. But, presumably by Johnston’s wish, they were merely instructions to each brigade to “place itself in position of attack upon the enemy,” and await orders. The “orders to attack would be given by the Commander-in-Chief.” These instructions were sent out at 5 A.M. and were differently understood by the officers addressed. Ewell, with Holmes, did not advance across Bull Run, but simply held himself in readiness on the south side. Jones and Longstreet crossed their brigades and took position on the north bank. Bonham’s brigade did not move.
Johnston had expected the arrival during the night of his troops still in the rear. When he found that they had not arrived, he determined not to attack, but to await developments. He consented, however, to a demonstration by Beauregard’s right, and orders were sent Ewell and Jones to advance. The order to Ewell was lost. It never reached him and was never found or accounted for afterward. Jones crossed and waited for two hours before the situation was developed. It was then thought too late, and he was withdrawn.
About 6 A.M. Tyler’s division appeared before our force under Evans at Stone Bridge, and presently opened a slow fire with a 30-Pr. Parrott rifle. The movement of Tyler toward Stone Bridge early in the morning had been discovered by Longstreet’s scouts. He writes of it in his book (page 45): “Their report was sent promptly to headquarters, and, after a short delay, the brigade [Longstreet’s] was ordered back to its position behind the Run.”
About 8 A.M. Johnston and Beauregard, accompanied by staffs and couriers, rode to the vicinity of Mitchell’s Ford, where they left their party under cover, and took position on an open hill some 200 yards to the left of the road. On the Federal side of the Run, the three brigades, left to amuse our line while the flanking column made its march around us, had taken position on the hills about a half-mile north of the creek, started to protect itself with abattis, and opened fire with a few guns upon all movements which they could discover on our side. To this fire we made no reply and kept our positions concealed, but we did nothing to strengthen them.
As he rode out in the morning, Beauregard directed me to go with a courier to the Wilcoxen signal station and remain in general observation of the field, sending messages of all I could discover. I went reluctantly, as the opportunity seemed very slight of rendering any service. There were but two signal stations on our line of battle,—one in rear of McLean’s Ford, and one near Van Ness’ house, on a bluff a few hundred yards to the left and rear of the Stone Bridge. Beyond the latter station the broad, level valley of Bull Run for some miles, with its fields and pastures, as seen through the glass, was foreshortened into a narrow band of green.
While watching the flag of this station with a good glass, when I had been there about a half-hour, the sun being low in the east behind me, my eye was caught by a glitter in this narrow band of green. I recognized it at once as the reflection of the morning sun from a brass field-piece. Closer scrutiny soon revealed the glittering of bayonets and musket barrels.
It was about 8.45 A.M., and I had discovered McDowell’s turning column, the head of which, at this hour, was just arriving at Sudley, eight miles away.
I appreciated how much it might mean, and thought it best to give Evans immediate notice, even before sending word to Beauregard. So I signaled Evans quickly, “Look out for your left; you are turned.” Evans afterwards told me that a picket, which he had had at Sudley, being driven in by the enemy’s advance guard, had sent a courier, and the two couriers, one with my signal message and one with the report of the picket, reached him together. The simultaneous reports from different sources impressed him, and he acted at once and with sound judgment. He left four companies of his command to watch the bridge and the enemy in his front,—Tyler and his three brigades. With the remainder of his force (six companies of the 4th S.C. and Wheat’s La. battalion) he marched to oppose and delay the turning column, at the same time notifying Cocke, next on his right, of his movement. But he sent no word to Beauregard, whom he supposed that I would notify.
Having sent Evans notice of his danger, I next wrote to Beauregard, as follows:—
“I see a body of troops crossing Bull Run about two miles above the Stone Bridge. The head of the column is in the woods on this side. The rear of the column is in the woods on the other side. About a half-mile of its length is visible in the open ground between. I can see both infantry and artillery.”
In his report of the battle, Beauregard does not mention this note, but says, generally, that Capt. Alexander gave him “seasonable and material assistance early in the day with his system of signals.”
Johnston, in his report, says:—
“About eight o’clock Gen. Beauregard and I placed ourselves on a commanding hill in rear of Gen. Bonham’s left. Near nine o’clock, the signal officer, Capt. Alexander, reported that a large body of troops was crossing the valley of Bull Run some two miles above the bridge. Gen. Bee, who had been placed near Col. Cocke’s position, Col. Hampton with his legion, and Col. Jackson from a point near Gen. Bonham’s left, were ordered to hasten to the left flank.”
Bee’s force comprised the 4th Ala. and 2d Miss., with the 7th and 8th Ga. under Bartow. The Hampton Legion was one regiment, and Jackson had five regiments, the 2d, 4th, 5th, 27th, and 33d Va. So 10 regiments, with an average distance of about three miles to go, were now en route to reinforce Evans with his two half-regiments.
Now, for an hour and a half, nothing took place but the enemy’s desultory artillery firing across Bull Run. McDowell’s turning column was arriving at Sudley, crossing the creek and having a half-hour to rest, drink, and fill their canteens. Evans was getting into a position on the road from Sudley to Manassas, about a mile in front of McDowell, and three-quarters of a mile north of the Warrenton turnpike. Bee and Bartow were marching to join Evans. Hampton’s Legion was following, and behind it Jackson’s brigade was also coming. In order toward the right were Cocke, Bonham, Longstreet, and Early, south of the Run; Jones north of it; and Ewell, with Holmes, south of it at Union Mill’s Ford, on the extreme right.
Meanwhile, from my signal station, I had watched McDowell’s column arrive at Sudley, and about 10 A.M. reported the rear of it—except Howard, left halted, as already told, some four miles behind. Soon after that picket firing was heard and presently an occasional gun. About 10.30, as the sun grew hotter, an immense column of dust began to develop, apparently about 10 miles to the northwest. I afterward acquired more experience with army dusts than I then possessed, but never during the war did I see a dust cloud tower higher or rise more densely than this. It proved, finally, to be the wagon trains of Johnston’s forces on their march down from the Valley. But, as Patterson’s army might be expected to follow Johnston, this portentous dust seemed at first an important phenomenon. So I determined to be my own messenger to tell of it, and perhaps to point it out to the generals as it had now risen to a high altitude.
This I was able to do, and Johnston refers to it as follows:—
“The signal officer soon called our attention to a heavy cloud of dust to the northwest and about ten miles off, such as the march of an army would raise. This excited apprehensions of Gen. Patterson’s approach.”
Meanwhile, quite a fire of both musketry and artillery was beginning to develop on the left, where McDowell’s advance had now come in collision with Evans’s little force.
As a bystander I soon appreciated that Johnston believed the battle was to be fought upon the left and wished to go there, but Beauregard was reluctant to give up the proposed attack on Centreville by his right.
Evans, with his 11 companies and two guns, maintained a good fight. He was fighting for time, and he managed to delay the Federal advance for about an hour. The fighting was not bad for beginners. Wheat’s Tigers (the 1st La. battalion) lost 38 in killed and wounded, and Evans’s six companies of the 4th S.C. regiment doubtless lost at least 50; though the exact figures in the reports are consolidated with other companies. It was doubtless influenced by the morale gained on the 18th. The Federal tactics were poor and timid. The engagement was begun by a single regiment, and this was reinforced by others successively, but there was lack of concert and combined power. New troops going into action are very prone to “fire and fall back,”—to touch and let go,—as one handles a piece of hot iron when uncertain how hot it may be. There were cases of this among the volunteer regiments upon both sides.
When Jackson, at Chancellorsville, turned Hooker’s flank, he formed his force into a double line of battle, with an interval of about 200 yards between the lines, before he made his attack.1 When made it was irresistible and produced an immediate panic. Had he begun it by piecemeal, it would have proved a failure. Had McDowell first advanced even two brigades, formed in a double line, Evans’s force could scarcely have detained them ten minutes.
As it was, he was able to hold on until he was reinforced by Bee and Bartow with their four regiments. But soon after these had prolonged Evans’s line of battle, facing the troops advancing from Sudley, their right was taken in flank and rear by Sherman’s and Keyes’s brigade of Tyler’s division, which had found fords and crossed Bull Run about halfway between the Stone Bridge and Sudley, which McDowell’s reconnoissance on the 19th had missed. The roar of the young battle now swelled in volume. There came crashes of musketry which told that whole brigades were coming in, and the fire of the guns increased.
Of course the Confederate line could not be held long against the odds now opposed to it, but the fight which it made has seldom been excelled by such raw troops. Jackson’s brigade, later that day, by steadfast fighting, conferred the immortal name of Stonewall upon its commander. The killed and wounded in its five regiments were 561, an average of 112 each. The killed and wounded in Bee’s and Bartow’s four regiments were 658, an average of 164 each. The 8th Ga., Bartow’s own regiment, lost 200, and the 4th Ala. 197. Equally to their credit is the fact that though forced back a half-mile they were not demoralized, but on meeting the reinforcements many were rallied and re-formed, and fought throughout the day. It was in this later fighting that both Bee and Bartow were killed. The victory could never have been won without them.1
We must now return to the hill near Mitchell’s Ford occupied by the two generals. When the sudden increase of fire broke out, which marked the arrival on the field of Bee and Bartow, Johnston seemed so restless that Beauregard was moved to despatch a staff-officer, Maj. Stevens, with a half-dozen couriers, under orders to ride rapidly, learn the situation, and send back a messenger every ten minutes. Not a word of information had yet come from the left, except what I had seen from the signal station. About 11.30 A.M., Stevens having gone less than a half-hour, there came a further access of fire both of musketry and artillery. It was doubtless due to the attack of Sherman and Keyes upon the flank of Bee and Bartow. No one who heard it could doubt its import. No messages from the left were needed now. All paused for a moment and listened. Then Johnston said, “The battle is there! I am going.” Walking rapidly to his horse, he mounted and set off at a gallop, followed by his own staff, as fast as they could get their horses.
Beauregard only paused to give a few brief orders. Holmes’s and Early’s brigades, and two regiments of Bonham’s with Walker’s and Kemper’s batteries, were to march to the firing. Jones’s brigade was to be recalled to our side of Bull Run. I was ordered to return to my signal station, which I did reluctantly. From it I watched the progress of the battle for hours, but could only distinguish a single event to be reported. This was the arrival at Sudley Ford between one and two o’clock of another Federal brigade. This, I afterward learned, was Howard’s brigade, now tardily brought forward.
I was able to follow the progress of the conflict by the rising clouds of smoke and the gradual approach of the musketry for an hour or two, after which, for a long time, there was little change, and the battle seemed to stand still. When Evans and Bee were broken by Sherman’s attack upon the flank, their retreat was specially pressed by the Federal artillery. On reaching the Warrenton pike they were met by the Hampton Legion, and Hampton made an earnest effort to rally the retreating force upon his command. The ground, however, was unfavorable, and though Hampton made a stubborn fight (losing 121 out of 600) and delaying the advance near two hours before leaving the pike, our whole line then fell back under the enemy’s fire. Here, however, its tenacity was rewarded. A fresh brigade was drawn up in line on the elevated ground, since known as the Henry house hill, and its commander, till then unknown, was henceforth to be called Stonewall. Bee rode up and said to him, “General, they are driving us.” “Then, sir,” said Jackson, “we will give them the bayonet.”
The hill was really a ridge, with a plateau-like top, some 200 yards more across. The inner edge of such a ridge is a fairly good position for a defensive line of battle. It affords some cover both from view and from fire. If the enemy bring their artillery to the front edge of it, they are within musket range, and are also near enough to be charged. There was a good fringe of young pines, masking the inner edge of the hill. Jackson, while marching to the firing, had recognized this comparatively good position and occupied it. Bee galloped among his retreating men and called out to them, “See Jackson standing like a stone wall. Rally behind the Virginians.”1
It was at this moment, when Jackson’s 3000 men and Hampton’s 600 were the only organized troops opposing the Federal advance, and Bee, Bartow, and Evans were attempting to rally their broken forces, that Johnston and Beauregard reached the field. A heavy Federal fire was being poured after the fugitives. The two generals had picked up and brought with them two batteries, Pendleton’s and Alburtis’s, of four guns each. Their first efforts were to rally the stragglers and, by example, to encourage the whole line. Both were veterans at such work. Johnston took the colors of the 4th Ala. and established it in the line of battle. His ordnance officer, Col. Thomas, was placed in command of a battalion formed of fragments of all commands. Thomas was killed while leading them through the day. Beauregard had his horse killed under him. When the line of battle seemed well established, it was agreed that its immediate conduct should be left to Beauregard, and that Johnston should take his position at the Lewis house, a short distance in the rear, whence he could control the movements of all forces, and direct the reinforcements as they approached the field.
Two incomplete regiments of Cocke’s brigade, the 8th Va., of seven companies, and the 49th, of three companies, were brought from Ball’s Ford. Ewell’s brigade was sent for from Union Mills. Orders to hasten were sent the two regiments under Kershaw, and Early’s and Holmes’s brigades already on the march. Longstreet, at his own request by courier, was authorized to cross Bull Run and make demonstrations against the enemy in his front, and Jones was authorized to join him.
Besides these there was also on the way Kirby Smith’s brigade, which, as before told, had arrived at Manassas during the morning, and was at once started to the field.
Beauregard’s task, therefore, was to hold his line of battle until some of these six bodies of reinforcements could reach him. It was his last chance. And to do it he had about 3000 fresh infantry, and about as much more which had been engaged and driven back, and he had about 16 guns, mostly 6-pounders. His great advantage was that he had a fairly good position and was on the defensive.
It was McDowell’s task—and it was his last remaining of all the chances on his side at the beginning—to crush Beauregard’s line before reinforcements could reach it. He had eight brigades, about 20,000 men, and 24 guns, mostly 12-pounders, and rifles. But he set about the work with only four brigades. Howard’s brigade, as has already been told, had been left miles behind, when he felt uneasy about the long flank march. He sent for it about this time, but it arrived too late.
Burnside’s brigade he had weakly permitted Burnside to beg off for a rest, and to replenish ammunition. It was lying in the woods, in rear of where it was first engaged in the morning, and from Burnside’s report it laid there nearly five hours and was not again engaged.
The third brigade missing from the fighting line was Keyes’s. It had followed Sherman closely in its arrival on the field, and had borne some part in driving back the Confederate line. Then it had borne to its left, and gotten into the valley of Bull Run. There was no Confederate infantry there, but it took shelter in the valley from a few guns which looked after our flank and rear in that direction. Here it was out of touch with everything. McDowell did not even know where it was. Had it advanced upon the Confederate guns, or had it communicated with Schenck’s brigade on the north side of Bull Run, and the two moved on Cocke’s brigade at Ball’s Ford,—had it, in short, tried anything, it might have accomplished important results. The fourth brigade missing was Schenck’s, which never crossed Bull Run. Schenck still believed that the bridge was mined, but he had ventured to cross axemen, one at a time, and had them cutting out the forest trees which had been felled across the Warrenton pike in the low ground beyond the bridge. The axemen got their task completed just in time for Keyes’s brigade to retreat by that route.
The absence of these four brigades, and the losses suffered by the other four, probably reduced McDowell’s fighting line to about 9000 men, and Beauregard’s advantage in the defensive equalized the remaining differences. For McDowell made the further mistake of continuing to fight in front instead of hunting for a Confederate flank.
So now, for over two hours, these lines of battle fired away at each other, across the front ridge of the plateau, neither one’s fire being very murderous, as each fired mostly at random at the other’s smoke. That, indeed, is the case in nearly all battles since long-range guns have come into use. It is rare that hostile lines get so near together, and are so exposed to each other’s view, that men can select their targets. When this does occur, some decisive result is apt to be reached quickly. Fighting rarely consists now in marching directly upon one’s enemy and shooting him down at close range. The idea is now a different one. It rather consists in making it rain projectiles all over the enemy’s position. As far as possible, while so engaged, one seeks cover from the enemy’s fire in return. But the party taking the offensive must necessarily make some advances. The best advance is around the enemy’s flanks, where one meets less fire and becomes opposed by smaller numbers. But here, McDowell, encouraged by his early success, endeavored to push straight forward. All along Young’s Branch, at the foot of the rolling slopes, was more or less cover in which his troops could form. They could then advance, sheltered from view until their heads would begin to show over the front edge of the plateau, to the Confederate line along its rear edge. Then they would receive an accelerated and more accurate fire. They would return a volley or two and then run back down the hill until they found cover again. Some commands would try it over and over again, a number of times, but none ever made a lodgment.
If McDowell had had some of his absent brigades at hand, he would doubtless have sent a single column to do the work in a single charge. But his successive attacks in partial force were only consuming time, while the Confederate reinforcements were already beginning to arrive on the field. And as they came, Johnston, with good judgment, hurried them to the left and extended the Confederate flank.
At length, as his infantry could not make a lodgment, McDowell determined to try it with a dozen guns, manned by Griffin’s and Ricketts’s splendid companies of regulars. A gentle swale in the face of the ascending slope left the Henry house on a sort of knoll between the swale and the Sudley-Ma-nassas road. Griffin’s and Ricketts’s batteries were ordered to advance to the Henry house, and two or three regiments were directed forward to their support. This was about 3 P.M.
The Henry house was a two-story frame, of about two rooms on each floor, in open grass land, with a small flower garden and a few locust trees by it. Heretofore it had not been in the line of fire, but there had been enough near to drive off all occupants except Mrs. Henry herself, who, old and bedridden, had to be left. The house now became suddenly the focus of a heavy fire. Mrs. Henry was killed in her bed, struck by a cannon shot and several musket balls. The enemy was within canister range of our lines, and the battle waxed hot. A regiment of Zouaves, following in support of the Federal batteries, were charged by a company of cavalry under Col. Stuart. The Zouaves took cover in a body of woods, and the cavalry lost 9 men and 18 horses in a very few minutes. Other Federal regiments sent in support entered the woods, to the right and rear of the batteries, and found them being occupied from the other direction by the Confederate reinforcements which Johnston was now directing to our left flank.
Meanwhile, Griffin and Ricketts had fired but a short while when the 33d Va., under Col. A. C. Cummings from Jackson’s left, leaving the shelter of the ridge and thickets, and, partly obscured from view by a fence, marched boldly out toward them. Col. Cummings moved of his own accord and without orders, tempted by the enemy’s near approach. The day had been very dusty, and all uniforms, blue and gray, were now of the same dusty color. All over the field, and on both sides, cases of confusion had occurred, but the most important of all took place now. Griffin saw the regiment coming, and prepared to give them a blizzard of canister. But the Federal chief of artillery, Maj. Barry, stopped him, saying that it was a Federal regiment coming to his support. One can scarcely imagine an intelligent officer becoming so confused as to points of the compass, but it is often seen upon battle-fields. A few zigzag changes of direction upon unfamiliar ground will upset the “orientation” of many men. Maj. Barry had been fighting that regiment in Jackson’s line for some hours, yet he let it march up to a fence within 70 yards and deliver a volley. That volley was the end of the two batteries. About 40 men and perhaps 75 horses were killed or disabled by it. Ricketts was badly wounded and captured, and his first lieutenant, Ramsay, was killed. Griffin managed to drag off three of his guns, but the other nine were left isolated between the two armies, surrounded by the dead and wounded men and horses.
McDowell, however, did not tamely abandon his guns. The 33d Va. soon found itself too far from home to maintain its position, and it had to leave its captures and fall back. Then there were two or three efforts on each side to hold them before the final one, about 4 P.M. Then Beauregard advanced his whole line of battle. The Hampton Legion and the 18th Va. finally swept over the captured guns, and Ferguson and Chisolm, of Beauregard’s staff, turned some of them upon the Federal forces now dissolving into rout.
Within the last half-hour, Kirby Smith’s brigade had reached the field, closely followed by Early’s brigade, and with them came Beckham’s battery. As Kirby Smith led in his troops, extending our line on the left, he was severely wounded and had to turn over the command to Elzey. Early took Stuart’s cavalry and Beckham’s battery and advanced across the Warren-ton turnpike, where the ground is rolling and open. Beckham came into action in a position taking the Federal forces in flank. Having lost Griffin and Ricketts from their right flank, there was little artillery available to fight Beckham, and meanwhile, Beauregard, in the front, was now taking the aggressive. The Federal soldiers appreciated that the long and crooked road by which they had advanced would be peculiarly exposed in retreat, and great numbers dissolved ranks and started back to Centreville by the route they had come. Only Keyes’s brigade, and some of those nearest the left, took the Warrenton pike and crossed on the Stone Bridge. Early’s brigade and the cavalry followed the fugitives who went by Sudley. The infantry could do but little in this pursuit, and the cavalry by nightfall had loaded themselves with as many prisoners as they could care for, so most of these commands halted at Sudley and bivouacked for that night.
We may now return briefly to my signal station, whence at 1.15 P.M. I sent my last message, reporting what I now know to have been Howard’s brigade arriving at Sudley Ford, and two dust columns, both made by Johnston’s wagons coming from the valley. My message was dated at 1.15 P.M. and was as follows:—
“Large reinforcements are pushing toward the enemy, crossing Bull Run far above Stone Bridge. The column of dust, which has come down from toward the mountains, is going straight toward Manassas Station. It now appears about three miles from the Junction. Another column is visible in the far distance toward Paris. Six pieces in battery at Butler house, Centreville road.”
After two o’clock the roar of the battle began to increase again, and about three, a new battery opened fire from a point farther to my left than any previous firing. It was plainly engaged in enfilading one of the opposing lines, and I watched anxiously to see which. Presently one of its shells burst high in the air over the Federal position. I was satisfied that I could be of no further service at the signal station, and I rode for the field. Had I not seen the direction in which that new battery was firing I would soon have believed our army to have been already defeated from the swarms of stragglers met upon my road. A few had flesh wounds, and all had stories of disaster which had left few survivors of their commands. President Davis had arrived at Manassas from Richmond, early in the afternoon, and, even then, stragglers from the field had met the train at the Junction, a half-mile from the station, with such alarming stories that the conductor feared to carry the train farther. After persuasion, however, he sent the President and an aide up to the station on a locomotive.
At the station horses and a guide were procured, and Mr. Davis rode to the field. He soon encountered the procession of stragglers and heard their stories. He was so impressed by their numbers that he said to an officer riding with him, “Fields are not won where men desert their colors as ours are doing.”
Quite near the field, the road crossed a small stream. Here the surgeons had established field hospitals, and about these and under shade of the trees the crowd of wounded, attendants, and stragglers was extensive. As he had ridden along the road, the President had frequently called upon men to turn back to the field, and some had done so. Here he seemed to fear that the whole army was in retreat. As he rode his horse into the stream he drew his rein, and with a pale, stern face, and in a loud, ringing voice he shouted, “I am President Davis. Follow me back to the field!” Not far off, Stonewall Jackson, who had been shot through the hand, but had disregarded it until victory was assured, was now having his hand dressed by Surgeon Hunter McGuire. Jackson did not catch the President’s words, and McGuire repeated them to him. Jackson quickly shouted: “We have whipped them! They ran like sheep! Give me 5000 fresh men, and I will be in Washington City to-morrow morning.” In that sentence, as we shall see, appears almost the only evidence of appreciation among our leaders, on that field, of the great opportunity now before them.
The enemy were routed. Jackson saw their demoralization, and felt that, if rapidly followed up, it would spread and might involve the capital itself. And every soldier should have seen in it at least a good chance to cut off and capture many thousands of fugitives retreating by long and roundabout roads.
There was little effort, worthy of the name, even to do this. Our small bodies of cavalry did their best and captured about as many prisoners as they could handle. In all 871 unwounded were taken. But to fully improve such an opportunity much more was necessary. All the troops best situated to cut the line of retreat should have been put in motion. Not only staff-officers, but generals themselves, should have followed up to inspire and urge pursuit. The motto of our army here would seem to have been, “Build a bridge of gold for a flying enemy.”
Jackson’s offer to take Washington City the next morning with 5000 men had been made to the President as he arrived upon the field, probably about five o’clock. It was not sunset until 7.15, and there was a nearly full moon. But the President himself and both generals spent these precious hours in riding over the field where the conflict had taken place. Doubtless it was an interesting study, the dead and badly wounded of both sides being mostly where they had fallen, but it was not war to pause at that moment to consider it. One of the generals—Beauregard, for instance—should have crossed Bull Run at Ball’s Ford or Stone Bridge with all the troops in that vicinity, and should have pushed the pursuit all night. Johnston should have galloped rapidly back to Mitchell’s Ford and have marched thence on Centreville with Bonham, Longstreet, and Jones, who had not been engaged. No hard fighting would have been needed. A threat upon either flank would doubtless have been sufficient; and, when once a retreat from Centreville was started, even blank volleys fired behind it would have soon converted it into a panic.
It would be vain to speculate how far the pursuit might have been pushed or what it might have accomplished had all the available force been energetically used. We were deficient in organization, discipline, and transportation, but these deficiencies are no sufficient excuse for not attempting the game of war. In that game, to use the slang of more modern days, it was now “up to the Confederates” to pursue their routed enemy to the very utmost. His line of retreat was circuitous and offered us rare opportunity to cut it at Cub Run by a short advance from Stone Bridge; or at Centreville, by an advance of three miles from Mitchell’s Ford. Johnston and Beauregard both sent orders to different commands to make such advances, but neither went in person to supervise and urge forward the execution of the orders, though time was of the very essence. Both generals and the President spent the valuable hours of daylight still left in riding over the battle-field, as Napoleon lost his opportunity to crush Wellington at Quatre Bras by wasting hours in riding over the field of Ligny. Owing to their absence from the field, the advance from Mitchell’s Ford was countermanded by Major Whiting of Johnston’s staff, and that from the Stone Bridge, after being first checked, was later countermanded by Beauregard on receipt of a false rumor, which would not have been credited had the orders been in process of execution.
It was my fortune to carry the first order checking the pursuit, and my recollection of the circumstances is vivid. When I reached Beauregard, coming from the signal hill, the enemy was in full flight, some retreating across the Stone Bridge and others toward Sudley; and orders were being despatched to different commands concerning the pursuit. Kershaw, with the 7th and 8th S.C. regiments, was ordered to pursue across the Stone Bridge and along Warrenton pike. I accompanied the general in riding over the field and in looking after minor matters for some time. About 6 P.M. I happened to be the only one of his personal staff with him. Rather abruptly, and apropos of nothing that I saw or heard, he said to me: “Ride across the Stone Bridge and find Col. Kershaw, who is conducting the pursuit along the pike. Order him to advance very carefully and not to attack.”
I had recently read accounts of the affair at Big Bethel, Va., June 10, in which Magruder had repulsed Butler, whose troops fell back to Fortress Monroe in a panic, though entirely unpursued. I noted two facts: (1) That Magruder’s cavalry, which had been ordered to pursue, had allowed itself to be “bluffed” by Greble’s U. S. Battery. This was entirely out of ammunition, but it had turned back pursuit of our cavalry by unlimbering their empty guns. (2) That though victorious, Magruder retreated to Yorktown the same afternoon, though perhaps with less haste than was used in Butler’s return to Fortress Monroe. It seemed to me now that peremptory orders “not to attack” might result in another such scandal. I hesitated to make any suggestion, remembering army stories of replies by old generals to young aides who had volunteered advice. But I ventured to say: “Shall I tell him not to attack under any circumstances, no matter what the condition of the enemy in his front?” He replied: “Kemper’s battery has been ordered to join him. Let him wait for it to come up. Then he can pursue, but cautiously, and he must not attack unless he has a decided advantage.”
Better satisfied, I rode on my errand. A mile beyond the Stone Bridge a member of Congress, Mr. Ely of N.Y., was brought out of the woods a prisoner, as I passed, and turned over to the guard. A half-mile farther I overtook Kershaw forming in line of battle, a Federal gun, near the bridge over Cub Run, having opened fire upon his column. After a few minutes, during which skirmishers were advanced, Kemper’s battery arrived and opened fire with two guns on the position at Cub Run.
I then turned back to rejoin Beauregard, and, at the Stone Bridge, met Elzey’s brigade coming over. It was now nearly seven o’clock and the sun about a half-hour high when on the Stone Bridge I met Ferguson of Beauregard’s staff, bearing orders not only to stop the pursuit, but to recall all troops to the south side of Bull Run. I asked the reason and was answered that a message had been brought to the generals, who were still on the battle-field, that a force of the enemy had been seen south of Bull Run in rear of our right flank. Ferguson pronounced the message as absurd, and was carrying the orders reluctantly. I soon rejoined the two generals upon the field, and among the staff-officers found that no regard was being paid to the story. But the orders already despatched were not recalled, and, until late at night, all the troops on the north side were being brought back.
Meanwhile, Kemper’s fire on the bridge at Cub Run had wrecked a team on the bridge, and caused a panic and an inextricable jam of over fifty vehicles, including guns, caissons, wagons, and ambulances, from which the drivers had cut many of the teams. Hundreds of the infantry also had thrown their guns into the stream as they crossed the bridge. Here Kershaw was joined by some of our cavalry which had crossed Bull Run at Ball’s Ford, and later, by some which had followed the enemy via Sudley. When the orders to return to the south side were received, he left one of his regiments of infantry and this cavalry in charge of the situation. These during the night cleared up the blockade and in the morning brought to Manassas 17 guns, including the 30-pounder Parrott, with over 20 caissons and many other vehicles.
It now only remains of the battle, to give the brief story of the five brigades of our right and centre which held the line of Bull Run, opposite Centreville, and were confronted by Miles with three brigades. Under the confusion of orders in the morning which has been mentioned, Ewell, about 10 A.M., started to cross Bull Run, was recalled; was again sent across and a mile and a half in advance; was again recalled, and, about 2 P.M., was ordered to march to the battle-field. Here he was followed by Holmes. They reached the vicinity of the field after the rout of the enemy. Then, on the false alarm about 6.30 P.M., they were ordered to march back to Union Mills, where they arrived late at night, worn out with dust, heat, and fatigue, without having fired a shot all day.
Next to Ewell and Holmes came Jones, who had crossed early and waited for Ewell, as has been told. He was also recalled about 11 A.M. About noon he was ordered to cross again and to make some demonstrations. He did so and attempted to charge a battery with Jenkins’s S.C. regiment, but became entangled in difficult ground under sharp artillery fire. After losing 14 killed and 62 wounded, and finding his effort isolated and hopeless, he fell back. Next to the left of Jones was Longstreet. He also crossed and recrossed Bull Run in the morning, and crossed again about noon as Jones did. In the afternoon about four he was called back to the south side by orders from Johnston. But he had scarcely completed the movement, when, about half-past five, there came from Johnston orders for Bonham and Longstreet to advance upon Centreville and intercept the routed forces from Stone Bridge. Neither of the generals came to see this order executed, and the manner in which it was ignored and disobeyed is instructive. It shows that the giving of orders to go into action is but one-half of the duty of a commanding general.
Here, time was of the essence, as the sun was less than two hours high. Longstreet’s brigade, having the advantage in position, got the lead. It was the strongest brigade, having five regiments present. Bonham also had five, but two, under Kershaw, were now across Stone Bridge, as has been told. Longstreet, with superfluous caution, left one regiment to hold Blackburn’s Ford. With the other four he was well under way when Bonham, holding the older commission, claimed command of the joint operation, and put his own brigade in front. Longstreet had to yield and halt, and half the precious daylight was sacrificed to this vain whim. In the Federal official reports are noted several incidents showing that, even after all this delay, the enemy were caught retreating and might have been attacked at much disadvantage. For instance, Lt. Edwards, commanding a battery, says that he marched close along the front of a Confederate regiment, drawn up in the woods, on the side of the road he was following. He says:—
“It was the most dangerous position occupied during the day. One shot was fired over the battery, and there was a simultaneous movement of muskets along the line as if to continue the fire. Fortunately it was not followed up.”
After Bonham took the lead, the advance was continued but a short distance, when it was halted and a small squad of cavalry was sent ahead to reconnoitre,—a timid waste of time. They came back and reported the enemy drawn up on the hills about Centreville. The rest of the daylight was consumed in deploying the column on both sides of the road, and then, after resting a half-hour, they fell back to Bull Run without firing a single shot.
From all accounts of the condition of the enemy at this time, had Bonham even stood still and fired blank cartridges to make a great roar and pretend that he was coming, the panic at Centreville would have been doubled, and soon he could have advanced and found it deserted.
His report of this episode is an instructive picture of how opportunities may be lost from overcaution, bred by the sense of responsibility in commanding officers not inured to its weight. Few who have never felt it can realize what this may be. Bonham had served in Florida and Mexico and had been wounded at Contreras. He was personally brave, but had here no majorgeneral to give him orders, and the responsibility overwhelmed him. To nothing else can we attribute the excessive caution which here characterized the conduct of both our generals and of the President. Similar instances may be found in the stories of many battles. Magruder had already illustrated it at Big Bethel. Meade afterward did likewise at Gettysburg, and, even in our most recent war, the siege of Santiago narrowly escaped being terminated by a retreat. The capture of the Spanish fleet at Manila was delayed by a suspension for breakfast, and for an unnecessary inventory of ammunition. All these events took place under the pressure of new responsibilities.
Longstreet, in his book, Manassas to Appomattox, p. 52, gives the following account of the final scene:—
“When within artillery range of the retreating column passing through Centreville, the infantry was deployed on the sides of the road under cover of the forest, so as to give room for the batteries ordered into action in the open. Bonham’s brigade on the left, the other on the right.
“AS the guns were about to open there came a message that the enemy, instead of being in precipitate retreat, was marching around to attack the Confederate right. With this report came orders, or reports of orders, for the brigades to return to their positions behind the Run. I denounced the report as absurd, claimed to know a retreat, such as was before me, and ordered that the batteries open fire, when Maj. Whiting, of Gen. Johnston’s staff, rising in his stirrups, said,—
“‘In the name of Gen. Johnston, I order that the batteries shall not open.’
“I inquired, ‘Did Gen. Johnston send you to communicate that order?’
“Whiting replied, ‘No, but I take the responsibility to give it.’
“I claimed the privilege of responsibility under the circumstances, and when in the act of renewing the order to fire, Gen. Bonham rode to my side and asked that the batteries should not open. As the ranking officer present, this settled the question. By that time, too, it was near night. Col. G. W. Lay, of Johnston’s staff, supported my views, notwithstanding the protest of Maj. Whiting.
“Soon there came an order for the brigades to withdraw and return to their positions behind the Run. Gen. Bonham marched his brigade back, but, thinking there was a mistake somewhere, I remained in position until the order was renewed, about ten o’clock. My brigade crossed and recrossed the Run six times during the day and night.
“It was afterwards found that some excitable person, seeing Jones’s brigade recrossing the Run, from its advance under previous orders, took them for Federal troops crossing at McLean’s Ford, and, rushing to headquarters at the Junction, reported that the Federals were crossing below and preparing for attack against our right. And upon this report one of our staff-officers sent orders, in the names of the Confederate chiefs, revoking the orders for pursuit.”
On my return from the message to Kershaw I rejoined Beauregard on the field, and was with him until after dark, when I was sent to escort Gen. Johnston back to Manassas Junction by the Sudley-Manassas road. On the road we were overtaken by President Davis with Beauregard and most of his staff. Between 10 and 11 P.M. we all arrived at the headquarters in the village. After supper a conference was held between the President and the two generals in an upper room. While it was in progress, probably about midnight, there arrived Maj. R. C. Hill, a staff-officer in Johnston’s command, who had taken part in the pursuit in the afternoon, and who now came to report that he had “made his way into Centreville, and had found it entirely deserted, and the streets blockaded with abandoned artillery and caissons.”
This was the first intimation which reached headquarters that the enemy’s retreat, even without any pursuit, had degenerated into a panic, and Maj. Hill was taken at once upstairs to make his report in person to the generals and the President. He was well known under the sobriquet of “Crazy Hill,” to distinguish him from another Hill, classmate at West Point. Nothing that he had ever done had justified his nickname, but it arose from something peculiar in his eye, tones, and manner, all suggestive of suppressed excitement. As a matter of fact, he had not been to Centreville, but only to Cub Run bridge. He had come upon the field with a company of cavalry, and had seen the blockaded guns and caissons. There was no other such blockade, at Centreville or elsewhere.
The details of what took place in the council, after Hill had told his story and been dismissed, indicate that the case was one where too many cooks spoiled the broth. Immediate advance should have been made. While Hill had not really been at Centreville, an advance there after midnight would have found it nearly if not entirely deserted, and might have overtaken the rear of the retreating Federals. Mr. Davis suggested immediate pursuit, and there was some discussion as to which troops were in best condition and most conveniently situated. Johnston, who was the commander-in-chief, offered no definite motion, and there ensued a pause. Beauregard’s adjutant, Col. Jordan, then asked the President if he would dictate an order. He complied and dictated one for immediate pursuit. Conversation began on whether pursuit at dawn would answer, and also as to Hill and his story. It was brought out that Hill was known as “Crazy Hill,” and, though no one knew him personally, some doubt was felt, and the order was modified into one directing a reconnoissance at dawn by Bonham’s and Cocke’s brigades and infantry.
At dawn next morning it was pouring rain and it continued most of the day. This heavy precipitation has often been appealed to by the rain-makers as confirmation of their theories that rain may be induced by heavy cannonading.
The reconnoissances ordered were made and, of course, found the country deserted. Our cavalry followed the retreat beyond Fairfax Court House, and picked up a few stragglers and about 20 wagons. These small matters and the artillery captured at Cub Run and brought in during the day amused and interested us while the last hours of our opportunity passed away. Never did an enemy make a cleaner escape out of such an exposed position after such an utter rout.
CASUALTIES. BULL RUN, JULY 21, 1861
CONFEDERATE
1 O. R. 2, 309.
2 One of these was the Wilmer McLean residence, on a shady knoll in the cultivated fields a half mile in the rear of Bull Run, which Beauregard had announced as his headquarters for the battle. One of the earliest shots struck the kitchen and ruined the dinner being prepared. Within a year the family were compelled to abandon the plantation and remove to another, which they owned, at Appomattox C. H., Va. Here, by remarkable coincidence on April 9, 1865, the last fighting between the same two armies took place, upon their land as the first had done. Grant made his headquarters in their residence, and in it Lee made the surrender of his army.
1 Jackson gave order to form three lines, but gave signal for advance before the third line had gotten up and it followed in column.
1 In this connection mention should be made of Maj. Robert Wheat of the La. battalion, known as “The Tigers.” As a boy, Wheat had run away from home in Baltimore and served gallantly in the Mexican War, and, after that, in desperate fighting with Walker in Nicaragua. In his report Evans writes that he was much indebted to Major Wheat “for his great experience and his excellent advice.” He doubtless advised Evans in his movement to the left. Early in the action he fell, shot through the lungs. He survived and in June, 1862, again led his battalion in the bloody charge at Gaines Mill. Just before starting, to a friend who gave a greeting, he said, “Something tells Bob that this is his last.” He had advanced but a short distance when he fell, only living to exclaim, “Bury me on the field, boys!”
1 It is a coincidence that the same comparison was made the same afternoon by Gen. Johnston. I was acting as his guide late in the evening, and, in speaking of the fighting, he instanced the 4th Va. regiment of Jackson’s brigade, under Col. James F. Preston, and said, so impressively that I always remembered it, “Preston’s regiment stood there like a stone wall.”