Ten

Boy General

 

Neither army lingered for any length of time on the battlefield following hostilities at Brandy Station. On June 10, Robert E. Lee resumed his mission to invade the North and dispatched Richard Ewell down the Shenandoah, James Longstreet east of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and Ambrose Hill to trail Ewell.

On June 17, the two opposing cavalries would collide in the Virginia Piedmont at Aldie, which was strategically located at the western end of a gap in the Bull Run Mountains and at the fork of two roads leading to Winchester.1

Fitz Lee’s brigade, commanded by Colonel Thomas Munford in Lee’s absence, had been sent ahead to guard Aldie. Munford moved from Upperville through Middleburg, deployed pickets east of Aldie, and continued on to procure supplies at a local residence.

Jeb Stuart and his staff retired to the picturesque village of Middleburg to engage in what had become the cavalry commander’s favorite pastime—entertaining young ladies, many of whom could be termed camp followers, with music and tales of daring. For the second time in just over a week, Stuart’s cavalry, the eyes and ears of the Army of Northern Virginia, would be taken by surprise when Pleasonton and three brigades of David Gregg’s Second Division arrived at Aldie about four o’clock that afternoon to attack Munford.2

Riding with Generals Pleasonton and Gregg was aide-de-camp George Armstrong Custer, who had made himself conspicuous just prior to the assault by soaking himself in a river after watering his horse. Custer had been urging his mount up a steep bank when the animal toppled over backward, spilling its rider into the water. One of Gregg’s staff quipped that when Custer emerged from his impromptu bath the dust “settled on his wet clothes and wet hair, (and) Custer was an object that one can better imagine than I can describe.” Fortunately for the embarrassed lieutenant, this incident would be a mere footnote to his actions that day.3

The battle commenced when Judson Kilpatrick’s brigade stormed into Aldie and sent Munford’s pickets reeling into a hasty retreat. Custer’s West Point friend, Colonel Tom Rosser, rallied his Fifth Virginia with a bold saber charge, then posted sharpshooters behind haystacks on the right of the Snickersville Road and held firm against Kilpatrick’s advance. The two cavalries charged and countercharged as the fighting raged west of Aldie with neither side gaining a clear advantage.4

Stuart’s flirtatious dallying was abruptly interrupted when frantic pickets ran down the street yelling, “The Yankees are coming!” Stuart and his staff leaped astride their horses and raced away just as a regiment of Duffie’s cavalry approached at the gallop. Stuart joined Beverly Robertson’s brigade, and dispatched a message at about dusk calling for Munford to fall back to Middleburg. Munford complied with Stuart’s order, and a running battle ensued as Kilpatrick chased the stubborn Confederates down the road leading into the village proper.5

First Lieutenant Custer had been occupied with carrying dispatches for General Pleasonton throughout the initial stages of the battle. Late in the day, he arrived at Kilpatrick’s position. Kilpatrick was one of those officers who was the subject of Custer’s envy. Kilpatrick had been only one year ahead of Custer at West Point, but already was in command of a brigade. Custer, who was always eager to trade his aide functions for combat experience, asked and received Kilpatrick’s permission to enter the fray. An orderly on Pleasonton’s staff wrote, “He was always in the fight no matter where he was.”6

Custer would certainly have been anxious to impress Kilpatrick, not to mention Pleasonton, with his competence under fire. In this instance, however, it would not necessarily be the ability of Custer that would turn heads, but the initiative of a runaway horse that would gain its rider instant fame.7

Custer was becoming widely known, and likely ridiculed, for his skittish horses—first at Brandy Station, then earlier in the day when he had taken the dunking. These episodes in no way reflected a true picture of his skill in the saddle. As evidenced by his ability at West Point, he was a natural-born equestrian, and very few could compare to him when it came to horsemanship. Perhaps, it was poetic justice to compensate for the other mishaps that this occasion would provide more positive results. Custer was riding a black horse that he had named Harry in honor of his five-year-old nephew—who, incidentally, would be nicknamed Autie in honor of Custer and would die with his famous uncle at the Little Bighorn.8

Harry the horse became unnerved by the din of battle and bolted—straight toward the enemy. Custer fought to restrain his mount, but was unable to rein up the terrified animal. Before long, Harry had carried his hapless rider directly into the midst of Munford’s cavalry.

Two Rebel cavalrymen quickly targeted Custer and closed in for the kill. Custer instinctively drew his Toledo blade. The Confederate horsemen were greeted with Custer’s heavy saber, and one was cut from the saddle. Harry then treated Custer to a wild, harrowing ride for at least a mile through enemy lines. Finally, Custer managed to control his horse, escaped out a flank, and circled the entire field at a gallop to return safely to Kilpatrick’s headquarters—no doubt with the cheers of the troops ringing in his ears.9

Custer claimed that his deliverance could be attributed to his soft, felt, Confederate-style hat, which best protected his fair skin from the sun. He wrote in a letter to his sister dated June 25, “I was surrounded by rebels, and cut off from my own men, but I had made my way out safely, and all owing to my hat, which is a large broad brim, exactly like that worn by rebels. Everyone tells me I look like a rebel more than our own men. The rebels at first thought I was one of their own men, and did not attack me, except one, who rushed at me with his sabre, but I struck him across the face with my sabre, knocking him off his horse. I then put the spurs to ‘Harry’ and made my escape.”10

In spite of Custer’s protestations to the contrary, which were a rarity for such a masterful self-promoter, many observers were of the opinion that he had intended to charge right through the whole Confederate army. Newspaper correspondents knew a good story when they saw one, and embellished the “charge” into enemy lines to depict Custer as the hero of the battle.11

One Michigan newspaper later reported, in part, “Outstripping his men in pursuit of the enemy, one of them turned, fired, but missed, his revolver being knocked by a sword blow that sent the rider toppling to the ground. Another enemy trooper tore alongside, but Custer, giving his horse a sudden check, let the man go shooting by. Then face to face they fought it out, gray going down before blue.”12

Artist A. R. Waud of Harper’s Weekly rendered a sketch of this valorous charge by Custer, which several months later would grace the cover of that prestigious national magazine.13

Perhaps more consequential to Custer at the time than his “charge” was the news that as a result of the successful battle at Aldie cavalry commander Alfred Pleasonton had been promoted to major general. This meant that Custer could once more assume the brevet rank of captain. But, unbeknownst to anyone at present, he would barely have time to get accustomed to his new rank before Dame Fortune would smile upon him with a much more significant promotion.14

Two days later, the Union cavalry struck Middleburg again. Duffie led the charge, which pushed the Confederate troops further west to near Upperville. The skirmishing between detachments of the two armies raged on in earnest, but Jeb Stuart had wisely positioned his men in a long line from Middleburg to Upperville, which maintained his ability to protect the gaps for Lee’s advancing army.15

Pleasonton continued to sporadically probe Stuart’s line, but remained contently settled in for the time being around Middleburg. The new major general was confident that his men were in the process of delivering a Union victory, but there was one exception. Alfred Duffie’s regiment had been cut to ribbons—losing nearly two-thirds of its men. Duffie, likely over Pleasonton’s objections, had been promoted to brigadier general a few days earlier. Now, Pleasonton finally had reason to remove the Frenchman. At his urging, Hooker reassigned Duffie to Washington.16

Union artillery shells were bombarding the streets, and Stuart decided out of regard for the women and children who resided there to withdraw to Ashley’s Gap in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Soon after, Pleasonton fell back to Aldie. Stuart, satisfied that he had won a victory, returned to his position before Aldie.17

During the four days of skirmishing, the Union had suffered an estimated eight hundred casualties compared to five hundred to six hundred for the Confederate army—numbers comparable to those at Brandy Station.18

While Generals Longstreet and Hill advanced down the Valley and Ewell was on his way into Pennsylvania, Stuart sent proposals to General Lee pertaining to an independent cavalry reconnaissance intended to slow Hooker’s movements by harassing him, confusing him as to the whereabouts of Lee’s army, cutting communications, and providing vital intelligence. Lee recognized the value of Stuart’s reasoning, and agreed with his request.19

These orders, with the implication that he would be required to ride around the enemy army or risk disclosing Lee’s plans, were accepted by Stuart at the time as standard operating procedure. At one o’clock in the morning on June 25, his six-thousand-man column rode south and east to set the operation in motion. Two days later, after a march of only a disappointing thirty-five miles in forty-eight hours, Stuart continued his movement east and south toward Fairfax Court House while Fitz Lee detoured east to tear up railroad tracks and cut telegraph lines at Burke’s Station. Fairfax Station was found to be held by eighty-six troops from the Eleventh New York Cavalry, who were on duty there for the purpose of guarding army stores. In the ensuing brief skirmish, the New Yorkers were able to inflict a number of casualties before twenty-six of them were either killed or taken prisoner while the others fled into the nearby timber.20

On June 28, Stuart crossed the Potomac and immediately put his men to work until dawn destroying property along the Chesapeake & Ohio Canal and capturing additional stores—including several barrels of whisky. The men were then rewarded by their commander with the opportunity to rest.21

Behind Union lines, Fighting Joe Hooker, who had been the subject of dissatisfaction since Chancellorsville, tendered his resignation as army commander. On June 28, President Lincoln, who had lost confidence in Hooker, readily accepted. The president subsequently appointed General George Gordon Meade to replace Hooker.

Forty-seven-year-old George Meade had been born in Cadiz, Spain, while his father had been stationed there as a naval agent. The family returned to Washington, where Meade’s father died, and the family finances suffered to the point that George was forced to drop out of private school. He did, however, later secure an appointment to West Point, and graduated nineteenth out of fifty-six in 1835. Meade aided in the survey of the Long Island Railroad, served in Florida during the Great Seminole War, and eventually resigned from the army to work for the railroad as well as survey the Mississippi and Texas borders.

After marrying, Meade rejoined the army in 1842, and again was assigned to surveying and engineering projects until his transfer to Texas during the Mexican War, where he was cited for bravery at Monterrey. From the Mexican War to the Civil War, he was once more involved in engineering and surveying work.

In 1861, Meade was made a brigadier general of volunteers, and led a Pennsylvania brigade at Bull Run. He journeyed down the Peninsula with McClellan and fought in battles at Mechanicsville, Gaines’ Mill, Second Bull Run, and Antietam. As a major general, Meade commanded troops at Chancellorsville, and was critical of Hooker’s lack of aggressiveness. He was tracking Lee’s troops as they made their way north when he received word of his appointment to the top army post. Meade was at first reluctant to take the job, and then accepted it as “God’s will.”22

Major General Alfred Pleasonton sought an audience with George Meade on the afternoon of the new army commander’s first day at the office. The purpose of Pleasonton’s visit was to recommend a reorganization of the cavalry corps. Meade had been authorized by the president to replace or promote any officer deemed necessary to improve the effectiveness of his army.23

Pleasonton had earlier sought the counsel of a political ally, Congressman John F. Farnsworth, whose nephew, Elon, served on the general’s staff. Pleasonton vowed in a letter to the congressman to resign if rumors were true about Hungarian native Major General Julius Stahel being appointed commander of the cavalry corps. “I have no faith in foreigners saving our Government or country,” Pleasonton professed. “Stahel has not shown himself a cavalry man.”24

Pleasonton made the request directly to Meade that Major General Stahel, who outranked Pleasonton, be relieved of duty, in addition to replacing Brigadier General Joseph Copeland, commander of the Michigan Brigade. Meade granted the request.

The cavalry commander also recommended the promotions to brigadier general of three young officers whom he regarded as men “with the proper dash to command cavalry.” Barely twelve hours after Meade had assumed command, he approved the promotions with an official date of rank of June 29 for Captain Elon Farnsworth, the capable Captain Wesley Merritt, and First Lieutenant, brevet captain, George Armstrong Custer.25

Various versions over the years about how Custer received and reacted to the astounding news of his promotion to brigadier general have created more legend than fact. In one of the more popular and amusing accounts, Custer had returned to his tent following an inspection tour of pickets while enduring the rain and mud. His tent-mates greeted his arrival by announcing, “Gentlemen, General Custer!” The banter continued with phrases such as, “You’re looking well, General,” and “How are you, General Custer?”

Custer was somewhat embarrassed, and rebutted with the promise that they may laugh now but someday he would be a general. He was then directed to an envelope addressed to “Brigadier General George Armstrong Custer, U. S. Vols.” Custer was allegedly mortified, chagrined, and on the verge of tears.26

Whether or not the above account contains any truth would be a matter of conjecture. More than likely, Pleasonton, who regarded Custer as a surrogate son, would have desired to personally break the news. In a letter to Isaac Christiancy dated July 26, 1863, Custer wrote that he had been summoned to cavalry headquarters at three o’clock on the afternoon of Pleasonton’s meeting with Meade. It was at that time that the announcement was made that would stun Custer and confound and infuriate veteran officers. “I had not the remote idea that the president would appoint me,” Custer wrote, “because I considered my youth, my low rank and what is of great importance at times & recollected that I have not a single ‘friend at court.’ To say I was elated,” he added, “would faintly express my feelings.”27

At the tender age of twenty-three, Custer was now the youngest general in the Union army. Orderly Joseph Fought described the reaction to the promotion, “All the other officers were exceedingly jealous of him. Not one of them but would have thrown a stone his way to make him lose his prestige. He was way ahead of them as a soldier, and that made them angry.” General Pleasonton would respond to any criticism of his choice by saying, “Custer is the best cavalry general in the world and I have given him the best brigade to command.”28

Not only was the promotion itself remarkable, but the accompanying assignment was almost equally astonishing. Pleasonton had replaced General Stahel with Brigadier General Hugh Judson Kilpatrick as commander of the Third Cavalry Division, and placed Custer in command of that division’s Second Brigade. This brigade, formerly commanded by General Copeland, who was recently relieved of duty, consisted of the First, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Michigan Volunteer Cavalry Regiments—known as the Wolverines. Custer had earlier exercised every possible act within his power—from upstanding to conniving—to be appointed colonel of any one of the Michigan regiments. Now, he commanded them all. The appointment certainly enabled Custer to exact some measure of sweet revenge on the Republicans in his home state.29

Apparently, not only fellow officers were surprised and baffled by Custer’s promotion. The Monroe, Michigan, Commercial, Custer’s hometown newspaper, was initially skeptical, “Upon the first appearance of the report that Captain Custer had been made a brigadier general of Cavalry, we were in some doubt as to its genuineness: but it proved to be a bona-fide appointment. He had fairly earned his promotion to this position, and it is an honor which Monroe citizens should be proud of. He will no doubt prove fully capable and efficient.”30

The first order of business for the fashion-conscious Custer was to properly display his new rank. He was in possession of a flashy uniform, but locating a pair of stars would be a challenge. He dispatched bugler Fought on a scavenger hunt, which, finally late into the night, was successful when two silver cloth stars were purchased from an army sutler.31

Joseph Fought sewed on the stars to complete the uniform that he described as “a velveteen jacket with five gold loops on each sleeve, and a sailor shirt with a very large collar that he got from a gunboat on the James. The shirt was dark blue, and with it he wore a conspicuous red tie—top boots, a soft hat, Confederate, that he had picked up on the field, and his hair was long and in curls almost to his shoulders.”32

Not everyone was impressed with Custer’s homemade costume. One of General Gregg’s staff officers quipped that Custer looked like a “circus rider gone mad.” This was the distinctive uniform, however, that Custer would be known by for the remainder of the war.33

While Custer was coming to terms with his promotion and preparing himself to ride out early the following morning and introduce himself to his new command, Jeb Stuart and his three brigades were riding and raiding through the lush Maryland countryside. Stuart had crossed the Potomac to arrive on the outskirts of Rockville at about noon on June 28, and was delighted to be welcomed by an adoring group of young ladies from a local female academy.34

The enjoyment of the company of these fair maidens was interrupted when Wade Hampton relayed word that he had spotted a Union wagon train. This supply train, which stretched for eight miles in length and was comprised of 150 wagons and 900 mules, had earlier departed Washington bound for Meade’s army.35

Stuart and his troops swooped down on the unsuspecting wagons and captured 125 of them, and confiscated the generous load of supplies, which included delicacies such as ham, sugar, and whisky, and then paroled the four hundred teamsters. Perhaps more importantly, most of the wagons contained oats, a boon to the horses, which were in poor condition. The column re-formed at Cookeville to camp for the night.36

Brigadier General George Armstrong Custer rode out before dawn on June 29 to take command of his brigade, which was encamped forty-five miles away at Abbottstown, a few miles north of Hanover.37

One can only imagine the thoughts going through the mind of this twenty-three-year-old as he drew closer to his first command as a general—as if he could even come to terms with the suddenness of his promotion. There had to be some measure of apprehension about meeting his subordinates—most of whom would be older—and gaining the respect that he knew was necessary to effectively lead troops. But, then again, this was George Armstrong Custer, a young man who probably believed that he was predestined for greatness, and that fact alone gave him the confidence to meet any challenge—in camp or on the battlefield.