Twenty-two

The Shenandoah

 

On July 29, the Union army detonated four tons of gunpowder that had been stored within a mine chamber situated under Confederate lines at Petersburg. The explosion created a huge crater and killed or maimed about three hundred Southerners, but the ensuing Union assault resulted in a wholesale slaughter of Yankee troops.

In another stunning blow to the Union, Confederate cavalry burned the community of Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, to the ground, destroying over four hundred buildings. This brazen raid struck fear into the hearts of Northerners, who feared that the Rebels’ next stop would be Washington.1

At the same time, Union cavalry troops under General George Stoneman failed in an attempt to liberate prisoners at Andersonville Prison in southwest Georgia. This notorious hellhole held about thirty-two thousand Union enlisted men, who were crowded into a stockade with inadequate shelter, poor sanitation, and a lack of food and medicine, making for miserable conditions. The impoverished South could not afford to feed and care for these captives, and General Grant contributed to the suffering by refusing to exchange Confederate for Union prisoners. News of Andersonville Prison—which would have thirteen thousand graves by the end of the war—greatly affected the conscience of the public in the North.

These embarrassing events, coupled with Grant’s inability to clear the Shenandoah Valley of Confederate troops, threatened Lincoln’s reelection chances, and the president demanded that Grant find a solution. Grant, whose own reputation had been severely tarnished, decided to consolidate his forces for the purpose of sweeping through the valley.

To the surprise of most observers, who thought he was too young, the leadership of what was called the Middle Military Division—fifty thousand troops—was bestowed on Little Phil Sheridan. Grant ordered Sheridan’s force, which would include the First Cavalry Division with Custer’s Michigan Brigade, to advance south up the valley and engage in total war—annihilate the enemy, capture stores for army use, and destroy any provisions that could aid the enemy. In other words, demolish the Confederacy.2

On August 10, Sheridan marched from Harpers Ferry. Torbert had assumed the position of chief of cavalry, and Merritt succeeded him as commander of the division. Holding a position of tremendous influence as Torbert’s chief of staff was none other than Brevet Major Marcus Reno, the man who would disobey Custer’s orders on June 25, 1876, and contribute greatly to the debacle at the Little Bighorn.3

The following month in the Shenandoah could not by any stretch of the imagination be considered a success for the Union cause. Sheridan, perhaps overly cautious due to fears that another defeat would be detrimental to Lincoln’s reelection, spent the month maneuvering and skirmishing against Jubal Early’s army with little to show for the effort. Confederate opposition became more intense the deeper Sheridan ventured into the valley. Finally, after fifty miles, he began a withdrawal in order to protect supply routes that he feared could be cut off.

Custer was involved in many of these running battles with the elusive enemy. In one early engagement, he was riding along his lines when a bullet grazed his head, clipping off some hair. His most nagging opponent, however, was Lieutenant Colonel John Singleton Mosby, the “Gray Ghost,” legendary leader of an elusive band of guerillas. Mosby, the man who had originated the idea for Jeb Stuart’s initial ride around McClellan’s army, responded to the Valley invasion by leading his band of guerillas on a series of retaliatory acts.4

On August 18, a group of Mosby’s men, who were dressed in common farmer clothing or blue uniforms, rode up to Custer’s pickets and cold-bloodedly killed and wounded several Wolverines. Soon after that, a number of sentinels were bushwhacked by sharpshooters in the night. A cook and an orderly from the Seventh Michigan who had visited a nearby farm to obtain provisions were found hanging from a tree. Three companies of the Fifth Michigan were attacked and routed by a superior force of Confederates—many of them dressed in Union blue. Ten Michigan troopers surrendered, only to be murdered by Mosby’s men.

Custer vowed revenge, and gained some measure of retribution by burning a few houses and barns, and managed to capture and hang a number of those deemed spies who had been caught while wearing Union blue. But Mosby, the master of hit-and-run tactics, frustrated Custer at every turn in this escalating blood feud between the two determined warriors.5

Sheridan’s withdrawal was treated by Northern newspapers as another failure. An element of pressure on Lincoln had been alleviated with Sherman’s capture of Atlanta on September 2, but the Shenandoah Valley remained a major problem. On September 16, Grant met with Sheridan, and the two men devised an offensive strategy designed to crush the enemy once and for all by riding down the Shenandoah and destroying the South’s granary and main source of horses and supplies.6

The initial objective would be the town of Winchester, where General Jubal Early’s men were entrenched. At 2:00 A.M. on September 19, Custer and his Wolverines, reinforced by the Twenty-fifth New York Cavalry, moved out into the darkness. As the tip of Sheridan’s right flank, Custer and the dismounted Sixth Michigan came under intense fire at Locke’s Ford along Opequon Creek.

Custer had his men lay down a base of fire, and formed the Twenty-fifth New York, supported by the Seventh Michigan, for an attempt to cross the waterway. Rebel riflemen and gunners opened up with a furious barrage, and Custer’s men floundered. In a surprise bold move—charges were not normally executed across waterways—Custer ordered a charge across the stream by the First Michigan. The Confederate soldiers—under Custer’s West Point friend, General Stephen Ramseur—were forced into a hasty retreat by Custer’s aggressive maneuver.

Custer secured the ford, and then began chasing the retreating Rebels in the direction of Winchester. His men engaged in a series of minor skirmishes until mid-afternoon before eventually happening upon a Union division under General William Averell, which was engaged with a line of Rebels under Fitz Lee. Custer’s appearance and subsequent saber charge drove the graycoats into the woods with Yankee horsemen in hot pursuit. Lee managed to form his men behind a stone wall and wide ditch. Custer never paused, and ordered a charge over the obstacles that sent the Confederates reeling once again. Lee, who had his third horse of the day shot out from beneath him, received a wound that would incapacitate him until the following year.7

Custer halted to await further orders. Word came that the battle in the center of the town was not going well for the Union. Sheridan, in a bold move, ordered his beleaguered men to charge. Custer, alone except for the sergeant carrying his personal guidon, rode well ahead of his troops as they galloped directly toward an enemy artillery battery. Suddenly, a bullet struck his color bearer, knocking him from his horse. A horde of Rebels raced to close in and finish off the downed man, and Custer as well.

Instead of prudently running for his life, Custer leaped from the saddle, grabbed his sergeant by the jacket collar, and pulled him to safety. Custer galloped away with the wounded man—all the while engaged in a saber and bayonet duel with the enemy—until a detachment of the Sixth Michigan under Major Charles Deane came to his rescue. Deane later called his commander’s actions “as brave a thing as I ever saw Custer do.” The Rebel battery had escaped, much to Custer’s ire, but the general and his color bearer had been saved.8

Custer regrouped his men and moved them to a small crest within five hundred yards of the enemy line. The order came from Sheridan, “Tell General Custer that now is the time to strike. Give him my compliments, and order him not to spare one damned ounce of horse-flesh.”9

Custer, however, was of the opinion that a frontal assault at that time would be suicidal. He requested that his orders be amended to permit him to choose the timing of his charge. Questioning a direct order was just not done, and could result in severe punishment. Had most field commanders made that request, it would have been considered insubordination, and they likely would have been relieved of duty on the spot. Sheridan, however, apparently trusted Custer’s assessment of the situation, and agreed to allow his subordinate to decide when to strike.10

In time, Custer determined that the right moment to attack had arrived. He ordered “Yankee Doodle,” his song for the charge, be played, and off they went at a trot, then a gallop.

Harris Beecher, assistant surgeon of the 114th New York, described the scene, “Away to the right a dull thunder arose. Looking in the direction of the setting sun, our men saw the most impressive and soul-stirring sight it was ever their lot to witness. Custar’s [sic] cavalry was making a charge. Ten thousand [actually only about five hundred] horsemen were pouring down at a keen gallop, upon the already discomfited enemy. Ten thousand sabers glistened and quivered over their heads. Ten thousand chargers threw up a great cloud of dust that obscured the sun … Oh! it was glorious to see how terror-stricken the rebels were, at the discovery of this impetuous charge.”11

Brigadier General George Armstrong Custer’s five hundred Union horsemen slammed headlong into about seventeen hundred infantrymen. After the first volley from these entrenched riflemen had been fired, Custer rallied his Wolverines forward before the enemy could reload. The well-timed charge, with sabers decimating the ranks, routed the Confederate boys.

“But see the gallant Custer!” one member of the band noted. “He is in the midst of a throng of the enemy, slashing right and left. A Confederate infantryman presents his musket full at Custer’s heart and is about to pull the trigger. Quick as lightning the general detects the movement. With a sharp pull he causes his horse to rear upon its haunches, and the ball passes, just grazing the General’s leg below the thigh. Then a terrible stroke descends upon the infantryman’s head, and he sinks to the ground a lifeless corpse.”12

The shattered Rebel army fled from Winchester down the road toward Strasburg. Custer’s victorious Wolverines had captured more than seven hundred prisoners, including fifty-two officers, along with seven battle flags. Custer modestly wrote in his official report, “It is confidently believed that, considering the relative numbers engaged and the comparative advantage held on each side, the charge just described, stands unequaled, valued according to its daring and success, in the history of this war.”13

The Rebels withdrew to Fisher’s Hill, where on September 22 the Federals attacked Early’s lines and once more routed the Confederates. Custer and his comrades chased the retreating enemy for more than twenty miles without success.14

Sheridan blamed the lackadaisical actions of Generals Averell and Torbert for the Union’s inability to corral and destroy Early. On September 23, Averell was removed; then, three days later, Sheridan had the opportunity of ridding himself of Torbert. Grant had requested either Torbert or James Wilson, commander of the Third Division, for assignment in Georgia.

Sheridan, however, selected Wilson for this duty, and wasted little time naming a successor. Brigadier General George Armstrong Custer was Sheridan’s choice as division commander.15

Custer, who at first had been assigned the Second Division, would as of September 30, 1864, be in command of the Third Division, which included the First Brigade, under Colonel Alexander C. M. Pennington, consisting of the Second New York Cavalry, Second Ohio Cavalry, Third New Jersey Cavalry, Fifth New York Cavalry, and the Eighteenth Pennsylvania and the Second Brigade, under Colonel William Wells, consisting of the First Vermont Cavalry, two companies of the Third Indiana Cavalry, Eighth New York Cavalry, Twenty-second New York Cavalry, and one battalion of the First New Hampshire Cavalry.16

The only downside to this promotion was that Custer would be leaving behind the Michigan Brigade, the unit that he had molded into the most celebrated cavalrymen in the Army of the Potomac.

Hundreds of Wolverine troopers, to no avail, signed petitions requesting transfer to the Third Division. Custer summed up the emotion of the separation in a letter to Libbie, “You would be surprised at the feeling shown,” he wrote. “Some of the officers said they would resign if the exchange (an assignment of the Michigan Brigade to the Third Division) were not made. Major Drew said some actually cried. Axell, the band leader, wept. Some of the band threatened to break their horns.” The Wolverines would continue to wear their red neckties out of respect and loyalty to their beloved leader.17

Meanwhile, six of Mosby’s rangers had been hanged on September 23 at Fort Royal. Mosby was infuriated by the act and, believing that Custer was the culprit, requested permission from General Robert E. Lee to hang an equal number of Custer’s men for each that Mosby lost. Permission was granted.

After one such lynching party, Mosby pinned a note to one of Custer’s dangling troopers, “These men have been hung in retaliation for an equal number of Colonel Mosby’s men, hung by order of Gen’l Custer at Fort Royal. Measure for measure.”

The men hanged at Fort Royal, however, had not been executed by Custer, who had in fact taken a ten-mile detour around that particular city. Regardless, Mosby’s brutal actions served to add fuel to the fire of this escalating personal feud between the two adversaries. And it was now Custer’s turn to strike back.18

Custer’s first assignment as commander of the Third Division would be a nasty, distasteful bit of business prompted by Mosby’s executions. Three guerillas wearing Union uniforms had shot dead Sheridan’s chief engineer not far from headquarters near Dayton, Virginia. Little Phil was outraged, and, as punishment for this cowardly act, ordered Custer to burn every house within five miles of the incident.19

This policy of Total War (a reign of terror on the civilian populace) would in years later be taken West and employed effectively against the Plains Indians, such as at the Battle of Washita in November 1868, which embroiled Custer in controversy for his actions under orders.20

Custer rode out on October 4, and in what one New Yorker called “the most heart-sickening duty we had ever performed,” torched seventeen houses, five barns, and assorted outbuildings. Ironically, the “Burnt District,” as it came to be known, was populated for the most part by pacifist Mennonites.21

Evidently Phil Sheridan was pleased with the results of Custer’s burning foray, and received permission from Grant to continue the destruction. The Federals set out on October 5 to sweep across the countryside from the Alleghenies to the Blue Ridge, and commenced a systematic reign of terror. Barns, haystacks, mills, and grain fields were indiscriminately torched while livestock was either slaughtered or rounded up and taken along to feed the army.22

The infuriated Confederates responded to this affront by pursuing and skirmishing with elements of Sheridan’s force, which delayed movement and hampered the burning. Much of this harassment was initiated by Tom Rosser, who was now being called the “Savior of the Valley.” Rosser was in charge of all mounted troops attached to Jubal Early, and many of his men were natives of the Valley who sought revenge for the destruction caused by the Northerners.

Sheridan vowed to put a stop once and for all to Rosser’s aggressive nature. And George Armstrong Custer was assigned the task of eliminating his West Point friend.23

Custer led his twenty-five-hundred-man Third Division out of camp on the morning of October 9, and halted on a ridge overlooking Tom’s Brook. Rosser’s thirty-five hundred men were securely dug into defensive positions behind stone walls on the south side of the brook, which in itself did not present an obstacle for horsemen.

Custer surveyed the scene, then, in an act of bravado of which legends are made, trotted out in front of his command, where he could be observed by every man on both sides of the field.

In a chivalrous gesture, Custer swept his broad-brimmed hat to his knee in a salute to his old friend—as if to say, “Let’s have a fair fight. May the best man win.”

Rosser was not particularly amused by Custer’s showmanship. “You see that officer down there?” he said to his staff. “That’s General Custer, the Yanks are so proud of, and I intend to give him the best whipping today that he ever got!”24

Confederate artillery, which was positioned on a higher elevation on the bluffs, opened up to pummel the Union lines. While the artillery dueled, Custer’s skirmishers probed Rosser’s defenses without success until mid-morning. At that point, Custer decided to take matters into his own hands and try to outflank the entrenched Rebels. Three regiments were dispatched toward the enemy’s left, while another brigade was readied for a charge. When the flanking troops hit Rosser’s left, Custer led the charge across Tom’s Brook into the heart of the enemy line.

Rosser’s troops wavered, then broke under the bold attack by the Yankee horsemen, and fled to the south. The Rebels engaged in a brief running battle, but in the end ran for their lives. Custer chased his fleeing enemy some ten to twelve miles, in the process capturing six cannon and the ambulance train, which included Rosser’s headquarters wagon. Confederate Thomas Munford said of the shameful defeat, “[We] lost more in that one fight than we had ever done before, in all our fights together.” The Federals, remembering Stuart’s “Buckland Races,” jokingly referred to the battle as the “Woodstock Races.”25

An elated Custer wrote to his wife, “Darling little one, Yesterday, the 9th, was a glorious day for your Boy! I attacked Genl. Rosser’s Division of 3 Brigades with my Division of 2, and gained the most glorious victory … I am now arrayed in Gen’l Rosser’s coat.”

Custer also got back the ambrotype of Libbie that had been captured at Trevilian Station, and appropriated a pet squirrel that had belonged to Rosser. That night in camp, he adorned himself in Rosser’s baggy, ill-fitting uniform and treated his men to a good laugh. He later added to Rosser’s humiliation by writing to ask that his old friend advise his tailor to shorten the coattails for a better fit.26

Perhaps more importantly, Custer had without question impressed his new command. One officer wrote in his journal that, “With Custer as leader we are all heroes and hankering for a fight.” An Ohio cavalryman wrote, “We never began but we felt sure of victory. Custar [sic] always used to say that he could tell in 20 minutes after opening a fight if we could beat the enemy.” After only one battle, Custer had instilled confidence in his new command—and in his leadership.27

Sheridan’s army, with Custer’s division, retired to camp along Cedar Creek in a line stretching a full five miles, with Custer’s headquarters at the western end. The men were content to rest, recuperate, and brag about their recent victories. Jubal Early, however, was plotting an assault on the unsuspecting Federal troops.

On the morning of October 19, “Old Jube” launched his surprise attack of five divisions against the eastern tip of the encampment. His audacious action had been perfectly executed, and the Union defenders were being overrun and scattered from their camps, many taken prisoners by the determined Confederates.

Custer sprang into action and set out to protect the right flank. His action slowed the attack and forced a stalemate face-off against a superior force of enemy soldiers commanded by Tom Rosser.28

Early’s exhausted troops had paused in their attack when an event occurred that would rally Union forces. Phil Sheridan, who had been visiting Washington, was halted up the road in Winchester. He heard about the battle, and galloped to Cedar Creek. At the suggestion of a staff officer, Sheridan rode up and down the lines, assuring his men that they would prevail. The nearly whipped Union troops responded to “Sheridan’s Ride” with cheers and renewed faith.29

Late in the afternoon, Sheridan noticed a gap in the Rebel lines, and quickly notified Custer to prepare to charge the right flank. The two-thousand-man-strong Third Division, led by their commander, advanced from the west to crash into the gap with sabers flashing. The daring charge of Union horsemen split the enemy in half. “Regiment after regiment, brigade after brigade, in rapid succession was crushed,” recalled Confederate General John Gordon.30

The Rebels commenced a hasty retreat, with Custer’s command nipping at their heels. The Union cavalrymen inflicted heavy casualties while capturing vital Confederate equipment, including forty-five artillery pieces, dozens of wagons, and scores of prisoners—as well as five battle flags. One severely wounded captive was Custer’s West Point friend, Stephen Ramseur, whom Custer rushed to Sheridan’s headquarters for medical attention. Ramseur, the youngest West Pointer to attain the rank of major general in the Confederate army, died the next morning.31

That night, a jubilant Custer hugged his diminutive commanding officer, Phil Sheridan, and danced him around the campfire. “By God, Phil,” Custer emotionally cried, “We’ve cleaned them out of their guns and got ours back!” An equally excited Sheridan proclaimed, “There, there old fellow; don’t capture me!”32

The following day, Custer was dispatched by Sheridan aboard a special train to Washington to present thirteen Rebel battle flags to Secretary of War Stanton. At the same time, Sheridan recommended to Grant that “the brave boys Merritt and Custer” be promoted to brevet major generals.33

The ceremony at Stanton’s office was postponed until the twenty-fifth, which allowed Custer time to fetch Libbie from Newark, New Jersey, where she had been visiting friends. With Libbie at his side, Custer formally presented the battle flags to the secretary of war. Stanton shook Custer’s hand, and said, “General, a gallant officer always makes gallant soldiers.” He then announced that the army had a new major general in its ranks. Custer’s promotion would date from October 19.34

Typical of the public accolades bestowed upon Custer was the observation of New York Times reporter E. A. Paul, who described Custer’s actions at Cedar Creek, “Here Gen. Custer, young as he is, displayed judgment worthy of Napoleon.”35

Once again, Custer had been compared to Napoleon. And, hard as it may be to believe, the new major general was only getting warmed up for what lay ahead. As the war heated up, Custer’s intensity and boldness would rise to match and even exceed the challenge.