Eight

Pleasonton’s Pet

 

By the end of April, Fighting Joe Hooker had planned an operation designed to outflank the Army of Northern Virginia. To that end, he marched his 75,000 troops across the Rappahannock River, through a second-growth forest known as the Wilderness, and established his headquarters near Chancellorsville. On April 28, Hooker sent three corps and cavalry to Kelly’s Ford while General Stoneman’s cavalry attempted to maneuver to the rear of the Confederate army.1

On May 1, General Robert E. Lee countered Hooker by sending his fifty-thousand-man Confederate infantry under Stonewall Jackson against Union forces in open country near Chancellorsville. The two armies sparred back and forth in a fiery duel of exploding ordnance and blazing firearms, with blood flowing freely on both sides. Although the battle was going well on the Federal side, Hooker inexplicably ordered his men to break contact and withdraw into the timber encircling the crossroads of Chancellorsville.2

That evening, Generals Lee and Jackson sat on cracker boxes while warming their hands over a campfire and discussed strategy. Jeb Stuart’s cavalry had discovered that Hooker’s right flank was unprotected. Lee decided to take advantage of that intelligence, and devised an extremely risky and daring plan to divide his force. Jackson’s twenty-six thousand troops would march to the Union rear and attack, which in the meantime would leave only about seventeen thousand men at Lee’s disposal to hold off an advance by Hooker. If successful, they could crush Hooker between them, but if Hooker detected the maneuver he could turn on either fragmented force and likely overpower them. Lee decided that it was worth the gamble.

At 5:00 A.M. on May 2, Stuart’s cavalry led Jackson’s corps on its fourteen-mile all-day march through the Wilderness, around the Union army’s vulnerable right flank. From all indications, this bold movement had not been detected by the enemy.

At twilight, Stonewall Jackson’s troops charged into their unsuspecting foe. The surprised Union infantrymen were quickly routed into a panicked retreat, and disappeared into the darkness before Jackson could overtake them. Lee’s initial plan had worked, and now he must follow up on the day’s success.

However, that evening in the faint light of dusk, while on a reconnaissance mission between lines, Stonewall Jackson was mistakenly shot and wounded by members of his own Eighteenth North Carolina. Jackson was taken to a nearby home, where, late that night, his left arm was amputated. General Jeb Stuart was summoned to take command of Jackson’s corps.3

When the sun rose the following day, Stuart launched an attack into the dense undergrowth, where the entrenched Union soldiers waited. Each charge of the Southerners was met with fierce opposition, and repulsed. Finally, Hooker, who had been wounded in an artillery barrage, ordered his men to fall back toward the Rappahannock River. The South held the field and lost about thirteen thousand men while inflicting over seventeen thousand casualties on the Northerners.

The battle of Chancellorsville has been called Lee’s greatest victory—a masterpiece of warfare perhaps unequalled by any other American general. He had gambled with the future of his army and executed a flawless offensive. On the other side of the lines, Hooker had demonstrated one of the worst decisions of the war when he abandoned his advance on the first of May—losing his nerve when facing Lee directly, becoming a “whipped man,” as one of his subordinates described him.4

Jeb Stuart had distinguished himself once more—this time as an infantry commander. He was also confident in the supremacy of his cavalry, which had not as yet come within two whoops and a holler of being challenged by Union horsemen. In fact, his troopers were now known as the “Invincibles” to the frustrated enemy.

No doubt twenty-three-year-old George Armstrong Custer had viewed this Southern victory with a strong desire to be part of the army on the battlefield and make a difference. His participation in the war thus far had been that of a mere ambitious aide-de-camp to various generals—and presently an officer without permanent assignment. He had been away from the army for six months, and craved field action. The war was passing him by, and his opportunities for promotion, not to mention fame and glory, were vanishing with each day.

Custer did learn the inside story about how Lee had outgeneraled Hooker at Chancellorsville, and wrote about it to George McClellan on May 6, adding, “To say that everything is gloomy and discouraging does not express the state of affairs here. Hooker’s career is well exemplified by that of a rocket, he went up like one and came down like a stick.” Custer also related that rumors swirled about that Hooker may have been drunk during the campaign, “Even Hooker’s best friends are clamoring for his removal. You will not be surprised when I inform you that the universal cry is ‘Give us McClellan.’”5

On the same day that Custer wrote the letter to McClellan, he was offered the opportunity to be rescued from his dreary desk job at the War Department in Washington. An official invitation arrived from Brigadier General Alfred Pleasonton, commander of the First Cavalry Division of the newly organized Cavalry Corps, requesting that Custer serve as an aide-de-camp on his staff.

In early 1863, Fighting Joe Hooker had reorganized the Union cavalry and its purpose. George McClellan had previously assigned mounted regiments to infantry brigades, which greatly diminished their effectiveness in battle. Hooker had placed the cavalry under the command of Major General George Stoneman, and employed independent tactics patterned after those of Jeb Stuart’s cavalry.

The cavalry corps at that time numbered about ten thousand officers and men and had been divided into three divisions of seven brigades. Division commanders included Brigadier Generals Davis Gregg and John Buford—both West Pointers—and Colonel Alfred Duffie, a Frenchman who had been decorated for his service in the Crimean War. Brigade commanders included Colonels Judson Kilpatrick, John Irvin Gregg, Thomas C. Devin, and Benjamin “Grimes” Davis, all of whom were rising stars in the Union cavalry.6

The reorganization experiment had not worked initially, as evidenced by actions during the Chancellorsville Campaign. The Federal horsemen had been dispatched on a raid against Lee’s communication lines to Richmond, and their absence had contributed to the Union defeat.

General Pleasonton, however, had personally distinguished himself in that engagement by routing a small band of Confederate infantry, and was introduced several days later by Hooker to President Abraham Lincoln with the words, “Mr. President, this is General Pleasonton, who saved the Army of the Potomac the other night!” Soon after, when Stoneman journeyed to Washington to seek treatment for piles, Hooker seized the opportunity to replace his ineffective commander “temporarily” with the more aggressive Pleasonton.7

New Yorker Alfred Pleasonton, a West Pointer, class of 1844, and a veteran of the Mexican War and various frontier posts, had been promoted to brigadier general following the Seven Days’ Campaign, and had led a division at Antietam, Fredericksburg, and Chancellorsville. In the tradition of a cavalryman, he was a self-confident man, a fastidious dresser, and, perhaps more importantly, had the advantage of being politically well-connected.

His ambition, a trait that compelled some to observe that he had already risen beyond the level of his field competency, was no secret to anyone. Rumors about his lack of bravery under fire were commonplace. He also became known for embellishing his own role in a battle or blatantly taking credit for actions in which he did not participate. Some called Pleasonton a bald-faced liar and a shameless bootlicker in his efforts to curry favor with superiors.

Massachusetts officer Charles Francis Adams, Jr., wrote to his mother, “He [Pleasonton] is pure and simple a newspaper humbug. You always see his name in the papers, but to us who have served under him he is notorious as a bully and a toady. Yet mean and contemptible as Pleasonton is, he is always in at Head Quarters.” Postwar writers would dub him the “Knight of Romance,” on account of his dispatches, which were said to be full of “sound and fury, signifying nothing.”8

To be fair, if possible, some degree of the criticism of Pleasonton stemmed from the fact that General Winfield Scott Hancock had been the popular candidate for cavalry commander but had been passed over for the post. Hancock, as commander of II Corps, would in the near future win great acclaim at Gettysburg.

Pleasonton had become acquainted with George Armstrong Custer’s impetuosity and ability to relate accurate reconnaissance reports when both served with McClellan, and for that reason had requested his service as an aide-de-camp.

In the words of Custer’s future personal bugler, Joseph Fought: “Genl. Pleasonton, a very active officer, was always anxious to be posted about what was doing in front of him. He himself could not be in the front all the time, and in that respect his Trusties [aides] were more valuable to him than his brigade commanders. If Lt. Custer observed that it was important to make a movement or charge he would tell the commander to do it, would not dare question, because he knew Lt. Custer was working under Genl. Pleasonton who would confirm every one of his instructions and movements.”9

Custer had at first declined the invitation by Pleasonton out of loyalty to McClellan. But, after reconsidering that decision—any position in the field was better than sitting at a desk—wholeheartedly transferred his fierce allegiance to his new commander. He termed Pleasonton “an excellent cavalry officer,” and was quite pleased with his new status.

The thirty-nine-year-old Pleasonton responded to Custer’s fidelity with what could be called a paternal affection. Custer emulated Pleasonton in dress and mannerisms—studying in particular the art of self-promotion—and soon became known as “Pleasonton’s Pet.”10

While Custer settled in on Pleasonton’s staff, the South suffered a devastating blow to their leadership on May 10, when General Stonewall Jackson, whose wound from Chancellorsville was complicated by pneumonia, died. Twenty-five months into the war, Robert E. Lee would have to do without his most trusted military commander. The Army of Northern Virginia would never be the same without Stonewall.

General Pleasonton’s confidence in Custer was quickly made evident on May 20, when he dispatched his aide under personal orders from General Hooker on a dangerous mission deep into enemy territory. Pleasonton was wary of the operation, believing it to be an impossible task, but, nonetheless, obeyed orders and mapped out the route, which extended almost as far south as Richmond and fifty miles to the east.

Custer was assigned to accompany a squadron, two companies of seventy-five men each from the Third Indiana Cavalry, under Captain George H. Thompson, in an effort to intercept a party of Southern civilians from Richmond who were said to be traveling down the Rappahannock River to Urbanna in possession of important Confederate mail and a large amount of money.

The Union detachment—men and horses—departed down the Potomac aboard two steamers after dark on the night of May 21. After navigating bothersome sand bars, they arrived at eleven o’clock the following morning at a cove called Moon’s Landing on the banks of the Yeocomico River. The boats were hidden in the brush on the shoreline. The troops quickly mounted in a column of twos, and rode down a wagon-rutted road. The column passed through marshes and fields, aware that the clanking of saber chains, saddle squeaks, and rumble of horse hooves could give away their position at any moment. Although there were no large bodies of troops in the area, local militiamen were always a threat for an ambush.

At noon, Custer and his comrades passed through an expanse of fields, and emerged to observe a number of houses. They had arrived at Heathsville. After forming a column of fours, the horsemen raced through this tiny hamlet, leaving the shocked citizens behind to wonder what was happening. The cavalrymen then rode fifteen miles farther down the road, and tore through Lancaster Court House in the same manner.

After riding forty miles in a little more than five hours, they arrived in the vicinity of Urbanna. The column concealed itself in the woods, and the troops fed their horses and themselves, but lit no fires, and slept until the next morning.

At dawn, the column set out exploring the marshy shore of the lower Rappahannock, and located two weather-beaten boats that the troops quickly made serviceable. Captain Thompson sent out two crews of ten men each in these boats—with Armstrong Custer aboard one, and the captain the other—while the remainder of the squadron guarded their position. When an approaching Rebel sailing vessel was sighted, with perhaps ten people aboard, Custer and his crew set out in pursuit. There was a good chance that this was the party they had been dispatched to intercept.

The occupants of the sailboat had likely recognized the distant blue uniforms, and tacked for the southern shore in an attempt to escape. The chase was on for some ten miles, until the vessel was forced to run aground in a patch of tall grass. At that point three blacks, likely slaves, jumped overboard and were permitted to wade away.

Custer and company held their fire and captured the boat and the six passengers, who were in possession of a large sum of Confederate money. This group of people—which Custer later said included two attractive young Jewish ladies—tried to persuade the cavalrymen that they were refugees fleeing the Confederacy. The ruse did not work. Custer and Thompson were certain that these people were the ones that they had been sent to capture.

The prisoners were escorted to the bivouac area, while Custer’s boat investigated the south shore of the Rappahannock Inlet. Before long, a plantation with lush fields and a mansion beyond came into view.

Custer, accompanied by four men, went ashore and cautiously approached the main house. He observed a Confederate artillery officer relaxing on the veranda engrossed in reading a copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. This man was readily taken prisoner and, with apologies by Custer to the ladies of the house, removed to the boat as their captive.

Custer and twenty men in three small boats then visited Urbanna on the opposite bank. They burned two schooners and the bridge over Urbanna Bay, finally returning to the north bank, where they captured twelve more prisoners, boxes of Confederate supplies, and thirty horses. Custer appropriated for himself one of the horses, a blooded iron-gray stallion that he named Roanoke. Another fine mount was brought along as a gift for General Pleasonton.

The ambitious raiding party departed Urbanna with their prisoners and booty, and rendezvoused with their comrades at the bivouac. At midnight, Custer and Thompson led their troops northward through enemy territory, and returned home on May 26 without incident and without suffering a casualty.11

In a letter dated on the day of his return to camp, Custer related his account of the raid to Annette Humphrey. He added, “General Hooker sent for me and complimented me very highly on the success of my expedition and the manner in which I had executed his orders. He said it could not have been better done and that he would have something more for me to do.”12

It must be noted that there were occasionally differing versions of events on this expedition between Custer’s account and that written by Captain George H. Thompson in his official report. Custer cannot be blamed for perhaps embellishing his role, however, given the fact that he knew that Nettie Humphrey would be relaying the thrilling exploit to the hungry ears of Libbie Bacon. And, after all, he had been tutored by Pleasonton, the master of writing reports to make himself look good.

Back in Monroe, with Custer out of the picture, former and new suitors appeared to try to win the affections of Libbie Bacon. Each one, however, failed to measure up to the audacious young army officer. “I like a man who is pleased with what I say as to listen and treasure my words but the Frank or France [two suitors] is either too conceited to wish to listen or isn’t interested,” Libbie wrote. “C—has quite spoiled me. Everything I said or did was remembered and treasured by him. He was more devoted than I ought to expect in any other man.”13

And during those times of doubt and frustration over their estrangement, when Libbie vowed to forget Armstrong Custer, Nettie would receive a letter from him, and he would continue to dominate her thoughts and her heart. “I found myself suddenly matured from girlhood to womanhood, anxiously reading the paper, and no longer laughing and teasing those girls among us who had been watching the mail so intently for letters.” She confessed “that the little God of Love worked charms in my heart.”14

Custer’s raid behind enemy lines once again fueled his ambition for a command of his own. He was aware that many of his West Point classmates, particularly on the Confederate side, had already risen to field-officer status. His pursuit of the colonelcy of the Seventh Michigan Cavalry that had commenced while on furlough in Monroe continued when he mailed another request to Republican Governor Austin Blair on May 31.

He had enclosed a letter of recommendation from General Pleasonton that read in part, “Captain Custer will make an excellent commander of a cavalry regiment and is entitled to such promotion for his gallant and efficient services in the present war of the rebellion. I do not know anyone that I could recommend to you with more confidence than Captain Custer.” Pleasonton’s letter included an endorsement from General Hooker, “I cheerfully concur in the recommendation of Brig Genl Pleasonton. He [Custer] is a young officer of great promise and of uncommon merit.”15

With such powerful recommendations as the army commander and the cavalry commander, how could Governor Blair refuse?

It has been suggested that the venturous Armstrong Custer even went as far as to visit the camp of the Fifth Michigan while its commander, Colonel Russell A. Alger, was absent and sought support in the form of a petition requesting his appointment from the brigade’s officers—to no avail. The officers presumably considered Custer too young for the command, and likely resented the brashness of someone who would seek to dispose of their commander in such an underhanded manner.16

Another stumbling block in Custer’s pathway to command a Michigan unit was that he had been branded a “McClellan Man,” which was the kiss of death for any request to a Republican governor. George B. McClellan, after all, had been rumored as the potential Democratic opponent to Lincoln in the next election.

Governor Blair predictably denied Custer’s request on the grounds that the accepted custom was to award commissions to the men who had helped in the recruitment of the regiment. Privately, however, Blair informed Isaac Christiancy, founder of the state Republican party and a justice on the Michigan Supreme Court, that “His [Custer’s] people are rebel Democrats. He himself is a McClellan man; indeed McClellan’s fair-haired boy, I should say … I cannot place myself … whatever his qualifications.”17

Custer, much like Democrat George McClellan, who had opposed policies of the Republican administration, had been a victim of politics. True, West Pointers his same age were colonels commanding Union regiments, but they were Republicans. He did not, however, intend to allow this minor setback to interfere with his pursuit of a command. Custer pledged to distinguish himself in such a manner that he could not be denied again. Little did he know that opportunity was within his reach just across the Rappahannock River.

Pleasonton reported to Hooker that Brigadier General David Gregg’s division had been patrolling on May 28 within fifteen miles of Culpeper Court House, and had noted that three Confederate cavalry brigades under General Jeb Stuart had moved from Fredericksburg to that location. Pleasonton offered the opinion that Lee was assembling his troops for a major offensive in the North. Hooker was skeptical, but Pleasonton persisted.

Reconnaissance balloons and additional reports appeared to confirm Pleasonton’s theory. By June 4, Hooker was convinced, and informed the president that he intended to engage those Confederates under Stuart that were believed to be camped along the Rappahannock.18

Hooker ordered Pleasonton to launch on June 9 a two-pronged surprise cavalry attack—at Beverly Ford and Kelly’s Ford—comprised of eleven thousand men, a number that included about twenty-eight hundred infantrymen and twelve pieces of artillery.19

George Armstrong Custer would be in the saddle for what would be the largest true cavalry engagement of the war. Although he would not be in command of a unit, he would demonstrate his talent for field generalship and hope that his efforts would lead to a more active role. Custer would find a way in which to distinguish himself in this battle—and that action would once again see him cited for bravery.