Nine

Brandy Station

 

On the night of June 8, thirty-year-old Jeb Stuart went to sleep under only a tent fly on Fleetwood Hill with the satisfaction and confidence of a man who had advanced his claim to the title of the South’s reigning knight in shining armor. The war was headed north, and final victory, or at the very least additional tributes, were in his future. He was on top of the world, and having the time of his life.

His petition, after Stonewall Jackson had died from his wounds, for the command of a corps and promotion to lieutenant general had been politely denied by General Robert E. Lee. Some measure of conciliation and recognition, however, came when Stuart was granted a larger force. Lee was aware that Hooker had consolidated his cavalry, and for that reason had decided to expand the role of his own horsemen. Lee added two cavalry brigades, which now gave Stuart 9,536 men, the largest number that he had ever commanded.

There was only one problem with that sense of comfort and contentment enjoyed by Stuart. While he soundly slept, the Union cavalry was on the move, and within hours would splash across the Rappahannock to temporarily douse the major general’s aspirations.

On the night before the impending battle, General Alfred Pleasonton had established his headquarters about a mile from Beverly Ford at a private residence. George Armstrong Custer, who was officer of the day, paused from his rounds of the camp to write a letter to his sister stating that, “I never was in better spirits than I am at this moment.” But, with a flair for the dramatic, he added that he could be killed the following day. “In case anything happens to me,” he wrote, “my trunk is to go to you. Burn all my letters.”1

The cavalrymen were already in place when Custer awoke General Pleasonton at 2:00 A.M. for the planned 4:00 A.M. crossing of the Rappahannock. Brigadier General John Buford’s First Division was poised to cross at Beverly Ford while a combined force of the Third Division under Brigadier General David Gregg and Colonel Alfred Duffie’s Second Division would strike at Kelly’s Ford.

Buford and Gregg were respected by their peers and subordinates, and both had the reputation of being tough as old boots. Duffie, on the other hand, had been born in France and, perhaps due to his training in European heavy-cavalry tactics, had been saddled with the tag of someone who had been promoted beyond his capabilities. Pleasonton personally disliked foreigners, and Duffie in particular, and hoped that the colonel would eventually furnish a reason for replacement.2

First Lieutenant Custer, at the direction of Pleasonton, accompanied the Eighth New York, a regiment of Buford’s division commanded by Alabama-born and Mississippi-reared Colonel Benjamin F. “Grimes” Davis, that would lead the way across the foggy river near Beverly Ford at 5:00 A.M. Davis, a West Pointer who had escaped the 1862 battle at Harpers Ferry before the Union had surrendered, solemnly passed the word, “Stand ready, men, and begin firing as soon as you see anything!”

The blue-clad horsemen entered the water and proceeded across the stream. Before long, a voice from the fog ahead sharply demanded, “Halt! Who goes there?”

Davis and Custer answered the challenge with the first shots of the battle, fired at startled Confederate pickets with Company A of the Sixth Virginia. Davis, with Custer at his side, rode to the front of the Eighth New York, unsheathed his saber, and charged to engage the enemy. The battle of Brandy Station had commenced.3

On Fleetwood Hill, Jeb Stuart was either asleep or had just awakened when he heard the distant sound of gunfire. Within moments, a courier reported with word of the attack at Beverly Ford, where his brigade under William E. “Grumble” Jones was camped. Stuart, without precise knowledge of the size of the force of Federal cavalry, was unable to formulate any specific strategy and simply ordered his men to fight. He did, to his credit, have the presence of mind to dispatch a courier directing General Beverly Robertson’s brigade toward Kelly’s Ford, which he had correctly assumed might be struck as well.

General Wade Hampton’s brigade hurried from Brandy Station to reinforce Jones at the point of attack. Rooney Lee, Robert’s second son, took a position on Buford’s right flank behind a stone fence, and was supported by Colonel Thomas Munford commanding Fitz Lee’s brigade. Stuart himself remained on Fleetwood Hill, and attempted to gather enough intelligence to adequately deploy his cavalry. But, he was dismayed to admit, the element of surprise by the Union had succeeded, and his men could be in for the fight of their lives.4

Buford’s Union division, led by Grimes Davis and his brigade, with George Armstrong Custer riding with them, had charged into those Rebels camped at Beverly Ford and virtually trampled them beneath their horses’ hooves while firing at will and slashing them apart with swinging sabers.

Stuart’s shocked men, who had been sleeping or huddled in front of small fires, most in various stages of undress, were unable to offer much immediate resistance to the charging horsemen. They were far more concerned with mounting their own skittish horses or dashing on foot into the nearby timber to escape this unexpected tumult. A small number of Confederate cavalrymen paused at the tree line in an effort to provide a base of fire to assist their beleaguered comrades in this every-man-for-himself retreat.5

Joseph Fought, the young bugler-orderly on Pleasonton’s staff, who at first meeting had felt an affinity between himself and Custer and had now attached himself to the lieutenant, wrote about this moment, “Lt. Custer and I crossed the Ford and took the inside of the field. There were two or three Rebels near the woods, but we clipped along towards them, and they fired at us, and we fired back. One kept on in the road, and the Lt. said I shot him, and I said he did. The others got back into the woods.”6

The banks along the Rappahannock were the scene of mass chaos as thousands of unyielding Federal cavalrymen swooped down upon their unsuspecting prey. The early morning was ablaze with discharges of gunfire—the plumes of smoke and pungent odor of sulfur stinging eyes, irritating nostrils, causing voices to be harsh and barely audible above the din. Running men were cut down with savage saber strokes; others toppled from their horses in the same manner. The dewy ground was soon littered with writhing, torn bodies, wounded and dying. Cries of agony, terror, triumph, and surrender combined with bugle calls, urgently shouted orders, and the high-pitched whinnies of frightened, bolting horses to create a macabre quality that would forever be etched into the memories of the participants.

Colonel Davis directed his men into the woodlands to chase the fleeing Rebels. The Union horsemen dashed through the trees wreaking havoc upon their enemy as they passed, and emerged to view a cleared area several hundred yards in length that ran almost to St. James Church. At the far edge of this clearing, beyond the scrambling Confederates that had been overrun, several pieces of Rebel artillery could be observed.

It was well known that thus far during the course of the war Jeb Stuart had not lost even one cannon to his enemy. An exhilarated Grimes Davis immediately called for a charge of this emplacement. His troopers, including George Armstrong Custer, responded by pounding across the meadow to attack the seemingly exposed South Carolina battery.

The Yankee cavalrymen were nearing their objective when out of the woods on their flank burst a countercharge of at least 150 Rebel horsemen under Major Cabell E. Flourney. The surprised Union troops frantically yanked on their reins to restrain their mounts and abort the charge. Many were thrown from the saddle, scrambling to leap aboard a loose mount or escape on foot in order to avoid the resolute Confederate assault. Numerous casualties were inflicted as the Union force commenced a hasty retreat back to the relative safety of the timber.7

There was one exception to that sudden retreat. Colonel Benjamin Davis, defiant and gallant, stood his ground. After the colonel had emptied his pistol at his oncoming enemy, he resorted to the saber. It had been said of Grimes Davis by a member of the Eighth New York, “When Colonel Davis found the Rebels he did not stop at anything, but went for them heavy. I believe he liked to fight the Rebels as well as he liked to eat.” In this case, however, his determination perhaps overruled prudence.8

Virginia cavalry Lieutenant R. O. Allen targeted Davis, and cautiously approached by hugging his horse’s neck to evade the blade of the colonel’s slashing saber. Allen closed the distance between them, raised his pistol, and fired three shots point blank at Grimes Davis. The third bullet struck Davis in the forehead, killing him instantly and knocking him from his horse to the ground.9

The withdrawal of the Eighth New York to the woods thwarted the advance of the Eighth Illinois, which had been following closely behind. The troopers dismounted at the tree line to fire their carbines, and were augmented by barrages from Captain James M. Robertson’s artillery battery. This action eventually discouraged the Rebel counterattack, and exacted a toll of at least thirty men. The Union cavalrymen could not take advantage, however, because four Confederate brigades had assembled to keep them pinned in the timber with small arms fire.10

The role that George Armstrong Custer played in events that immediately followed the death of Grimes Davis could be called a matter of interpretation. Some biographers have related that Custer, in spite of being subordinate on the field to Major William McClure of the Third Indiana Cavalry, at that point assumed command of the three brigades. This may or may not be correct. No official documentation has been located to confirm or debunk the story.

There exists the distinct possibility, however, that Custer by virtue of his actions became de facto leader of the entire brigade or at least an individual detachment. It was well known that Custer had a zeal for active battlefield leadership, which had been demonstrated in past engagements, and he could conceivably have taken charge in this instance as well. He had, for example, displayed this tendency at Williamsburg in May 1862, when on impulse he spurred his horse and rallied hesitant Union troops against the enemy.11

By some accounts, Custer was said to have led a series of charges that day at Brandy Station, one of which caused his outnumbered force to be surrounded, a predicament that he remedied by eventually fighting his way through the enemy. During the action, Custer allegedly had two horses shot out from beneath him, and a bullet tore through his boot.12

At some point, however, Custer was prevented from leading anyone—his horse had bolted and slammed into a fence, where it huddled in fright and could not be coaxed to move. Custer dismounted, wrestled with the frightened animal, and finally managed to mount just as it raced away. To the immediate front loomed a stone wall, which the terrified horse maladroitly toppled over, tossing Custer boot heels over kepi. Custer was dazed but unhurt, and quickly remounted to dash away to take refuge with a friendly artillery battery.13

Custer would report back to Pleasonton while cavalrymen on both sides raced across fields and down roads to confront each other in duels to the death. Confederate and Union horsemen fought until sent tumbling from their mounts and resuming the battle on foot. The ground became littered with crippled horses struggling to rise and bodies of men dead, dying, and wounded sprawled along fences and in ditches. Remarkably, the Yankee cavalry held its own against this vaunted Rebel cavalry that had embarrassed them for the first two years of the war.

Jeb Stuart was livid. The Confederate cavalry commander could not fathom that his Invincibles were being contested by an enemy that he had without exception dominated. His cavalry was the eyes and ears of the army, yet they had been blindsided, surprised by the upstart Yankee horsemen. And, to add insult to injury, Stuart was now in the unaccustomed position of having to plot a defensive strategy.

The Union offensive might have been more effective had it not been for the unexplained delay by Colonel Alfred Duffie in crossing the Rappahannock at Kelly’s Ford. Duffie’s inexplicable tardiness had cost General Gregg four hours, and could have been disastrous had it not been for the questionable actions of Beverly Robertson, whose Rebel brigade Stuart had earlier dispatched to that location.

Robertson’s position in the woods was noted by Gregg, who avoided direct conflict and simply bypassed the Confederate line by marching in a southerly direction down a road that led to Stevensburg. Robertson watched Gregg pass, but for reasons known only to him made no effort to attack or even to inform Stuart about the movement. Duffie then continued on to Stevensburg while Gregg took a circuitous route heading northwest back toward Brandy Station.14

It was about noon when a courier arrived to advise Stuart that a long column of Federal cavalry was preparing to advance up Fleetwood Hill. Gregg, who had encountered no opposition, had targeted Fleetwood Hill as the place where he could command the entire field, and the likely position where the Rebels would make a stand. It would be devastating for the entire Confederate command if Union troops supported by artillery succeeded in capturing that strategic position.

Stuart understood that he must respond quickly or all would be lost. He ordered an aide to ride to Culpeper and summon into the fray the infantry that was assembled there.15

Meanwhile, Stuart’s adjutant, Henry McClellan, remained atop Fleetwood Hill with only several couriers and an artillery piece with little ammunition, and watched as the long line of Yankee cavalry advanced toward him. The courageous McClellan attempted to bluff Gregg into thinking that Fleetwood Hill was adequately defended by ordering his men to commence firing the six-pounder at a slow rate. The ruse stopped Gregg in his tracks, and compelled him to return fire from below in order to prepare his horsemen for a major assault.

Shells rained down on McClellan, who had fired the last of his ammunition and was forced to abandon the headquarters. Stuart’s adjutant mounted and raced toward the Twelfth Virginia that, oddly enough, was approaching at a trot. McClellan prodded the troops forward, and the unit responded at the gallop.

Union troops under Colonel Percy Wyndham were only fifty feet away from the crest of Fleetwood Hill when the Twelfth Virginia reached the top. The Confederates crashed into Wyndham’s men and, by sheer force of their momentum, passed right on through the Yankees and down the opposite slope. Wyndham, for the moment, had control of Fleetwood Hill, and set up a perimeter to wait for reinforcements.16

Possession of Fleetwood Hill changed numerous times in the ensuing battle as the opponents in units from company to regimental size charged and countercharged to gain the high ground. The issue was finally settled when Wade Hampton’s brigade gradually drove the Union cavalrymen back to Brandy Station in a running battle fought for the most part hand to hand or with sabers. Stuart quickly took advantage of what he could presume would only be momentarily in his favor, and concentrated his command around Fleetwood Hill to strengthen his hold on that coveted position.

Sporadic fighting raged for some time on the flanks. Several miles north, Colonel Duffie had engaged the Second South Carolina and the Fourth Virginia. He had in some small measure redeemed himself by doing quite well, but the skirmish prevented him from assisting at Fleetwood Hill, which might have made a difference in the final outcome.17

General Robert E. Lee, whose headquarters were only about a half mile from the fighting, arrived on the field in time to observe his son, Rooney, being carried away on a stretcher. Rooney had suffered a bullet wound in the thigh while leading a charge against Captain Wesley Merritt’s men, who were attempting to flank the Confederate line near the Cunningham farm.18

Custer acquaintance Wesley Merritt—West Point class of 1860—who had served mostly on staff duty in Washington or as an aide-de-camp, had returned to field duty with the Second Cavalry just in time for this engagement. At one point, Merritt and another man became separated from their unit and were confronted by a Confederate colonel or possibly a general. This man swung his saber at Merritt’s head. Merritt managed to raise his own blade in time to partially parry the blow, but the enemy saber cut through his hat and sliced into his scalp. Nearby Rebel soldiers shot at the two lone Yankees, but Merritt and his companion burst through to ride for Union lines. Merritt’s wound bled heavily, but he left the field only briefly while it was bandaged. He would be cited for bravery for his actions under fire.19

At about five o’clock, General Pleasonton determined that, with the loss of Fleetwood Hill, it was time to withdraw his weary troops back across the Rappahannock. Pleasonton had apparently caught the scent of the Confederate infantry’s advance from Culpeper, and understood that after a day of fighting his troops were in no condition to continue the battle against greater odds. The Union cavalry, to their credit, had conducted themselves courageously and gathered vital intelligence, which had been a primary purpose of their mission.

Jeb Stuart, the consummate aggressor, did not press whatever advantage he might have gained by holding Fleetwood Hill; rather, he permitted his enemy to gradually withdraw without any pursuit. This had been a close call, and Stuart was wise enough to circle his wagons and assess the situation before rushing off into what could be another surprise.20

There can be no question that George Armstrong Custer in some manner distinguished himself during the charges and countercharges in the vicinity of St. James Church. General Pleasonton, who had established his headquarters at a nearby residence, had evidently observed or been informed about Custer’s actions. Pleasonton singled out his aide for “gallantry throughout the fight” in his dispatches. Custer, who had reported back to Pleasonton before noon, was chosen to personally deliver to General Hooker those dispatches along with a list of prisoners and a battle flag captured from the Twelfth Virginia Cavalry.21

The battle at Brandy Station, also known as Fleetwood Hill or Beverly Ford, the greatest cavalry engagement of the century, had concluded. Both sides, as might be expected, claimed victory. In truth, the battle was tactically and statistically won by the Army of Northern Virginia. The Confederates had held the field at the end and sustained fewer casualties—estimates ranged up to 936 for the Union, although many were said to have later rejoined their units, and about 523 for the South.22

Victory, however, must at times be judged by elements that have little to do with field position or casualty estimates. In the case of the Union cavalry, Brandy Station had been a moral victory, and, at least in the minds of the troopers, a military one as well.

This shining success was an affirmation that Stuart’s Invincibles were no longer quite as invincible. That in itself, after two years of devastating defeats and embarrassment at the hands of Rebel horsemen, was reason enough to celebrate. A Federal artillery officer summed up these sentiments when he said, “The affair at Brandy Station certainly did a great deal to improve the morale of our cavalry, so that they are not now afraid to meet the ‘rebs’ on equal terms.”23

The Confederates, on the other hand, had reason to be concerned. And Jeb Stuart was the person on whose shoulders the heaviest burden of criticism was placed. The brother of one of Stuart’s aides wrote, “The cavalry battle at Brandy Station can hardly be called a victory. Stuart was certainly surprised and but for the supreme gallantry of his subordinate officers and men in his command it would have been a day of disaster and disgrace. Stuart is blamed very much, but whether or not fairly I am not sufficiently well informed to say.” A clerk in the Confederate War Department said, “The surprise of Stuart, on the Rappahannock, has chilled every heart.”24

The New-York Tribune summarized the ecstatic reaction of the North when it wrote, “The Confederates begin to find that their boasted cavalry is being overmatched by the Union horsemen. Our troops will make as fine cavalry as can be found in the world.”25

And from the arbitrament of the saber at Brandy Station a new hero was about to emerge to help lead that fine Union cavalry. Twenty-three-year-old George Armstrong Custer was on the verge of rising from relative obscurity into the spotlight of glory that he so coveted.