Part 1

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SOME PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF SERVICE IN THE CAVALRY OF THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC.

by

COLONEL HAMPTON S. THOMAS.

Reprinted from "The United Service," January, 1889.

Philadelphia: L. R. Hamersly & Co. 1889.

_SOME PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF SERVICE IN THE CAVALRY OF THE ARMY OF THE POTOMAC._

At the earnest solicitation of my many military friends, I have thrown together some reminiscences of my personal experience as a cavalryman during the late War of the Rebellion. Though my four years of campaigning began with a three months' tour of tramping with the "dough-boys" under General Patterson in the spring and early summer of 1861, the latter was only a prolonged picnic. Two days before I was mustered out of the Ninth Pennsylvania Infantry I enrolled myself in the First Pennsylvania Cavalry, and soon discovered that I was more fitted for riding a horse than for trudging through the slush and mud with a heavy "Harper's Ferry" musket on my shoulder.

I will pass over the tedious instructions of the school of the trooper, mounted and dismounted, and begin my reminiscences as a full-fledged Yankee cavalryman.

The First Pennsylvania Cavalry, which originally belonged to the Pennsylvania Reserve Corps, began its experience as a fighting regiment in a skirmish and charge near Dranesville, Virginia, on November 26, 1861, and, strange to relate, the first man killed was our assistant surgeon, Dr. Alexander. The regiment's first experience of heavy firing was in the battle of Dranesville, on December 20. This engagement was fought by a brigade of the Pennsylvania Reserve Corps, commanded by General E. O. C. Ord, my regiment supporting Eastman's battery. The enemy had the same number of regiments and guns that we had, and their commanding officer was General J. E. B. Stuart, but Ord outgeneraled him and gave us the victory, the rebels retreating from the field.

The campaign of the spring of 1862 showed what some, at least, of the cavalry did before General Hooker offered his liberal reward for a "dead cavalryman."[1] Those who served in the Army of the Potomac will remember that from the fall of 1861 to the summer of 1862 the cavalry were for the most part scattered about and used as escorts, strikers, dog-robbers, and orderlies for all the generals and their numerous staff officers from the highest in rank down to the second lieutenants. The cavalry force under General George D. Bayard, then colonel of my regiment, consisting of the First New Jersey, Second New York, and First Pennsylvania Cavalry Regiments, was the first brigade organized in that branch of the service in the United States army. The campaign began with easy marches to Catlett's Station, on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, and scouting to Warrenton and Rappahannock Station.

[1] In this connection it may be well to quote the following extract from an article in the _Century Magazine_ of May, 1888, by Colonel William F. Fox, entitled "The Chances of being hit in Battle": "The muster-out rolls of the various mounted commands show that there were ten thousand five hundred and ninety-six 'dead cavalrymen' who were killed in action during the war, of whom six hundred and seventy-one were officers, the proportionate loss of officers being greater than in the infantry."

On the morning of the 17th of April we left Catlett's Station and moved in the direction of Falmouth. In this movement we were supported by a brigade of infantry commanded by General Augur. On the morning of the 18th, about three o'clock, we charged upon the heights of Falmouth, drove the enemy from their position, and captured the quaint old town, but we were unable to save the bridge spanning the river, as the enemy had set fire to the end on the Fredericksburg side. This was my first experience in a mounted charge of any consequence. In this engagement I was acting as assistant adjutant-general for Bayard, with the rank of first lieutenant. The success of our cavalry engagement gave Bayard his star and promoted me to the rank of captain and the command of a squadron.

After a tour of scouting and picketing along the Rappahannock River south of Fredericksburg, we were assigned to General McDowell's corps of observation, which was composed of three divisions of infantry,--McCall's, Shields's, and King's. The operations of this corps were intended to serve either as a protection to the city of Washington or as a reinforcement to McClellan on the Peninsula.

About June 1 the cavalry took the advance on the telegraph road leading towards Richmond, and reached the forks of a road near Hanover Court-House, to which place McClellan's patrols came. While we who were in the advance-guard were congratulating ourselves upon getting under the right wing of McClellan's army without a fight, our hopes were suddenly blasted by the following order sent to "Capt. Hamp. Thomas, Commanding Advance-Guard: Sir,--You will return with your command as rapidly as possible. Don't blow your horses if you can help it. Cross over to Falmouth and receive further instructions. (Signed) G. D. B., B. G."

When we reached Fredericksburg we noticed considerable excitement. General Shields's division had gone, the First New Jersey and First Pennsylvania Cavalry and four companies of the "Bucktails" were on the march northward, and the balance of our brigade of cavalry was left with King's and McCall's divisions. Upon reporting to General Bayard, we learned the cause of all this rapid marching. The authorities at Washington had become frightened at Stonewall Jackson's movement against General Banks, who was in the Shenandoah Valley. This scattering of General McDowell's strong corps was fatal to General McClellan's plans while he was on the Peninsula.

Then commenced one of the wildest marches I ever experienced. Day and night we marched through heavy rain-storms, over the mountains and swimming swollen streams. The last ten miles were made in one hour and twenty minutes, and we lost several horses foundered after crossing the Shenandoah River. We reached Strasburg, in the valley, on June 7, just in time to cut off the rear of Jackson's army. We had a running fight all the way up the valley until we reached Harrisonburg, where we had a very severe engagement,--our two regiments of cavalry and the four companies of "Bucktails" against a division of rebel infantry. The First New Jersey Cavalry lost its colonel and several officers captured, and the "Bucktails," Colonel Kane and Captain Fred. Taylor captured. The rebels lost heavily in killed and wounded, among the former being General Turner Ashby. General Fremont's command, which had crossed over from the Kanawha Valley, joined us at Harrisonburg the next day, when we moved towards Port Republic. Here Fremont's men had a very sharp engagement at Cross Keys on June 8. Our cavalry were only lookers-on in this fight, but Jackson succeeded in checking our forces with his rear-guard, while the head of his column crossed the bridge at Port Republic, driving away Shields's advance, which had passed up the Luray Valley expecting to cut him off. They were too late, however, in reaching that point, for Jackson had slipped away and moved his men down to Richmond by rail, taking the same position which we were to have taken on McClellan's right flank. The result was the change of base, with all its hard fighting, hard marching, and heavy losses, to the James River at Harrison's Landing.

We then began a long and weary march down the valley, over rivers and mountains, to the vicinity of Culpeper Court-House. On our arrival there came the order for General Bayard's cavalry to report to the head-quarters of the Army of Northern Virginia, J. Pope commanding, with head-quarters in the saddle. It took twenty wagons to haul that saddle! We were assigned to picket and scouting duty, our lines stretching from Raccoon Ford to Barnett's Ford, on the Rapidan, a distance of fifteen miles. On the night of August 8 our pickets were driven in a short distance from the river, and on the morning of the 9th commenced what is known as the battle of Cedar Mountain. In that engagement General Bayard showed the finest order of generalship. With four regiments of cavalry he held Jackson's whole command of eighteen thousand men at bay from 4 A.M. until 4 P.M. This movement of Bayard's was made in echelons of squadrons, single-rank formation, and gave the idea to the enemy that we had about ten thousand men in his front. The men of Crawford's and Hartsuff's brigades will bear witness to the tenacity with which our cavalry held on until they came to our relief.

To relate an incident of what cavalrymen could do before a reward was offered for a dead one: During the afternoon a battery of four guns belonging to General Banks's command was left in a very exposed position. In front of these guns was an open field, and on the other side some woods in which a brigade of rebel infantry had formed in regimental front, four lines deep, and was moving out to capture the battery. General Banks asked General Bayard if the guns could be saved. Bayard, taking in the situation, ordered Major Falls, of the First Pennsylvania Cavalry, to charge his battalion upon the enemy's infantry. The charge was made, but only one company succeeded in reaching the enemy. Some men of the company passed through the lines and returned, while the balance of the battalion was repulsed before reaching the open field. The captain of the company was wounded in five places, the second lieutenant killed,--in fact, the company came near being wiped out of existence; and when the first lieutenant, Warren L. Holbrook, came to rally the remnant of his company he found but a corporal's guard. Knowing the modesty of that gallant officer, I take the liberty of mentioning his name. Eighty-eight horses were left dead on the field. The celebrated charge of the Eighth Pennsylvania Cavalry at Chancellorsville is familiar to all; but this charge of the First Pennsylvania Cavalry even excelled that in boldness, for when the Eighth Pennsylvania Cavalry made its charge it was in column of fours and in the woods, and it came upon the enemy unexpectedly. But the First Pennsylvania cavalrymen at Cedar Mountain saw what was in their front: a clear, open field and death staring them in the face,--cannon in front of them and cannon to the left of them,--and theirs was a feat at arms not unlike the charge of the Earl of Cardigan and his six hundred, made immortal by Tennyson.[2]

[2] The charge of the Eighth Pennsylvania Cavalry was made historical by General Pleasonton's official report after the battle of Chancellorsville. Reports like that sometimes cover up a multitude of blunders and give credit only to those who are killed. They also sometimes make great newspaper generals of their authors, and the millions who read the newspapers at home thus get their impressions as to who are the great fighters at the front.

We remained in the vicinity of the battle-ground of Cedar Mountain, taking up our old positions, until the 18th of August, when the great game of chess between Lee and Pope commenced, Lee trying to capture Washington before McClellan could transport his troops from the Peninsula to the defense of our capital, while we were trying to close the gaps in the mountains. Our cavalry did some sharp fighting during this backward movement of Pope's. But there was no opportunity for us to attack the enemy's cavalry in mass until we arrived, on the 20th, on the open plains to the south of Rappahannock Station. Here Bayard formed his squadrons for a general attack. The enemy advanced a brigade of cavalry upon us, and they were met by the First New Jersey, First Pennsylvania, First Rhode Island, and Second New York Cavalry Regiments, with sabres drawn. We drove them back to Culpeper, and this check of their cavalry caused their infantry columns to halt and go into position, while we moved leisurely back, giving our infantry and trains time to cross the several fords of the Rappahannock River.

A few nights afterwards there was a terrific storm of thunder, lightning, and rain. It was impossible to recognize a person an arm's length away, and yet we received orders to move rapidly up the river road to Sulphur Springs, and thence by way of Warrenton to Thoroughfare Gap. The storm, however, delayed us until the next morning, when we resumed our march, and reached Thoroughfare Gap on the evening of August 26, but too late by one hour, for Jackson had slipped through ahead of us. We captured about six hundred of his stragglers and a very important dispatch from Longstreet to him, informing him that he would be through early next morning. This information was sent to head-quarters, and General Rickett's division was sent to our support. Bayard's cavalry kept Longstreet's corps back for six hours, and they were no doubt long ones to Jackson, who was then at Manassas.

On the morning of August 28 my regiment took position between Bull Run bridge and Groveton. Being in the advance with my squadron, I was ordered to deploy as skirmishers and develop the enemy, who were soon found, for they opened a battery upon me, and this was, I think, the beginning of the great battle of Second Bull Run. My squadron remained in this position all that day, with instructions to keep a sharp lookout on Jackson's right and report results to General Reynolds. My squadron at this time numbered ninety-five men, all armed with carbines, revolvers, and sabres.

General Bayard received orders that evening to mass his cavalry on the open ground to the left of the Gainesville pike and prepare for a grand charge and night attack on Jackson's right flank. Bayard, knowing that my men were familiar with that flank, sent me orders to retire quietly and report to him at the Burnt Chimneys, near the Bull Run bridge. This having been done, we were taken along the flank of the brigade to the head of the column and were told what we were expected to do,--to lead the charge and strike directly for the enemy's artillery, destroy its usefulness, if possible, and come out at the point where we had been picketing during the day, while Bayard was to lead the brigade in person down the right and left centres of the main lines. The signal for this charge was to be three artillery shots over our heads at intervals of one minute each, and when the third shot was fired I was to move at a walk to within a short distance of the rebel skirmish line, then hurl my squadron in column of platoons upon the enemy, sweeping along their extreme right. Imagine the thoughts that passed through my mind,--home, mother, sisters, brothers, and sweetheart all jumbled in my head at once. The suspense was awful! The men were admonished to follow their leader, and if he should fall to continue on and carry out his orders. The first shot was fired; then came a long delay. Wondering what could be the cause of this, I rose in my saddle, looked to the rear, and found that all the supports had retired and that we had been left alone. Suddenly Bayard rode up to me and, with choked voice, said, "Thank God, you are saved! The orders have been countermanded, and you can take up your old position over on the left." I must acknowledge that tears trickled down my cheeks while I was on the way to my old position. What would have been the result had this charge been made? Directly in our front, as we discovered next day, was a deep gully or washout, though Bayard had been assured that it was a clear, open field. Here would have been another "sunken road" as at Waterloo, and perhaps another Victor Hugo writing of the charge, while we poor souls would have been hurled to death, trampled beneath the hoofs of the horses of those who followed us.

On the afternoon of the last day of the battle of Second Bull Run I observed that the enemy were massing a large body of troops in front of our extreme left, and I sent several verbal messages to that effect by trustworthy non-commissioned officers to General Bayard, who was near General Pope. I began sending these messages between three and four o'clock, and my last one was to inform him that the enemy had placed four batteries of artillery in position, that I had counted twenty-eight sets of colors, that more troops were moving into position, and that if the enemy made an attack, they would strike the Pennsylvania Reserves on the left and rear. When the sergeant who carried this message returned, he told me that General Pope remarked to General Bayard, "Oh, that officer don't know his business. He don't know what he is talking about. Tell the fool that those people he sees are General Porter's men forming on the right of the enemy." I felt very much annoyed at this, and I don't deny that I used some very strong language about my superior officer, though most of it was done mentally. However, I rode rapidly over to General Reynolds, informed him of the fact, and persuaded him to come and see for himself. One glance was sufficient for him. He dashed back to his division and changed front to the left to meet the attack. Those who were in the Pennsylvania Reserves at that time can testify that the movement to the left was hardly finished when the heavy column I had again and again reported burst upon them, crushing their left back upon and through our artillery, leaving the guns in the hands of the enemy. I have often wondered _who_ was the fool,--the general or the captain.

My squadron rode along the flank of this charging column of the enemy, and expended nearly all of its carbine ammunition upon it. They paid no more attention to us, however, than if we were so many gnats flying in the air. In my opinion the final repulse of the enemy was chiefly due to a small brigade of regular infantry. It seemed to me that every line that came in their front was wiped out. Their firing was done with coolness and precision; their commanding officer had them well in hand. It was a scene well worthy of the pencil of an artist; but we did not have that kind of people with us when such opportunities occurred. I crossed the Bull Run bridge with these regulars between sundown and dark. At that time the enemy seemed to be retiring very rapidly, as though they were retreating from the field. I thought at the time that we should have been pursuing them instead of retiring. But orders had to be obeyed.

I joined my regiment next morning near Centreville, my squadron having been held for picket duty that night near the bridge.

General Bayard and I had several conversations afterwards about what I have stated. He always cautioned me to be careful in my language about what I knew, as doubtless there would be an investigation concerning the battle, and he wanted me to corroborate him in case he should be called upon to testify before a court of inquiry. But the brave soldier was called to a higher court before his testimony could be taken, and until now I have remained silent upon the subject.

After the battle our cavalry brigade retired to the defenses of Washington, and remained there for six weeks, when we again took up the line of march, joining McClellan's army (which had recrossed the Potomac after Antietam) between the Bull Run Mountains and the Blue Ridge. We continued on in the advance, skirmishing and charging daily, and never halted until we arrived at Rappahannock Station, on a cold, stormy night in November, my squadron capturing a large picket post of the enemy and saving the railroad bridge. Here we received the news that McClellan had been relieved and Burnside placed in command of the Army of the Potomac. Soon we again took up the line of march and moved rapidly towards Fredericksburg.

In the battle of Fredericksburg the cavalry took a peculiar part. It is not generally known that Bayard's cavalry was used for the purpose of developing the enemy's artillery and infantry in front of Franklin's crossing, but such was the fact. An English officer who, if I remember rightly, was a volunteer aide on General Lee's staff, in an article published in _Blackwood's Magazine_, referred in complimentary terms to the manner in which my squadron manoeuvred across the railroad, and for its bold advance upon the enemy's lines. I may be mistaken, but I have always given to Thomas Martin, a private in my company ("M"), the credit of having unhorsed General Maxcy Gregg. Observing a general officer, as I thought, about two hundred yards in my front, looking at us through his field-glass, Martin and I dismounted, and standing between our two horses, Martin rested his carbine on my shoulder, and the instant he fired I noticed the mounted officer fall from his saddle. I afterwards learned that General Gregg was killed on that part of the field, and about that time.

In all my experience, from my baptism of fire at Falling Waters on July 1, 1861, down to Jetersville, April 5, 1865, I never was under such a terrific fire of shot, shell, and musketry as in this movement in General Franklin's front. The shot and shell seemed to make the atmosphere blue. Our loss in men was very small, but in horses large. Poor Martin was wounded and made a cripple for life.

In this battle of Fredericksburg fell mortally wounded my beau-ideal of a cavalry general. Quick to act, brave to a fault, careful of his men, and dearly beloved by his whole command was General George D. Bayard, the Sheridan of our army in the early days of the war. His last words to his adjutant-general (Captain H. C. Weir) were, "Give my compliments to General Burnside, and say that I desire Colonel Dave Gregg to command my cavalry," and then he expired.

A few days after this our old stand-by, General David McM. Gregg, assumed command of our brigade. He was well dubbed "Old Reliable." He proved himself to be the Stonewall of our cavalry corps.

Early in the year 1863 the cavalry was organized into a corps under the command of General Stoneman, the First Division under General Pleasonton, the Second under General Averell, and the Third under General Gregg. Our duties during the winter were not very arduous. On April 1 an order came from the War Department detailing me for duty as inspector-general on the staff of General Gregg.

On April 29 we moved out of camp, crossed the Rappahannock and Rapidan Rivers, pushed boldly into the enemy's country, and soon came back faster than we went. As a stupid failure "Stoneman's Raid" was a complete success. Our only accomplishments were the burning of a few canal-boats on the upper James River (at Columbia), some bridges, hen-roosts, and tobacco-houses.

This campaign of Stoneman's put a damper upon Bayard's old cavalry command. Many times have I had a quiet laugh when remembering conversations with brother officers about our new corps commander, who promised to show General Hooker a few dead cavalrymen. His career, however, was happily soon cut short, and he was succeeded by General Pleasonton, who, afterwards, at Gettysburg, according to his own account, offered to give General Meade a lesson as to how to make a great general out of himself.