Part 2

Under the new leadership came the cavalry battle of Brandy Station, or Fleetwood, as it is called by the rebels. This was the beginning of the Gettysburg campaign. Early in June information was received at head-quarters that the rebel cavalry corps, numbering about twelve thousand men, was to be reviewed on the 8th by General Robert E. Lee at Culpeper Court-House. Lee expected great achievements from this mounted force, for it was composed of the flower and pick of the "Southern chivalry," the eyes and ears of the grand army he was about to lead into Maryland and Pennsylvania.

Now came a good chance to pile up dead cavalrymen. On June 9, the day after this grand review, General Buford crossed his division at Beverly Ford early in the morning, intending to attack the enemy's cavalry in front, while Gregg's and Duffie's (formerly Averell's) divisions crossed farther down, at Kelly's Ford, to attack it in the rear. This movement was not intended to bring on a general engagement between the two armies, but merely to find out what was up, and at the same time to take the conceit out of the rebel cavalry. Whole regiments came together with tremendous shocks, we using our sabres with effect, while the rebels used their revolvers, crying out to us, "Put up your sabres; draw your pistols and fight like gentlemen!" At one time the dust was so thick that we could not tell friend from foe. This hand-to-hand business continued on and off for about a couple of hours, when we retired from the field at our leisure, unfollowed. Many a brave man fell that day; some of them in, and beyond, the rebel batteries. The First New Jersey lost heavily; their colonel, Percy Wyndham, was wounded, Lieutenant-Colonel Broderick and Major Shelmire killed, and Captain Sawyer and others captured. Broderick's body was found with a sabre sticking through it, and at his side lay a dead rebel with Broderick's sabre through his body also.

General Gregg was so unfortunate as to lose three guns of the Sixth New York Light Battery through the recklessness of Colonel Percy Wyndham, who commanded my brigade. The latter had ordered the battery to follow the First New Jersey Cavalry in a charge, and go into position on the crest of Fleetwood Hill, to the left of the Barbour house. Just as the guns were swung into position and unlimbered the enemy made a countercharge, driving back a broken squadron of the First New Jersey and a detachment of the First Pennsylvania Cavalry, both of which passed through the battery to the rear. The men in charge of the limbers were swept back in the confusion. The dust was so thick it was almost impossible to tell a Reb from a Yank. I sent my orderly to the rear to find the limbers and have the guns taken back to their original position, in the open field, to the right of Brandy Station. In a few moments two squadrons of the First Maryland Cavalry came trotting through the dust, and I asked the commanding officer where he was going. He replied that he was ordered forward to support the battery. I told him to follow me at a gallop, or there would not be any battery to support. As we emerged from the dust we could see the cannoneers dragging the guns by hand down the hill, followed by a large body of the enemy firing their revolvers. We at once charged the enemy, clearing the crest of the hill, and driving them back through their own battery. By this time there was but a small squad left of the First Maryland, for they had drifted in all directions through the heavy clouds of dust. I took back at a gallop the few of us who kept together, and began searching for the guns. I found the pieces, but lost the Marylanders. After keeping me waiting a long time my orderly came back, stating that he could not find the limbers, and reported that Colonel Wyndham was wounded, that he could not find the brigade, and could not tell who was in command of it. I was so chagrined about the predicament in which the battery was placed that I gave vent to my feeling so forcibly as to be noticed by the brave cannoneers, who gave three cheers, and said they would remain and be captured along with their guns. I said, "No, men, none of that kind of medicine for me. I will try and find help for you." The guns had been drawn down to the base of the hill, and while I was trying to collect some men together for the purpose of having them hauled away, a heavy column of rebel cavalry came charging around the corner of the house, with their battle-flag in advance. One of the guns happened to have a round of canister in it. The sergeant in command of the piece pointed it towards the charging column, fired, and repulsed them, within forty yards of us. The head of this column was badly cut up, leaving a number of horses and men, and the battle-flag, on the slope of the hill. The sergeant ran up the hill to pick up the rebel colors, and was within a few yards of them, when the head of the First Maine Cavalry came dashing past the spot in pursuit of the enemy. One of the men wheeled his horse, dismounted, picked up the colors, and rode off, the sergeant of the gun losing his prize. Seeing General Kilpatrick near the First Maine (that regiment being in his brigade), I rode over to him and begged him to rescue the abandoned guns. His answer was, "To hell with them! Let Gregg look out for his own guns." I implored him not to be so selfish, but to come on and help us out of our scrape, but his reply was, "No! damned if I will." I then rode back and told the few cannoneers that were left to save themselves by crossing the railroad, and to go over to the woods, where they would find some of our infantry. I remained with the guns, in hopes of our command returning for them, until another column of rebel cavalry came trotting down the hill towards me, capturing the pieces without a struggle. Not wishing to be on too intimate terms with my Southern friends, I politely raised my cap to them and rapidly rode away.

General Gregg was not aware of the loss of the guns until late in the day, when I told him of it, and he was very much annoyed to think that such a thing could happen, and so unnecessarily, and he be in entire ignorance of the matter.

To give an idea as to how the authorities at Richmond felt about this battle, on the day of the engagement I picked up the _Richmond Inquirer_, fresh from Richmond, containing an article extolling the Confederate cavalry, calling it the flower and chivalry of the South. A few days afterwards I read another article, and a very mournful one it was, wondering who was to blame for its broken condition, and exclaiming what an outrage it was that tailors and shoemakers mounted on horses should be permitted to come upon their chivalry and treat them in so unseemly a manner.

After this engagement we were kept busy scouting in all directions upon the rear and flank of our army, constantly watching along the slopes of the Blue Ridge and Bull Run Mountains. On June 13 the cavalry corps, still under General Pleasonton, was consolidated into two divisions under Generals Buford (First) and Gregg (Second).

At Aldie, near a gap in the Bull Run Mountains, on June 17, the corps, with Gregg in the advance, met the rebel cavalry again, and drove them back in the direction of Middleburg, and again on the 19th drove them beyond it. In these engagements we lost heavily, for the rebels fought behind stone fences, dismounted, while we attacked them mounted. Nevertheless the "tailors and shoemakers" were too much for the "chivalry," and they were compelled to fall back to Upperville. Here, on the 21st, Gregg and Buford made a combined attack, charging over stone walls and ditches, capturing many prisoners, and driving the rebel cavalry through Ashby's Gap into the Shenandoah Valley, shutting them out from a view of the movements of our army. We held these people back until the main body of the Army of the Potomac had crossed the Potomac into Maryland. Then we moved back to Aldie, through the Bull Bun Mountains and northward to Edwards Ferry, on the Potomac, which we crossed on the afternoon of June 27, and marched direct to Frederick city, Maryland. While there, on June 28, a new division (the Third) was formed out of General Stahl's cavalry, and General Kilpatrick placed in command of it, with Custer and Farnsworth, just commissioned as brigadier-generals, in command of brigades. Poor Farnsworth only lived a few days to enjoy his star, falling at the head of his brigade at Gettysburg.[3]

[3] It was the general opinion among us cavalrymen that Farnsworth was murdered through a foolish and reckless order of his division commander. Farnsworth's brigade was ordered to charge mounted down a wooded hill covered with large round bowlders, with a stone fence at the bottom, behind which lay the enemy's infantry. Farnsworth, thinking there was a mistake, hesitated, when his superior asked if he was afraid to charge the enemy, for if so, he, the superior, would charge his brigade for him. Farnsworth, with a look of scorn and contempt, ordered his men forward, and fell dead at the stone wall, while the portion of his command which be took with him was cut to pieces.

We spent the next day near Frederick scouting in all directions. During the night of June 29 we resumed the march towards Westminster. At daybreak next morning we charged the town, struck Stuart's rear-guard, and took a number of rebel prisoners. We continued on to Manchester and Hanover Junction, from which latter place Huey's brigade was sent back to guard the wagon-train. Thence we marched towards Hanover and Gettysburg. These movements of ours forced the rebel cavalry to keep well off to our right, and prevented them from knowing what our infantry were doing or where their own army was.

Now for the Right Flank at Gettysburg. Histories and poems had been written about this great battle and maps published, utterly ignoring our services, until at last we of the cavalry had to cry "Halt." Nor did we hear anything from our government historian, Colonel Batchelder, except about the first and the second and the third day's fights, the Round Tops, the Emmittsburg road, Culp's Hill, Cemetery Hill, Seminary Ridge, and John Burns, but nothing about the cavalry.

And here I must return thanks to the Comte de Paris and to his able assistant, Colonel John P. Nicholson, who in their investigations went more thoroughly into the history of the battle than any previous historians, for it was they who were instrumental in bringing to the notice of the world what we always knew to be the case, that the cavalry under the command of General Gregg were the means of saving the Army of the Potomac at the time Pickett was moving up to the "high-water mark" of the Rebellion.

The rebel general J. E. B. Stuart came upon the field early on the morning of July 3, with about seven thousand mounted men under him. After he had made disposition of his command on or near the Stallsmith farm, about three miles east of Gettysburg, he caused several random shots to be fired in various directions. This firing no doubt was prearranged with Lee, signaling that his position was favorable and that he was ready to move in conjunction with Pickett to strike our infantry in rear. Colonel McIntosh, on whose brigade staff I was serving, concluded that something was up, and, having relieved a portion of Custer's Michigan Brigade, he ordered an advance of our line dismounted. This movement of McIntosh's brought on the engagement before Stuart expected, and exposed his whole design. Gregg, seeing the situation, recalled Custer, who had previously received orders to move over to the left flank of our army near Round Top. He then put in position all of his artillery, under cover of a wheat-field, ordering the guns to be double-shotted with canister and await his further orders. Our dismounted lines were refused in the centre, in front of the artillery, forming an inverse wedge. After we had held them back for about an hour, heavy bodies of the rebel cavalry burst into view over a rise of ground. They came on in magnificent style. It was terribly grand to witness. In two parallel columns, charging in squadron front, little knowing what was awaiting them, they came on, yelling and looking like demons. Canister and percussion-shell were poured into them until they reached within one hundred yards of our guns. Then our bold Custer came dashing over the field at the head of the First Michigan Cavalry, with his yellow locks flying and his long sabre brandishing through the air. He looked like a fiend incarnate, the fire of battle burning in his eyes. In the mean time the dismounted men poured in a withering fire with their carbines upon both flanks of the rebel columns. What a sight this was! The enemy's horses climbing over each other, rearing and plunging, many of their men being struck in the back by the fore feet of the horses in their rear. Then McIntosh and his staff charged with their orderlies, sabring right and left. Such a horrible din it was, amid the clashing of sabres and continuous roll of the small-arms and the curses and demands to surrender. I do not wish to be egotistical, but will quote from an account of the fight: "For minutes, which seemed like hours, the Confederate column stood its ground. Captain Thomas, of the staff, seeing that a little more was needed to turn the tide, cut his way over to the woods on the right, where he knew he could find Hart, who had remounted his squadron of the First New Jersey. In the mêlée, near the colors, was an officer of high rank, and the two headed the squadron for that part of the fight. They came within reach of him with their sabres, and then it was that Wade Hampton was wounded."

Captain William E. Miller, of the Third Pennsylvania Cavalry, and Captain Hart, from the right of the field, charged their squadrons through the rear portion of the columns, and the former almost reached the rebel batteries. The desperate charging of these two squadrons seemed to me to turn the tide of battle. In this charge of Hart's squadron was another gallant though modest cavalryman, Lieutenant Edward H. Parry, who as a staff officer rode side by side with me in many severe engagements. Eventually the rebel cavalry were driven from the field never to return except as guests of the victors, twenty-three years after the battle, and as citizens of a country they tried to destroy. It is not difficult to conjecture what would have been the result had these seven thousand cavalrymen succeeded in reaching the Baltimore pike, striking the reserve artillery and trains at the moment when Pickett was moving up to the assault of Cemetery Ridge.

On the night of July 4 our brigade moved over to the left of the army to picket in front of Round Top. I will never forget that night. It was raining hard and so dark that we were compelled to use lanterns to remove the dead and dying out of our way, fearing our horses would crush them under their feet. The moans of the dying were horrible. Sometimes I imagine I can still hear their voices ringing in my ears. It was awful!

Then commenced the race after Lee's defeated army. For a few days we had with us "Beau" Neill's brigade of the Sixth Corps, but on July 12 we cut loose from them, marched to Boonsborough, where we rejoined General Gregg and one of the other brigades of our division, and, pushing rapidly to Harper's Ferry, crossed over the Potomac on the 14th, with our head-quarters' band playing "I wish I was in Dixie." Next day the two brigades moved out to Shepherdstown and encountered the rebel cavalry again, fighting dismounted behind stone walls and fences all day. An officer of the signal corps sent us a report that all of Lee's army had crossed over to our side of the river and that we were being surrounded by the enemy. Consequently, when night came, we made a hasty retreat to Harper's Ferry. A singular thing about this fight was that while we did not claim any victory, and left all our killed and wounded behind in charge of our surgeons, when the latter rejoined us a few days afterwards they told us that the rebels had commenced their retreat even before we did, also leaving their killed and wounded in charge of their surgeons. That, it is believed, was the only drawn fight the cavalry of both armies ever had--where each abandoned the field to the other--during the four years' contest.

Our line of march southward was over the same ground as that traversed by McClellan in 1862 after Antietam. Nothing much of note occurred. We did not get a fair chance at the rebel cavalry again until we arrived, on September 13, in the neighborhood of Culpeper Court-House. Here Gregg made a mounted attack, driving the rebel cavalry fifteen miles. While we of the staff were placing the regiments in position for this mounted charge I was ordered to find a cover for the Sixth Ohio Cavalry, and took them into a heavy piece of oak timber near the edge of the open country. While I was reporting to General Gregg how our lines were formed he observed the Sixth Ohio breaking and coming back through the woods in great disorder. He at once ordered me to stop and re-form them, but I soon became demoralized myself when I felt the belligerent end of a hornet upon my cheek. The brave old colonel (Steedman) of the Sixth Ohio said that they could stand all the shot and shell the d--d rebels could give them, but not a hornets' nest. Thus were some of the bravest of our soldiers ignominiously put to flight.

And here let me call attention to another instance of the way in which some of our generals gained reputation. When Gregg made his dashing attack upon the enemy at Culpeper Court-House our brigade, being on the left of his line, made a half-wheel, swept down on the flank of the enemy, and drove away the cannoneers from their battery as well as its supports. While we were busy in front in pursuit of these people, having passed the guns, a brigadier-general commanding one of the other divisions, with his staff and orderlies, rode up and had the guns quietly hauled off the field. A few days after this I bought a copy of a New York paper, with a flaming header in large type, announcing the gallant and desperate charge of Kilpatrick's cavalry division, and how its commander had led it in person and captured a battery from the rebels. General Gregg, with his usual modesty, never protested, and we who had done the capturing were the only ones who did the growling for him. There is nothing like newspaper glory for promotion in time of war, and there were only too many of such newspaper generals among us. Gregg would never permit a newspaper correspondent about his command, and hence our division was not appreciated, outside of army circles, as it should have been.

In the month of October came our retrograde movement to Centreville and Fairfax, and another great cavalry charge was witnessed between Culpeper Court-House and Brandy Station, where we repulsed a fearful onslaught of the rebel cavalry and drove them back upon their infantry supports.

After we had crossed over to the north side of the Rappahannock we had a severe dismounted engagement, and during the day, which was election day in Ohio, the troops belonging to that State voted for State candidates. I was detailed to personally superintend the voting in the Sixth Ohio Cavalry. We relieved one company at a time for the purpose, then sent them back to the front and retired the next, and so on until the whole regiment had voted. I doubt if many of the "statesmen" of the present day would care to mix in "practical politics" under similar circumstances.

A few days after this I was severely hurt at Bristow Station and sent to hospital for ninety days. Upon my return to the front great changes had taken place. General Torbert was in command of the First Division, "Old Stand-By" Gregg retaining his own, the Second, and General Wilson in command of the Third Division, with "Cavalry Sheridan" in command of the corps.

On May 3, 1864, Gregg's division moved out from its winter quarters at Warrenton, marched to the Rappahannock at Kelly's Ford, and crossed over to Ely's Ford on the Rapidan. We forced our way over the river, taking the advance of the Second Corps into "The Wilderness" until we came to Todd's Tavern on the Brock road. There we were dismounted and moved to the left and front of a division of the Second Corps which was hotly engaged, and we pressed back the right of the rebel line. During this contest a gay-looking first lieutenant of the engineer corps from General Meade's staff came up to me, asked if I was Captain Thomas, and said that Gregg and Sheridan had sent him out there to me so that I might show him a cavalry charge if we should have one. A few moments afterwards an officer reported to me that General Davies, my brigade commander, on whose staff I was serving, and two of his officers had just been captured by the enemy. Learning the direction in which they had been taken, I took a mounted squadron of the First New Jersey, the nearest at hand, and said to the gay lieutenant, "Now is your chance for a charge." We dashed through the enemy to the rescue of our friends, the lieutenant far in advance of us all, and recaptured them. This officer afterwards distinguished himself as a general in the cavalry during the latter part of the war and on the Mexican frontier. The dashing Mackenzie, for he it was, afterwards called me his godfather for giving him his first baptism in a cavalry charge.

After our division had been relieved by the Second Corps, General Sheridan, with his command, cut loose for a short time from the Army of the Potomac and went on his successful raid around Lee's army, destroying the latter's communication with Richmond. While on this raid--at Beaver Dam Station, on the Fredericksburg and Richmond Railroad--Custer captured a train of cars loaded with some of our infantry who had been taken prisoners a few days before in the Wilderness, and they expressed their delight by singing, "Ain't we glad to get out of the Wilderness?" Our division remained as rear-guard, while the advance were destroying trains, stores, and railroads. On the morning after the capture of Beaver Dam Station, and just as day was breaking, I called up one of the orderlies, who was a barber, to shave me. He jumped to earn his quarter, while I looked around among my brother officers who were sleeping and chuckled to myself in having stolen a march on them. The barber had taken the beard from off one side of my face when the enemy opened two batteries upon us, the shells passing directly over our quarters. Such a scramble as we had to get to our horses, and I only half-shaved! The joke was turned upon me, and I did not have the balance finished until noon.

We again fought the rebel cavalry at Yellow Tavern on May 11 and gave them a severe thrashing, capturing some of their artillery and many prisoners. In this engagement the great rebel cavalry chieftain, General J. E. B. Stuart, was mortally wounded while rallying his men. During the attack in our front my brigade was having a lively time of it in the rear. We were being pestered all day by a regiment of rebel cavalry, and General Davies sent two of his staff back to look after his extreme rear and watch these troublesome people, for they were very annoying to our column. At last our opportunity came. We observed them preparing for a mounted charge. Quickly dismounting the rear-guard, we placed them in ambush on either side of a sunken road. The brave fellows came boldly on, but not one of them returned. They were all killed, wounded, or captured.