Personal Reminiscences of "Stonewall" Jackson, by William B. Taliaferro - Part 2

        With Milroy out of his way… Jackson returned to the Valley proper to operate against Gen. ( Union Major General Nathaniel P.) Banks. He had driven that officer to the Potomac after the brilliant affairs in the Luray Valley and at Winchester and was returning up the Valley when, after a short illness, I reported to him again for duty. His headquarters were at a comfortable mansion not far below Strasbourg. He insisted

        That I should rest myself upon his bed, and as he assured me that he had no immediate expectation of collision with the enemy, I consented, and he carefully, with his own hands, threw his blankets over me.

        I mention this little incident to show the genuine kindheartedness of his nature. I had not long indulged in this unusual luxury for an officer of the “Foot Cavalry”, when he not very distant boom of artillery aroused me, and Jackson, hurrying in, directed me to hasten to the menaced front on the Capon Spring road, and with my own and Scott’s Brigade hold the enemy in check. It was the advance (a comparatively small force) of (Major General John C.) Fremont’s army.

        At no time in his career was Jackson in a more hazardous situation. Behind him he had Banks largely reinforced; on his right flank, Fremont; and on his left flank, (Brigadier General James) Shields; the whole three armies converging upon Strasbourg, which Jackson, encumbered by prisoners and captured stores of all kinds, had not yet passed when he was struck by the enemy. But his invincible pluck and push saved him with all his spoil. We marched and skirmished all that day and the whole of the succeeding night until nine o’clock the following morning. It seemed a miracle – his escape from dangers which other men would have avoided but which he seemed to delight to push himself into. The result proved that what his officers often thought rashness was close calculation based upon factors which they did not possess. But certainly we had some nice shaves which kept us pretty generally in a state of anxiety and suspense. Jackson sought advice and counsel, as far as I knew, of no one. He never called a council of war, to my knowledge, but acted solely on his own responsibility; and unadvised as he was, it is a fact that he always went farther in advance and retired later in retreat than any commander I ever knew.

        Jackson was a wonderful gatherer of supplies. He had a pet commissary, Gen. Banks. He would leave behind nothing that he had captured. After the battle of Port Republic, when we had pursued the command of Shields miles down the Luray Valley, we retraced our steps, marching in full view of the foiled army of Fremont on the opposite side of the river, barred from approaching us because of the burnt bridges, and ensconced ourselves in Brown’s Gap of the Blue Ridge. Late at night Jackson sent an officer to inquire if I had brought off the captured artillery. The reply was, “Everything except an unserviceable caisson, and that only for the want of horses”. The weather was wretched, the roads intolerable, but the order came back post haste that if it took every horse in the command that caisson must be brought up before daylight. It was ten miles off. The officer who had to fetch it was very much of the opinion of the soldier who, when his company was ordered to bring in a gun which had been left outside the skirmish line, proposed to his captain to “take up a subscription to pay for the derned thing and let it be;” but he hardly ventured to make the suggestion to Jackson, and accordingly the caisson was “on time”.

        It was just before the battle of Port Republic that Jackson so narrowly escaped capture and the famous adventure of the bridge occurred. The day before the battle of Cross Keys, which preceded that of Port Republic by one day, Jackson, retreating before the combined forced of Banks, Fremont, Milroy, and (Brigadier General Robert C.) Schenck in his rear and Shields on his left flank…reached the Shenandoah at the village of Port Republic. His trains of all kinds, quartermaster, commissary, and ordnance, were thrown across the bridge into the town on the (south) bank; but, never in a hurry on a retreat, he halted his whole army on the opposite, or north side of the river. His own headquarters were established in the town, which was not occupied by a single company of soldiers. My own brigade was lying on the north side, next to the town in the hills back from the river, Gen. (Brigadier General Charles S.) Winder’s (Stonewall) brigade next back of me, and (Major General Richard S.) Ewell’s division, some distance in rear, confronting the enemy. On the next morning the chaplains were directed to hold services in their several regiments, and the serenity of the atmosphere and loveliness of the day betokened anything but the sanguinary strife which was to break the quiet of that Sabbath day. Believing that “cleanliness is next to godliness” and in the conservative effect of the army regulations which, founded upon that idea, required Sunday inspections, I ordered my regiments and batteries to assemble for inspections instead of for church. It was a fortunate circumstance, if I may not be permitted to call it a Providential one. Just as the regiments were formed, the sound of guns and the scattering fire of small arms was heard in the town. Without an instant’s delay, I rushed my command by regiments toward the river, which was hidden from us by the intervening hills, aiming for the covered bridge which spanned the river. The 37^th Virginia Regiment, Col. Fulkerson…had the good fortune to be much in the advance of the others. Half way to the bridge I met Gen. Jackson minus his hat and part of his staff, spurring up the road. He was not excited – he never was - and never, under any circumstances that I am aware of, lost his presence of mind or yielded to panicky influences. I remember receiving no order from him, unless to hasten on; there was no time for orders. I do not recollect his turning back with us, as some writers have asserted; I do not believe he did. I think he pushed on to forward reinforcements. Throwing one company from the rear of the regiment to deliver its fire upon the opposite bridgehead, without halting a moment we rushed by file into the covered bridge. A gun was planted at its mouth on the other side, and its lanyard was in the hands of the Federal gunner; but the impetus and shock of our advance was so sudden that he threw it down without firing and took to flight. The other regiments were close behind the 37^th, and of course we soon regained the town. Mr. John Esten Cooke, in his life of Jackson, tells the story of Jackson’s personating a Federal officer, ordering the guns away from the bridge, and then escaping before the mistake was discovered. I have no reason to doubt the correctness of the incident; it would have been in keeping with quiet coolness of the man…but it is certain that a whole brigade was double-quicking to the bridge before he had crossed it.

        The battle of Port Republic, was fought next day. About 12 o’clock at night I was sent for by Gen. Jackson. He was pacing the floor of a small bedroom. He explained that Capt. Mason, the famous bridge-builder, would improvise a means of crossing the North Fork of the River, and that he wished me to cross with my brigade “at early dawn”, his favorite expression, for the purpose of attacking Shields. He then informed me that he would walk awhile in the garden attached to the dwelling house and invited me to lie upon his bed and sleep until his return. His object in seeking the seclusion of the garden was to engage in prayer, unseen by any eye. He was without doubt a genuinely devout man, but with a tendency to fatalism. He was, I can well conceive…somewhat shocked the next day when in the heat of battle (Brigadier) Gen. Dick Taylor rode out of the woods where his brigade was engaged and, being asked by Jackson how the fight went, explained, “It is nip and tuck, General, but I’ll be d----- d if I don’t think Tuck has got it”. The General did not inquire which side “Tuck” represented, but he hurried me forward with reinforcements and “Tuck” turned out to (be) a Confederate. The fact was that the impetuosity of Jackson had betrayed him into attacking before his troops were sufficiently massed, which was made difficult by the insufficient means of crossing the river, and for a time the tide of battle was against him.

        I do not think his religious belief had any influence or effect in causing him to expose his person to the extent to which he did. He was simply impelled by a conviction which often carried him too far that his duty required him to go to the front and see for himself; and he was certainly as unconscious of fear as any man I have ever met. The doctrine of fatalism, however, was often preached in his command, though under the guise of Providential protection…. А story was told of one of his chaplains who, during a brisk skirmish, was found comfortably seated behind a gate-post. “What are you doing there, Doctor,” said an officer. “Why don’t you come from behind that post? What becomes of the doctrine you preached to us yesterday?” “Proven, proven,” returned the chaplain, quietly stretching out his feet. “This gate-post was specially put here by Providence for my protection.”

        At Cedar Run, or Slaughter’s Mountain, the escape of Jackson from death was miraculous. The enemy had turned out left flank, and we were surrounded and forced back. He was in the thickest of the combat at very short range. I rode up to him and insisted that he should retire, plainly and emphatically telling him it was no place for the commander of an army. He looked, perhaps, a little surprised, but the logic of the situation forced itself upon his mind, and with his invariable ejaculation of “Good, good” he rode to the rear…

        Jackson’s movements were always shrouded in mystery. None of his division commanders were informed of his intentions, and it was a source of much annoyance to them to be ordered blindly to move without knowing whither or to what purpose. (While) lying near Gordonsville after our return from the battles around Richmond, I received an order to have my wagons packed and my command stretched out on the turnpike by “early dawn” the next morning. The order was obeyed to the letter. We were standing under arms at the first gleam of day. There we stood. The sun rose and we were there still. An hour passed, bringing with it the heat of (a) July day and yet no intimation of a movement. I rode to the General’s headquarters, found him at breakfast declined his invitation to join him, and apologizing for the liberty which I ventured to take, begged to be allowed to march my troops anywhere. He smiled, asked if I knew the road to the Green Spring country in Louisa County, and if so I might proceed. He merely wished to change his camp. It was 15 miles off, but before 3 o’clock the men were comfortably in bivouac, and I had received half a dozen invitations to dinner from the hospitable gentlemen of that beautiful region. About 10 o’clock that night Ewell’s troops joined us. They had received no orders to march until mid-day.

        On another occasion I received orders to have my camp well policed and to issue orders for regimental and brigade drills. It was significant of a long stay, but I did not so interpret it. I gave the orders but also quiet directions to have rations cooked and wagons packed. Before sunrise we were marching in the direction of Frederiсksburg to meet a force which had ventured up to Rapidan. The orders to drill were intended, and properly so, for a blind to prevent his contemplated movement being suspected or communicated by visitors to his camp.

        I have mentioned Jackson’s affection for artillery and his unconsciousness of danger. At Cunningham’s Ford on the Rappahannock on the campaign against (Union Major General John) Pope, Jackson’s old division, commanded by myself, was in the advance with orders to cross the river at that point. These orders were countermanded by Gen. Lee, and the whole army halted. The enemy were showing themselves in considerable numbers on the opposite bank, and I ran up several field-pieces to the front, bringing on a lively artillery duel. Our guns were moved from time to time to different positions to divert the range of the opposing pieces, whose practice was excellent. Jackson rode up, approved of my disposition of the troops, which had been retired to the woods in rear, and proposed to me to ride with him to the batteries. Seeing no particular necessity for exposing my staff, I sent them back and accompanied him. He took his station close beside the guns and soon seemed to become fascinated by the work in hand and utterly unconscious of the peril to himself. He was out of place, undoubtedly, but he seemed to have forgotten himself in his eagerness to see the guns served – leaning forward on his horse to watch the effect of the discharges, and now and then exclaiming in his quick, sharp way when a shot told, “Good, good.” Men and horses were killed around him – among them one of his couriers - but he did not seem to observe it or to realize the situation. All at once, however, he turned to me and asked as quietly as if he had been sitting in his tent. “General, are you a man of family?” “Yes”, I replied, “I have a wife and five children at home, and my impression is that in less than five minutes there will be a widow and five orphans.” “Good, good”, and then suddenly, to the relief of all who were with him, it appeared to flash upon him that however exciting the role of battery commander might be, it was not altogether consistent with the position and responsibilities of the chief of corps, and giving orders to have the battery moved, he galloped to the rear, in which retrograde movement I felt it to be my duty to accompany him. I have always had a sort of suspicion, however, that his own life was saved on that occasion by his sympathy for my wife and children…

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