Chapter VII
Battle of Seven Pines, May 31, 1862

Our positions were so near Richmond as to permit frequent visits there during the pleasant month of May.

McClellan was hugging himself in security and reinforcements beyond the Chickahominy, and the earthwork defenses of Richmond which we were guarding seemed to us then all-sufficing. Later, we could realize how little they were worth without men and guns and rifles and a leader in the field. These defenses had been scientifically constructed by the engineers headed by General Lee and Maj.-Gen. J. F. Gilmer. The latter was a distinguished officer not long since resigned from the United States Army, had married in Savannah in the family of dear friends of ours, and when the war broke out at once placed his unquestioned engineering abilities at the service of the government.

On one of my visits to the city I was persuaded by my brother, Dr. Sorrel, to stay the night and attend, a reception at the President's. It was interesting and striking. The highest and most brilliant of the Southland were there; bright, witty, confident, carrying everything with a high hand. The men generally in full uniform and the women in finery, that seems somehow always to turn up for them under all circumstances. After presentation to Mr. and Mrs. Davis I had a good look at that remarkable man. A most interesting study, calm and self-contained, gracious with some sternness; his figure was straight, slim and elegant. A well-poised, ample head was faced with high-bred features and an expression that could be very winning and agreeable. His wife, Varina, was a rather large woman, handsome and brilliant, a bit inclined to be caustic of speech, but withal a good and gracious help to her husband.

Her devotion when he was a prisoner was later beautifully manifested. Senators and Congressmen were there in abundance. Our own representative, Julien Hartridge, characteristically indifferent to such assemblages, was taking his pleasure elsewhere.

Mr. Benjamin was a most interesting character—a short, squatty Jewish figure. His silvery speech charmed all hearers with its wit, persiflage and wisdom. His wonderful legal abilities made him facile princeps in equity law. His after career was extraordinary. When the collapse of the Confederate Army came he was still in Mr. Davis's Cabinet and joined his chief in flight. Separating, however, Benjamin escaped to one of the West India Islands and thence to London. It seems his nativity had actually been in a British Colony, and this fact and his great legal acquirements, with some routine attendance at the courts, quickly permitted his admittance to the bar and he was Q. C. in almost no time. He immediately took up an immense special practise and made much money.

I had the pleasure of meeting him in 1872 in Paris, at a breakfast given by Mr. Francis Corbin in his splendid hotel on the Faubourg St. Germain. Needless to say, Mr. Benjamin was delightful.

It was on one of these visits to my brother that I nearly came to trouble. I intended to ride back to camp quite early, but he had visits for me to make with him and pressed me so affectionately that I was late in starting back. Then a furious storm of rain and wind nearly drowned my good horse and myself and I was concerned for the late hour at which I finally reported to my chief. I found him provoked at my absence, because much had happened. In the afternoon a council of war had agreed with the commander-in-chief to attack McClellan the next morning. The opportunity was a good one because McClellan had posted his forces so that the Chickahominy cut them in two and they might be destroyed in detail. I was not too late, however, for the duties, and both Longstreet and myself were soon in good humor again. Orders for the dispositions of the troops were quickly gotten out and the time and line of march given. We had six strong brigades and D. H. Hill's four were to join us under Longstreet, besides a strong force of artillery and a body of cavalry on the right. When the day came (May 31) the movement began, and never was the opening for battle more unsatisfactory.

The same storm that put McClellan's army in decided peril by destroying his bridges and cutting communication between his two wings, impeded our march at every step. Little rivulets were now raging torrents.

Bridges had to be improvised and causeways made by which the column could be moved. Everything seemingly lost us time, and our attack, instead of being early in the day, was delayed until 4 p. m. There shall be no attempt to describe or discuss this battle. G. W. Smith with a large command was on our left. General Johnston with him and Major-General Huger with a strong division was expected to support our right, but for some reason we did not get it. D. H. Hill with his four brigades and our six, attacked with great fury. Smith's attack on the left was retarded and unsuccessful. We made quick progress, but with heavy losses in our ten fine brigades. The enemy could not stand before them and Casey's division, posted at Seven Points, gave way after heavy losses and was crushed. Cannon and colors fell into our hands. Darkness was then coming on and no supports, much to Longstreet's chagrin. Further attack on our part was deferred until the morning. Meantime, while Smith was making on the left his abortive attack, our gallant General Joseph E. Johnston had been struck down by a severe wound and borne from the field. The second in command was G. W. Smith, but as operations for the day had ceased there was no occasion for him to make any change in existing dispositions of the troops, and Gen. Robert E. Lee was the next day placed in command of the Army of Northern Virginia.

Seven Pines should under all circumstances have been a magnificent victory for us. It was really far from that, and while encouraging the soldiers in fighting and the belief in their ability to beat the enemy, it was waste of life and a great disappointment.

Walton, of Longstreet's staff, was wounded in the head, the bullet making a long furrow in his bald scalp. Here we saw for the first time the German Von Borcke, who, attached later to Stuart's cavalry, made some reputation. He had just arrived and could not speak a word of English; was splendidly mounted on a powerful sorrel and rode well. He was an ambulating arsenal. A double-barreled rifle was strapped across his back, a Winchester carbine hung by his hip, heavy revolvers were in his belt, right and left side; an enormous straight double-edged sharp-pointed cuirasseur's saber hung together with sabertasche to his left thigh, and a short "couteau de chasse" finished up his right. Besides, his English army saddle bore two large holsters, one for his field-glasses, the other for still another revolver, bigger and deadlier than all the others. Von Borcke was a powerful creature—a tall, blonde, active giant. When I next saw him he had discarded—taught by experience—all his arsenal except his good saber and a couple of handy revolvers. He stayed with us to the end and received an ugly wound in the throat.

Chapter VIII
Battles of the Chickahominy, June 26 to July 2, 1862

When General Lee took command it was my first sight of him. He had been employed in the northwest Virginia mountains, on the South Atlantic Coast, and at Richmond, generally as adviser to the President. His appearance had, it seems, changed. Up to a short time before Seven Pines he had worn for beard only a well-kept moustache, soon turned from black to grizzled. When he took us in hand his full gray beard was growing, cropped close, and always well tended. An unusually handsome man, he has been painted with brush and pen a hundred times, but yet there is always something to say of that noble, unostentatious figure, the perfect poise of head and shoulders and limbs, the strength that lay hidden and the activity that his fifty-five years could not repress. Withal graceful and easy, he was approachable by all; gave attention to all in the simplest manner. His eyes—sad eyes! the saddest it seems to me of all men's—beaming the highest intelligence and with unvarying kindliness, yet with command so firmly set that all knew him for the unquestioned chief. He loved horses and had good ones, and rode carefully and safely, but I never liked his seat. The General was always well dressed in gray sack-coat of Confederate cloth, matching trousers tucked into well-fitting riding-boots—the simplest emblems of his rank appearing, and a good, large black felt army hat completed the attire of our commander. He rarely wore his sword, but his binoculars were always at hand. Fond of the company of ladies, he had a good memory for pretty girls. His white teeth and winning smile were irresistible. While in Savannah and calling on my father, one of my sisters sang for him. Afterwards, in Virginia, almost as soon as he saw me he asked after his "little singing-bird."

The touch of the leader's hand was soon apparent in the reorganization of the army and its increased strength. The Administration reposing a perfect confidence in Lee, gave him all he asked for in men and material that could be furnished. It is proper to add that so moderate was the man and so fully understanding the situation and difficulties of supply, that he rarely asked for what could not be given him. His staff was small and efficient. I suppose that at this date there are some hundreds of men in the South who call themselves members of Lee's staff, and so they were if teamsters, sentry men, detailed quartermasters (commissary men), couriers and orderlies, and all the rest of the following of general headquarters of a great army are to be so considered. But by staff we usually confine ourselves to those responsible officers immediately about a general, and Lee had selected carefully. Four majors (afterwards lieutenant-colonels and colonels) did his principal work. Walter Taylor, from the Virginia Military Institute, was adjutant-general, and better could not be found for this important post.

Charles Venable, a scholar and mathematician, and with some study of strategy, together with Charles Marshall, a distinguished lawyer by inheritance from his ancestor, the Chief Justice, and his own attainments, did much of the correspondence under dictation. Talcot was the engineer officer, and Long, of the old Army, a close friend of the General, was ranked as military secretary and did various duties. At a later date Brig.-Gen. R. H. Chilton, A. A. G., was assigned to confidential duties with the General, and was sometimes called chief of staff. But Lee really had no such chief about him. The officer practically nearest its duties was his extremely efficient adjutant-general, W. H. Taylor.

Maj. H. E. Young was also attached later—an excellent officer. There were possible one or two young lieutenants for personal aids, but this was Lee's staff, although perhaps I have made some omissions. Of course it does not include the important administrative officers like Cole, chief commissary; Corley, chief quartermaster; Doctor Guild, medical director, and his chiefs of ordnance and other organizations.

Longstreet was second in command and it soon became apparent that he was to be quite close to Lee. His camps and bivouacs were near by the General's, and thus my acquaintance with him and his staff became quite free and I was often honored by the kind interest of the Commander-in-Chief.

In the new organization Longstreet had a powerful division of six brigades, and A. P. Hill (major-general) one of six, also a fine body which Hill happily christened as the Light Division. The artillery was much improved, and loose batteries were gathered and organized into well-found battalions, generally of four batteries of six guns each, and a battalion assigned to each division. The celebrated Washington Artillery of New Orleans was given to us, and glad we were to have such gunners. E. P. Alexander commanded in reserve a fine battalion of six batteries and was to do much good service with it.

A word about this splendid fellow. He was from Georgia and a dear friend of mine. Leaving West Point with very high honors, he was immediately commissioned into the Engineers, and sent to the Pacific, whence he came South to fight. His was the happiest and most hopeful nature. He was sure of winning in everything he took up, and never did he open his guns on the enemy but that he knew he should maul him into smithereens. An accomplished engineer, he was often called on both by Lee and Longstreet for technical work and special reconnoitering. His future in peace, after Appomattox, was varied and distinguished, and he still is with us, eager, enthusiastic, most interesting, and of undiminished abilities.

The Washington Artillery was an ancient and wealthy organization of New Orleans, numbering five well-equipped, well-manned batteries. There were many men of wealth and family serving as gunners. Four batteries under Colonel Walton came to Virginia, the fifth was sent West. Walton was large and imposing in appearance, looking, as indeed did the whole battalion, rather French. This arose from their uniform, which from "kepi" to gaiters was handsomely French, and made them very fine beside our homespun infantry fellows. It was a most efficient organization, serving with Longstreet throughout the war; it always did good service and constantly distinguished itself most conspicuously.

Our own staff will not be touched on just yet, preferring to wait for the creation of the two army corps in October, when we were put in more permanent shape for the remainder of the war. At present there had been but few additions to it, since Longstreet's command was limited to a single brigade, and the staff work consequently was sometimes hard on us.

I think it was in this month, September, that I rode to one of the lower landings of the James to meet General Mackall, my brother-in-law. He had been a prisoner of war at Fort Warren near Boston, and was to land, exchanged with some others from the Federal steamer. He was quite well and I sent him on to Richmond, where Doctor Sorrel saw to his comfort. Mackall married my father's eldest daughter. He was an army man out of West Point, and an able, accomplished soldier. He should have achieved much in the Confederate war, but circumstances were against him. When it broke out he was lieutenant-colonel in the Adjutant-General's Department, considered a very enviable billet. Stationed on the Pacific, his intimates were J. E. Johnston, J. F. Gilmer, Halleck, and others of that type.

The Marylander had a tedious time in Richmond waiting for active service suitable to his abilities. At last he was sent to report to A. S. Johnston at Bowling Green, Kentucky. After Shiloh, at Beauregard's earnest request, he was made brigadier-general and ordered to hold Island No. 10, a fortified position in the Mississippi, immediately to fall by reason of other combinations. In less than a week after assuming command the inevitable happened. The island was surrendered and the garrison made prisoners of war. Mackall was sent to Fort Warren, from which he was exchanged in 1863. He then took duty with Bragg's army as chief of staff; and after Bragg with J. E. Johnston, one of his dearest friends, until the General was supplanted by Hood. Mackall was afterwards given a command at Mobile, from which, however, he soon had to withdraw his force by reason of the successes of the Federal fleet. And there, I think, his active service ended. He was of a high order of mind and of the finest and nicest elevation of character; there was something supercritical, however, that would stand in his way without reason.

When General Mackall was exchanged out of Fort Warren he told me of two other prisoners, civilians, Andrew Low and Charles Green. The latter had married my cousin, and both were Englishmen of the regular holdfast, energetic type. They constituted the most important business house in Savannah, were making quantities of money, but had quarrelled and were about separating on the worst terms, when Seward's detectives, suspicious of their movements (they had both married in Savannah and were truly Southern and Confederate), clapped them in Fort Warren. There by the irony of fate they were the sole occupants of the same casemate, these quondam friends, now bitter, non-speaking enemies. The situation was difficult and rather enjoyed by some gentlemen outside who knew of the partners' troubles.

Treatment of prisoners of war at Fort Warren (Boston Harbor) appears to have been proper and unobjectionable. The governor, Colonel Dimmock, was a gentleman and knew what was due to his own reputation, as well as what his prisoners had a right to expect. There were marked contrasts elsewhere, as at Fort Johnston, but in all the four years there was yet to be found a prison commandant surpassing the brutalities of Miles. His chief distinction then appears to have been in manacling the helpless President of the Confederate States, who was advanced in years, feeble in health, with no friends near, and that in the strongest fortress in the United States, with a large garrison and a guard literally standing over the prisoner night and day, and not a Confederate organized force in existence.

Lee was an aggressive general, a fighter. To succeed, he knew battles were to be won, and battles cost blood, and blood he did not mind in his general's work. Although always considerate and sparing of his soldiers, he would pour out their blood when necessary or when strategically advisable. His army had become much strengthened, troops filled its ranks from Georgia, South and North Carolina, being drawn from the coast, where they were doing nothing. His divisions had among them Longstreet's, A. P. Hill's, Magruder's, D. H. Hill's, McLane's, D. R. Jones's, Huger's, and Whiting's—a splendid force, nearly eighty thousand men, including Jackson's. The latter was in the Valley, soon to be with us. Lawton had just taken his immense brigade of six thousand men from Savannah to reinforce him, and the Georgians were having some lively marching and fighting in "Stonewall" Jackson's way. It was evident that the General was soon to make his great attack to crush McClellan, whose dispositions were so faulty as to offer a tempting mark. His army greatly outnumbered ours. He had thrown it across the Chickahominy and its two wings were again exposed. There were quiet but intense preparations for the important movement.

It was of great extent and covered nearly seven days. Jackson was to move secretly and swiftly from the Valley and join Lee in the attack on the Federal right. He was late, and when Lee crossed at Mechanicsville, June 26, A. P. Hill was thrown at the defenses on Beaver Dam, and was nearly sacrificed. His losses were pitiable, as were D. H. Hill's in the same attack. Had Jackson been in position the enemy would have melted before us. He had promised to be there on the morning of the 26th. On the 27th, Longstreet, A. P. Hill, Whiting, and others stormed the heights at Gaines's Mill, suffering heavy loss, but defeating the enemy badly, taking many prisoners, guns and colors, and driving him in panic after the retreating McClellan. There was great maneuvering on the 26th, and a severe combat at Savage's Station. On the 30th the enemy showed front at Fraser's Farm, and Longstreet, supported by A. P. Hill, instantly attacked with great fury. The enemy was stubborn and contested every foot. Jackson was to be with us, and had he been, our success was undoubted, but for some reason he could not get through White Oak Swamp, and denied us. Of Huger on the right we also heard nothing. The combination had failed. The enemy was thus suffered to escape, but with heavy loss. Our own was far from light.

Malvern Hill followed with its bloody fields and crest. The reckoning there was awful and apparently for no good. McClellan abandoned the hill at night and soon found himself safe at Harrison's Landing under cover of his cruisers and gun-boats. His army was beaten and dispirited and the siege of Richmond broken up; but "Little Mac" raised a faint cry of partial victory and did not fail to torment poor Mr. Lincoln for more men; "heavy reinforcements could alone save the army," etc.

Jackson's firmest friends have been obliged to admit some faults in their hero. As to these movements—either from miscalculation or something else, he was fatally late on the 26th. That he was not on hand at Fraser's Farm was also a serious disaster. Some of Munford's cavalry had got through White Oak Swamp, bad as it was with a heavy rain falling, and it would seem that a soldier so great and energetic as Jackson would have found means to push through to the help of fighting, hard-pressed comrades. It is possible that he was overdone with work and fatigue, but his men should have been there as planned.

I saw him on the 28th, and he seemed brisk enough. Longstreet had sent me after Gaines's Mill to find him and establish connections and communications. He was cheerful and pleasant. "Explain, Major, to General Longstreet where I am and how my troops are lying, and say, with my compliments, I am ready to obey any orders he may send me." When I set out to find him, Tom Ochiltree, fresh and breezy from Texas, was with us for a week as a volunteer by Longstreet's consent. Ochiltree said, that familiar with fighting in Texas, he wanted to see how we did it in the East. He had also a great desire to see the celebrated "Stonewall" before returning home. He asked permission to ride with me. We trotted off together, our route taking us by an extensive field-infirmary, where the surgeons were at their bloody work on the wounded. We halted for a few minutes. The scene was sickening and cured Ochiltree of battle sights. "Sorrel," he said very seriously, "this gives me enough; I don't want any more. It seems now I have seen everything—too much, nothing for me to do here. Better for me to ride back to Richmond and take train for Texas. Sorry not to see 'Stonewall,' but I travel the other way. Good-by and good luck to you." And off he went after just about four days' service with the Confederates in the East.

During these movements there was a young Englishman with us, our guest. He had brought letters to authorities in Richmond. It was Lord Edward St. Maur, a scion of the ducal house of Somerset. He was about twenty-one, just from the University, where he had taken high honors, and was around now with an Englishman's curiosity. A singularly handsome young man he was, with pure olive skin and beautiful features. He was always courteous, always reserved. He came as a neutral for observation, and in all the freedom of our fighting week and rough bivouacs nothing stirred him from that attitude. In truth, I don't think he approved of us. I afterwards heard he was something of a prig but destined for high political life. The battle of Fraser's Farm broke out in the afternoon with great suddenness and severity. I had given St. Maur a mount and we happened to be on the line among the men when firing began, but notwithstanding the cannonading and heavy musketry he was quite cool. "This is not my place," he said, "and with your permission I shall retire," doing so with entire deliberation; he so placed himself as to see something and we talked it over when we met at night. When McClellan took cover at Harrison's Landing, St. Maur was given an officer and flag of truce and soon landed in the home of his fathers. A very careful, neutral chap. I was sorry for his end—hunting big game in India soon after, he was mauled and eaten by a tiger.

When McClellan was safely at Harrison's Landing under cover of heavy guns (some fifteen-inch spherical shell), there was nothing to keep our army there. Besides, it left Richmond somewhat exposed from the direction of Fredericksburg. General Lee, therefore, gave the word and we were soon again in, or near, our old positions. Everything was made ship-shape, the wounded mending and returning to duty, damages repaired, and the waste of that extraordinary movement and series of battles made good as best could be. McClellan could not now see the spires of Richmond from his headquarters. Additional reinforcements were brought from the South in preparation for Lee's next move, for he was not the man to stay idly behind defenses when there was an enemy about that he might hopefully strike. Longstreet's division of six brigades was in fine condition, with filling ranks, and so was A. P. Hill's Light Division, which lay near us, and thereby hangs a tale which must be recited, I fear, at some little length.

Chapter IX
Rivalry and More Reminiscenses

There was some rivalry between the two splendid divisions. Each had done its full share of fighting in the recent battles and each had won glory and renown. Hill had handled his men well and fought them gallantly. Needless to say how Longstreet had held his men, as it were, in the hollow of his hand (his abilities for handling large bodies under fire being remarkable), and how his never-failing valor and tenacity had supported them. The papers came out of Richmond daily, with fetching headlines and columns of description giving the events of the previous day. One of the widest read of these was The Examiner, very brilliantly edited. It seemed to have taken Hill's division under its special favor. Every movement was chronicled, every clash of arms, no matter how trifling, was written up, and the grand movements and actions of the division given such prominence as to dwarf all other commands. There was some feeling growing up about it, especially since it was known that a newspaper man from The Examiner office was serving temporarily on Hill's staff. Nothing was then done about the matter, but Longstreet's young staff officers were quite at the fighting point, as our division had come in for some animadversions in The Examiner.

After the short campaign, while we were occupying some of our old positions about Richmond, Hill lying near by, under command of Longstreet, the latter came one day to me with a rough draft of a short communication to The Whig, a Richmond paper. It flatly contradicted The Examiner, so far as Longstreet's division was concerned, and criticized the major-general who could suffer such reports to emanate from his own staff; it was short but positive. Longstreet asked if I objected to send such a communication to The Whig, signed by myself officially, as adjutant-general. He would answer for it, because I should not be expected alone to attack or criticize my superior officer. I was only too willing to carry out these wishes. The little note was prepared for the press and published in The Whig. It was stiff, but with military civility, and made some comment on the taste of having such correspondents along with military operations. It was not regarded as offensive, but was certainly pointed in some contradiction. To my regret I have no copy.

Such was the bomb-shell that was to burst over us in a few days. Having occasion for some routine report or information from General A. P. Hill, a note was sent him for it in the usual form. It was returned endorsed that "General Hill declined to hold further communication with Major Sorrel." Of course I was surprised, but it was apparent that trouble was brewing and that Longstreet must show his hand. The note was handed him and he was at once on fire at such disobedience. "Write him again," said he, "and say that note was written by my command, and must be answered satisfactorily."

To this Hill insisted on holding to his refusal. The correspondence was then taken up by Longstreet personally with Hill. I did not see the letters, but several passed, until finally, a day or two later, General Longstreet came to me with, "Major, you will be good enough to put on your sword and sash, mount, and place Major-General Hill in arrest, with orders to confine himself to limits of his camp and vicinity." It was my first duty of that kind with such rank, but I was soon on my way, followed by an orderly. The General was in his tent seated in a low chair, and rose as I entered, returning stiffly my salute. Bowing, when I had communicated the orders, he resumed his chair without speech, and saluting again, I was quickly on the road to my own friendly camp. I know only by hearsay what took place afterwards. It was kept quite out of reach of the staff and confined to the two principals. Certain it is, however, that some angry letters passed and intimate friends (D. H. Hill and Toombs for Longstreet) were called in and a hostile meeting between the two generals was almost certain. General Lee, however, heard of it, and acted quickly and effectively, using his unvarying tact and great influence. He brought matters, through other friends, to an adjustment honorable to both. A few days later General Hill's division was shifted out of reach of Longstreet's command and nothing more was known of the affair. Later on Longstreet and Hill became fairly good friends, but I naturally supposed I had incurred his hatred. For a year or two we did not meet—his division being in Jackson's corps—except occasionally on the march, and then the General's manner seemed to me stiff and menacing. If so, it was only the manner, not the feeling, because in 1864 I received from General Hill the very highest evidence of his appreciation and friendliness. On several occasions previously, Longstreet recommended me for promotion to command, and it must necessarily be to a brigade of Georgians. But where a brigadier was wanted for them, there were always good colonels of long service in the brigade that properly gained the preference. This was so general that I despaired of leaving the staff for higher promotion, until one day in September, 1864, a commission of brigadier-general came to me with orders to report to Lieut-Gen. A. P. Hill.

My preparations began at once for the change and it was necessary for me to go to the War Department, Richmond. There I found in the Adjutant-General's Office Capt. John W. Reilly, A. A. G., a fine young Virginia officer, who had once served under me.

"Did you ever see, General, the paper that brought about your promotion?" It was entirely new to me. He drew from a file a letter from Gen. A. P. Hill, commenting on the bad condition of his fine Georgia Brigade, which, left without a brigadier by the wounds of Wright and the death of Girardy, was then in the hands of a brave but incompetent colonel. He concluded by asking with great earnestness that Lieutenant-Colonel Sorrel, of Longstreet's corps, should be promoted and sent to him. The letter was referred to General Lee for his opinion and then passed between the Adjutant-General, the Secretary of War, and the President, who finally scrawled, "Make the appointment, J. D."

I tried to get the paper from Reilly as an autographic souvenir, but it was against orders and I was obliged to content myself with a certified copy. "It never rains but it pours;" some days after, Major-General Kershaw wrote me that he (Kershaw) had asked for my promotion to command one of his Georgia brigades.

Hill was a West Point man of medium height, a light, good figure, and most pleasing soldierly appearance. He surely handled his division on all occasions with great ability and courage and justly earned high reputation. When Lee created the Third Army Corps he placed him in command of it, and it was thought Hill did not realize in that high position all that was hoped of him.

His health was impaired toward the close of the war, and his noble life ended by a stray bullet at Petersburg after withdrawal of the lines. It was unnecessary and he should have had years before him. It is not necessary to say how much I appreciated his action toward myself. It proved him magnanimous and free of petty spite in that affair, and such was his nature. When I reported to him no one could have been more warmly welcomed, and thenceforward I had nothing but kindness and the most valuable support and help while with his corps.

A. P. Hill was very close to both Generals Lee and Stonewall Jackson at different times. Perhaps only a coincidence, but certainly significant it is, that, the last dying words of the two military chiefs were said to be of Hill. "Send word to A. P. Hill," whispered the expiring Jackson. "Tell Hill he must come up," were the last words on Lee's lips.

July and early August, 1862, were busy months. In front of Richmond General Lee kept the army well exercised in drill and the new men had to get into shape. Our staff work had been severe and our horses had suffered. I was obliged to keep two good mounts at least, sometimes more. It was here I fell in love with a perfect little stallion named Voltaire, and paid a round price for him; he soon proved too delicate for army work and I gave him to my brother in Richmond. There he should have thriven, but I think soon went to pieces. I succeeded in finding a handsome, powerful chestnut mare, from which I got good service until she was killed at Gettysburg. Longstreet was admirably mounted on two bays; one he had brought to the army with him, the other, a finer beast, was a present from Major Fairfax, whose horse judgment was excellent. For himself, he rode a superb gray stallion, "Saltron," widely known, which he had raised at his Loudoun estate. Fairfax lost him at Sharpsburg. A round shot struck him under the tail, fairly in the fundament, and it was at once all over with the stallion. Fairfax was excitable, and rushing to Longstreet, sitting grimly on his horse directing the battle, he broke out, "General, General, my horse is killed; Saltron is shot; shot right in the back!" Longstreet gave the Major a queer look and consoled him with, "Never mind, Major, you ought to be glad you are not shot in your own back!"

Frank Potts, a quartermaster in the corps, tells a story of these two. Fairfax messed General Longstreet, took good care of all his wants, and kept him in whiskey and in all else that was needful. Potts says that in one of the campaigns he had parked his animals and wagons in a nice spot by the roadside at a good hour and everything was made snug for the night's bivouac until the early march next morning. Suddenly he saw a figure galloping wildly across the fields to him, taking fences and ditches as he came. "Now," grumbled Potts, "it's a move; here are the orders coming." It was Major Fairfax in full uniform. He pulled up sharply before the quartermaster, saluted, and then, "Captain Potts, can you tell me where a washerwoman is to be found for General Longstreet?" relieved the Irishman and tickled his humor.

During the war the men were without many books and eagerly clung to a novel when one came their way. Many old volumes were sent from home, but they did not go far among such numbers. Victor Hugo's "Les Miserables," and Muhlbach's novels, translated from the German, and reprinted at Mobile, had begun to appear and were devoured by readers. Later on, after Gettysburg, Freemantle's "Three Months in the Southern States" was reprinted at Mobile and widely read. These old volumes are now a curiosity and not to be had except at great price. The dirty old type, blurred and worn, the rough paper with florid designs, all attested the stress of the Confederacy in everything entering into life. Among the soldiers in camp there was the usual gambling going on; they played some odd sorts of games, but the greasiest packs of cards were their stand-by.

One day Longstreet received a note from General Lee, after a ride through our camps. This informed the corps commander that he regretted to see so much gambling among the men; they nearly all seemed absorbed in a game called "Chuck-a-luck." "Could anything be done to better the matter?" Longstreet had served much with soldiers, and knew they would, many of them, gamble in camp in spite of all orders and watching; never yet had he found anything that would completely cure the evil. He would, however, see what could be done—but nothing came of it.

Chapter X
Second Battle of Manassas, August 29 and 30, 1862

McClellan still lay at Westover, recruiting and reorganizing. It was apparent that his army would not be long in that position. Confidence in him had been lost, and there was a new paladin in the field, the doughty John Pope, major-general, with "Headquarters in the saddle." He was a man of some ability, but did not have a reputation for high character in the old Army; and now with elevated rank and command thrust upon him, he turned into abuse of his enemy, explained how he meant to whip him, and filled the air with bombast and threatening. He was in command in northern Virginia, and Lee had marked him for his own.

We were rather a devout army. The men came from their homes deeply tinged with religion. Methodists were in large numbers and next to them Baptists and Presbyterians. There were many meetings and addresses conducted by worthy chaplains. These devoted ministers could always be counted on to follow beside their men, in camp or on the firing line. The men were fond of hearing in camp any kind of address, and were an easy prey to sharpers. I recall that some years later, on the Petersburg line, a crank came along with what he called an artis-avis (a bird of art) with him, and some fifty thousand like it; he was to drop a shell into Grant's army and fleet and destroy them! He wanted permission to address my men and solicit cash for building his wonderful birds. He was sent out of camp. The soldiers were fond of chanting hymns and quaint old plantation airs, and at times they were touching with the recollections of home. Homesickness was often very prevalent, and the awful nostalgia came near crippling us. There is a general order from Longstreet on that matter somewhere and I may be able to find it to attach to these leaves.

At this date, July and August, 1862, food was plentiful and good. No variety, but fresh beef or bacon, flour, coffee and sugar were issued in full rations. There was an abundance of whiskey, but comparatively little drunkenness. Encouragement and incentives to good conduct came from the General-in-Chief down through the officers. Previous to the Chickahominy Campaign a balloon had been constructed for reconnoitering. The enemy had several and we also wanted one, so the women—Heaven bless them!—came to the front with, it may be, tearful eyes but willing hearts and chipped in all their pretty silk frocks and gowns. It was a wonderfully picturesque balloon and at first did some little service, captive to a locomotive pushed far to the front. Then it was packed on a little steamboat in an adventurous cruise down the James. She ran aground, was gobbled up, with the bright ball-dress balloon, by the delighted Yankees, and that was the last of the pretty things of our sisters, sweethearts, and wives.

But the march against Pope is now beginning and must have a little space. The movement was masked as much as possible, a few troops only being at first concentrated at Gordonsville by rail. Lee collected then his outlying commands with great skill and started in earnest against his braggart opponent. Pope seems to have quite underestimated or disbelieved what was awaiting him, and his dispositions were all in favor of Lee. His first rude awakening was the shock Jackson gave him at Cedar Mountain, very costly to him; but we lost Charles Winder, one of the finest and most promising of the brigadiers. The march of the army was in tactical language "left in front," Jackson's position throwing him on the left; and this formation was necessarily observed by all the commands of the army. In these operations Stuart and his cavalry were exceedingly active and performed most valuable service. Our command, the full division, and two smaller ones under D. R. Jones and N. G. Evans, came to a halt hunting a ford on the Rappahannock and found a strong force of the enemy, with good artillery, at the railroad bridge. The gunners (ours the Washington Artillery) on both sides took up an artillery duel for nearly all day, but nothing decisive was achieved. We forded the river in another place without opposition.

It was in these operations that a spy was taken. He had murdered one of our cavalry couriers, and was caught almost red-handed, and with papers on him compromising enough to hang a dozen spies. Nevertheless, we gave him a trial. I convened a drum-head court martial of three brigadiers and they sentenced him to be hanged immediately. The wretch was mounted, arms tied, on a horse, with the noose and limb of a tree connected. He finally admitted he was a spy from Loudoun County, Virginia, but to the last stuck out he had not shot the cavalry courier. A smart blow with the flat of a saber started the horse on the jump and left the spy breathless, and there he hung until the army, continuing its march, passed almost under the tree and perhaps took the lesson to heart.

Jackson's marches, in swiftness, daring, and originality of execution, were almost extraordinary. At one time there was great fear for his safety, widely separated as he was from the right wing under Longstreet. General Lee's route was near Longstreet's and night and day he was always close to us. Longstreet was delayed by the enemy at Thoroughfare Gap. This is a mountain gorge, not long, but narrow, rocky, and precipitous. It was capable of stubborn defense. Its echoes were wonderful—a gun fired in its depths gave forth roars fit to bring down the skies. Here Longstreet had to stop impatiently until he could work his way through. He knew Jackson was hard pressed on the other side and praying for a sight of him. It took a little time, but we sent a flanking force over the mountains by a rocky path and the enemy gave way speedily and left the gap early. Pushing through we saw the dust of Jackson's masses miles away and heard his guns. Forward we pressed almost at a run, and in time. The attack on Stonewall ceased as soon as Longstreet came on the scene.

This was early enough in the day to permit us in turn to make a combined attack. The enemy was disheartened, and Jackson's column, although fatigued and losing heavily, was triumphant and still capable of great efforts. Our own force was large, comparatively fresh, and eager to crush John Pope, but for some reason the attack was not made, although I think General Lee preferred it to waiting.

The great battle that followed, and all these operations covering several days, were called the Second Manassas. Some of the ground was identical with the first. Most of it lay beautifully for good tactical operations, and as the country was quite open much could be observed at considerable distances. When the enemy's masses began again pressing Stonewall on the 30th of August, Longstreet moved quickly up to support. Their dense columns had been left exposed to artillery fire from our position and Longstreet instantly saw it. Planting a battery in the road, the first shots, together with Jackson's incessant fire, began to tell.

We were near enough to see some wavering in the blue masses, then halt, and then a flight back to cover. But it was all up with John Pope. No rest was given his army. Longstreet started every man of us to his division to push them into attack, and soon everything was hotly engaged. The easy, rounded ridges ran at right angles to the turnpike, and over these infantry and artillery poured in pursuit. The artillery would gallop furiously to the nearest ridge, limber to the front, deliver a few rounds until the enemy were out of range, and then a gallop again to the next ridge. And thus it went on until black darkness stopped operations—the enemy defeated at all points and hastening back to the Potomac. Many prisoners, guns, colors, small arms, and large quantities of stores and equipments fell into our hands.

J. E. B. Stuart was highly tickled at his capture of Pope's wagon and personal effects, including a very fine uniform.

Losses on both sides were heavy. Alas! the butcher's bill is always to be paid after these grand operations, and at Manassas especially there were some splendid young lives laid down for our cause and our homes.

Longstreet was seen at his best during the battle. His consummate ability in managing troops was well displayed that day and his large bodies of men were moved with great skill and without the least confusion.