Campfire and battlefield

Whatever may be said of individual experiences in the prisons, North or South, and whatever may have been the brutality, or the humanity, of this or that keeper, one great fact overtops everything and settles the main question of the treatment of prisoners beyond dispute. The prisons at the South were open stockades, with no building of any kind inside, no tree, no tent, no shelter furnished for the prisoners from sun or rain, not even the simplest sanitary arrangements, and an enormous number of prisoners were crowded into them. At Belle Isle the prisoners were packed so close that when they lay sleeping no one could turn over until the whole line agreed to turn simultaneously. On the other hand, the Northern prisons contained buildings for the shelter of the prisoners, with bunks as comfortable as in any barracks, and stoves to heat them in cold weather, while the sanitary arrangements were carefully looked after, and good rations issued regularly. It is impossible to look upon these contrasted pictures and not say that it was the intention of the one Government that its prisoners should suffer as much as possible, and the intention of the other Government that its prisoners should be made as comfortable as prisoners in large numbers ever can be.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE SANITARY AND CHRISTIAN COMMISSIONS.

WOMEN IN THE WAR—SANITARY COMMISSION FORMED—THE PUBLIC IDEA ABOUT IT—WORK OF THE COMMISSION—SANITARY FAIRS—THE CHRISTIAN COMMISSION—VOLUNTARY NURSES—THE VAST AMOUNT OF WORK DONE BY WOMEN IN HOSPITALS—MISS DOROTHEA L. DIX, MISS ALCOTT, AND MANY OTHERS.

The ancient sarcasm, that women have caused many of the bloodiest of wars, was largely disarmed by the part they played in the war of secession. Their contribution to the comfort and efficiency of the armies in the field, and to the care of the sick and wounded soldiers, was on the same vast scale as the war itself. Their attempts to assist the cause began with the first call for volunteers, and were as awkward and unskilled as the green regiments that they equipped and encouraged. But as their brothers learned the art of war, they kept even pace in learning the arts that alleviate its sufferings. When the President issued the first call for troops, in April, 1861, the women in many places held meetings to confer as to the best methods by which they could assist, and to organize their efforts and resources. The statement of the objects of one of these organizations suggests some conception of the contingencies of war in a country that for nearly half a century had known almost unbroken peace: "To supply nurses for the sick; to bring them home when practicable; to purchase clothing, provisions, and matters of comfort not supplied by Government regulations; to send books and newspapers to the camps; and to hold constant communication with the officers of the regiments, in order that the people may be kept informed of the condition of their friends."

On one of the last days in April, the Rev. Dr. Henry W. Bellows and Dr. Elisha Harris met casually in the street in New York, and fell into conversation concerning the evident need of sanitary measures for the armies that were then mustering. They agreed to attend a meeting of women that had been called to discuss that subject, and from that meeting a call was issued to all the existing organizations of women for a general meeting to be held in Cooper Union. This invitation, which furnished the basis on which the Sanitary Commission was afterward formed, was signed by ninety-two women. The hall was crowded, and the Women's Central Association of Relief was organized, under a constitution written by Dr. Bellows, who was chosen its president. A committee was sent to Washington to offer the services of the organization to the Government, and learn in what way they could be most effective. This committee, consisting of Dr. Bellows and three eminent physicians—Drs. Van Buren, Harsen, and Harris—presented to the War Department an address whose suggestions were based largely upon the experience of the British forces in the Crimean war of 1854-55. Being sent by women who were overflowing with patriotic enthusiasm, to officials who were jealous and distrustful of everything outside of the regulations, they had a difficult and delicate task. The Government was already embarrassed somewhat in the adjustment of authority between regular and volunteer officers, and dreaded a further complication if a third element of civilian authority should be introduced. Even Mr. Lincoln is said to have spoken slightingly of their proposition as a fifth wheel to a coach. General Scott received the committee kindly, but was not willing to give the proposed commission any authority. He would, however, consent to their acting in an advisory capacity, provided the head of the medical bureau agreed. After an interview with Acting Surgeon-General Wood, they obtained his consent to the formation of a "commission of inquiry and advice in respect to the sanitary interests of the United States forces," and he also wrote a letter commending the project to the other officers whose consent was necessary. Most of these officers looked upon the project with distrust and suspicion, and at length the committee were asked to "tell outright what they really did want, under this benevolent disguise." After fighting their way through these obstacles, the committee met with a misfortune in the death of Surgeon-General Lawson. His successor, Dr. Clement A. Finley, frowned upon the whole matter, but after a long struggle was induced to tolerate a commission that should not be clothed with any authority, and should act only in connection with officers of the volunteer army.

Finally, on June 13, 1861, the committee received from President Lincoln and Secretary of War Simon Cameron an order authorizing them to form an association for "inquiry and advice in respect to the sanitary interests of the United States." Their first work was to bring about a re-inspection of the volunteer forces, which resulted in the discharge of many boys and physically unsound men who had been accepted and mustered in through carelessness. When the committee returned to New York, the fact that there was a wide popular demand for the establishment of such an organization as they had proposed was made evident through articles in the newspapers, opinions of physicians, and a multitude of letters from all parts of the country. Dr. Bellows was made president of the Commission, Frederick Law Olmsted secretary, and George T. Strong treasurer, and with them were associated a score of well-known men, including several eminent physicians. In the organization, the first division of the duties of the Commission was into two departments—those of Inquiry and Advice. The Department of Inquiry was subdivided into three—the first, to have charge of such immediate aid and obvious recommendations as an ordinary knowledge of the principles of sanitary science would enable the board to urge upon the authorities; the second, to have charge of the inspection of recruiting stations, transports, camps, and hospitals, and to consult with military officers as to the condition and wants of their men; the third, to investigate questions of cleanliness, cooking, clothing, surgical dressings, malaria, climate, etc. The Department of Advice was also subdivided. The general object was "to get the opinions and conclusions of the Commission approved by the Medical Bureau, ordered by the War Department, and acted upon by officers and men." One sub-committee was in direct communication with the War Department, another with army officers, and a third with the State governments and the local associations.

The popular idea of the Sanitary Commission seemed to be that its chief purpose was to form dépôts for receiving supplies of clothing, medicines, and delicacies for the camps and hospitals, and forwarding them safely and speedily. And this part of the work soon grew to proportions that had never been contemplated. The Commission issued an address "to the loyal women of America," urging the formation of local societies for providing these articles, and in response more than seven thousand such societies were organized. They were managed entirely by women, and were all tributary to the Sanitary Commission. Of the fifteen million dollars' worth of articles received and distributed, more than four-fifths came from these local societies. The Commission was managed as nearly as possible in accordance with military ideas of discipline and precision. Every request that the stores furnished by a State or city might be conveyed to its own regiments was met with the answer that all was for the nation and must be turned in to the general store. The Commission rapidly disarmed prejudice, and won the admiration of everybody in the military service. It employed skilled men to coöperate with the regimental surgeons in choosing sites for camps, regulating the drainage, and inspecting the cooking. It constructed model pavilion hospitals, to prevent the spread of contagion. It established a system of soldiers' homes, where the sick and the convalescent could be provided for on their way back and forth between their homes and the front, and where whole regiments were sometimes fed when their own commissariat failed them. It fitted up hospital steamers on the Mississippi and its tributaries, with surgeons and nurses on board, to ply between the seat of war and the points from which Northern hospitals could be reached. Dr. Elisha Harris, of the Commission, invented a hospital car, in which the stretcher on which a wounded man was brought from the field could be suspended and thus become a sort of hammock. The cars were built with extra springs, to diminish the jolting as much as possible, and trains of them were run regularly, with physicians and stores on board, until the plan was adopted by the Government Medical Bureau. Supplies were constantly furnished in abundance, and the Commission established dépôts at convenient points, where the articles were assorted and labelled, and the army officials were kept constantly informed that such and such things, in such and such quantities, were subject to their requisition. When it was found difficult to transport fresh vegetables from distant points, the Commission laid out gardens of its own, where vegetables were raised for the use of the soldiers in the field. The Commission also had its own horses and wagons, which followed the armies to the battlefield, carrying supplies that were often welcome when those of the medical department were exhausted or had gone astray. After the battle of the Antietam, when ten thousand wounded lay on the field, the train containing the medical stores was blocked near Baltimore; but the wagon-train of the Sanitary Commission had been following the army, and for four days the only supplies were those that it furnished. On this occasion it issued over twenty-eight thousand shirts, towels, pillows, etc., thirty barrels of lint and bandages, over three thousand pounds of farina, over two thousand pounds of condensed milk, five thousand pounds of beef stock and canned meats, three thousand bottles of wine and cordial, several tons of lemons, and crackers, tea, sugar, rubber cloth, tin cups, and other conveniences. In the course of the war, the Commission furnished four million five hundred thousand meals to sick and hungry soldiers. In many instances, notably at the second battle of Bull Run and at the assault on Fort Wagner, the agents of the Commission were on the actual battlefield with their supplies, and were close at the front rescuing the wounded. At Fort Wagner they followed up the storming party to the moat.

A large part of the money and supplies was raised by means of fairs held in nearly every city, and the generosity exhibited in a thousand different ways was something for the nation to be forever proud of. Those who could not give cash gave all sorts of things—horses, cows, carriages, watches, diamonds, books, pictures, curiosities, and every conceivable article. The managers would be informed that a farmer was at the door with a cow, which he wished to give, and some person would be deputed to take the cow and find a stable for her until she could be sold. Another would appear with a portion of his crops. Men and women of note were asked to furnish their autographs for sale, and papers were printed, made up of original contributions by well-known authors. The sales were largely by auction, and rich men would bid off articles at high prices, and then give them back to be sold over again. The amount of cash received by the Commission was over four million nine hundred thousand dollars. The State of California, which was farthest from the seat of war, and contributed but few men to the armies, sent more than one million three hundred thousand dollars. The value of articles received by the Commission was estimated at fifteen million dollars. It established convalescent camps, which were afterward taken by the Government, and a system of hospital directories, and a pension bureau and claim agency, by which soldiers' claims were prosecuted free of charge. From beginning to end there was never a deficit or irregularity of any kind in its finances.

At the beginning of the war, many of the volunteers were members of the Young Men's Christian Association, and through these an especial solicitude was felt in that organization for the spiritual needs of the soldiers. Almost as soon as the first call for troops was made, measures were taken to supply every regiment with religious reading-matter, prayer-meetings were held at the recruiting stations, and a soldiers' hymn-book was compiled and printed by thousands. When the army began to move, men volunteered to go with it, at their own expense, and continue this work. One of these was Vincent Colyer, the artist, who, after spending ten weeks in the field, wrote to the chairman of the national committee of the Association, urging the formation of a Christian Commission to carry on the work systematically. As a result, such a commission was organized on November 14, 1861. The approval of the President and the War Department was obtained more readily than in the case of the Sanitary Commission, but the appeal to the people did not elicit any immediate enthusiasm. Even the religious press was in some instances distrustful and discouraging. For nearly a year the means of the Commission were limited, and its work was feeble. In May, 1862, after an earnest address to the public, it was enabled to equip and send out fourteen delegates, as they were called, ten of whom were clergymen. By the end of that year, they had sent four hundred to the army, and had more than a thousand engaged in the home work. They had distributed in the armies more than a hundred thousand Bibles, as many hymn-books, tens of thousands of other books, ten million leaflets, and hundreds of thousands of papers and magazines; they had formed twenty-three libraries, expended over a hundred and forty thousand dollars in money, and distributed an equal value in stores.

At the close of the second year the Commission had one hundred and eleven auxiliary associations, and the work in the field was more perfectly organized. General Grant, then in command in the West, issued a special order giving the Commission every opportunity for the prosecution of its work, and tried, but in vain, to obtain permission for its delegates to visit the National soldiers in Confederate prisons. George H. Stuart, of Philadelphia, was chairman of the executive committee, Joseph Patterson treasurer, and Lemuel Moss secretary. The work increased rapidly. Chapel tents and chapel roofs were furnished to the armies, diet kitchens were established in the hospitals, the service called "individual relief" was extended, and schools were opened for children of colored soldiers. Thousands of letters were written for disabled men in the hospitals, and thousands of packages forwarded to the camps. Jacob Dunton, of Philadelphia, invented a "coffee wagon" and presented it to the Commission. Coffee could be made in it in large quantities, as it was driven along. Like the Sanitary Commission, the Christian Commission had its own teams, and followed the armies with medical supplies. In the course of its existence, it sent out in all six thousand delegates, none of whom received any pay. One hundred and twenty of these were women employed mainly in the diet kitchens.

There were also many women in the service of the Government as volunteer nurses. The first of these was Miss Dorothea L. Dix, who offered her services eight days after the call for troops in April, 1861, and was accepted by the Surgeon-General, who requested that all women wishing to act as nurses report to her. Miss Dix served through the war. Miss Amy Bradley, besides having charge of a large camp for convalescents near Alexandria, Va., assisted twenty-two hundred men in collecting arrears of pay due them, amounting to over two hundred thousand dollars. Arabella Griffith Barlow, wife of the gallant General Francis C. Barlow, spent three years in hospitals at the front, and died in the service. Miss Clara Barton entered upon hospital work at the beginning of the war, had charge of the hospitals of the Army of the James during its last year, and after the war undertook the search for the missing men of the National armies. Miss Louisa M. Alcott, author of "Little Women," served as a nurse, and published her experiences in a volume entitled "Hospital Sketches." Many other women, less noted, performed long and arduous service, which in some cases cost them their lives, for which they live in the grateful remembrance of those who came under their care.

Among these was Miss Helen L. Gilson, a teacher in Boston, who gave this answer to an inquiry as to how she succeeded in getting into the work: "When I reached White House Landing I saw the transport Wilson Small in the offing, and knew that it was full of wounded men; so, calling a boatman, and directing him to row me to the vessel, I went on board. A poor fellow was undergoing an amputation, and, seeing that the surgeon wanted help, I took hold of the limb and held it for him. The surgeon looked up, at first surprised, then said, 'Thank you,' and I stayed and helped him. Then I went on with him to the next case; he made no objection, and from that time I never had any difficulty there."

Dr. Bellows, president of the Sanitary Commission, writing of his experiences on the field of Gettysburg, said: "I went out to the field hospital of the Third Corps, where two thousand four hundred men lay in their tents, a vast camp of mutilated humanity. One woman [Miss Gilson], young and fair, but grave and earnest, clothed in purity and mercy—the only woman on that whole vast camp—moved in and out of the hospital tent, speaking some tender word, giving some restoring cordial, holding the hand of a dying boy, or receiving the last words of a husband for his widowed wife. I can never forget how, amid scenes which under ordinary circumstances no woman could have appeared in without gross indecorum, the holy pity and purity of this angel of mercy made her presence seem as fit as though she had indeed dropped out of heaven. The men themselves, sick or well, all seemed awed and purified by such a resident among them." Miss Gilson continued her labors unremittingly through the war, and died about two years after its close, probably from the effects of her arduous work, at the age of thirty-two.

Besides the labors of such women in the field hospitals, a vast amount of similar and quite as useful work was done by a great number of women in the hospitals at various points in the Northern States, whither the wounded were sent as soon as they could be removed. A peculiarly sad and romantic case was that of Margaret Augusta Peterson, a young lady of brilliant promise, who entered upon service in a large hospital at Rochester, N. Y., refused to leave it when there was an outbreak of small-pox, saying she was then needed more than ever, and lost her life, at the age of twenty-three, from some dreadful mistake in the vaccination. Her story, which had other romantic elements, is told literally in this poem:

CHAPTER XXX.

MINOR EVENTS OF THE THIRD YEAR.

BANDS OF GUERILLAS IN VIRGINIA AND THE EAST—UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPTS TO CAPTURE MOSBY—IMPORTANT ACTION AT WAPPING HEIGHTS—NUMEROUS ENGAGEMENTS IN THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY AND ON THE SLOPES OF THE BLUE RIDGE—MINOR ENGAGEMENTS IN CONNECTION WITH THE PURSUIT OF LEE'S ARMY AFTER GETTYSBURG—MINOR ENGAGEMENTS IN WEST VIRGINIA—INVASION OF KENTUCKY BY CONFEDERATES UNDER GENERAL PEGRAM—THE CONFEDERATES' ATTEMPT TO RECAPTURE FORT DONELSON—NUMEROUS SMALL BATTLES IN TENNESSEE—LOYALTY OF THE PEOPLE OF EASTERN TENNESSEE AND WESTERN NORTH CAROLINA—BATTLES AT FAYETTEVILLE, BATESVILLE, AND HELENA, ARK.—OPERATIONS UNDER THE CONFEDERATE GENERAL MARMADUKE IN MISSOURI—SACKING AND BURNING OF LAWRENCE, KAN.—CRUELTIES PRACTISED BY CONFEDERATE GUERILLAS UNDER QUANTRELL AND OTHERS—CAPTURE OF GALVESTON, TEXAS, BY THE CONFEDERATES—MILITARY OPERATIONS AGAINST THE INDIANS.

Some of the smaller engagements of the year 1863 were so closely connected with the great movements that they have been described in the chapters devoted to those campaigns. Others were isolated from any such connection, and the more notable of them are here grouped in a chapter by themselves.

Suffolk, Va., on Nansemont River, southwest of Portsmouth, was held by a National force that included the Eighty-ninth and One Hundred and Twelfth New York Regiments, and the Eighth and Sixteenth Connecticut. An amusing story is told in the "History of the Sixteenth Connecticut," of its adventures when it first reached Suffolk. It arrived in a dark night, the men not knowing which way to go, or what they would find when they stepped out of the train, and most of their officers having been left behind by accident. Setting out through the darkness, they first tumbled down a steep embankment, then into a deep brook, and finally brought up against a rail fence. Tearing this down, they found themselves in a field, and set about hunting fuel for a fire. Some of them, groping in the darkness, came upon a house which they supposed to be uninhabited, and, beginning at the bottom, pulled off all the clapboards as high as they could reach. When daylight came they discovered that it was a handsome white house inhabited by the owner and his family, who presently appeared on the scene and produced a tableau. In the darkness one of the men had bored a hole into a barrel of coffee, which he supposed was whiskey, and was found shaking it violently and wondering why it did not run. Sunlight showed them that they were on the outskirts of the town, and immediately the One Hundred and Twelfth New York came to their relief with hot coffee, etc. Suffolk really had very little military importance, and yet it was the subject of considerable fighting. Gen. John J. Peck commanded the National forces, and was subjected to much elaborate ridicule for the extent to which he fortified the place. In January the Confederates made an attack, and after some fighting were driven off, and, with the assistance of the gunboats, six guns and two hundred of their men were captured. In April a siege was begun by General Longstreet, who failed in an attempt to carry the place by surprise, and then constructed earthworks, intending to bombard it; but, as soon as he opened fire from them, his guns were silenced by the gunboats on the river and the heavy artillery in the National works. Early in May he was needed to assist General Lee in the impending conflict of Chancellorsville, and slowly drew off his men from Suffolk, when Generals Getty and Harland sallied out from that place with a column of seven thousand men and attacked his powerful rear guard. A sharp action ensued, which resulted in no immediate advantage to either side, but in the night the Confederates left the field. Some stragglers were captured, but otherwise there was no definite result except that the siege was raised.

Guerilla bands, so numerous at the West, were few at the East, the most noted being one led by John S. Mosby. In March he made a daring midnight raid with a few of his men on Fairfax Court House, Va., and captured and carried off Brigadier-General Stoughton, two captains, and thirty men, with about sixty horses. In May he approached Warrenton Junction with about three hundred men and attacked a small cavalry force there. The National soldiers were feeding their horses and did not have time to mount, but made a gallant resistance on foot, until they were overcome by numbers. The Fifth New York cavalry then came up, and, sabre in hand, charging upon the guerillas, killed and scattered many, and wounded the rest, except a few whom they captured. Among the killed was a Confederate spy who had just come from Washington and had in his possession many important documents. Again, at Kettle Run, Mosby attacked a railway train that was loaded with forage. When the firing was heard, the Fifth and First Vermont cavalry set out from Fairfax Court House and soon came up with the enemy. His one howitzer was captured in a gallant charge, and a considerable number of his men were killed. It was said that as fast as the band was depleted by the casualties of battle it was filled up with picked men sent from the Confederate army.

Several attempts were made to capture Mosby, but although there was an occasional fight with his band, and a considerable number of his followers fell, he himself eluded captivity till the end of the war, when he issued an order announcing to his men that he was no longer their commander, and they dispersed. The difficulty of capturing a small mounted force, which is irresponsible and has no mission but to roam in a lawless way over a country like that of Virginia, must be always exceedingly great; but there was one opportunity to capture Mosby and his band which would have been successful had the affair not been disgracefully mismanaged. In April, 1863, one hundred and fifty men of the First Vermont cavalry, under Captain Flint, set out to capture them, and found them at a farm-house unprepared to fight. Flint took his men through the gate, fired a volley at Mosby's men, and then charged with the sabre, which would have been correct enough if Flint had kept his command together; but he made the mistake of dividing it and sending a portion around to the rear, in fear that the guerillas would escape. Mosby quickly took advantage of this, ordered a charge upon the detachment headed by Captain Flint, and succeeded in cutting his way through, Flint and some of his men being killed. Of the affair near Warrenton, in May, Mosby, in his somewhat boastful "Reminiscences," gives this highly colored account:

"On May 2, seventy or eighty men assembled at my call. I had information that Stoneman's cavalry had left Warrenton and gone south, which indicated that the campaign had opened. My plan now was to strike Hooker.

"Before we had gone very far, an infantry soldier was caught, who informed me that I was marching right into the camp of an infantry brigade. I found out that there was some cavalry on the railroad at another point, and so I made for that. These troops had just been sent up to replace Stoneman's. I committed a great error in allowing myself to be diverted by their presence from the purpose of my expedition. They were perfectly harmless where they were, and could not help Hooker in the great battle then raging. I should at least have endeavored to avoid a fight by marching around them.

"Just as we debouched from the woods in sight of Warrenton Junction, I saw, about three hundred yards in front of us, a body of cavalry in the open field. It was a bright, warm morning; and the men were lounging on the grass, while their horses, with nothing but their halters on, had been turned loose to graze on the young clover. They were enjoying the music of the great battle, and had no dream that danger was near. Not a single patrol or picket had been put out. At first they mistook us for their own men, and had no suspicion as to who we were until I ordered a charge and the men raised a yell. The shouting and firing stampeded the horses, and they scattered over a field of several hundred acres, while their riders took shelter in some houses near by. We very soon got all out of two houses; but the main body took refuge in a large frame building just by the railroad. I did not take time to dismount my men, but ordered a charge on the house; I did not want to give them time to recover from their panic. I came up just in front of two windows by the chimney, from which a hot fire was poured that brought down several men by my side. But I paid them back with interest when I got to the window, into which I emptied two Colt's revolvers. The house was as densely packed as a sardine box, and it was almost impossible to fire into it without hitting somebody. The doors had been shut from the inside; but the Rev. Sam Chapman dismounted, and burst through, followed by John Debutts, Mountjoy, and Harry Sweeting. The soldiers in the lower rooms immediately surrendered; but those above held out. There was a haystack near by; and I ordered some of the hay to be brought into the house, and fire to be set to it. Not being willing to be burned alive as martyrs to the Union, the men above now held out a white flag from the window. The house was densely filled with smoke, and the floor covered with the blood of the wounded. The commanding officer, Major Steel, had received a mortal wound; and there were many others in the same condition. All who were able now came out of the house.

"After a severe fight I had taken three times my own number prisoners, together with all their horses, arms, and equipments. Most of my men then dispersed over the field in pursuit of the frightened horses which had run away. I was sitting on my horse near the house, giving directions for getting ready to leave with the prisoners and spoil, when one of my men, named Wild, who had chased a horse some distance down the railroad, came at full speed, and reported a heavy column of cavalry coming up. I turned to one of my men and said to him, 'Now we will whip them.' I had hardly spoken the words when I saw a large body of Union cavalry, not over two hundred or three hundred yards off, rapidly advancing. Most of my command had scattered over the field, and the enemy was so close there was no time to rally and re-form before they got upon us. In attempting to do so, I remained on the ground until they were within fifty yards of me, and was nearly captured. So there was nothing to do but for every man to take care of himself. The command I had at this time was a mere aggregation of men casually gathered, belonging to many different regiments, who happened to be in the country. Of course, such a body has none of the cohesion and discipline that springs from organization, no matter how brave the men may be individually. Men never fought better than they did at the house, while the defenders were inspired to greater resistance, knowing that relief was near. We had defeated and captured three times our own number, and now had to give up the fruits of victory, and in turn to fly to prevent capture. My men fled in every direction, taking off about fifty horses and a number of prisoners. Only one of my men, Templeman, was killed, but I lost about twenty captured, nearly all of whom were wounded."

In March General Hooker, learning that a Confederate force, under Stuart, had set out for Fauquier and the adjoining counties to enforce the draft, determined to send out a large cavalry force to intercept them, and at the same time to make a reconnoissance on the south side of the Rappahannock. The troops chosen for this work were the First and Fifth regulars, the Thirty-fourth and Sixteenth Pennsylvania, the First Rhode Island, the Fourth New York, and the Sixth Ohio, with a battery of six guns, all under the command of Gen. William W. Averill. At the close of the first day's march the expedition encamped near Kelly's Ford on the Rapidan, and the next morning, the 17th, on riding down to the ford, found the passage disputed. The Confederates had constructed abatis along the southern bank and were in strong force. Several attempts to cross the stream by separate regiments were ineffectual, until a squadron of the First Rhode Island, led by Lieutenant Brown, plunged boldly through the stream, cut their way through the abatis, charged up the bank, and routed the enemy in their immediate front. The whole force then crossed and formed in line of battle. As they moved on, the Confederates charged upon them, but were met in a counter charge and broken. Rallying, they attempted it again, and again were broken and put to flight. Meanwhile the Pennsylvania regiment struck them on the flank, and the artillery opened upon them. When a point about a mile and a half from the river had been reached, General Averill re-formed his line, which then moved through the woods and fired as it went. The Confederates now, for the first time, brought their artillery into play, of which they had twelve pieces, and the shot fell fast among Averill's men. Following this, the Confederates made another charge, but were broken by the Third Pennsylvania. A participant says: "From the time of crossing the river until now there had been many personal encounters, single horsemen dashing at each other with full speed, and cutting and slashing with their sabres until one or the other was disabled. The wounds received by both friend and foe in these single combats were frightful, such as I trust never to see again." A running fight was now kept up, the Confederates retreating slowly, and occasionally halting to use their artillery, until a point six miles from the river was reached, when General Averill, finding that his artillery ammunition was nearly exhausted, and that there were strong intrenchments not far ahead, ordered a return. The Confederates, who had been retreating, now advanced in their turn, and annoyed the retiring column somewhat with their artillery. General Averill lost nine men killed, thirty-five wounded, and forty captured. The Confederate loss is not exactly known, but Averill's men brought away sixty prisoners, including Major Breckenridge, of the First Virginia cavalry. In this action was killed John Pelham, commander of Stuart's horse artillery, who was called the "Boy Major" and had won high reputation as an artillerist. His fall is the subject of the finest poem produced at the South during the war, written by James R. Randall.

When Lee, after Gettysburg, retreated southward up the Shenandoah Valley, Meade pursued on the eastern side of the Blue Ridge in a parallel line, taking possession of the passes as far southward as Manassas Gap. On the 22d of April, he learned that a Confederate corps was near the western end of that gap, which was held by Buford's division of cavalry alone. The Third Corps, then guarding Ashby's Gap, was thereupon ordered down to Manassas Gap, and made a prompt and swift march, reaching Buford at midnight. The next day, from a lofty point on the mountains, the movements of a large part of the Confederate army could be seen. One immense column was in plain sight, consisting, first, of several thousand infantry, followed by disabled soldiers mounted on horses that had been taken in Pennsylvania, the rear being brought up by a large body of cavalry, while the wagon trains were moving on a parallel road further west, and all were pushing southward as rapidly as possible. It was thought that a movement through the gap might cut the Confederate column in two, and this was accordingly ordered. Berdan's sharp-shooters, the Twentieth Indiana, the Sixty-third Pennsylvania, and the Third and Fourth Maine Regiments, of high reputation as skirmishers, were pushed forward, and soon brushed away the small Confederate force that occupied its western end. This fell back upon a supporting force posted on a lofty hill. Here the sharp-shooters kept the attention of the Confederates while the Maine regiments silently crept up the face of the hill, unobserved from its summit, delivered a volley, and then made a rapid charge which cleared the hill of all Confederates except those that were disabled or made prisoners. It was then discovered that the main body of the Confederate force that was intended to dispute the passage of the gap was on another line of hill, still farther to the west, and strongly fortified. The Excelsior brigade, commanded by General Spinola, was now brought forward to dislodge the enemy. Passing through the line of skirmishers, the men of this brigade soon reached the slope of the hill, which was ragged and precipitous and swept by a fire from the crest. Without a minute's hesitation they scrambled up the ascent, which was more than three hundred feet high, grasping at the bushes and points of rock until they reached the summit, when they fired a volley, fixed their bayonets, gave a shout, and rushed upon the enemy, who immediately fled in confusion. General Spinola was twice wounded in this assault, and the command devolved upon Colonel Farnum, who immediately re-formed the line and set out to carry in a similar manner another crest, which he succeeded in doing, and took a considerable number of prisoners. At this point of time, General Meade, having learned that a Confederate corps was moving down the valley to take part in this action, ordered the troops to discontinue their advance and hold the points already gained. At the same time he brought up the bulk of his army in anticipation of the battle the next day. But when the sun next arose the Confederates had all disappeared. By this movement General Meade lost two days in the race of the armies southward, which enabled the Confederates to get back to their old ground, south of the Rappahannock, before he could reach it. This action is known as the battle of Wapping Heights. The National loss was one hundred and ten men, killed or wounded; the Confederate loss is unknown.

In August, General Averell's cavalry command made an expedition through the counties of Hardy, Pendleton, Highland, Bath, Green Briar, and Pocahontas. They destroyed saltpetre works and burned a camp with a large amount of equipments and stores. They had numerous skirmishes with a Confederate cavalry force, commanded by Gen. Samuel Jones, and at Rocky Gap, near Sulphur Springs, a serious engagement. This battle lasted two days. On the first day the Confederates opened the fire with artillery, which was answered by Averell's guns, and a somewhat destructive duel ensued. The Confederates attempted to capture Averell's battery by charging across an open field, but were repelled by its steady fire. On the other hand, similar charges were made seven times in succession by a portion of Averell's men, and not one of them was successful. When, finally, Averell's ammunition was nearly exhausted, and he learned that the enemy was about to be reinforced, he withdrew from the field in good order. The loss in this engagement was about two hundred on each side.

In an irregular and unsatisfactory campaign of manoeuvres between Meade and Lee, along the slopes of the Blue Ridge, after the battle of Gettysburg, but before the retirement to winter quarters, there were some engagements which would have been notable had not the whole campaign resulted in nothing. One of these was at Bristoe Station, three miles west of Manassas Junction, October 14th, when Meade was making retrograde movements, and Lee attacked his rear guard with A. P. Hill's corps. The Second Corps formed the rear of Meade's line, and marched to Bristoe on the south side of the track of the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, with flankers well out on both sides, and skirmishers deployed. About noon, the advance of this corps, which was Gen. Alexander S. Webb's division, reached the eastern edge of woods that look out toward Broad Run. The rear of the Fifth Corps, which preceded the Second on the march, had just crossed the Run. Suddenly they were fired upon by artillery which emerged from the woods by an obscure road, and then a line of Confederate skirmishers appeared on the hill north of the railroad. Immediately General Webb's division was thrown forward in a line south of the railroad, with its right resting on Broad Run, and General Hays's division took position at Webb's left, while Caldwell's faced the railroad, and a section of Brown's Rhode Island battery was put in position on the other side of Broad Run where it could enfilade the enemy's skirmishing line, and the remainder was placed on a hill west of the Run. Arnold's famous battery was also put in a commanding position. Very soon Confederates opened a furious fire of artillery and musketry from the edge of the wood; but when the National battery began its work their batteries were very soon silenced, and their skirmishing line melted away. General Warren ordered a detail of ten men from each regiment in that part of the Fifth Corps which had participated in the fight, to rush forward and bring off the Confederate guns, which, for the minute, seemed to have been deserted. With a cheer the men crossed the railroad track, climbed the hill, wheeled pieces into position, and fired them at the retreating Confederates, and then dragged them away. But they had not gone far when the enemy came out of the wood again and charged upon them. Whereupon they dropped the battery, resumed their small arms, drove back the charge, and then brought off the guns. A participant says, "I have heard some cheering on election nights, but I never heard such a yell of exultation as rent the air when the rebel guns, caissons, and equipments were brought across the railroad track to the line of our infantry." The Confederates now tried the experiment of attacking the Second Corps, and two regiments of North Carolina troops charged upon its right over the railroad. When they reached the track, they were met by two or three deadly volleys, which sent them rapidly back again. They became broken, and hid themselves behind rocks and logs, or came in as prisoners, when the National line was advanced. Still their main body kept up the fight until dark, when they finally retired into the woods, after losing six guns, two battle flags, seven hundred and fifty prisoners, and an unknown number in killed or wounded. Among the Confederate losses in this section was Brig.-Gen. Carnot Posey, mortally wounded.

There was considerable desultory fighting around Charlestown Va. On the 15th of July a National cavalry force overtook and attacked a Confederate force near that place, and captured about one hundred prisoners, afterward holding the town. On the 18th of October a Confederate cavalry force, under Gen. John J. Imboden, attacked the garrison, finding them in the court-house and other buildings, and demanded the surrender; to which the commander, Colonel Simpson, answered, "Take me if you can." Imboden then opened fire on the court-house with artillery at a distance of less than two hundred yards, and of course soon drove out the occupants. After exchanging a volley or two, most of the National troops surrendered, while some had escaped toward Harper's Ferry. Two hours later a force came up from that place and drove out Imboden's men, who retired slowly toward Berryville, fighting all the way.

In its slow pursuit of the Army of Northern Virginia, the Army of the Potomac, early in November, came up with that army at Rappahannock Station, where the Orange and Alexandria Railroad crosses the Rapidan River. General Lee showed an intention to get into winter quarters here, for the ground was elaborately fortified on both sides of the river, and his men were known to be building huts. General Meade made his dispositions for a serious attack at this point. Lee had a strong force intrenched with artillery on the north side of the river to prevent any crossing, and works extended thence for a considerable distance in each direction, while the main body of his army was on the south side of the river and also intrenched. General Meade placed the Fifth and Sixth Corps under the command of General Sedgwick, fronting Rappahannock Station. General French was placed in command of the First, Second, and Third Corps, and ordered to move to Kelly's Ford, four miles below Rappahannock Station, cross the river, carry the heights on the south side, and then move toward the enemy's rear at Rappahannock to assist General Sedgwick's column in its front attack. General Buford's cavalry was to cross the Rappahannock above these positions, and General Kilpatrick's below. Sedgwick's column arrived within a mile and a half of the river at noon, on the 7th of November, and threw out skirmishers to examine the enemy's works. At the same hour, French's column arrived at Kelly's Ford. General French promptly opened the battle with his artillery, sent a brigade across the river which captured many prisoners in the rifle trenches, and an hour later crossed the division and began the laying of pontoon bridges, so that his entire command crossed before night. General Lee, believing that the demonstration at Rappahannock Station was a feint and that at Kelly's Ford the real movement, heavily reinforced his troops at the Ford. Those on the north side of the river at Rappahannock Station were also reinforced. Sedgwick's plan of attack was to have the Fifth Corps get possession of the river bank on the left, and the Sixth Corps on the right, and plant his batteries on high ground, from which he could compel evacuation of the works. This movement was made, and the batteries opened their fire, but the Confederates did not leave the works. In the edge of evening it was determined to make an assault in heavy force. The artillery kept up a rapid fire, until the assaulting column, led by Gen. David A. Russell, had moved forward and approached near to the works. This movement appears to have been a surprise to the Confederates, and it was carried out so systematically and rapidly that the storming party, led by the Fifth Wisconsin and the Sixth Maine Regiments, carried the works in a few minutes. The Forty-ninth and One Hundred and Nineteenth Pennsylvania were close after them, and the Fifth Maine and One Hundred and Twenty-first New York at the same time carried the rifle-pits on the right, while the One Hundred and Twenty-fifth New York and the Twentieth Maine, which had been on picket duty, promptly joined in the assault. This gallant affair was a complete success, and General Wright remarked at the time that it was the first instance during the war in which an important intrenched position had been carried at the first assault. The National loss in killed and wounded was three hundred and seventy-one men. The Confederate loss, killed, wounded, and missing, was nearly seventeen hundred, including thirteen hundred captured. The captures also included seven battle-flags, twelve hundred stands of small arms, and four guns. When the Confederate commander learned of the disaster, he burned his pontoon bridge, and in the night fled back to Mount Roan, from which position the next day he withdrew to his old camps south of the Rapidan. A heavy fog on the 8th prevented the National commander from pursuing in time to effect anything.

When the Army of Northern Virginia retired from the action at Rappahannock Station to the south side of the Rapidan, it took up an intrenched position stretching nearly twenty miles along the river, from Barnett's Ford above the railroad crossing to Morton's Ford below. The cavalry were thrown out to watch the fords above and below this position. Lee then constructed a new intrenched line, nearly at right angles with the main line, to protect his right flank. As soon as the railroad was repaired, General Meade began another advance, and after considering Lee's new position, determined to attack him by crossing at the lower fords and moving against his right flank. He planned to move three columns simultaneously, concentrating two of them at Robertson's tavern, and then advance rapidly westward by the turnpike and the plank road to strike Lee's right and overcome it before it could be reinforced from the more distant wing. The orders were issued for the movement to begin on the 24th of November, but a heavy rainstorm delayed it two days. Everything was carefully explained to the corps commanders, and all possible pains were taken to make the different parts of the great machine move harmoniously. The Third and Sixth Corps were to cross at Jacob's Ford and move to Robertson's Tavern, through wood roads which were not known except through inquiry. The ground to be moved over was a part of the so-called Wilderness, which was made famous when Grant began his overland campaign the next spring. The Second Corps, crossing at Germanna Ford, was also to move to Robertson's Tavern. The First and Fifth Corps were to cross at Culpeper Mine Ford, and move to the plank road at Parker's Store, advancing thence to New Hope Church, where a road comes in from Robertson's Tavern. Gregg's cavalry division was to cross at Ely's Ford, covering the left flank, while the other division, under Custer, was to guard the fords above, facing the main line of the enemy. Merritt's cavalry was to protect the trains. Every experienced soldier knows how difficult it is to bring about simultaneous and concentric movements of large bodies of troops separated by any considerable distance, and moving by different routes. Any one of many contingencies may stop the progress of any column or send it astray, and very few such plans have ever succeeded. This one of General Meade's was devised with the utmost care, and every possible provision against miscarriage seemed to have been made. Yet at the very outset, on the morning of the 26th, there was a delay of two hours in crossing the river, because the Third Corps was not up in time, and then there was a further serious loss of time because the bridges for Jacob's Ford and Germanna Ford were found to be a little too short, lacking only one pontoon each. The river banks here on the south side are more than one hundred feet high, and very steep, so that it was only with great labor that the wagons and the guns could be taken up. The artillery of two corps had to be taken to another ford than that by which the infantry of this corps crossed. It happened, therefore, that when the day was spent the heads of the column, instead of being at Robertson's Tavern, were only about three miles from the river, while the tavern is six or seven miles from the river by the road. These fords had all been watched by Confederate cavalry, and the movements of the Army of the Potomac were by this time well known at the Confederate headquarters. They had been inferred still earlier when the Confederate signal men saw the troops and trains moving in the morning. One thing, however, General Lee did not know—whether it was Meade's intention to attack his army where it was, or to move eastward toward Richmond and draw it out of its intrenchments. In the night of the 26th Lee drew his army out of its lines and put it in motion ready to act in accordance with either of these movements of Meade, as the event might determine.

Thus affairs were in a state likely to produce exactly such a conflict in the Wilderness as actually was produced when Grant crossed the Rapidan in the spring of 1864, but there was this difference, that it was Meade's intention to turn westward and attack Lee where he was, while it was Grant's intention to move eastward, get out of the Wilderness if possible, plant himself across Lee's communications, and compel him to leave his intrenchments. In the afternoon of the 27th, the leading division of the Fifth Corps, commanded by Gen. Alexander Hays, came into collision with the leading division of Early's Confederate corps, and drove back his skirmishers on the turnpike, while Webb's division to the right, with Rodes's Confederate division in its front, promptly deployed, and drove back his skirmishers toward Raccoon Ford. The National troops in deploying possessed themselves of a strong position, and the Confederate commanders were not willing to attack until reinforced, but their reinforcements were delayed near Bartlett's Mills by being fired upon by the Third Corps pickets, and the expectation of an attack at that point. General French, commanding the Third Corps, appears to have blundered as to the road he was to take, and at the forks took the right hand instead of the left, which not only threw his corps nearer the enemy, but prevented him from appearing where he was expected at Robertson's Tavern at the same hour when the Second Corps arrived there. He then blundered still further by halting and sending word that he was waiting for the Fifth Corps, when in fact the Fifth was waiting for him. By the time that orders had passed back and forth explaining his error, the enemy had begun to throw out a large infantry force upon his right flank. The plan of action was then necessarily so far changed, as that General French was ordered to attack the enemy in his front at once, which he did, the divisions engaged being those of Carr, Prince, and Birney. The heaviest fighting fell upon Carr's division, and there were charges and countercharges, the lines swaying back and forth several times. General Meade, unwilling to bring on a general engagement until he could get his army together, had been holding the First and Fifth Corps in their positions waiting for French's corps to join them, and there was a little fighting in front of the Fifth when the enemy came close to its lines. General Lee was quite as reluctant to attack in force as was General Meade, and that night he drew back his army within its intrenchments. A hard storm the next day delayed all movements, and when, toward evening, Meade advanced to the eastern bank of Mine Run, he found that the Confederate intrenchments on the western bank were altogether too strong to justify an assault. Sending the Fifth Corps, in the night of the 28th, to threaten the Confederate right flank in the morning, and turn it if possible, Meade directed his other corps commanders to search for possible weak points in the enemy's lines. One was found on the extreme Confederate left and another near the centre, while the First and Fifth Corps commanders reported that there was no weak spot whatever in their front. A simultaneous assault on these points was arranged for the morning of the 30th, to be covered, as usual, by a heavy artillery fire. The guns opened promptly at the designated hour, and were as promptly replied to by the Confederate artillery; but before the assault began, General Warren sent word to General Meade that he found the enemy had so strengthened the works on their right, as to make an assault there hopeless. General Meade, therefore, gave orders to suspend the attacks that were already begun at the other points, and here the campaign virtually ended. There was no other possible movement, except to march around the right of the Confederate position, and for this it would have been necessary first to bring over the trains which had been left on the north side of the river. Further, the weather was very severe; some of the pickets had been frozen to death, and the roads were rapidly becoming impassable. General Meade, therefore, withdrew his army to the north side of the Rapidan in the night of December 1st. In this unfortunate and altogether unsatisfactory affair, Meade lost about a thousand men, most of them in the Third Corps; the Confederate losses were reported at about six hundred.

Early in the morning of January 3d, a strong Confederate cavalry force made a dash upon Moorefield, W. Va., and after a contest of several hours with the garrison, was driven off. The Confederates, however, carried away sixty-five prisoners and some arms and horses.

In April a Confederate force of five hundred men descended the Kanawha on flat-boats and attacked Point Pleasant, which was garrisoned by fifty men under Captain Carter of the Thirteenth Virginia (National) Regiment. A fight of four hours ensued, the garrison successfully defending themselves in the court-house, and refusing to surrender even when the Confederates threatened to burn the town. After the assailants had lost about seventy men, and inflicted a loss on the garrison of nearly a dozen, they withdrew, and their retreat was hastened by some well-directed shots from a Government transport in the river.