FROM PAROLE CAMP TO UPPERVILLE
Tuesday, April 14.—Left Model Farm Barracks, Camp Parole, in company with John H. Barnes, Albert Wrenn, Frank Fox, Philip and Thomas Lee, and Charles W. Radcliffe.[J] About 4 o’clock left Petersburg for Richmond, where we arrived at 6:30 P.M. Along the road to Richmond are lines of rifle pits and intrenchments commanding the approaches to the city. When we reached the outposts at Richmond we were challenged by a guard, and after showing our papers, were permitted to proceed to the hotel. We put up at the Powhatan House, corner of Eleventh and Broad Streets. Our supper consisted of tough beef, bread and rye coffee—no butter.
Wednesday, April 15.—Settled my bill at the Powhatan, $8. Terms: $8 per day; $2 each for breakfast and supper; $3 for dinner; $2 for lodging.
Beef is selling in Richmond at $1.25 per pound; butter, $3; coffee, $4 to $5; eggs, $1.50 per dozen. Expected to go to the transportation office at night, but went to the theater and then back to the hotel.
LIEUTENANT FRANK FOX
Thursday, April 16.—At 7:30 left Richmond and arrived at Gordonsville at 1 P.M.; stopped at Mann’s Hotel. Gordonsville is a miserable looking place now. There has been so much rain lately, and the roads have been cut up with the travel and passing of army teams and trains, so that it is little else than a mud-hole.
Saturday, April 18.—Paid Mann’s bill, $7.50. There are but six of us now, as Frank Fox left us and remained at Barboursville. MacWooster hitched up a wagon, agreeing to take us to Madison Court House for $5 each. We reached Madison Court House about dark and went to a hotel kept by Mr. Seal. Here we were very comfortable—good beds and an excellent table.
Sunday, April 19.—Madison Court House is a very pretty little place, well situated, and commanding a beautiful view of the Blue Ridge and surrounding country. There are two or three churches and a fine court house. The houses are neat and comfortable. After dinner paid Mr. Seal. Our bill for supper, breakfast and dinner, was $4.50.
MacWooster said he would carry us as far as Criglersville, about six miles distant, and there leave us to foot it. The drive along the road was very pleasant, particularly after striking Robertson River, a beautiful clear stream with a swift current, which comes down from the mountains.
“Now, boys,” said Mac, as he bid us good-bye at a ford on the Robertson River, “you’ve got a rough road before you, and a poor country to travel through. Take my advice and stop for the night at Matt. Graves’s. His house is near the foot of the mountain. He is one of the finest men in the country. He will treat you well and give you the best he has in his house.” We afterward found good reason to be thankful for having taken this friendly advice.
When we reached the house which we supposed was to be our haven of rest, we saw a man riding up to the stable, and on accosting him found he was Mr. Graves. He invited us to his house, where he regaled us with a good drink and a bottle for our day’s journey on the morrow. This he said we would find needful before we got far on our road, for he not only repeated MacWooster’s warning as to the hardships awaiting us, but also said he feared the weather would prove unfavorable and add to our discomfort.
Monday, April 20.—At Mr. Graves’s there is a little fellow about the size, age and appearance of my youngest son, Bernardin. Seeing him playing around and fondling on his father it brought to mind thoughts of home—thoughts of home and its comforts; of the dear ones there; of the sad hearts I left, and of the glad hearts to greet me on my return. I could hardly resist the temptation to pick up the little one without saying a word, but I feared he would cry, so I made friends with him by showing him a ring on my finger, and so coaxed him on until I had banished any fears he might have. All the time I was there I could scarcely keep my eyes off him.
Paid Mr. Graves $2 each for supper, bed and breakfast, and started to cross the mountain at Milani’s Gap. We were told it was ten miles from Mr. Graves’s to the top of the ridge and six miles to the foot on the other side. Rain set in last night and this morning the clouds are very heavy, enveloping the mountains completely. The road takes a zigzag course up the slope, which is quite steep in many places. A great portion of the way we followed along the Robertson River. The scenery, as well as we could see it through the mist, appeared grand. It was mountains piled on mountains—an ocean of ridges. In some places we could travel for a long distance and then throw a stone to the place we started from. A number of huts are scattered through this mountain region, but the people are almost as wild as Indians, and it was impossible to obtain refreshments of any kind along the road.
When about four miles from the top rain again set in, and we tramped along through the driving storm. In some places, endeavoring to save distance, we would leave the main road and climb up the steep sides until we struck into the road at some point higher up. We had to ford the swift mountain streams, or cross on an old log or fallen tree, where, as also in clambering along the narrow footpath, a false step, the turning of a stone or the breaking of a limb, and one would have been precipitated into the foaming current which dashed on among the rocks. In those mountain storms a tiny stream which winds along like a silvery thread in fair weather, is in less than an hour transformed into a raging torrent, sweeping off everything in its course.
On nearing the top we fell in with a man who was traveling through the country buying up cattle and forage for the Confederate Government. He kept in company with us until we reached Marksville. Hearing a noise which sounded like the rumbling of a wagon train coming down the road, we listened and finally concluded it either proceeded from a subterranean stream which flowed through the mountains or that roaring which usually precedes a mountain storm.
Seeing a hut near the roadside, we stopped, and a youth came out to the fence, followed by a squad of unkempt redheaded children. We asked if we could get anything to eat. He had nothing. Seeing some chickens roaming around, Barnes said he would give him $1.50 for a dozen eggs. He replied that he had none; no meal—nothing edible, and it was a half mile to the top of the mountain.
We passed through Dismal Hollow, a wild, romantic-looking place. The road was sometimes hidden by the overhanging foliage. We saw the snow piled up on the side of the road and through the hemlock thickets, where it remains far into the summer. On reaching the top of the mountain we uncorked our bottle and drank that the Yankees might never cross the Blue Ridge.
Then commenced our descent, and it is hard to say whether it was easier to go up or down hill. Had it not been for the rain our traveling would have been less difficult. After getting to the foot we proceeded on until we came to the house of a man named Kite. He had a fine house and farm, but refused to accommodate us. He said he was eaten out and had not enough for his own family. We jogged on through the rain until we reached Marksville, on the Hawksbill Creek, where we stopped a few minutes to rest, and then walked along until within about four miles of Luray.
We inquired at every house along the road, but could neither get a mouthful to eat nor a place to shelter us from the rain, though we told them all we were not asking charity, but were willing to pay liberally for all we received. After so many rebuffs we were about giving up the attempt to get food or shelter, when Barnes and Wrenn stopped at the house of Reuben Long. He said he would take three of us and the other three could get accommodated at the next house—a Mr. Spitter. We tried there and he had a sick family. We then went to the house of Ambrose Varner, who received us kindly, built a big fire to warm us and dry our wet clothes, and prepared a good substantial supper for us. Charles Ratcliffe had become disgusted with our receptions and made arrangements to build a fire and pass the night in an old shanty, while a negro was to furnish bread and meat for his supper. He afterward came to Varner’s, where we spent the night.
Tuesday, April 21.—After a good breakfast we prepared for a start. On asking what our bill was, Mr. Varner said he would make no charge, but if we chose to give his wife anything for her trouble, he would leave it altogether with us. We gave him $2 each, and he put up a nice lunch to take along with us. We called at Long’s, where Barnes and Wrenn joined us, and then pushed on to Luray. Yesterday we walked a little more than twenty-one miles across the mountains, through mud and rain.
At Luray, while Barnes and Wrenn stopped at Modisett’s Hotel for dinner, I went in search of a druggist, as I had been unwell for several days. He gave me some powders. I took one, which made me very sick. I lay down for a while, but felt no better, and we started off on the road to Front Royal. Along the road I was burning with fever—my head so dizzy that I staggered like a person drunk. I had an excessive thirst and drank at every spring or stream we came to, but even water would not remain on my stomach—soon after drinking I would be taken with vomiting. After going about six miles we turned off from the road into a lane, and thence to the house of Mr. Hoffman, where we obtained supper, bed and breakfast. The good lady of the house made me a cup of tea, which I drank, but could eat no supper. Went to bed early, and after I got in bed Mr. Hoffman brought me a glass of toddy.
Wednesday, April 22.—Felt somewhat better this morning; got breakfast. Settled bill, $1 each. Mr. Hoffman brought us a plate of biscuits to carry along and we started for Front Royal. We met parties along the route, each with a different story to tell about the approach of the Yankees. Some said they were in force at Middletown, about 12 miles from Front Royal. Others, that they were expected in Front Royal at any moment, and advising us not to stop there. Indeed, had we heeded half the reports we would have retraced our steps.
A few miles from Front Royal we met a carriage going toward Luray. In it was a young man in Confederate uniform and two young ladies. Barnes spoke to them and one immediately recognized him. She was Miss Belle Ford, a cousin to Miss Antonia Ford, who was arrested and confined in the Old Capitol Prison after Mosby’s raid into Fairfax Court House and capture of General Stoughton, charged with giving Mosby information which led to the raid and capture.[K] After leaving them we proceeded about another mile, when we were halted by a patrol of Confederate Cavalry, who demanded to know where we were from, where we were going, etc. One of them said he had seen the Yankees at Middletown—cavalry, infantry and artillery—and cautioned us about stopping at Front Royal. Our road ran a great distance along the Shenandoah River. On the one side we had the river banks, and on the other towering rocks and rugged mountains. In some places there was a gradual slope, while in others they rose perpendicular, forming a complete wall, but without its uniformity—massive and broken, showing occasionally large fissures which, viewed from the ground, resembled windows.
BRIGADIER-GENERAL EDWIN H. STOUGHTON, U. S. A.
On reaching Front Royal we went to the hotel. There are two in town, but only one occupied. Here a very nice supper was set out for us, but I was content with a dish of boiled milk. There were but two beds in the house, and as there were six of us we slept three in a bed.
Thursday, April 23.—Good breakfast this morning. It was raining very hard when we started on toward Markham. Our route led us down the old Manassas Railroad. The track had been torn up, the sleepers and all woodwork burnt, the rails bent and in many cases twisted around the trunks of trees. The road in some places was so muddy we sunk five or six inches at every step, and in other places we were slipping over sharp broken stones. Finding the road so bad, our clothing completely saturated with rain, and there being no appearance of the rain ceasing, we halted by the roadside at an old deserted shanty, which had at one time been occupied by workmen on the railroad. We gathered some wood, built a fire and tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible. We bought seven pounds of flour from an old Irishman living near by, but could get neither meat nor eggs. The man baked us some bread and with it brought us a pot of coffee. At night slept on a bunch of wet straw thrown on the floor of the shanty—that is, on the place where the flooring should be, but in this instance it was dirt, the same as outside, except that it was sheltered from the rain.
Friday, April 24.—Still raining. Made another start, but stopped at Mr. Lee’s, about a mile from our last halting place, and got breakfast. We then struck out through rain and mud, our boots soaking wet and our clothes hanging limp. Stopped at Bush Thompson’s and bought some apple brandy. Passed through Markham and on to Piedmont (now called Delaplane). We crossed Goose Creek three times: first, on charred logs, the remains of what was once the railroad bridge; second, on a fallen tree, and, third, on a bridge similar to the first. The burnt logs, broken and bent down, looked as if ready to give way under our weight in crossing. From Piedmont took the road to Upperville, where we arrived early in the evening. Barnes and Ratcliffe went to the house of a friend near town. Philip Lee, Thomas Lee, Wrenn and myself went to Lunchford’s, where we got a very poor supper, no fire, and sat until bedtime shivering in our wet boots and clothes.
Saturday, April 25.—On opening my valise to get out dry clothes, I was surprised to find that the water had leaked in and everything in it was soaked with water. I was compelled to put on wet socks and underclothes.
CERTIFICATE OF MEMBERSHIP
As there were men wearing Confederate uniforms (either deserters or absent from their commands without leave), roaming about the country, claiming to belong to Mosby’s command, the men were furnished with certificates of this kind.
There was a meeting of Mosby’s men in Upperville on this day and they were coming in town singly and in small squads from different directions. I saw Mosby and made myself known to him and my purpose in coming to Virginia. He said he would furnish me a horse, and told me to come to the next meeting of the command.
I met a number of men who had been prisoners in the Old Capitol with me. I was introduced to William Ayre and rode with him to the home of his brother George S. Ayre, at Ayreshire, who had been a room-mate with me in the Old Capitol Prison. He welcomed me to his home and told me to make his house my headquarters. When I got my horse and equipments I was ready to enter upon my career as a Partisan Ranger.