Confederate wizards of the saddle /

by Bennett H. Young

Sheridan had two divisions. They numbered nine thousand men. They carried twenty-four pieces of artillery, and were the best the army of the Potomac could send. Sheridan had the 1st, 2d and 5th United States Regulars and there were no better trained cavalry than these. He had Custer’s brigade, who had imbibed the dash and courage of their leader, and he had New York, New Jersey and Maine regiments that had won renown not only at Fleetwood Hill, but on many other fields. These horsemen had witnessed the terrors of the march from Culpepper to Cold Harbor. Its wrecks and its losses stood out before their minds in sharpest lines. The horsemen had fared well, and the infantry had borne the burden of the thirty-seven days’ decimation, and with the instincts of brave men they were rather glad to be sent to take a hand in any movement which should either avenge or compensate for the defense of that terrifying campaign.

GENERAL WADE HAMPTON

Few people knew of Sheridan’s going. He had marched away first towards Washington, but he could not march out of sight of the skill or the watchful eyes of General Hampton’s scouts. Hope beat high in the breast of Sheridan. He had felt chagrined that he had failed in his attack on Richmond a few days before and now he hoped to destroy Gordonsville and Charlottesville and march down the valley to Lynchburg and take Richmond from the rear, come in behind Petersburg, and bring wreck and ruin to General Lee. It was a great plan of campaign, laid out along broad lines. He had hoped to keep away from his wily antagonist, but Hampton divined whither he was going, and it turned out when Sheridan had reached the first objective point of his campaign, he was to face a tired but vigorous and dauntless pursuer, and one who never quailed or doubted even when nature was almost pitilessly resistant.

Sheridan marched in three days sixty-five miles. It was hot, dusty and water was scarce. He marched leisurely, because he felt that his antagonist knew naught of his plans, and he was confident that Hampton could not reach him where he was going. He was sure that he had gotten away unobserved, and that he would have nothing to do but burn, waste and destroy from Gordonsville to Lynchburg. He could see in his mind’s eye the flames licking up the buildings that stood by the path he was to march. A feeling of profound satisfaction filled his heart, and on the terribleness of his work he felt sure he could found a new reputation for victory and success.

On the night of the 10th Sheridan and his soldiers slept calmly in the summer air. They did not know where Hampton was, but they felt sure he was not where they were, and no dreams of danger or battle disturbed the tranquility and quiet of their rest.

On the morning after Sheridan started north and then turned west, Hampton set his forces in motion. He was sure that he knew where Sheridan was going. He was staking his all on the correctness of his instincts. He was confident he could march more rapidly than Sheridan; he knew the road and he had the short line; but yet he must march under tremendous difficulties. The temperature was torrid, the dust was so thick that it almost could be cut with a knife. After breathing it a few hours, the nostrils and eyes of the men became inflamed, and the moisture of the body combining with the dust made an oozy, slimy substance that half blinded their vision. Water was scarce and food was scarce, but courage was still abundant.

By the night of June 10th Hampton had traveled something like fifty miles. Sheridan had gone sixty-five miles, and as darkness came on, Hampton’s forces reached Green Spring Valley, a few miles away from Trevilian Station, an insignificant railway stop, from which the battle on the morrow was to take its name. The two Confederate divisions were a few miles apart. This hard marching, the cooked rations, the corn upon the saddles, told the intelligent men that constituted Hampton’s forces that they were after somebody and it did not take them long to figure out that this somebody was Sheridan. With their parched throats and swollen eyes, and suffering with inflamed nostrils, they laid down to sleep, not worrying about the morrow. Careless as to what it would bring for them, they were ready to answer every call of duty, wherever that should lead them in the day to come. As the streaks of light began to come over the mountain sides from the east, every man in the Confederate line was up and at his post, ready for action. The last of the corn that was brought on their weary backs from Atlee Station was fed to the hungry brutes, and the last of the soggy bread, which had been cooked for the men before they had set out on this march, was eaten. General Hampton knew that now he must be close to the Federal lines. The night before his scouts had brought him back information that Sheridan was near by. Some of these had looked into his camps, and the Federals, unconscious of the presence of Hampton’s legions, had been sounding their bugles and were quietly and leisurely making their morning’s meal. They felt there was no need for haste. As there was no hostile force near, they believed they might in safety enjoy a brief repose, which they had fully earned by hardest service.

Hampton’s scouts knew the topography. They had described Sheridan’s location. He formed his plans accordingly, and they were plans which involved savage work. General Forrest’s quaint saying, “Get the bulge on them,” had traveled to the east and fallen on Hampton’s ears. With an inferior force he well understood that strategy and skill would stand him well in hand, and that he must take fullest advantage of all that chance might send his way. It was worth some hundreds of men to get the drop on Sheridan. The first lick is oftentimes of great value, and General Hampton was resolved if it was possible to strike an unexpected blow. He hoped in this way to equalize the disparity of numbers. He began his work early and he set about the business of the day furiously. His orders were to assail the enemy wherever and whenever found and not for a single moment to stay the tide of battle.

The country had not been denuded of its wood. This would help to hide from the enemy the full strength and position of the Confederates, and at the same time it would make more effective the slower, steadier and more accurate firing of the men in gray. The Federals had sarcastically referred to General Hampton as a “woods fighter”; in other words, he was afraid to come out in the open, but when he had forty-seven hundred to nine thousand, he had a right to take advantage of all that the surrounding conditions would give him in the conflict.