Mobberly, Lum Wenner and others who knew the Lovettsville country almost as well as if they had made it, scouted for him and with great difficulty obtained the information that the 6th New York Cavalry was encamped nearest the Short Hill and had about two hundred and fifty men in camp.
On the evening of the 17th, the Colonel quietly collected what force he could in that part of the county, and at Woodgrove found he had about eighty men all told, including Colonel R. P. Chew, of the famous “Horse Artillery,” and a few of Mosby’s men, and about 9 o’clock the little squadron moved from the rendezvous, and passing Neersville, crossed the Short Hill by a narrow path near St. Paul’s.
On clearing the mountain a small advance guard, led by Mobberly, was sent out to capture the pickets, but very soon firing was heard, and dashing rapidly forward the Colonel found that Mobberly and Frank Curry had been compelled to shoot some of the enemy at the reserve of the post, and knowing that success depended on surprising the camp, he continued the charge.
On reaching the place the unwelcome discovery was made that instead of two hundred and fifty—which was considered about as many as White’s eighty men wanted—the enemy’s force had been increased that day by the addition of over three hundred new men, making fully six hundred, and it had something the appearance of fool-hardiness to attack them, especially as a large portion were in strong log huts; however, a good part of the new men were in tents along the side of the camp where the attack was to be made, and their canvas walls were not much protection against the bullets that White’s charging command began to pour into them as soon as they became fairly headed for them.
Great confusion was the result of the attack, and fully one hundred and fifty prisoners, and as many horses, were captured at the first onset, and if the Colonel had now been content to retire, he would have had as much as he ought to have expected, but still ignorant of the new force, he judged from the confusion that he was in a fair way to become master of the camp, when, in fact, he had only captured the outskirts, and had not reached the real camp, which, as stated, was composed of huts, and under this wrong impression he remained too long, for a veteran officer, Capt. Bell, coolly proceeded to rally such of his men as were not too much demoralized, and in a very brief space had about two hundred of them in line on the opposite side of the extensive ground, with whom he advanced very unexpectedly upon the raiders, who were compelled to retire very precipitately, only bringing out about fifty horses and a dozen prisoners; but the Colonel had lost nothing, only one of his men being wounded, and he very slightly, so that all he got was clear gain to his command.
On reaching Woodgrove again the command disbanded and prepared to “lie low” until the inevitable scouring of the country by parties from Devon’s camp was accomplished, which sunrise would be the signal for commencing, and this was the last blow struck by the famous battalion against the enemy in Old Loudoun, whose hills and valleys were still darkened by the smoke of the burning barns and grain of her people, which had been fired by the vandal foe whom the 35th battalion was organized to protect the Loudoun border against.
CHAPTER XX.
During the month following the foray into Deven’s camp, the “Comanches” devoted themselves to the duty of recruiting their horses and preparing for the return to the army whenever their chief should call them from their winter quarters to perform their part in what all felt and believed was to be the final campaign of the war.
The long rest and freedom from discipline had not been beneficial to the “morale” of the command, and in fact a great deal of the energy and fire that had formerly characterized White’s Battalion, had been chilled and worn out by the privations and blood of the many trying campaigns through which they had passed, and which had been productive of no result, so far as they could see, except to make each succeeding one more desperate and bloody, and the isolated raids, skirmishes and picket fights, which had once been their delight and pride, had now lost the peculiar charm to them, for all the men saw that in the magnitude to which the war had grown, such affairs were of no importance at all, and they all felt that to attain the liberty for which so much blood had already been spilled, there must be great and decisive battles fought, in which superior generalship and stubborn courage on the part of the South should overmatch the swarming legions of Northmen, who, bought by the Federal bounty, were constantly swelling the ranks of Grant’s army.
Very few of the Southern soldiers doubted the ultimate success of the cause which had stood such terrible storms, and all believed that the last day of the war was very near, when, with a second Waterloo, the stars on the Southern Cross would blaze grandly in a glorious triumph or sink beneath an ocean of blood into the dark, but still glorious, gloom of defeat; and with a faith that might shame the Christian in his trust in his God the soldiers trusted in Gen. Lee, willing to give their lives to his keeping, and if not willing to die for their cause they were willing and ready to follow their great commander with unquestioning confidence wherever he might lead them.