CHAPTER XVI
General D. McM. Gregg was a West Point graduate and had seen service in the army before the war. He was dignified in manner and that winter I was more or less in awe of him, when in his presence. One day he sent for me and asked me if I knew of a certain special order from the War Department bearing on a certain subject. Replying, "I think it is number so and so," he said: "You should not think, sir, you should know. Go and find out." To a layman this might seem needlessly severe, but it was just the kind of training the young volunteer soldiers needed. Indeed, my after experience demonstrated that one could not have been under a more considerate and finer commander. His coolness whenever we were in action and his thoughtfulness in looking out for his men, sparing them needless risks and taking precautions to protect them from surprises, secured for him the absolute confidence of every one in his command. He was averse to newspaper notoriety and I do not recall an instance when he seemed willing to give information to reporters. His idea was to confine what he had to tell to his official reports, and let the records testify to the character of his service. Indeed, on one occasion he remarked to me, "Meyer, I do not propose to have a picture reputation." As I am writing these lines he is still living, beloved by the survivors of those who served under him and respected by the people of Pennsylvania, the State in which he lives.
General Judson Kilpatrick, also a West Point graduate, was of slight build, wiry, apparently incapable of fatigue, and physically just the man for a cavalry leader. He was of a highly excitable and nervous temperament. Whenever we reached camp and every one else seemed to think that men and horses should have a rest, Kilpatrick was writing letters and asking for authority from his superiors to start out on a reconnoissance or a raid, or to give him a chance to get into a fight. I was told that when at West Point he was noted for making speeches. With us he would frequently harangue the men, but his good-natured dash and personal magnetism made him popular. He had capacity for rallying his soldiers and getting them into a charge. His usual method when meeting the enemy was to order a charge. Sometimes this was very successful, and at other times it was not so much so and very costly of men. It was because of this that he secured the nickname of "Kil-Cavalry." He was good-natured, approachable, and not inclined to be much of a disciplinarian.
He was not disposed to punish his men if they took a horse from citizens, which they occasionally did in 1862, unless they were caught at it.
One day when we were in camp near Falmouth a citizen called on him to complain that a horse of his had been stolen and to ask permission to go through our companies' streets in search of it. The man rode into camp and tied his horse to one of the stakes to which the General's tent was attached. Kilpatrick courteously invited him in, listened to his story, and gave him permission to go through camp looking for his horse. On emerging from the tent the man found that while he was inside some one had taken his saddle from the horse he rode in on. My recollection is that he recovered neither the saddle nor the horse he was in search of.
Kilpatrick was energetic, brave, and patriotic, and as a cavalry leader had a splendid record, and I understood that his services after he went to Sherman's army were much appreciated by that commander.
Among the fine officers with whom it was my privilege to serve and whose friendship has grown and still exists, were Colonel Henry C. Weir, adjutant-general of General D. McM. Gregg's cavalry division and his chief-of-staff, and General Walter C. Newberry, the lieutenant-colonel commanding the Twenty-fourth cavalry in June. It was the former who took me from the ranks and secured for me the position at General Gregg's headquarters, which brought me under the eye of the General and gave me opportunities that probably secured the promotion I ultimately obtained.
Weir was about twenty-one years of age in 1863, and with a most attractive personality. He had a wide acquaintance among officers of the army who had graduated from West Point, since his father was Professor Weir, the famous artist on duty there, some of whose paintings are in the rotunda of the Capitol at Washington. Weir was adjutant-general of General Bayard's brigade when the latter was killed at Fredericksburg, and then continued as such with General Gregg's division to the end of the war. He was intensely patriotic, high-toned in character, and one of the bravest men I ever knew. Indeed, General Gregg once remarked to me after the war that Weir was so uniformly brave that he found it difficult to recall a particular instance in order that he might recommend him for a Medal of Honor. The Medal of Honor was, however, awarded to Weir later and no man better deserved it.
General Newberry, to whose kindness and consideration I am so greatly indebted, had been an officer in one of the New York State infantry regiments that went out for two years' service. On returning in 1863, he, with Colonel W. C. Raulston, raised the Twenty-fourth New York cavalry. These officers were both fine soldiers.