When from officers and members of his own regiment living within the Union lines, or from others, he would learn of the contemplated movements of certain supply-trains, of certain paymasters, of certain small squads on special duty, he would at once issue orders to enough of his men to meet him at a particular house, or a particular cross-roads, at ten or twelve o'clock of a particular night, fully armed, equipped, and mounted for the service in which they were about to engage. Sometimes the number ordered out would be ten, sometimes twenty, sometimes fifty, and sometimes a whole company or more, according to the force which they expected to meet and overcome. Only when ordered to join and cooperate with some general commanding officer, would he call out his whole available force. He had no fixed headquarters, but his officers and men always knew exactly where to communicate with him, as he always knew exactly where to find them; and when he issued an order it was speedily conveyed from lip to lip, and seldom failed to meet with the expected response. He and his men were all the while on the alert, and seldom failed to take prompt advantage of any opportunity that offered. His own men not unfrequently applied for (as farmers' sons living in the neighborhood) and obtained temporary employment as team-drivers, blacksmiths, farriers, etc., in the Union army, and in this way secured information in advance of every contemplated movement, whether of the army, of supplies, or of detachments on special service. As soon as such information was obtained, it was conveyed from lip to lip, until it reached the ears of Colonel Moseby. Then he would decide whether a raid was practicable or not; and if it was, the needed number of men were summoned to meet him at a certain place at a set time.
To get through the line of Union sentinels without alarming the whole Union army, he had numerous stratagems. Having men on both sides of the line, he knew the exact location of every post, just the hour at which each sentinel was placed and relieved, and the precise strength of the squad or company, and where located, from which each sentinel was detached. Where only a single sentinel needed to be removed, to allow him and his squad to pass in and out of the Union lines, he was stealthily pounced upon, disarmed, killed, or otherwise taken care of. If more than one needed removing, the same operation might be practised on two or more. Where a whole squad or company needed to be gobbled up, he had enough of his men to quietly surround them, and, at the blowing of a whistle or other signal, suddenly pounce upon and take them all prisoners, usually without the firing of a gun, or with scarcely a word spoken above a whisper. Secrecy, celerity, and "dead men tell no tales," were his maxims—and most fearfully did he put these maxims into practice. It would fill this entire volume to tell all the times; but the following instances, selected from the many, some of which have and some of which never have been told before, will fully corroborate all that we have heretofore said, and show the terrible character of the warfare carried on by this class of men behind the scenes, while the Union and Confederate armies were contending for the mastery in front of the scenes.
During the summer and fall of 1863, Moseby's guerillas were exceedingly active. Almost every night they had some enterprise on hand, large or small, and while most of them were of such a character as to excite but little attention and no alarm, yet now and then one would occur of so startling a nature, and of so villanous a character, as to arouse all who heard of it, and make every honest man wish that the perpetrators could be caught and hung higher than Haman. The first we purpose to relate was of this character, and, so far as we know, this will be its first publication in historic form, though well known at the time by everybody in the neighborhood, and by officers in both armies.
The position of Maryland during the war was exceedingly perplexing. Lying, as it does, midway between the North and the South, her soil was traversed by both armies, and her people were constantly subjected to annoyance, if not to danger, from both Union and Confederate troops. As a slaveholding State, the sympathies of her people were mostly with the Southern cause, and yet the business relations of many of her citizens with the people of the North, and her contiguity to Pennsylvania, had made many of her citizens strongly in favor of maintaining the Union. A considerable number of her citizens had joined the Confederate army; a considerable number had joined the Union army; while those who stayed at home endeavored to remain as nearly neutral as possible. To a Northern man or a Union soldier, they were all for the Union; to a Southern man or a Confederate soldier, they were all for Jefferson Davis and the Confederacy; to one who did not care a fig which side won, they were quite as indifferent as he dared be. Moseby and his midnight marauders seemed to have taken, for some cause, a special dislike to the Marylanders, and the first four instances we purpose to give occurred on that side of the Potomac.
Mr. B. (our informant had forgotten the name, though he had been at the place and was entirely familiar with the incident, having obtained it from the lips of one who was a participant)—Mr. B. was a quiet, inoffensive old man, who endeavored to live at peace with everybody, and who was probably as little of a partisan as any man in the State. He seldom, if ever, talked upon politics, rarely about the war, and, when upon either, was always careful to do it in such a way as not to offend his listener. He kept a small country store at a point where two roads crossed each other, and was as ready to exchange his coffee, sugar, or molasses, his calicoes, hardware, or queensware, for country produce or for money, with a Confederate as with a Union man, or with a Union man as with a Confederate, There was no village about his store, not even the usual accompaniments of a blacksmith- and wheelwright-shop.
Moseby had taken a dislike to this man. Why, it is not known, except it be that he sold his goods to Union men and Union soldiers, as well as to Confederates, when opportunity offered. So far as is known, the man had never given any personal offence to Moseby or his men, though they had several times visited his store, usually, if not always, in disguise; and we may here add, once for all, that when Moseby or his men were moving about within the Union lines on spying expeditions, they were always in disguise, and when they went to perpetrate a diabolical act, they always had their faces blackened, or were otherwise in mask.
On a dark night, or rather about two o'clock in the morning, in August, 1863, ten of Moseby's gang approached this store. One of the men was lifted up to, and crept in at, a window, and, going to the front door, unlocked and opened it, that some might enter while others remained on the outside as sentinels. Closing and locking the door, that there might be no escape of the inmates, they struck a light and then commenced a search for persons. They soon found the old man (the owner), two young men (his clerks or assistants), and a negro boy, all of whom had been asleep in the house adjoining, or in the second story of the store. As there were no women in the house, it is probable that he and his clerks had kept "bachelors' hall." Of course the proprietor, clerks, and negro boy were very much alarmed at seeing these men with blackened faces before them, and inquired what it all meant? They were quickly informed that it meant death to them, and a burning of the building, with all its contents: All commenced to plead for their lives, fell upon their knees, and besought their captors to spare their lives at least, whatever other punishment or destruction they might think proper to inflict; but the more they plead, the more deaf and the more lost to every sense of humanity their captors seemed to become. Taking some trace-chains which they found in the store, the old man, the two young men, and the negro boy were bound, hand and foot, and then secured to a post or some other fixed thing within the store. The only reason their captors would give for all this was that they were "d———d Yankees," that they had "supplied Union soldiers with food and clothing," that they were "traitors to the South," etc., etc., etc., all of which was interspersed with most horrid oaths and curses. When all four had been securely bound, gagged, and fastened, and their captors had helped themselves to whatever they wanted of the articles in the store, they left the building, and in a few moments thereafter it was in flames. Had the bound captives within not been gagged they would have almost raised the dead with their cries; but, as it was, nothing was heard save the fierce crackling of the flames, and in a little while the building and its contents lay in ashes, mingled and intermingled with the bones of the four victims. Again Moseby's oft-repeated maxims had found a terrible illustration, "Dead men tell no tales"—"Dead men never bite!"
The next instance of the doings of this gang of desperadoes which we purpose to relate, occurred not long after, near Shepherdstown, Md., and was of a much milder type of villany. We relate it here that our readers may see, by contrast, that these murdering guerillas were as ready to do small, mean things, as great, horrid things; and that personal malice and personal advantage, rather than advantage to the Southern Confederacy, were sometimes the incentives to their acts.
Lieutenant-Colonel Phillips, though a Marylander, was from the beginning of the agitation a strong Union man, and, when volunteers were called for from Maryland, did not hesitate a moment to offer his services in the Union cause, and became lieutenant-colonel of one of the Union Maryland regiments. He left at home, in care of his father, a very fine horse. Colonel Moseby heard of this horse, and determined to become its possessor. With blackened faces, he, or some of his men, went to the Phillips' farm at night, stole the horse, and returned to Virginia the same night. The fact soon after came to the ears of a chivalrous Confederate officer, who had known Lieutenant-Colonel Phillips when at the same college with himself, and who, though not liking Phillips now, disliked meanness still more. He informed General Breckinridge, and afterwards General Lee, of the theft. General Lee regarded such an act as a disgrace to the whole Confederate army, and at once sent a written order to Colonel Moseby to restore the horse. Colonel Moseby demurred, and tried to excuse the act as a legitimate capture from a well-known enemy; but General Lee was not to be deceived by any such sophistry, and insisted upon the return of the horse. The horse was returned!
The next instance, which occurred near Williamsport, Md., not long after, was of a far blacker and more diabolical character. A farmer living near this place, and known as a "Dunkard," was believed to have considerable quantities of gold and silver laid away in pots and stocking-legs about his house. He was not only a "neutral" in politics and with regard to the war, but his religion made him a non-combatant as well. Confederates, of course, denounced him as a traitor to the Southern cause, and thought he should at least contribute his money, if not his life, to defend it. He would say nothing, do nothing, no matter what others might say or do. One dark night three masked men came to his house, murdered him, and took his money. They were not recognized, not traced, nor did any one then find out, nor does any one now know, who really did the deed; but it was then believed, and is still believed, that Moseby's guerilla band were the perpetrators.