Mosby's War Reminiscences; Stuart's Cavalry Campaigns

by John Singleton Mosby

Captain:—You will perceive from the copy of the order herewith inclosed that the President has appointed you captain of partisan rangers. The general commanding directs me to say that it is desired that you proceed at once to organize your company, with the understanding that it is to be placed on a footing with all the troops of the line, and to be mustered unconditionally in the Confederate service for and during the war. Though you are to be its captain, the men will have the privilege of electing the lieutenants so soon as its members reach the legal standard. You will report your progress from time to time, and when the requisite number of men are enrolled, an officer will be designated to muster the company into the service.

I am, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

W. W. TAYLOR, A.A.G.

The partisan ranger law was an act of the Confederate Congress authorizing the President to issue commissions to officers to organize partisan corps. They stood on the same footing with other cavalry organizations in respect to rank and pay, but, in addition, were given the benefit of the law of maritime prize. There was really no novelty in applying this principle to land forces. England has always done so in her Majesty's East Indian service, and the spoils of Waterloo were divided among the captors, of which Wellington took his share. The booty of Delhi was the subject of litigation in the English Court of Chancery, and Havelock, Campbell and Outram returned home from the East loaded with barbaric spoils. As there is a good deal of human nature in people, and as Major Dalgetty is still the type of a class, it will be seen how the peculiar privileges given to my men served to whet their zeal. I have often heard them disputing over the division of the horses before they were captured, and it was no uncommon thing for a man to remind me just as he was about going into a fight that he did not get a horse from the last one. On the Chantilly raid I was accompanied by Captain Hoskins, an English officer, who had just reported to me with a letter from Stuart. He had been a captain in the English army and had won the Crimean medal. After the conclusion of peace he had returned home, but disliking the monotonous life of the barracks, had sold his commission and joined Garibaldi in his Sicilian expedition. He was a thorough soldier of fortune, devoted to the profession of arms, and loved the excitement of danger and the joy of battle. He had been attracted to our shores by the great American war, which offered a field for the display of his courage and the gratification of his military tastes. He was a noble gentleman and a splendid soldier, but his career with me was short. A few weeks after that he fell fighting by my side.

I mounted Hoskins and his companion, Captain Kennon, on captured horses, and they went to try their luck with me. The post at Chantilly was only two miles from the camp of a division of cavalry, and flanked by strong supporting parties on each side. When I got within two or three miles of it, I turned obliquely off to the right, in order to penetrate, if possible, between them and Centreville, and gain their rear. But they were looking out for me, and I found there was no chance for a surprise. I despaired almost of doing anything; but as I did not want to go back without trying to do something, I ordered a few men to chase in the pickets, in hopes that this would draw their main body out for some distance. They did so, and several were killed and captured. From a high position I saw the reserve mount, form, and move up the pike. I regained the pike also, so as not to be cut off. I got ready to charge as soon as they were near, although I did not have half their number, when I discovered another large body of cavalry, that had heard the firing, coming rapidly from the direction of Fryingpan to reinforce them. These were more than I had bargained to fight in the open, so I ordered a retreat at a trot up the turnpike. I was certain that they would pursue rapidly, thinking I was running away, and, getting strung out along the pike, would lose their advantage in numbers, and give me a chance to turn and strike back. My calculation was right. I kept my men well closed up, with two some distance behind, to give me notice when they got near. I had just passed over a hill, and was descending on the other side, when one of my men dashed up and said the enemy was right upon me. I looked back, but they were not in sight. I could distinctly hear their loud cheers and the hoofstrokes of their horses on the hard pike. I had either to suffer a stampede or make a fight. The cavalry officer is like the woman who deliberates—he's lost. If I had gone a step further my retreat would have degenerated into a rout.

My horses were jaded by a long day's march, while the enemies' were fresh. I promptly ordered the men to halt, right about wheel, and draw sabres. It was all done in the twinkling of an eye. Fortunately, just at the place where I halted was an abattis, formed of fallen trees, which had been made by the army the year before. The men formed behind these, as I knew that when they darted out it would create the impression on my pursuers that I had drawn them into an ambuscade. As they stood there, calmly waiting for me to give the word for the onset,

A horrid front they form,

Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm.

I had no faith in the sabre as a weapon. I only made the men draw their sabres to prevent them from wasting their fire before they got to closer quarters. I knew that when they got among them the pistol would be used. My success had been so uninterrupted that the men thought that victory was chained to my standard. Men who go into a fight under the influence of such feelings are next to invincible, and are generally victors before it begins. We had hardly got into position before the head of the pursuing column appeared over the hill, less than 100 yards off. They had expected to see our backs, and not our faces. It was a rule from which, during the war, I never departed, not to stand still and receive a charge, but always to act on the offensive. This was the maxim of Frederick the Great, and the key to the wonderful successes he won with his cavalry. At the order to charge, my men dashed forward with a yell that startled and stunned those who were foremost in pursuit. I saw them halt, and I knew then that they had lost heart and were beaten. Before they could wheel, my men were among them. Those who were coming up behind them, seeing those in front turn their backs, did the same thing. They had no idea they were running away from the same number of men they had been chasing. My men had returned their sabres to their scabbards, and the death-dealing revolver was now doing its work.

The Union cavalry had assumed, as I thought they would, that my retreat had only been feigned to draw them into a trap. They could not understand why I ran away just to run back again. They had no time to ascertain our numbers or to recover from the shock of their surprise in finding us drawn up to receive them. I never witnessed a more complete rout, or one with less cause for it. The chase continued two or three miles. It was almost dark when we stopped. I remember that in the first set of fours that led the charge were three young men, James W. Poster, Thomas W. Richards, and William L. Hunter, to whom I gave commissions for their gallant conduct. They all have since won honorable positions in civil life. We left the killed and wounded on the field, brought off thirty-six prisoners and about fifty horses. By strategy and hard fighting, four times our numbers had been defeated. The only casualty in my command happened to Major Hibbs, who had his boot-heel shot off. He had been one of the foremost leaders in the charge, and like Byron's corsair, everywhere in the thickest of the fight "shone his mailed breast and flashed his sabre's ray." When the "Major" rode up to me, after the fight was over, he was almost a maniac, he was so wild with delight. And when, in the presence of all the men, I praised his valor, he could no longer contain himself; he laughed and wept by turns. All that he could say in reply was: "Well, Captain, I knew the work had to be done, and that was the way to do it." One thing is certain, the Major got a good horse as a reward. The regiment we had fought happened to be the very one to which Ames had belonged, and from which he had deserted a few weeks before to join me. He had gone through their ranks like an avenging angel, shooting right and left. He took a malicious pleasure in introducing some of his old comrades to me. I could not help feeling a pang of regret that such courage as his should be stained with dishonor. It was Hoskins's first fight with me. He said it was better than a fox chase. I recall his image now as it rises above the flood of years, as he hewed his path through the broken ranks. It was a point of honor or of military etiquette with him to use his sword and not his pistol. In this way he lost his life. I reported to Stuart the result of the engagement and received from him the following letter in reply: