It was Palm Sunday, celebrated by many of the followers of Christ as the day of his triumphal entrance into Jerusalem, a day of great rejoicing among Christians, known in our annual calendar as the 9th day of April, 1865. The morning broke clear and bright in the neighborhood of Appomattox Court House, and there was every evidence of spring. The birds chirped in the trees half clad with the early foliage, which trembled in the soft breeze. Along the roadside yet untrod by the hostile feet of man or steed, the tiny floweret buds had begun to open to the warmth of genial nature, and the larger roses, red and white, cast their fragrance to the lingering winds. Here the half clad, sore footed soldiers of the Army of Northern Virginia, were trembling with dread impatience for the onset,—the inevitable—which would decide their fate and their prospect of reaching the mountains just beyond. In front of them the federal cavalry awaited their coming.
It was yet grey in the morning when General Lee sent word to his Lieutenant Gordon to cut his "way through at all hazards." With the impetuosity of a cyclone, his shattered corps rushed upon the dismounted cavalry in their front, the Federal line quivered, and bent to the gale. On and on they came, pressing closer and closer upon the cavalry. The struggle was becoming desperate, it was the last hope of the confederates they must go through the lines, or perish in the attempt. Again the confederate yell rose above the din of the battle's roar, and soon the cavalry fell back. Where was their leader Sheridan? He came, galloping at break-neck speed, his men cheering him as he rode to the front. He had been to the rear some five miles away. He saw at a glance the daring object of the foe, and ordered his men to fall back slowly. The confederates followed up the wavering line with brightened hopes, but hopes that were to be dissipated; soon the bristling bayonets, and glistening musket barrels of the Army of the James gleamed in their front; then the pressure ceased, and Sheridan's bugle sounded the order to mount, and his troopers dashed themselves against the enemy's left flank. Then, one bearing a white flag—a flag of truce, rode to the front of the confederate lines. Capt. J. D. Cook of General Mile's staff went forward to meet him. It was Colonel Taylor of General Lee's staff; he bore a note from Lee, asking a suspension of hostilities, and an interview with General Grant. Now let us go back to the night of the 6th, and trace the flying columns to this point. Badeau says:
"That night once more the rebels evacuated their works, this time in front of Meade, and when morning dawned were far on their way, as they fondly thought, to Lynchburg, and Lee defiantly informed his pursuer that the emergency for the surrender had not yet arrived. But he reckoned without his host. He was stretching, with the terrific haste that precedes despair, to Appomattox for supplies. He need hardly have hastened to that spot, destined to be so fatal to himself and his cause. Grant's legions were making more haste than he. The marvelous marching, not only of Sheridan, but of the men of the Fifth and Twenty-Fourth Corps, was doing as much as a battle to bring the rebellion to a close. Twenty-eight, thirty-two, thirty-five miles a day in succession these infantry soldiers marched, all day and all night. From daylight until daylight again, after more than a week of labor and fatigue almost unexampled, they pushed on to intercept their ancient adversary, while the remainder of the Army of the Potomac was at his heels.
"Finally Lee, still defiant, and refusing to treat with any view of surrender, came up to his goal, but found the national cavalry had reached the point before him, and that the supplies were gone. Still he determined to push his way through, and with no suspicion that men on foot could have marched from Rice's Station to his front in thirty hours, he made his last charge, and discovered a force of infantry greater than his own before him, besides cavalry, while two corps of the Army of the Potomac were close in his rear. He had run straight into the national lines. He was enclosed, walled in, on every side, with imminent instant destruction impending over him. He instantly offered to submit to Grant, and in the agony of alarm, lest the blow should fall, he applied to Meade and Sheridan also for a cessation of hostilities. Thus in three directions at once he was appealing to be allowed to yield. At the same moment he had messengers out to Sheridan, Meade, and Grant. The emergency, whose existence he had denied, had arrived. He was out-marched, out-fought, out-witted, out-generaled—defeated in every possible way. He and his army, every man, numbering 27,516, surrendered. He and his army, every man, was fed by the conqueror."
From the date of Lee's surrender, the confederates, from Virginia to the Mississippi, began to lay down their arms. Howell Cobb surrendered at Macon, Ga., on the 21st; Johnston surrendered to General Sherman on the 26th, in North Carolina; Dick Taylor, east of the Mississippi, on the 4th of May, and on the 26th Kirby Smith surrendered his forces west of the Mississippi. Jeff. Davis had been captured, disguised as a woman, and thus the cause, which originated in treason, based on the enslavement of a race, and which derived its only chance of success from men who were false to their oaths, collapsed. The mightiest blow given the confederacy was struck by the immortal Proclamation of Emancipation, giving freedom to four millions of slaves; more than two hundred thousand of whom, with dash and gallantry excelled by no other race, tore down the traitor's banner from their deemed impregnable breastworks and planted in its stead the national flag. That emblem, whose crimson folds, re-baptised in the blood of liberty's martyrs, invited all men, of all races, who would be free, to gather beneath the effulgent glare of its heaven-lighted stars, regardless of color, creed or condition. The Phalanx nobly bore their part all through the long night of war, and at last they occupied Charleston,—the traitors' nest,—Petersburg,—their eastern Gibraltar,—and Richmond—their Capitol. They marched proudly through the streets of these once impregnable fortresses, in all of which many of the soldiers of the Phalanx had been slaves. Oh! what a realization of the power of right over might. What a picture for the historian's immortal pen to paint of the freemen of America, whose sufferings were long, whose struggle was gigantic, and whose achievement was a glorious personal and political freedom!
At the close of the war, the government, anticipating trouble in Texas, ordered General Steele to the command of the Rio Grande, under these instructions:
"Washington, May 21st, 1865.
"Maj. Gen. F. Steele, Commanding Rio Grande Expedition.
"By assignment of the President, Gen. Sheridan takes general command west of the Arkansas. It is the intention to prosecute a vigorous campaign in that country, until the whole of Texas is re-occupied by people acknowledging allegiance to the Government of the United States. Sheridan will probably act offensively from the Red river. But it is highly important that we should have a strong foothold upon the Rio Grande. You have been selected to take that part of the command. In addition to the force you take from Mobile Bay, you will have the 25th Corps and the few troops already in Southern Texas.
"Any directions you may receive from Gen. Sheridan, you will obey. But in the absence of instructions from him you will proceed without delay to the mouth of the Rio Grande and occupy as high up that river as your force and means of supplying will admit of.