A false report that Stonewall Jackson was threatening a raid on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad at New Creek (now Keyser), West Virginia, caused a precipitate transfer by rail of my command to that place. There I came first under the direct command of Major- General Robert H. Milroy, then distinguished for his zeal for the Union and for personal bravery. He was tall and of commanding presence. His head of white, shocky, stiff hair led his soldiers to dub him the "Gray Eagle." He had much military learning, and had fought in many of the bloodiest battles of the war, notably at the second Bull Run under Pope. He had seen service also in the Mexican War. Notwithstanding his excessive impetuosity, he was a just, generous, kind-hearted man, and possessed the confidence of his troops to a high degree. He incurred the ill-will of Secretary of War Stanton, and, regarding himself as unjustly treated, more than reciprocated the Secretary's dislike. He ardently admired President Lincoln, and only criticised him for delay in emancipating the slaves. He believed the slaves of those in rebellion should have been given their freedom from the beginning of the war. He was so bitterly hostile to slavery and to individual Secessionists, and so radical in his methods, that Jefferson Davis, by proclamation, excepted him and his officers from being treated, if captured, as prisoners of war. He was charged with making assessments on inhabitants and of requiring them to take an oath to support the Constitution and the Union. He also had the distinction of being mentioned by Davis in a Message to the Confederate Congress, January 12, 1863. There was much correspondence between the opposing authorities on the subject of his mode of conducting the war,( 2) and it seems General Halleck disavowed and condemned Milroy's alleged acts. Much charged against Milroy was false, though it was true he believed in prosecuting the war with an iron hand. He regarded the Confederate soldier in the field with more favor than the Confederate stay-at-home who acted as a spy, or who, as a guerilla, engaged in shooting from ambush passing soldiers or teamsters and cutting telegraph wires. He did require certain influential persons who resided within his lines to take an oath of allegiance to the United States and to West Virginia or to forfeit all right to the protection of his division. Further than this he did not go.
At New Creek I first met G. P. Cluseret, a French soldier of fortune, but recently appointed a Brigadier-General. He held a command under Milroy in the Cheat Mountain Division. He assumed much military and other learning, was imperious and overbearing by nature, spoke English imperfectly, and did not seem to desire to get in touch with volunteers. With him I had my only personal difficulty of a serious nature during the war.
At New Creek a constant drill was kept up. To avoid surprises by sudden dashes, the companies as well as the battalion were taught to form squares quickly and to guard against cavalry. Early in December Milroy marched to Little Petersburg, on the South Branch of the Potomac, and I was assigned to command a post at Moorefield to include Hardy County, West Virginia, Milroy's headquarters being ten miles distant. General Lee ordered General W. E. Jones, then temporarily in command in the Shenandoah Valley, to retake the county we occupied. A feeble effort to do this failed. We were kept constantly on the alert, however, by annoying attacks of Captain McNeil's irregular cavalry or guerillas. Late in December, 1862, it was decided to make a raid into the lower Shenandoah Valley, and, if found practicable, occupy it permanently. I was designated to lead the raid with about two thousand infantry, cavalry, and artillery. This made it necessary for me to be relieved of the command of the post. Cluseret was therefore ordered from Petersburg to relieve me. He arrived late in the evening with his staff and escort, showed his orders, and I suggested that he assume the command at once. This he declined to do until he ascertained the position of the troops, roads, etc. I provided him comfortable quarters, and everything would have gone along pleasantly but for an unexpected incident.
Before Cluseret's arrival, a lieutenant-colonel of a West Virginia regiment applied for leave to go to Petersburg to visit a lady friend. This I refused, and he undertook to go without leave. After he had proceeded along the river road by moonlight about three miles, he was halted by a man who, from behind a tree, pointed a musket at him and demanded his surrender and that he deliver up his sword, pistols, overcoat, horse, and trappings, all of which he did promptly, and accepted a parole. The man who made the capture claimed to be a regular Confederate soldier returning from a furlough to his command. With the colonel's property and on the horse he proceeded by a mountain path on his journey. The colonel walked back to Moorefield and related his adventure. I at once ordered Captain Rowan with a small number of his West Virginia cavalry to pursue the Confederate. As there was snow on the ground, his pursuit was easy, and before midnight the Captain had captured him and all the colonel's property was returned to Moorefield. When the man was brought before me, I made some examination of him and then ordered him taken to the guard-house. At this time Cluseret appeared on the scene, and in an excited way demanded that I should order the prisoner to be shot forthwith. This being declined, he again produced his order to supersede me, and declared he would at once take command and himself order the man shot that night. I could not deny his right to assume command notwithstanding what had taken place, but I strongly denied his authority to shoot the captive, and insisted that there was no cause for shooting him summarily; that only through a court-martial or military commission could he be condemned, and a sentence to death would, to carry it out, require the approval of the President. (It was not until later in the war that department, district, or army commanders could approve a capital sentence.) Cluseret vehemently denounced the authorities, including the President, for their mild way of carrying on the war, and talked himself into a frenzy. As he was preparing an order to require the Provost-Marshal to shoot the man without trial, I repaired to the telegraph office and made Milroy acquainted with the situation, whereupon he ordered me to retain command of the post until further orders. Milroy, on coming to Moorefield the next day, sustained me, and the soldier was treated as an ordinary prisoner of war. Cluseret pretended to be satisfied, and later succeeded in getting himself assigned to command the expedition to the Shenandoah Valley—not a very desirable one in mid-winter. He reached Strasburg, and moved through the Valley northward to Winchester, but was pursued by a small force under Jones. This made it necessary to reinforce him, and I started under orders for that place via Romney and Blue's Gap, and was joined on the way by Milroy with the body of his division. On leaving Moorefield, on the 30th of December, I with two orderlies rode ahead about a mile to the South Branch of the Potomac to examine the ford, as we had no pontoons, and, having crossed the river, awaited the approach of the wagon train and its guard, which was to take the advance, as no enemy was known to be in that direction. As the head of the train reached the ford Captain J. H. McNeil (whose home was near by), with about fifty of his guerilla band, attacked it by emerging from ambush on the Moorefield side of the river. A short fight ensued, during which I recrossed the river and joined in it. McNeil was driven off with little loss, but for a brief time I was in much danger of capture, at least.
On this day a colored boy, an escaped slave, whom we named Andrew Jackson, joined me. He became my servant to the end of the war. He was always faithful, honest, good-natured, and brave. He was a full-blood African, and during a battle would voluntarily take a soldier's arms and fight with the advance lines. He became widely known throughout the Army of the Potomac and other armies in which I served, and was kindly treated and welcomed wherever he went. He resided after the war in Springfield, Ohio, and died there (1895) of an injury resulting from the kick of a horse.
On the night of December 31, 1862, the command bivouacked on the western slope of the Alleghany Mountains in a fierce snow-storm, and early the next morning my troops led the way in the continuing storm over the summit. Shortly after the head of the column commenced the eastern descent, and when the chilling winter blasts had caused the lowest ebb of human enthusiasm to be reached, shouts were heard by me, at first indistinctly, then nearer and louder. This was so unusual and unexpected under the depressing circumstances that I ordered the column to halt until I could go back and ascertain the cause. My first impression was that a sudden attack had been made on the rear of the troops, but as the shouts came nearer I took them to be for a great victory, news of which had just arrived. When I reached the crest of the mountain I descried, through the flying snow, General Milroy riding along the line of troops and halting at intervals as though to briefly address the men. I awaited his approach, and on his arrival accosted him with the inquiry, "What is the matter, General?" He had his hat and sword in his right hand, and with the other guided his horse at a reckless gallop through the snow, his tall form, shocky white hair fluttering in the storm, and evident agitation making a figure most picturesque and striking. He pulled up his horse abruptly to answer my question. A natural impediment in his speech, affecting him most when excited, caused some delay in his first vehement utterance. He said:
"Colonel, don't you know that this is Emancipation Day, when all slaves will be made free?"
He then turned to the halted troops and again broke forth:
"This day President Lincoln will proclaim the freedom of four millions of human slaves, the most important event in the history of the world since Christ was born. Our boast that this is a land of liberty has been a flaunting lie. Henceforth it will be a veritable reality. The defeats of our armies in the past we have deserved, because we waged a war to protect and perpetuate and to rivet firmer the chains of slavery. Hereafter we shall prosecute the war to establish and perpetuate liberty for all mankind beneath the flag; and the Lord God Almighty will fight on our side, and he is a host, and the Union armies will triumph."
This is the character of speech that aroused the soldiers to voiceful demonstrations on the summit of the Appalachian chain on this cold and stormy mid-winter morning. The sequel shows how Milroy's prophecy was fulfilled; but not always did victory come to the Union arms. As in the days of the Crusades, when the Lord was supposed to battle on the side of the Crusaders, victory was not uniformly with them. Charles Martel, believing in prayer for divine aid on going into battle, yet testified that the "Lord always fights on the side of the heaviest battalions"; which was only another way of saying, "The Lord helps those who help themselves."