With General Sheridan In Lee's Last Campaign [Illustrated Edition]

Lt.-Col Frederic Cushman Newhall

• Publisher: Golden Springs Publishing
• Year: 2014
• Topic: History
• eBook ISBN:
  9781782895367
• Subtopic: 19th Century History
• Index: History

Includes Civil War Map and Illustrations Pack - 224 battle plans and campaign maps
"Descended from English and colonial high society-Newhall lived a life of privilege and opportunity. When the war erupted Newhall enlisted in the Sixth Pennsylvania Cavalry and served his various assignments honorably as he rose through the ranks until attaining the position of assistant adjutant to General Sheridan in Feb. 1865.
"This memoir serves two purposes…Newhall not only rehashes the climactic days of April 1865, he acts as defense counsel for Sheridan's misunderstood character and for his contentious decision to remove Gen. Gouverneur K. Warren from command of the Fifth Corps following the Union victory at Five Forks.
"Newhall opens his memoir with a fiercely loyal vindication of General Sheridan the man and General Sheridan the soldier. Habits common to many Civil War soldiers like cigars and swearing were apparently comfortable within the confines of Philip Sheridan...He then seeks to secure the Union Cavalry's nascent reputation as a valuable component of the Union war effort.
"Newhall's rabid defense of Sheridan then subsides as he trades the pulpit for a podium. He describes in surprising detail the progressions of Five Forks and Saylor's Creek as well as the fracases, reconnaissance missions, and "rides" between the two battles. The battle descriptions emphasize the labors of the Union horsemen but do not ignore the infantry and give appropriate credit where it is due.
"The longest portion of the memoir not only recounts the battles fought but leads the reader on a tour of the final footsteps of both armies making temporal and spatial sense of places like Dinwiddie Courthouse, Jetersville, Burkeville, Prince Edward Courthouse, Appomattox Station, and Appomattox Courthouse. A series of maps helps the reader though this section of the memoir and is invaluable in their assistance."- Chuck Romig, The Civil War News

CHAPTER I. — MAJOR-GENERAL P. H. SHERIDAN.

VERY few civilians of the North would know General Sheridan should they see him. After graduating at West Point he was almost constantly on duty in the far West, and if ever before the war he came to the Atlantic coast, he was unknown to fame, and attracted no attention. During the rebellion he was seldom out of the field; and as soon as Johnston’s army surrendered, without waiting for the grand review at Washington, which would have so delightfully introduced him to many loyal people, he hurried off to the Department of the Gulf to take command of the troops concentrating there for the expected campaign in Texas against Kirby Smith, who had presented an extremely defiant front so long as he was in no danger of being properly looked after.

As is well known, the general has remained in command of that department, now called the Military Division of the Gulf, with his headquarters in New Orleans; and thus, except in his hurried trip from Washington to St. Louis, on his way to Texas, has had no opportunity to meet those who most appreciate his services and whom he most regards. It is thought, therefore, that in this familiar narrative of his operations in the last campaign against Lee, the reader will be glad to find something concerning General Sheridan himself as a soldier and as a man, and will be glad to feel on rather better terms with the general than he has ever been before, especially if, as is likely, he has known him only through his very bad photographs and the stories of his very bad swearing.

But no attempt will be made here to write his “life,” or to follow him through his boyhood and early manhood to the days of his military distinction, though we may mention that it has already been printed of the general that he was born in Massachusetts and in Ohio; that his father was wealthy and a prominent politician; and that his parents, while strictly honest, were extremely poor, and that he contributed to their support by driving a water-cart through the dusty streets of his native town.

The reader can take his choice of these beginnings, for no importance is attached to either of the stories, as they are not necessary to this sketch, and are useless in a general way, inasmuch as man’s intellect is not in any walk of life always in exact proportion to his birth.

It will suffice to speak here of him and of his characteristics as we find them when he was already distinguished as a soldier. It is the purpose of this narration to avoid idealizing General Sheridan, endowing him with virtues which he does not possess, and clothing him with a garb that he does not pretend to wear; but as it is considered the merest justice to give his due to a most notorious sinner, a much less intending one may claim as much. To borrow, then, an injunction made in another connection: “Let us be thankful that we have a good general, but don’t let us lie about him;” let us kiss the Book and give our testimony to the best of our knowledge and belief, especially as it has been said that truth is always amusing.

There is a popular idea current that the general is only congenial with the roughest phases of war and military life, and an erroneous impression has been formed by many that he is an exceedingly profane man. Mr. Buchanan Read has ascribed to him “a terrible oath,” and a writer in Harper’s Magazine last summer fathered upon him some terrific imprecations, and led the public to think that the general’s tongue is a mint where strange oaths are coined of most unique and awful pattern. It grieved many simple people that his good record should be tarnished by such evil practices, and some curious letters found their way to his headquarters, principally from motherly women no doubt, remonstrating kindly with him on this account, and begging him to abandon this vicious habit, if only for the sake of example, to say nothing of his immortal soul. If this evil report was true, of course they did right to so remonstrate; but it was not. Everybody has heard that in the army the amenities of home-life are not much regarded, and it is pretty well known that there the adjectives of the schools are dropped, and oaths are taken up when substantives are to be qualified. On the march they are as common as footfalls, so common everywhere in talk that to give force to language on such supreme occasions as often arise, the strongest adjective would be simply ridiculous, and would fall upon the soldier’s ear with no more impression than the falling leaf. It is proper to believe that in times of trial on hard-fought fields a good example is the best address to the rank and file, but there are moments when men are blinded by confusion and panic, and have no eyes to see anything but the overwhelming peril, and to look for means of escape. Then they must be spoken to—not in words of calm remonstrance, but in fiery words that claim attention; then, perhaps, some lusty oaths will gain a hearing, buffet back the panic and retrieve disorder, and on such occasions the general has been heard to swear freely, not fearful oaths of elaborate design, but everyday, common curses, that are always on the ear among these men, and come most readily to the lips when swearing must be done. So much is true of him as it is of almost every officer who leads his troops into battle; but it is hoped that

the false impression in regard to his habitual profanity may be dispelled at the outset, for perhaps the reader has been thinking him little better than a ruffian, “a very good soldier no doubt, but not the man for decent society and that sort of thing, you know,” as perhaps he said to himself or his wife as he read of the oaths of curious device.

The general is short in stature—below the medium—with nothing superfluous about him, square-shouldered, muscular, wiry to the last degree, and as nearly insensible to hardship and fatigue as is consistent with humanity. He has a strangely-shaped head, with a large bump of something or other—combativeness probably— behind the ears, which inconveniences him almost as much as it does his enemies in the field, for there being no general demand for hats that would fit him, the general never has one that will stay on his head. This leads him to take his hat in his hand very often; that action probably suggests cheering something on, and, a fight being in progress and troops needing encouragement, by a simple sequence he usually finds himself among them, where he risks the valuable life of the commanding general, not to mention casualties to staff officers.

His face is very much tanned by exposure, but is lighted up by uncommonly keen eyes, which would stamp him anywhere as a man of quickness and force, while its whole character would betray him to be a soldier, with its firm chin, high cheek bones, and crisp moustache.

He is exacting on duty and hard on delinquents, and his ideas of duty are peculiar, as evinced by the fact that he has never issued orders of encouragement or congratulation to his troops before or after campaigns or battles. He has apparently taken it for granted that all under his command would do as well as they could, and that they did so quite as a matter of course. And to this soldierly view the troops always responded. Understanding so well what they were fighting for and the issues at stake, they would not light harder to accomplish results simply for the satisfaction of having them recounted. It is not intended, however, to criticise the action of those commanding officers who have done differently in this matter, for no troops did better than those whose deeds have been so recounted, and certainly they did no worse for the encouraging words published among them on the eve of battle.

This trait is alluded to only as an indication of the general’s habit of action and thought. But the facts will refute what a writer said in a Boston newspaper last spring, that “the cavalry was fortunate in carrying the trumpet,” or words to that effect. A most unworthy slur, for although since the days of Cæsar few generals have been better entitled to indite triumphant orders and dispatches than was General Sheridan at the end of the last campaign, he refrained from both, and went off to a new department without ever so much as a word of farewell or praise to his gallant cavalry. If, with Lee’s flag of truce in his hand, he had turned in his saddle and wound a merry blast of triumph to his troops, history would pardon him the egotism, which could have offended none but those whose sense of propriety was sharpened by envy and malice, and that uncharitableness from which we ask to be delivered. And doubtless the loyal people, watching the war during the first weary years, would have welcomed the wildest hyperbole announcing such real and material results as his operations brought about, under Providence, in this last campaign.

It should be remembered, too, that it is much easier to be cold and dignified on paper under the depressing influences of disaster than in the jubilant moments of success. When General Sheridan wrote that General Early was “whirling up the valley,” perhaps the expression was a strong one to apply to so solid a body as an army; but it is safe to conclude that if General Sheridan’s army had been whirling down the valley, the greatest stickler for dignity could not have complained of the tone of his dispatches apprising the Government of the unhappy fact. Generals are human, and their dispatches catch their tone from the surroundings. Eager words from the battle-field only echo the sounds on the writer’s ear: officers congratulating warmly, and troops cheering madly; and if this is borne in mind, General Sheridan has proved himself in the midst of many successes to be an eminently modest man.

He is self-reliant enough but not vain-glorious; shuns notoriety, and is abashed before the popular applause, although aware of the services he has been able to render the country; accords all due praise to his associates, but is tenacious of his rights if suspecting any attempt at their invasion.

Being rather reserved, he does not care much for general society, but when comfortably established in headquarters, is hospitable, lives well, and likes to have congenial guests drop in upon his mess. He seems to care most for the company of the placid and easy-going, and is fond of a quiet chat about old times on the frontier with such boon companions as General D. McM. Gregg of the cavalry, General Geo. Crook of the Army of West Virginia, and the gallant General David Russell of the Sixth Corps, who was killed at the battle of the Opequan, and whose death General Sheridan felt extremely.

“These the tents

Which he frequents,”

and in such society he forgets his usual reticence, and talks by the hour about West Point life and “larks” on the Pacific Coast. Occasionally,

when the old associations come back to the party very strongly, they lapse into the Indian tongue, which they all understand, and, with speech clothed in this disguise, they can safely revive recollections which, may he, if told in plain English, would astonish the audience, for it is only of late that they have been obliged to sustain the dignity of major-generals commanding.

Though always easy of approach, the general has little to say in busy times. Set teeth and a quick way tell when things do not go as they ought, and he has a manner on such occasions that stirs to activity all within sight, for a row seems brewing that nobody wants to be under when it bursts. Notwithstanding his handsome reputation for cursing, he is rather remarkably low-voiced, particularly on the field, where, as sometimes happens, almost everybody else is screaming. “Damn you, sir, don’t yell at me,” he once said to an officer who came galloping up with some bad news, and was roaring it out above the din of battle. In such moments the general leans forward on his horse’s neck, and hunching his shoulders up to his ears, gives most softly spoken orders in a slow, deliberate way, as if there were niches for all the words in his hearer’s memory, and they must be measured very carefully to fit exactly, that none of them be lost in the carrying. This is a pleasing way to have orders dealt out, especially under fire.

When he sees things going wrong in any part of the field, he has a trick of moving forward restlessly in his saddle, as if he would go and put them to rights if he could take leave of his better judgment and follow his inclination; but a serious check or reverse affects him peculiarly. To most temperaments disaster is disheartening, but it passes by General Sheridan as an eddy glides round a pier; his equanimity is not affected by it, and he is not depressed for a moment, for he is a man of much variety and quick resource, and to his aid comes a defiant spirit, which twinkles in his eye when he is called upon to retrieve disaster. Victor Hugo’s brave Frenchman in the Old Guard at Waterloo had no more contempt for the enemy than he, but he shows it rather by a talent for ignoring defeat and compelling success than by permitting a useless sacrifice. He never would acknowledge to the most confidential recess of his own bosom that his command was past redemption, and there was nothing to do but go and die like a demigod. But it is not because he is impassive that he cannot be stampeded by reports or events, for he is keenly alive to the situation in whatever shape it presents itself. Show him an opening promising success, and he will go in and widen it while an impassive man would be thinking about it. But he is slow to confess defeat; a peculiar organization, so acute in most of its perceptions, and yet so dull in realizing failure. The prominence of this quality must be apparent to all who know anything of him in the war, where his wizard fingers snatched a great victory from the enemy just as they were passing it to history as theirs.

In aggressive and defensive warfare he is alike wary and cautious in regard to the protection of his lines and communications, and guards against surprise as if crediting his enemies with as much activity and invention as he himself possesses. Playing games all the time, no doubt, in his imagination with fancied foes in fancied places, he sees with unusual clearness any weakness in his own real positions, and prepares accordingly. And being almost as great a smoker as General Grant when actively employed in the field, and a constant cloud enveloping him in his busiest moments, it seems probable that smoke is an ally of military genius, and a medium through which the hostile array takes form and arranges itself for destruction; at any rate it is not known from what strange sources genius sometimes draws her inspirations, and something in this way may be claimed for cigars. Let us say so to justify the use of them, and hope that those who have not genius may perchance one day inhale some.

The general has a remarkable eye for topography, not only in using to the best advantage the peculiarities of the country through which he is campaigning, either for purposes of marching, assault, or defense, but he can foresee with accuracy, by studying a map, how far the country will be available for these purposes. His intelligent pursuit of Lee is due in a great measure to this accomplishment, for it enabled him to decide for himself, when lacking reliable information, as to what would be the most natural line of the enemy’s retreat. The engineers have in him a rare customer for those wares which sometimes have tended to clog campaigns, for constant study of maps has often seemed to befog the student. They are responsible for many long marchings of weary troops, and for mistakes that have caused disaster when both could have been avoided, perhaps, by such simple inquiries as a solitary horseman would make, and troops go astray under the additional disadvantage that large bodies cannot rectify mistakes as a single horseman can; the ponderous length of a column en route is not to be twisted through by-ways and short-cuts, and cannot retrace its steps in every sort of road. To be good at topography, then, is to possess a most valuable quality as a campaigner, and General Sheridan has it in an uncommon degree, and prides himself on it somewhat, having come safely through with a few hap-hazard experiments in that line. When he was returning from his raid upon the Virginia Central Railroad, near Gordonsville, to rejoin General Grant, in June, 1864, he found at the White House some 700 wagons belonging to the cavalry, horse artillery, quartermaster’s department, Sanitary Commission, Christian Commission, sutlers, and the other branches of the service, and it required considerable manoeuvring to march this immense train of unwieldly transportation in such manner as should protect it from the rebellious cavalry of General Hampton, which was hanging upon our flank and hungrily regarding said wagons. We proposed to cross the Chickahominy at Providence Forge, and if a road to that point by way of New Kent Court House could be found, the trains could travel it securely, for our cavalry would cover the direct road to the Chickahominy and prevent the enemy from invading the little peninsula, in which New Kent Court House sits in judgment, between this river and the Pamunkey. The most diligent study of the maps failed to discover any indication of such a road, and no consecutive series of lines could be traced in that direction; equally diligent search failed to discover any one to the manor born who knew of any such outlet: but the interests of the service demanded that it should exist, and so, after mature deliberation and much pondering over maps, the commanding general decided that there was a road, must be a road. This conclusion being conclusive, the trains were started, and a staff officer was sent with General Getty (who happened to be returning to the army, convalescent from bad Wounds received in the Wilderness, and had now command of the provisional brigade that escorted the wagons), and they two were charged with finding their way to the Chickahominy via New Kent Court House, by such avenues as could be discovered or manufactured. At that time the Court House was a deserted village; gaunt dogs were the only living beings for miles around, and they could give no geographical information; but perseverance was rewarded with success; a good wood-road was found, the trains reached the Chickahominy without delay, and the general’s topographical bump was vindicated. This incident will illustrate, perhaps, the confident spirit of the man, as well as his intelligent comprehension of the features of a country.

He has been called ruthless and cruel because, in obedience to the orders of the officers appointed over him, he was compelled, by the stern necessities of war, to destroy property in the Shenandoah Valley, and to take from the war-ridden people there what their friends had left them of supplies for man and beast. As he rode down the Martinsburg Pike in his four-horse wagon, heels on the front seat, and smoking a cigar, while behind him his cavalry was destroying the provender that could not be carried away, the inhabitants of the valley doubtless regarded him as history regards the emperor who fiddled while Rome was burning, and would not now believe, what is the simple truth, that this destruction was distasteful to him, and that he was moved by the distress he was obliged to multiply upon these unfortunate people, whose evil fate had left them in the ruinous track of war so long. But the Shenandoah Valley was the well-worn pathway of invasion, and it became necessary that this long avenue leading to our homes should be stripped of the sustenance that rendered it possible to subsist an army there. This was apparent to all, but only resorted to when it had been satisfactorily demonstrated that so long as this pathway was strewed with flowers it would tempt to the Potomac such formidable bodies of the enemy as had periodically appeared upon its banks and demoralized the States of Maryland and Pennsylvania, to say nothing of the District of Columbia. It fell to General Sheridan to desolate this fertile valley, and the orders were carried out literally but not riotously, and so far as his authority could be exercised there was no unnecessary destruction. His kindliness has been abundantly exhibited to many in the enemy’s country, on the march and about his encampments; but war is usually a bad business for property, and our war was not exceptional. Soldiers who are afraid to meet the dangers they would incur by assaulting the armed enemy in the field generally assault with violence everything that is defenseless, from henhouses to black women’s earrings, and the peculiar mode of cavalry campaigning favored these evil-doers. Rations of all kinds run short very soon after cutting loose from a base of supplies, and foraging becomes necessary to the existence of the command; on long marches horses give out and fall by the roadside—Sheridan’s milestones they came to be called,—and then the dismounted men, where the country will permit, follow the general direction of the column, and cut across lots when they find they save distance by leaving the road. They have also discovered that t...

Table of contents

• Title page
• TABLE OF CONTENTS
• DEDICATION
• PREFACE.
• CHAPTER I. - MAJOR-GENERAL P. H. SHERIDAN.
• CHAPTER II. - FROM THE SHENANDOAH TO THE JAMES.
• CHAPTER III. - SHERIDAN’S CAVALRY.
• CHAPTER IV. - FEELING LEE’S RIGHT FLANK.
• CHAPTER V. - A FIGHT ABOUT FIVE FORKS.
• CHAPTER VI. - LEE BREAKS COVER.
• CHAPTER VII. - THE PURSUIT.
• CHAPTER VIII. - THE NINTH OF APRIL, SIXTY-FIVE.
• CHAPTER IX. - BREAKING RANKS.