Captains of the Civil War | Page 9

of arms. Then the Virginia militiamen and volunteers streamed in,
to the number of over four thousand. They were a mere conglomeration
of semi-independent units, mostly composed of raw recruits under
officers who themselves knew next to nothing. As usual with such
fledgling troops there was no end to the fuss and feathers among the
members of the busybody staffs, who were numerous enough to
manage an army but clumsy enough to spoil a platoon. It was said, and
not without good reason, that there was as much gold lace at Harper's
Ferry, when the sun was shining, as at a grand review in Paris.
Into this gaudy assemblage rode Thomas Jonathan Jackson, mounted

on Little Sorrel, a horse as unpretentious as himself, and dressed in his
faded old blue professor's uniform without one gleam of gold. He had
only two staff officers, both dressed as plainly as himself. He was not a
major-general, nor even a brigadier; just a colonel. He held no
trumpeting reviews. He made no flowery speeches. He didn't even
swear. The armed mob at Harper's Ferry felt that they would lose caste
on Sunday afternoons under a commandant like this. Their feelings
were still more outraged when they heard that every officer above the
rank of captain was to lose his higher rank, and that all new
reappointments were to be made on military merit and direct from
Richmond. Companies accustomed to elect their officers according to
the whim of the moment eagerly joined the higher officers in passing
adverse resolutions. But authorities who were unanimous for Lee were
not to be shaken by such absurdities in face of a serious war. And when
the froth had been blown off the top, and the dregs drained out of the
bottom, the solid mass between, who really were sound patriots, settled
down to work.
There was seven hours' drill every day except Sunday; no light task for
a mere armed mob groping its ignorant way, however zealously,
towards the organized efficiency of a real army. The companies had to
be formed into workable battalions, the battalions into brigades. There
was a deplorable lack of cavalry, artillery, engineers, commissariat,
transport, medical services, and, above all, staff. Armament was bad;
other munitions were worse. There would have been no chance
whatever of holding Harper's Ferry unless the Northern conglomeration
had been even less like a fighting army than the Southern was.
Harper's Ferry was not only important in itself but still more important
for what it covered: the wonderfully fruitful Shenandoah Valley,
running southwest a hundred and forty miles to the neighborhood of
Lexington, with an average width of only twenty-four. Bounded on the
west by the Alleghanies and on the east by the long Blue Ridge this
valley was a regular covered way by which the Northern invaders
might approach, cut Virginia in two (for West Virginia was then a part
of the State) and, after devastating the valley itself (thus destroying half
the foodbase of Virginia) attack eastern Virginia through whichever

gaps might serve the purpose best. More than this, the only direct line
from Richmond to the Mississippi ran just below the southwest end of
the valley, while a network of roads radiated from Winchester near the
northeast end, thirty miles southwest of Harper's Ferry.
Throughout the month of May Jackson went on working his men into
shape and watching the enemy, three thousand strong, at Chambersburg,
forty-five miles north of Harper's Ferry, and twelve thousand strong
farther north still. One day he made a magnificent capture of rolling
stock on the twenty-seven miles of double track that centered in
Harper's Ferry. This greatly hampered the accumulation of coal at
Washington besides helping the railroads of the South. Destroying the
line was out of the question, because it ran through West Virginia and
Maryland, both of which he hoped to see on the Confederate side. He
was himself a West Virginian, born at Clarksburg; and it grieved him
greatly when West Virginia stood by the Union.
Apart from this he did nothing spectacular. The rest was all just sheer
hard work. He kept his own counsel so carefully that no one knew
anything about what he would do if the enemy advanced. Even the
officers of outposts were forbidden to notice or mention his arrival or
departure on his constant tours of inspection, lest a longer look than
usual at any point might let an awkward inference be drawn. He was
the sternest of disciplinarians when the good of the service required it.
But no one knew better that the finest discipline springs from
self-sacrifice willingly made for a worthy cause; and no one was
readier to help all ranks along toward real efficiency in the kindest
possible way when he saw they were doing their best.