Rebels at the Gate: Lee and McClellan on the Front Line of a Nation Divided (25 page)

Arriving in Huntersville on August 3, Lee found General Loring stocking his depot and organizing a supply train. The one-armed general did not welcome Lee's visit. Loring's orders were less than two weeks old—yet here was Lee already looking over his shoulder. Loring had outranked Lee in the old army. He was fighting Indians when Lee was a mere staff lieutenant! He had marched troops across the continent and won battles in more rugged country than this. Why was Lee meddling? Loring's hackles were up; jealousy oozed from his pores.
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While Loring saw red, Lee saw opportunity. The enemy was known to be fortifying only forty miles north at Elkwater, a two-day march. If Loring moved promptly, the bluecoats might be driven back before their defenses were complete. Beef cattle were abundant on that line. The army could live off the land for a few days if needed until the pass over Cheat Mountain was cleared, opening the turnpike to Staunton. Yet Loring seemed fixated on the gathering of supplies, unwilling to be hurried along.

Lee discreetly urged Loring to advance. By power of suggestion rather than command, he tried to smooth Loring's ruffled feathers, to gently coax him forward. Lee's honor as a gentleman clouded his judgment as a soldier. On August 6, tired of watching supply wagons roll through Huntersville, he said good-bye to General Loring, gathered his small escort, and rode twenty-eight miles north to Valley Mountain.

Here was the Confederate front. The coveted B&O Railroad at Grafton lay eighty-five miles north, while Lee's back was to Richmond, about one hundred ninety miles southeast. From this staging area, he would try to reclaim Western Virginia. At Valley Mountain, Lee found magnificent grazing country. Lush fields of bluegrass and clover rippled on the 3,600-foot heights. Tents of the Twenty-first Virginia and the Sixth North Carolina Infantry regiments dotted the crest of Valley Mountain. “ We are on the dividing
ridge,” Lee wrote Mary from his new camp. “Looking north down the Tygart's river valley, whose waters flow into the Monongahela & south towards the Elk River & Greenbrier, flowing into the Kanawha. In the valley north of us lies Huttonsville & Beverly, occupied by our invaders, & the Rich Mountains west, the scene of our former disaster, & the Cheat Mountains east, their present stronghold, are in full view.”
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Lee's headquarters consisted of a solitary tent shared with Colonel Washington and Captain Taylor. The three officers ate from simple tin plates and drank from tin cups. A small table was their only furniture. Rough logs served as benches.
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Lee's son William Henry Fitzhugh, or “Rooney” Lee, a twenty-four-year-old major of Virginia cavalry, served on outpost duty at Valley Mountain. Rooney was a figure of grand proportions—“too big to be a man and not big enough to be a horse,” thought one observer. He had been a noted oarsman at Harvard, was spirited, hearty, and intensely proud of his birthright.
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General Lee now directed his son to carry a message to the enemy. In it, Lee proposed an exchange of prisoners—the Confederates paroled at Rich Mountain for Union soldiers taken at Manassas. It would be the first large-scale prisoner exchange of the war. Under a flag of truce, Rooney rode north to the Federal outposts near Camp Elkwater. The proposal was rejected, but Lee's effort confirmed Federal troop locations and revealed that an old friend, Joseph Reynolds, was in command. The affair served Reynolds as well, for he took the opportunity to inquire about two missing “citizens”—the Union spies Fletcher and Clark.
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While in custody, Fletcher had burned some incriminating papers in his corncob pipe, but he and Clark remained in deep trouble. A party of heavily armed cavalrymen led them from Big Spring to Edray, eighteen miles south, where they were locked in irons and confined in a brick house. Presently, a commotion
erupted outside, and then a tall, well-dressed Virginian was thrown into their room. He too was in chains. The three stared at each other in silence. “Don't give it up, men!” the stranger began. “I was captured at the same place you were, last night. I'm not going to back out for these d____d traitors; it a'n't my way. I've been leading Rosecrans and General McClellan and I am not done yet! Where are you from boys? Don't look down. We'll be even by God. Come, be social. You don't say a word; you're scared, I suppose.”

” We are not very badly scared,” replied Fletcher. “And as I have seen first-class players, real stars on the boards, I can't compliment your acting; you overdo it; and, besides, we are not trying to make many new acquaintances down here.” The Virginian clammed up. An officer who had been listening at the door then burst in, abused the new prisoner as a “Union man,” and carried him roughly away—as if to an execution.

“Clark,” smiled Fletcher, “we won't be caught by stool-pigeons.”

The two were taken to Huntersville and placed in separate quarters. Guards led Fletcher past curious soldiers to a hotel in the heart of town, and up an old staircase.

“That Yankee spy is here, General,” spoke an orderly.

“Send him in, send him in,” came a rough voice from the next room. “Put a strong guard at the door, also at the windows outside. Take off his irons, too, and let no one in till I call.”

Fletcher was ushered to a long table covered with maps. Behind it sat a small, demonic-looking man with black hair, piercing eyes, and an empty sleeve—General Loring himself.

Loring placed a large revolver on the table and motioned for Fletcher to sit opposite. The general began rattling off questions, trying to catch Fletcher in a lie. Loring was alternately persuading, insulting, and threatening. Some two tedious hours later, he threw up his hands. “Before to-morrow's sun goes down,” he warned Fletcher, “I'll hang you both. Your only hope for mercy is in confessing
all, all
you know.”

“General, you have the hanging power,” Fletcher replied, “but wouldn't it set a bad example to our army to begin hanging soldiers who fall into your hands?”

Loring sent him away in a huff.

Fletcher was taken back to Loring's office the next day for more questioning. This time, General Lee was present.

“Young man, how long have you been soldiering?” Lee inquired.

“Three months, General.”

“Were you persuaded to go into the army, or did you choose it?”

“I went in
because of the cause.
”

“How many men from Indiana are in the field?”

“As I said before, General, I was a three-months’ man. I do not know how many are in the field now; but if the men of Indiana were to see me here in irons, and then remember the treatment of prisoners at Cheat River, Laurel Hill and Rich Mountain, a hundred thousand men would be in arms to-morrow….”

“I shall not let you talk so,” General Loring angrily broke in.

“Remember, you were not taken in battle,” Lee interjected. “If you were, you would not be in irons.” Intently, he questioned Fletcher on the Federal commanders in Western Virginia, his impression of General Reynolds, and other topics. Finally, Lee said, “Young man, we will have to keep you very close, very safe, until we can get the evidence of those who captured you.”
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General Lee prepared to gather intelligence in a more familiar way.

During the Mexican War, Captain Robert E. Lee had distinguished himself as a master of reconnaissance. His bold forays around enemy lines and uncanny ability to read terrain were instrumental in Winfield Scott's success. That had been fourteen years ago. Now the fit and athletic fifty-four-year-old general saw need for careful reconnaissance of the enemy in Western Virginia.
Rank and age had not diminished Lee's talent, and with scarcely anyone present experienced in that work, he began to scout the Federal defenses.

Nearly every day at Valley Mountain, Lee and his aides rode off to reconnoiter. He was constantly in the saddle, a large opera glass slung over his shoulder, guiding his mount over rocks and mountain crags. It became apparent that the opportunity for a surprise rush down the Tygart Valley was lost. Lee traced countless bridle paths, hoping to find a route by which the enemy might be flanked to avoid needless loss of life. He seemed to be everywhere. One day, a Confederate captain on outpost duty spotted three men well in advance of the picket line. Believing them to be Federal scouts, the captain and his party slipped forward and burst upon the unsuspecting trio. To the captain's amazement, General Lee stood before him!
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The general made quite an impression. “He looked every inch a soldier,” thought Isaac Hermann as Lee inspected his regiment. “He was clean shaven, with the exception of a heavy iron gray mustache. He complimented us for our soldierly bearing.” Sam Watkins remarked that Lee “had a calm and collected air about him, his voice was kind and tender, and his eye was gentle as a dove's. His whole make-up of form and person, looks and manner had a kind of gentle and soothing magnetism about it that drew every one to him and made them love, respect and honor him.”

Marcus Toney knelt to take a drink of water on Valley Mountain when he first encountered Lee. “Don't drink out of that spring,” the general called out. “My horse uses it. Come and drink out of this spring near my tent.” Toney did so, and when he passed, the seated commander threw his hand to musket, palm extended, as a private's salute. Lee returned it with a salute from his brow.
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Enlisted men noted with approval that Lee ate the same rough rations they did. It became known that when visitors brought gifts of food to the general, he always sent the articles to a sick soldier as soon as the messenger was out of sight. Once, a private was charged with falling asleep at his post. The young man insisted he
had only taken a seat out of the rain and was unable to hear the approach of the corporal of the guard. The offense was punishable by death—the private's regimental officers thought he must be shot as an example for the rest. His case was brought to General Lee. “Captain,” Lee replied after hearing the facts, “you know the arduous duties these men have to do daily. Suppose the man who was found on his post asleep had been you, or me. What do you think should be done to him?” The captain replied that he had not thought of it in that way. Lee then turned to the frightened private. “My man,” he said firmly, “go back to your quarters, and never let it be said you were found asleep on your post.”
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The kind-hearted general could also make a point with humor. While examining the ridges near an outpost with his field glass, Lee found soldiers crowding around. He turned mildly on the most inquisitive.

“What regiment do you belong to?” Lee asked the man.

“First Tennessee, Maury Grays,” was the reply.

“Are you well drilled?”

“Yes, indeed,” answered the proud private.

“Take the position of a soldier.”

The young man did so. “Forward march,” commanded the general. “By the right flank, march.” When the soldier's movements pointed him toward camp, Lee added; “Double-quick, march.”