The Scouts of Stonewall: The Story of the Great Valley CampaignAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Scouts of Stonewall: The Story of the Great Valley Campaign
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
“It is possible. They're all true--and more. I tell you, Gordon, when
you hear anything wonderful about Stonewall Jackson just you believe it.
Don't ask any questions, or reasons but believe it.”
“I think I shall,” said Gordon, convinced, “but don't forget, Kenton,
that we've got a mighty man here, too. You can't be with General Lee
long without feeling that you're in the presence of genius.”
“And they're friends, not jealous of each other. You could see that at a
glance.”
“The coming of Jackson is like dawn bursting from the dark. I feel,
Kenton, that McClellan's time is at hand.”
Harry slept a little after a while, but when he awoke the generals were
still in council in the great room.
“I let you sleep because I saw you needed it,” said Gordon with a smile,
“but I think they're about through in there now. I hear them moving
about.”
General Jackson presently called Harry and they rode away. The young
aide was sent back to the valley army with a message for it to advance
as fast as possible in order that it might be hurled on McClellan's
flank. Others carried the same message, lest there be any default of
chance.
While the army of Jackson swept down by Richmond to join Lee it was lost
again to the North. At Washington they still believed it in the valley,
advancing on Fremont or Shields. Banks and McDowell had the same belief.
McClellan was also at a loss. Two or three scouts had brought in reports
that it was marching toward Richmond, but he could not believe them.
The Secretary of War at Washington telegraphed to McClellan that the
Union armies under McDowell, Banks, Fremont and Shields were to be
consolidated in one great army under McDowell which would crush Jackson
utterly in the valley. At the very moment McClellan was reading this
telegram the army of Jackson, far to the south of McDowell, was driving
in the pickets on his own flank.
Jackson's men had come into a region quite different from the valley.
There they marched and fought over firm ground, and crossed rivers
with hard rocky banks. Now they were in a land of many deep rivers that
flowed in a slow yellow flood with vast swamps between. Most of it was
heavy with forest and bushes, and the heat was great. At night vast
quantities of mosquitoes and flies and other insects fed bounteously
upon them.
The Invincibles lifted up their voices and wept.
“Can't you persuade Old Jack to take us back to the valley, Harry?” said
Happy Tom. “If I'm to die I'd rather be shot by an honest Yankee soldier
than be stung to death by these clouds of bloodsuckers. Oh, for our
happy valley, where we shot at our enemy and he shot at us, both
standing on firm ground!”
“You won't be thinking much about mosquitoes and rivers soon,” said
Harry. “Listen to that, will you! You know the sound, don't you?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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