The Class of 1846 by John Waugh

Author:John Waugh [Waugh, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-77539-9
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-12-28T16:00:00+00:00

Delightful

Excitement

If General Banks saw salvation across the river and Stonewall Jackson saw the hand of Providence in victory, Abraham Lincoln saw opportunity still alive in the Valley.

The uppermost thought in the president’s mind as Jackson chased Banks north across the Potomac, was to bag him before he could get back out. So he put John C. Frémont’s Mountain Division in motion from the west and Irvin McDowell’s division on the road from the east with orders to slam the gate shut on the troublesome rebel before he could escape.

The first thing Lincoln did was wire George McClellan, who was clamoring for reinforcements on the Peninsula and was expecting McDowell to arrive momentarily. Sorry, the president said, but “in consequence of Gen. Banks’ critical position I have been compelled to suspend Gen. McDowell’s movement to join you. The enemy are making a desperate push upon Harper’s Ferry, and we are trying to throw Frémont’s force & part of McDowell’s in their rear.”1

Lincoln then began barking orders over the telegraph to those two generals, exhorting them to hurry. If they could converge in Jackson’s rear and prevent him from leaving the lower Valley, they would have him.

He ordered Frémont in the Alleghenies to move toward Harrisonburg. “Much—perhaps all—depends upon the celerity with which you can execute it,” he told the Pathfinder. “Put the utmost speed into it. Do not lose a minute.”2

This was not the way Frémont had hoped to spend the summer—chasing that fanatic Jackson up the Shenandoah. When he assumed command of the new Mountain Department late in March, he had something else in mind. Banks’s defeat, and now this, were deranging his plans. But orders were orders. So he began the requested movement by heading in the wrong direction.

Lincoln was aghast. “I see that you are at Moorefield.” he wired Frémont. “You were expressly ordered to march to Harrisonburg. What does this mean?”3

When Frémont looked toward Harrisonburg, he saw only futility. Jackson had obstructed all but one of the roads leading that way out of the mountains when he was at McDowell. The only route left open would take him on a long looping detour. Frémont believed that any movement now toward Harrisonburg would be fatal to his lines of supply, leaving them exposed to the very prey he was supposed to be hunting. There was no telling what Jackson might do with such an opportunity. Besides, it had been raining without letup for a week. The roads were ribbons of mud. So Frémont had marched toward Moorefield instead, obeying the spirit of the order rather than the letter, with the idea of cutting off Jackson’s retreat at Strasburg. He assured Lincoln he could be in Strasburg by noon on Friday, May 30. So be it. Lincoln could adjust. McDowell was even then converging on Front Royal from the other direction. If they could get there in time, and at the same time, Jackson’s way would be blocked.4

On the morning of the thirtieth, Frémont was thirty-eight miles from Strasburg, but his advance was ten miles closer.

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