American Samurai Vol:6

Mosby's Carpet Knights

“This beardless youth ought to have been beaten over and over again; for who ever saw such tactics? The blockhead knows nothing of the rules of war. Today he is in our rear, tomorrow in our flank, and the next day in our front. Such gross violations of the established principles of war are insufferable.” Those words were uttered by an Austrian general in reference to Napoleon. The idea that violating traditional military doctrine is ungentlemanly or uncivilized is nothing new and for Americans, it could be considered a tradition of its own. Part of the mythology of the American Revolution is that Colonists employed tactics borrowed from fighting Indians and effectively utilized them against the British. Regardless of the effectiveness or frequency of partisan tactics in the American Revolution, there is no doubt that America produced many unconvinced warfighters and one of the most effective was John Singleton Mosby.

Mosby made his name applying a form of military trade that was barely tolerated and always looked down on—no matter his success—Mosby would encounter his share of detractors and face criticism from both enemy and ally. Union soldiers referred to them with names like, “bushwhackers,” “freebooters” and “guerrillas.” Confederate cavalrymen insulted them with names like, “Carpet Knights” and “Feather Beds,” in reference to their preceded ease of life in between operations.

Even after a series of long successes, Mosby was attacked for the detrimental effects of his partisans on regular troops. In January of 1864, General L. Thomas Rosser urged Robert E. Lee and the Confederate Secretary of War to disband all partisan organizations. He demanded that all soldiers of the same rank be placed on the same “footing.” Even troops called upon to act occasionally as guerrillas would be absorbed into the regular army and forced to conform to military regulations and rules of warfare. Frank Williamson, one of Mosby’s most loyal and competent followers would later draw attention to the fact that this would have accomplished, “what the Federals, “with all the resources at their command, after the most persistent efforts failed to accomplish—the destruction of Mosby’s command.” Fourtunelty for Mosby Lee held him in high regard and he was allowed to retain his command and continued to operate independently of the uniformed army.

Mosby and other partisan leaders who would be seen in Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee were given the green light after the Partisan Ranger Law was passed by the Confederate legislature. This law awarded partisans with the same rewards as had been traditionally been extended to privateers on the high sea. They could keep all they plundered with the exception of mules and cattle which had to be handed over to the Confederate government.

In the beginning, Mosby’s handful of men were comprised of troopers detached from his old regiment, the First Virginia Cavalry. However as word spread of the success and profitability of Mosby’s operation, a flood of new volunteers offered their services to Mosby. His band was made up of those too old or too young for regular army service, soldiers on leave and even those previously wounded in the Confederate army. Mosby led such a motley crew of men and teenage boys that he referred to them as his, “conglomerates.”

Mosby had scouts and informants continuously roving around the Fairfax/Centreville area and at times as far as the Potomac River or the Shenandoah Valley. When opportunities were discovered, a courier would be sent back to Mosby’s headquarters. A rendezvous would be established and in a few short hours, the band would be ready for a raid. Once the raid was complete the men would scatter among farms along the Blue Ridge and Bull Run Mountains.

Mosby realized the potential effectiveness of partisan warfare while serving with the cavalry of the Army of Northern Virginia. Mosby found himself enamored by what he believed to be J.E.B Stuart’s new method of cavalry warfare. Instead of trying to mimic the traditional European cavalry predilection for mass confrontation of ordered formations on the battlefield, the mounted arm was to be used almost completely for reconnaissance.

In the years following the war, Mosby would admit that it was Union General John Pope’s declaration prior to Second Bull Run that proved to be the real intellectual watershed, that inspired his operations from 1863 onward. In his famous proclamation, Pope announced his intention to depart for traditional warfare, with its emphasis on “strong positions,” “lines of retreat” and “bases of supplies.” Pope bragged that from now on these defensive concepts would be unnecessary. He ordered his officers to “study the probable lines of retreat of our opponents and leave our own to take care of themselves. Let us look before us and not behind".”

“As a line is only as strong as its weakest point, it was necessary for it to be stronger than I was at every point in order to resist my attack.”

Pope’s intention had been to humiliate and intimidate the South and at the same time encourage his own troops. As fate would have it he provided a virtual blueprint for how to counteract his own operations. By revealing his new approach, the Union general had inadvertently revealed his greatest weakness. Mosby realized right away that if Pope and his staff didn’t pay sufficient attention to their supplies and communications, then he would oblige them and perform the task himself.

Mosby understood that “As a line is only as strong as its weakest point, it was necessary for it to be stronger than I was at every point in order to resist my attack.” In other words, even though he was surrounded by Union cavalry and infantry he would always be able to find a point weaker than whatever forces he had available. Mosby was first able to put this philosophy into action in November of 1862 after J.E.B Stuart temporarily assigned Mosby nine men from his regiment.

This first operation was a massive success. Mosby and his nine men routed hundreds of Yankee soldiers near Manassas. Stuart was pleased and on January 24, 1863, he assigned Mosby fifteen men and gave him independent command. Over the next several weeks Mosby raided a number of poorly defended Union outposts. At first, the Union believed this to be the work of farmers who were sympathetic to the South, It would take some time and a few Union officers would be discredited before they realized they were dealing with a highly organized and effective foe.

For a while, Mosby operated with only a handful of men, even as men began to trickle in he commanded no more than fifty men. That changed in February of 1863 when Mosby met a man named James F. Ames. Ames was from the Fifth New York Cavalry and had been a staunch supporter of maintaining the Union but would not fight for the abolition of slavery— which he saw as the new aim of the war after the Emancipation Proclamation.

At first, Mosby dismissed him believing him to be a Union spy, but eventually, E. Frankland who would later rise to the rank of captain under Mosby, began to believe Ames. Frankland began to believe the “large seafaring man” and sought to put him to the test. Frankland had joined Mosby a month earlier but lacked a horse, so he was unable to join in many of the raids. Ames told Frankland he knew how they could get horses for themselves. They could just walk into the Union Calvary stables at Germantown and take them. Ames was familiar with the local area and the daily routine of the Union troops and was confided they could just walk in and take them. Frankland agreed and on the night of February 28th, they set out on a 30-mile trek toward Germantown. They reached the Union stables at 7 P.M the next day and waited for the Union camp to settle in for the night. They then walked into the camp talked with a guard, saddled two horses, and rode off.

The simple but daring plan had given credit to the “Big Yankee” and Mosby realized that what Ames and Frankland had done was simple but effective, that with thirty or forty men he could do something truly audacious.

The commander of the Union cavalry in the Centerville-Fairfax Court House area Acting Brigadier General Pery Wyndham, an Englishman who claimed to have served with Garibaldi. Wyndham had taken Mosby’s operations in his region personally and he sent a number of threatening and insulting letters to Mosby himself. Mosby realized that by using Ames as a guide he could infiltrate the Uion patrols and vedettes, just as Frankland had, and under the cover of night gain access to the center of Fairfax Court House undected. Once there he could “gobble up” Wyndham and Lt. O’Conner, a provost marshal he felt had gone too far in pursuit of his duty. Mosby figured if he could pull this off it would prove especially embarrassing to the Union and probably end Wyndham’s career, considering he had already been captured the year before by Ashby in the Shenandoah.

Using the information provided by Ames and his scouts, Mosby knew that a brigade-sized force of all three arms was at Centerville. A line of outposts extended from there through Fryingpan to the Potomac. Another line of outposts extended along a line running through Union Mills and Fairfax Station. There was a Union cavalry brigade encamped a mile east of Fairfax Court House and another at Chantilly on the Little River turnpike. Mosby realized there was a gap in the picket lines between the Warrenton and Little River pikes and was determined to pass through the Union lines there. Ironically, Union command had become aware of the gap and had communicated this fact to the officer in charge of the outposts, but nothing was done about it.

As Mosby would explain years later, although his plan to walk into an area surrounded by thousands of sleeping enemies, guarded by hundreds of pickets, seemed hopelessly unrealistic, its greatest virtue was its very audacity: to do what no one would expect or think possible.

As the raiding party headed down the road, Mosby turned to Ames, who was riding by his side, and quickly explained their destination. Mosby recalled. "Without being able to give any satisfactory reason for it, I felt an instinctive trust in his fidelity, which he never betrayed." They continued down the turnpike until they were within three miles of Chantilly. There they turned right and crossed through the gap in the picket lines. Silently they continued on until they reached the Warrenton Pike at a point midway between Centreville and their destination.

Mosby's plan had called for his small band of partisans to arrive at Fairfax Court House close to midnight. However, despite all his efforts to make certain that they stayed on their tight timetable, a seemingly minor wrinkle almost wrecked the entire scheme. Although it would hardly have appeared so to the men at the time, the true crisis came unnoticed in the dark woods not long after Mosby and his men had left the Warrenton road. Darkness and the misty rain had already reduced visibility to a minimum. Matters only worsened once the men entered the dense forest, and the column frequently had to halt as those in front tried to find the way sometimes groping about them. After one such short stop, the rear half of the column remained stationary, believing that Mosby had ordered a halt, and waited for further orders to advance. Unable to see more than a few feet in any direction, no one was aware that the two sections of the column had separated for fifteen or twenty minutes. Mosby and the front half of the band by this time had advanced a considerable distance. Still, there was nothing to do but turn back and try and find the missing men. Failure to do so would force them to abort the raid.

"Without being able to give any satisfactory reason for it, I felt an instinctive trust in his fidelity, which he never betrayed."

The men left behind were not offered such a clear-cut choice and began to argue among themselves about what to do. A few wanted to immediately recross the Union picket lines and go back; others thought it best to remain where they were, convinced Mosby would send someone back. The majority believed that they should press forward and try to catch up to the commander, and this view won out after considerable discussion. Slowly feeling their way forward, fortunately, they noticed a faint glimmer among the pines in front of them a few minutes later. they followed the light until they came upon a woodsman hut where Mosby had stopped.

The entire force now together again, Mosby once more led his men towards their goal only making occasional stops to cut whatever telegraphic wires they encountered as they neared Fairfax Court House.

The rebel band finally entered the town around 2 A.M. and silently made their way along the main street, which led to Little River Turnpike in front of the village hotel. Mosby's men, of course, recognized. where they were and knew they were in the center of hundreds, if not several thousand, of the enemy's troops. None balked, however. By now, they had confidence in Mosby's ability to lead them into, and then safely out of no matter the danger.

Everyone was asleep except for a few drowsy guards. Whenever they were challenged, Mosby or Ames would answer "Fifth New York Cavalry." It was so dark the sentinel couldn't tell the difference. Rebels would then approach the guard quickly and capture him so there would be no one behind to sound the alarm. Reaching Fairfax Court House, the thirty-nine men were divided into several squads. Some were sent to the stables to collect horses, others were to go to houses where officers were thought to be.

"A six-shooter has great persuasive powers"

Ames, having until recently served with the Union brigade, was totally familiar with its command structure and protocols. He casually replied that he was waiting for Major White of the Fifth New York.

A plausible explanation, the Union sentinel was just about to return to his beat. Mosby, however, had given orders to capture and disarm all Union sentinels to prevent them from sounding the alarm. Ames bent over as if to whisper something in the soldier's ear and as the sentinel returned and crouched over to listen, Ames and Frankland drew their revolvers, which they shoved in the surprised guard's face. As Mosby would point out in his memoirs, "a six-shooter has great persuasive powers" and the guard was made to agree that, at least in this case, discretion was truly the better part of valor.

As these events were unfolding, Mosby with most of his group quickly proceeded to the Murray House which they had understood to be Wyndham's headquarters. They arrived there only to find that the colonel's residency was in Judge Thomas' house, which they had passed as they first entered the town.

In Mosby's short absence, Trooper Joe Nelson seized a telegraph operator and a soldier who had been sleeping in a nearby tent and questioned, the soldier who admitted he was a guard at General Stoughton's headquarters and proceeded to divulge its location. When Mosby rode up to his men beside the courthouse, he learned that the General was himself quartered in the town. Mosby immediately decided to change his plans. He would personally go after the larger "game," Stoughton, while Ames and a few trusted men would seek out Wyndham at Judge Thomas's house.

Ames and his party were able to make their way to the Thomas House and even into Wyndham's headquarters without being detected. Here, they were disappointed, however. That very evening Wyndham had boarded a train to return to Washington on official business. The bird they had been trying to catch had inadvertently escaped. Anxious to leave a message that they were able to enter Wyndham's inner sanctum, however, they snatched up his clothing and then gathered up the quality horses in the stables.

As the men searched the house, they found a few other occupants. Barging into another room, a Rebel private found a man asleep. Waking him, he extended Mosby's invitation for a Southern vacation. This man, who turned out to be an officer, was both quick-witted and courageous, something probably no other Union officer in that town could boast, based on the night's events. He pleaded that he was only a civilian sutler and to substantiate his claim pointed to various confiscated goods that were lying about on the tables and chairs. He was getting away with his ruse, and the Rebel soldier was just turning to leave the room when Ames entered. As fortune would have it, the man in the bed was none other than the assistant Adjutant General, one Captain Barker, Company "L," Fifth New York, the very company Ames had served in until he deserted. Caught in his lie, Barker had to acknowledge his true identity and was made to quickly dress and accompany the Rebels.

As fate was handing Ames a happy reunion with his former superior officer, Mosby was making his way to Doctor Gunnel's residence. A brick house, the Gunnell home was a little off the Little River turnpike and stood on the western outskirts of the town. Describing the incident for a magazine article many years later, Mosby remembers he was accompanied by Joe Nelson, George Whitescarver, Welt Hatcher, Frank Williams, and a man named Hunter. There was probably a sixth private, but his name unfortunately has been lost to posterity.

Like each of the other partisan squads stealthily working their way through the town, Mosby and the six others reached their objective unopposed and unnoticed. Reaching the house, Mosby and his men dismounted and approached the door. Boldly, Mosby pounded on the door, as if he was a courier seeking entrance with important information. A head soon appeared out of a second-story window and demanded who was there. "Fifth New York Cavalry with a dispatch for General Stoughton," was Mosby's instant reply. A few moments later he heard footsteps tramping down the staircase. The door opened and in front of them stood a man clothed only in his nightshirt and drawers.

Before the Union officer suspected anything was amiss, Mosby grabbed him by the shirt collar and whispered his true identity. As in many other cases, both on this night and in subsequent raids, this had the desired effect. The officer, Lieutenant Prentiss, led his captors up the staircase to the general's room on the second floor. Mosby ordered Welt Hatcher and George Whitescarver to remain outside to guard the horses.

Quietly opening the door and stealing into the room, the five raiders lit a lamp. Given the enormity of the events that were unfolding in this room and the complete lack of precedence, it is not surprising that every detail, every action would be permanently etched in the memories of all the participants. Even the dialogue, at least in substance, has been preserved for posterity.

“No, I am Mosby-he has caught you”

Lying on the bed before them was the catch: General Stoughton, sound asleep and seemingly dreaming. As Mosby looked around the room, it was immediately obvious to him that the general had been entertaining there. And, as Mosby would later observe, the uncorked champagne bottles lying about "furnished an explanation of the General's deep sleep." Stoughton had been hosting a number of Washington ladies who, as chance would have it, had left only minutes before Mosby and his men entered the town.

Drawing the covers off the sleeping General, the Rebels expected him to wake. The champagne was maintaining its effect, however, and Stoughton continued to snore loudly. Mosby had no time for ceremony and possibly gave in to a touch of impishness. The general was rolled over on his side. Mosby lifted his nightshirt and delivered a whack on Stoughton's ass. Mosby would later recall "effect was electric." Startled, the brigadier sat up and demanded to know what they were doing. Stoughton thought these men were couriers playing some sort of rude joke. Despite the dim light, he failed to perceive that these were Rebels, dressed in full Confederate uniform.

John Singleton leaned over the bed and calmly asked the general if he had heard of Mosby. Stoughton affirmed that he had, and asked eagerly if this Rebel, such a nuisance of late, had been caught. Mosby could not resist the irony of the question and replied, "No, I am Mosby-he has caught you."

Stoughton had a reputation as a gallant soldier and Mosby was afraid that he might try to escape, or at the very least attempt some sort of delaying tactics until the alarm was sounded and help arrived. Mosby told a lie, quite believable under the circumstances: the town was held by J.E.B. Stuart and Stonewall Jackson occupied Centreville. Stoughton's face dropped as he realized the apparent hopelessness of the situation. There was nothing to do but acquiesce to his captors.

He did ask, however, if Fitzhugh Lee, a former classmate at West Point was there and requested to be taken to his old friend. Mosby acquiesced, but requested Stoughton, in turn, to dress quickly. Despite these injunctions, the general, who was widely known as a fop, dressed meticulously in front of the mirror, but in the excitement of the moment forgot his watch. Frank Williams picked up the forgotten item, which he handed to Stoughton as they exited the house.

Although Whitescarver and Welt Hatcher had been left to stand guard outside the Gunnel House and warn Mosby of any unexpected Union activity, they obviously could not resist the temptation of taking a more active role, like their comrades. Noticing some nearby tents, they snuck up and captured the seven occupants, who, they soon discovered, were troopers of the First Vermont Cavalry on duty as bodyguards to the commanding general. They also found two fine horses, bridled and saddled, and ready for any urgent dispatches that might need to be sent.

With General Stoughton finally dressed and ready, the seven partisans and their prisoners quickly made their way back to the courthouse, the appointed place of rendezvous. Here, they found that the other Rebel squads had completed their assigned tasks, had returned, and were mounted in preparation for a hasty departure. Mosby and his twenty-nine men had managed to round up about 40 Union prisoners and nearly 60 horses. Ames came up to Mosby and with great pride introduced Captain Barker to him. The former Union sergeant treated his former superior officer with the greatest civility and respect.

Barker's initial attempt to avoid capture, as well as a desperate attempt to escape later, demonstrated that Ames's high opinion of this officer was not misplaced. Miraculously, although the raiders remained in and about the town for slightly over an hour, not a shot was fired at them nor was the alarm sounded. At first, the raiders had been able to scoop up every Federal soldier they could find. Eventually, some Union soldiers spotted the Confederates and managed to escape the net. But time went by and there was still no alarm or organized attempt to fight back. Those who were not captured ran away to find a hiding place.

Still, the situation was critical, and Mosby realized they would regain their nerve as soon as his band departed. Then the chase would be on. It was now somewhere between 3:00 and 3:15 A.M., and the Rebel raiding party was finally ready to retire. There were actually more Union prisoners than there were rebels to guard them. The extreme darkness, however, once again worked to the raiders' advantage: the captured Union troopers were unable to distinguish friend from foe and had no idea how many Rebels there actually were. They thought the prisoners a little farther down the column were actually Confederate horsemen.

Wyndham having escaped capture, Stoughton became the desired prize and Mosby was determined to take every measure to prevent his escape. Stoughton wanted to mount one of the courier horses seized by Whitescarver and Hatcher. He was obliged to mount a horse of "lower mettle," instead. As an additional precaution, Hunter was ordered to hold Stoughton's bridle reins and under absolutely no circumstances to let go of these. Obviously, wisdom dictated that similar precautions be taken for all Union prisoners, but there were simply not enough captors.

After what probably seemed an interminable period of time, the raiding column finally was ordered underway. Quickly, but with as little noise as possible, they made their way out of town. The clopping of the horses' hooves still could be heard aways, and as the column passed an outlying house an upper window was heard to be raised, followed by someone asking the name of the regiment in an authoritative tone. Emboldened by their complete success, the Confederate troopers laughed at the ludicrousness of the question.

The man in the second story turned out to be Lt. Colonel Johnstone, commander of the 18th Pennsylvania Cavalry, who was spending the night with his wife. He realized that something was amiss and that the men in front of his house were almost certainly the enemy. Mosby realized, in his turn, that the authoritative tone of the challenge indicated the presence of a high-ranking officer, and, as such, another prize worthy of immediate capture.

Joe Nelson and Welt Hatcher ordered to search the house, jumped off their horses, ran up, and broke down the front door. Johnstone, meanwhile, had heard the column stop and had a premonition of what was to follow. With no time to dress, Johnstone ran down the stairs and fled through the back door clad only in his nightgown.

Johnstone's wife, along with Captain Barker, proved to be the only ones on the Union side capable of "manly" actions that night. Just as Nelson and Hatcher were running into the house, Mrs. Johnstone managed to gain the hallway. Nonplussed, she stood her ground and, fighting "like a lioness," gave her husband the precious moments he needed to escape.

Her spouse, meanwhile, darted through the backyard, crossed some gardens, and gained the stables and barn area. Though pursued by several of Mosby's rangers, he made his escape. The Rebels groped around in the dark, searching the hedges and barns for their elusive prey. Others ran into the house and searched for spoil. Coming to Johnstone's bedroom, they spotted his uniform, hat, and watch, which they grabbed as consolation for not catching the fugitive. Nelson quickly claimed the hat to replace the one he had lost on another raid a few days earlier.

This little episode had cost the Raiders another fifteen minutes or so, pushing them even further behind Mosby's original schedule. Time was fast running out if they hoped to leave the town, pass by the cavalry, and slip past the vedettes before the break of day. Mosby Ordered the search called off, the men remounted and the column was set in motion once again.

In the various reports that had to be written in the days following Mosby's raid, there were some subtle and some not-so-subtle attempts to paint a different picture of what had actually occurred and how each major Union participant behaved. The Marshal-Provost's report, for example, would say that Johnstone hid under a barn. Evidence suggests that he actually climbed under an outhouse, a place unlikely to be thoroughly searched. In any case, the panic-stricken Johnstone remained in his hiding place the several hours until dawn, not realizing that his pursuers had long since left. To add injury to insult, when he finally gathered up the courage to emerge, a nail ripped off his nightgown as he slid under the boards.

What Johnstone did next cannot be ascertained with certainty. Some say he ran to headquarters in his nude and noticeably odoriferous condition; others write that he ran back to his wife. The latter, although certainly glad to see her husband uncaptured and unhurt, politely declined to embrace him until he was washed. Only after he had been scrubbed with a horse brush and curry comb was he finally ready to pursue the long-gone Rebels. Then he led his men in the opposite direction.

Mosby, meanwhile, after departing Fairfax Court House had put into motion his plan to confound the pursuers who would inevitably follow. For about half a mile his column headed towards Fairfax Station. At this point, the column wheeled 90 degrees and made for the road that connected Fairfax Court House to Centreville. This was probably the last direction the Union pursuers would expect him to take since it led to camps containing several thousand Union cavalrymen. Mosby's plan was to come close enough to the cavalry camps to confuse anyone who attempted to follow him from Fairfax Court House but remain distant enough so as not to disturb the sleeping soldiers and their unvigilant vedettes. Mosby's men had carefully cut all the telegraph wires and no one outside the victimized town had any inkling of what had taken place. Of course, for Mosby's plan to work it was absolutely necessary that his party wind past Centreville and its outlying fortifications while it was still dark.

As they rode along, Stoughton at first was able to uphold an even disposition; he expected at any moment to hear the sounds of his own cavalry, who would capture the heavily laden Confederate raiders. Talking to Mosby, he even acknowledged that the Rebel captain had performed a truly brave exploit. A few moments later, they reached the pike about halfway between Fairfax Court House and Centreville. Mosby would later recall feeling that they were now relatively safe from pursuit. The danger now was posed by the camps and the guards in their front.

Up to now, the column was a relatively loose formation. A few of Mosby's men had ridden as flankers; others were slightly to the rear. It was extremely dark and most of the prisoners were holding their own reins. The men at the column's sides and rear were positioned to prevent escapes, but they were only partially successful and a number of Union cavalrymen, including Lieutenant Prentiss, Stoughton's aide, managed to get away. Reaching the Centreville pike, however, the column was now closed up and Mosby rode a distance on the pike to reconnoiter. The way clear, Mosby ordered Hunter to bring the column forward at a trot. Now only four miles from Centreville, the column continued forward. Nelson and Mosby frequently would stop and listen for the sounds of pursuit; all they could hear was the hooting of owls.

Dawn was starting to break. The critical moment had come. They still had to pass by Centreville, only a mile away, and the outlying picket posts. Upon galloping back up to the column, after one of his halts to listen, Mosby found that it had come to a stop. Ahead about a hundred yards could be seen a smoldering campfire beside the road, where a Union picket had spent the night. Hunter cautiously went up to investigate. The post was now deserted. As Mosby had counted on, the officer had ordered the guards to return to camp at dawn.

The column resumed its march along the road, in full view of Union fortifications 200 or 300 yards away. One of the sentinels on a parapet saw the column and called for it to halt. Mosby had no intention to comply; however, just at this moment, his attention was diverted as a gunshot rang out. Looking ahead, he could see that Captain Barker had put his spurs into his horse and was galloping hell for leather towards the fort. Before he could reach safety, his horse stumbled into a ditch and he was thrown onto the ground. Mosby and some of his men quickly rode up to Barker and helped him remount his horse- unhurt but still captive. Meanwhile, the Union sentinels, remained passive, despite the sound of a gunshot and despite the failure of the column to halt as ordered. It was still very gray and hard to distinguish the colors of the uniforms, The column was riding away from the cavalry camps and the guards assumed it was a Union cavalry patrol heading out on one of the frequent early-morning patrols. After a few minutes more, the raiding party finally past Centreville. The last hurdle was to cross Cub Run, after which they would be outside the reach of any pursuit. As they neared the stream, they saw that their difficulties were not over. Melting snow had swelled the stream and it was now "booming" overflowing in a raging torrent. The choice was either to turn back and find some other way back to the lines or to try to wade across. Looking over his shoulder, Mosby could still see the cannons "bristling through the embrasures." He plunged in. His horse held its own and he made it across.

Stoughton was next. Then the rest of the raiders and prisoners plunged into the stream. All made it across, although many were driven slightly downstream, and all were soaked and wet. Once over, they were now relatively safe. Circling slightly back, they regained the Warrenton Pike. Soon they passed the very spot where Stonewall Jackson had repulsed Fitz John Porter the previous year. Climbing a high hill, they were able to see miles back. They were not being pursued. As the column stopped atop the hill, however, there was a brilliant sunburst. Mosby could not help but be moved by the moment. His career was on the ascendant; this was his Austerlitz, and in his own words, "He had won the lottery of life."

Frankland had been sent ahead to Warrenton to get provisions. The men had not eaten for many hours and they were both extremely tired and hungry. As the main body of the party approached, the townspeople came out with a breakfast they had prepared. The men, women, and children cheered heartily. This was Mosby triumphant.

The next morning, Mosby and his men arrived at Fitzhugh Lee's headquarters at Culpeper Court House bringing with them one general, two captains, thirty privates, and fifty-eight horses. Mosby would never forget the surprised expression on Fitz Lee's face as he introduced Stoughton to his old classmate. Lee said little to Mosby, who sensed his coldness. Truly his star was rapidly rising; it was not surprising that it would awaken jealousies. Discreetly, Mosby left the room without further adieu and went down to the train station to greet Stuart, who had just arrived from a court-martial at Fredericksburg. Unlike Fitz Lee, Stuart was openly delighted with Mosby's raid, and over the next several days did everything in his power to ensure that the Confederate authorities knew about the daring accomplishment.

"Well I'm sorry for that. I can make new brigadier generals but I can't make horses."

The great raid was over. John Singleton Mosby would soon become a household word throughout the Confederacy. Largely as a result of the raid, he was promoted to major and authorized to raise a battalion. Finally, his dream of engaging in a partisan war on a grand scale was materializing.

As would be expected, the consequences of that March 8th night on the major Union players were quite the opposite. Although he would soon be exchanged, Stoughton never returned to the service, for he could never live down the ridicule stemming from the manner in which he had been captured. Hearing about the fiasco at Fairfax Court House including the capture of Union horses, soldiers, officers, and a general- Abraham Lincoln commented, "Well I'm sorry for that. I can make new brigadier generals but I can't make horses." Colonel Johnstone was also disgraced. He could not live down the ignominy of showing up at headquarters in the nude, as well as his choice of hiding places. Although Wyndham was not present during the raid, his inability to control Mosby became known and he too was relieved of command.

In the days following the raid, Union authorities would investigate what happened and the reasons for Mosby's remarkable success. They erroneously concluded that it was an "inside job," believing that Southern sympathizers in the town had passed on critical information to the partisan captain. A few suspects, particularly Antonia Ford, the young woman who had lodged Stoughton's female guests that night, were arrested and sent to a prison in Washington D.C. There was no basis for these charges, however, and they would eventually all be released. Probably the most lasting result of Mosby's daring raid sequentially took place in the marital, rather than martial, arena when Antonia Ford married a Yankee provost marshal involved in the case named Joseph Willard. She "got her revenge," Mosby was heard to remark.

-TJS