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  The Road to Gettysburg

  Book 3 in the

  Lucky Jack Series

  By

  Griff Hosker

  Published by Sword Books Ltd 2014

  Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition

  The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  Table of contents

  Chapter 1 Page 4

  Chapter 2 Page 21

  Chapter 3 Page 41

  Chapter 4 Page 61

  Chapter 5 Page 83

  Chapter 6 Page 103

  Chapter 7 Page 124

  Chapter 8 Page 145

  Chapter 9 Page 167

  Chapter 10Page 186

  Chapter 11Page 207

  Chapter 12 Page 230

  Chapter 13 Page 244

  Chapter 14 Page 266

  Chapter 15 Page 293

  Chapter 16 Page 322

  Chapter 17 Page 343

  Chapter 18 Page 362

  Chapter 19 Page 382

  Maps Page 405

  Historical note Page 415

  Glossary Page 420

  Other books Page 423

  Part 1

  The Road to Chancellorsville

  Chapter 1

  April 1863

  We had spotted the Yankee patrol just after dawn. One of the advantages of having been a Partisan Ranger for so long was that you never forgot the lessons you learned. We had discovered that if you did without a little sleep you might have the edge over the enemy. We need all the help we could get. Despite Antietam and Kelly’s Ford the Army of Northern Virginia was still on the back foot. The coming of spring accelerated our need for victory. We were running out of resources but the Yankees were increasing theirs. It was not a fair world.

  “Sir?”

  “Sorry Sergeant Major Mulrooney. I was daydreaming.” Cecil or Irish as he was known had come a long way since the belligerent and pugnacious Irishman who had tried to take on the whole regiment. He had matured and had been the obvious choice as Sergeant Major now that old Sergeant Major Vaughan had retired. He was right to quietly remind me that I had a job to do. I was now Captain Jack Hogan and that meant that I commanded a troop. It was, admittedly, a small troop. Our numbers were always being whittled down and we had to work and perform like a full troop.

  I liked the dawn. It suited both me and my men. We were used to going without sleep and the blue coated Union soldiers were not. We used the land and the time to aid us in our attacks and ambushes. We were not afraid of the soldiers we faced. Our equipment might be scratched together but we were not. I would trust my troop with my life. I knew I could rely on them to work and act as one. They had been moulded by be.

  The Yankee patrol outnumbered us. There were a hundred of them and only sixty of us. However from the colour of their uniforms they were new to the front. They were a dark blue. Veterans soon acquired a faded look to their uniforms. New regiments meant easy pickings. They would have to learn as we had done, through the blood of our friends. The deep blue uniforms were reassuring. As for our uniforms… we wore whatever we could lay our hands on. If we found any Yankees whose blousons had faded to grey we took them. In the CSA, beggars could not be choosers. The majority of us had Yankee weapons. They were more reliable and better than ours. I had three US Army Colts and they had saved my life on more than one occasion.

  None of this helped me to reach a decision. How best to knock the Yankees about a little bit without losing too many men? The Connecticut cavalry obviously felt safe; they were north of their own front line. They were just showing that they owned this land. We felt as comfortable north of that invisible barrier as south and we knew every crossing both large and small. I made my decision. “Sergeant Major. We will make two columns of fours, you lead one and I will lead the other. We charge through with pistols blazing. You turn and take the rear of the column and I will take the front.”

  He nodded seriously, “And then sir?”

  I almost smiled but Sergeant Major Mulrooney took everything seriously. “Then we high tail it back to the Potomac and tell Jeb Stuart of the new regiment they have sent.”

  Cecil nodded just as seriously. “Yes Captain Hogan.”

  The Union cavalry trotted along the pike heading for General Lee at Fredericksburg. They had not seen us secreted in the woods above the road. Our grey uniforms blended in well with most backgrounds. As Irish rode off to tell his company I turned to the men behind me. “We charge down yellin’ as though we are a brigade. Nobody fires until I do. When we turn we will be heading for the head of the column and then back up here. Clear?” They knew well enough not to make a sound and they nodded but they were grinning. This was what they enjoyed; catching Yankee cavalry with their pants down. “We won’t be able to stop for wounded. Nobody is to get wounded without my permission. Check your weapons and then we ride.”

  I gave them a second or two to check their guns and, after nodding to the Sergeant Major who had just returned, I waved the troop forwards. We were uphill and about four hundred yards from the strung out column of twos. When we were two hundred paces away I waved the charge and the troop let out a collective, “Yee haw!”

  The smartly dressed cavalrymen froze. I had seen it before with green troops. The officers were either at the front or the back with their sergeants. The ones in the middle were troopers and they waited for an order which never came. At fifty yards I blazed away with both pistols. Copper knew me well and I had dropped the reins to guide my horse with my knees. The Army Colt is like a large shotgun or small cannon and two troopers were thrown from their horses immediately. The smoke from the guns meant aiming was impossible and I just pointed both of them down the column as I passed through. I holstered one pistol and wheeled Copper to the left. I took out another Colt and I fired at the column of soldiers as they tried to fend off an attack on both sides. They outnumbered us but the column of twos meant that we had a greater firepower. Most of my men had acquired two pistols and they used them both with great efficacy. When I saw the officers draw their swords I knew that they were lost. I headed for the cluster of gold at the front and fired, almost blindly at the huddle of gold braided officers who were trying to regroup and organise their men.

  “Ride you Wildcats!” We had not been Wildcats for some time but they always responded to that battle cry and they followed me as I headed obliquely through the head of the column. A captain’s face loomed up and I fired my Colt. He disappeared. I felt the swish of a sabre as I emptied my first Colt but I kept firing with my second and then I was in the open.

  I slowed Copper and shouted, “Sergeant James, regroup the men up the hill.”

  I had not seen the trusty troop sergeant but I knew that he would still be behind me. He was as reliable as the sun in the morning; he was always there.

  “Sir! You be careful now sir.”

  He was also like an old woman who always worried about me. I smiled; I had no intention of getting wounded again. I turned Copper and took out the Colt I had holstered. It still had three balls left. I saw a corporal detach himself from the column and charge me with his sabre held forward; he must have thought he was a knight in armour. He was wrong, he was brave but it was the wrong thing to do. I aimed my Colt and fired. He was thro
wn backwards from his horse which continued to hurtle up the hill. I saw the last of the troop pass me and I followed. The column of blue coated soldiers was now a shambles. The officers were either wounded or dead and the ones who weren’t were desperately trying to reorganise their men.

  When I reached the rest of the troop I said, “Well done. Sergeant Major, take a roll call, Sergeant James collect those spare horses.” Some of the Yankee horses had followed us. They were worth money to us. The Confederate Government did not supply horsemen with their own horses we had to buy our own.

  “Just one man missing sir, Trooper Rae.”

  It would have had to be one of the newer ones. We had found that if you could survive a couple of encounters then the odds of survival rose rapidly. Still it was not a bad result. I did not know how many of the enemy we had killed but we had prevented a patrol from scouting our beleaguered Army of North Virginia and we had damaged their morale again.

  “Corporal Jones, take a couple of men and make sure we aren’t being followed.” I thought it was unlikely that we would be followed but it paid to be careful.

  We headed back to Kelly’s Ford where we had recently defeated the Yankees but at a great cost to ourselves. We now controlled the crossing but it was just three guns and our depleted regiment which did so. The rest of the Army of Northern Virginia was at Falmouth and Fredericksburg. As we approached the Rappahannock Trooper Grey rode up. “Corporal Jones said the Yankees ain’t following sir.”

  “Good. Rejoin the rearguard.”

  The Sergeant Major joined me. “It seems there’s more Yankee cavalry than fleas on a dog.”

  “You’re right but I am more concerned with the fact that there are so many new cavalry units. There is something up.”

  “We keep whupping them sir so we needn’t worry.”

  I waved a hand behind me. “Look back there Sergeant Major; is that a full troop?”

  “Well no sir but…”

  “And where will we get a replacement for Trooper Rae?” He had no answer to that. I felt bad that I had snapped at him. “The thing is, Sergeant Major Mulrooney that we are bleeding slowly to death. We need to end this war once and for all and we need to do it quickly before we run out of men.”

  “But we never lose.”

  “I know. We have the best men, the best horses, the best cavalry bar none but they have the better weapons and the greater numbers of men. It is simple mathematics. They can afford to lose four men to one of ours and we will run out of men sooner or later. I even heard that they have a darkie regiment now.”

  “They’ve armed the slaves? That is madness.”

  “I think it is quite clever. The former slaves hate the south and there are thousands of them. Who will worry when they all get killed? No, that is the most worrying thing of all. It gives them an unlimited supply of men.” We headed across the river depressed, despite our victory.

  The sentries were alert as we rode across the shallow ford. The Yankees had tried to infiltrate our camp before and with so few of us we could not afford to be caught in our own camp.

  “Major Murphy just got in sir.”

  “Thanks Kershaw.”

  We only kept a skeleton garrison in the camp. Our job was to annoy the Union forces whilst finding out their strengths. It was what we were good at.

  When we had dismounted at the picket lines Irish said, “I’ll get one of the lads to walk Copper. Major Murphy will need your report.”

  “Thanks.” We only had half a dozen officers and our mess tent was smaller than most but I knew that it would be where the others were. As I has expected Danny Murphy, the major and adjutant of the regiment, was already there and had a mug of Irish whiskey in his hand. He was talking with Captain Harry Grimes; we had been the first of the men from Boswell’s Horse to be promoted. Lieutenants Dag Spinelli and Jed Smith were also there. The sixth officer, Lieutenant Dinsdale would be seeing to his patients. Our seventh was hundreds of miles away. Colonel Boswell was recuperating from a ball in the back courtesy of an English traitor, Colonel Beauregard. He would not rejoin us until the autumn.

  “Ah, Lucky Jack; did you have good hunting?”

  “We surprised a troop of Union cavalry on the other side of the Rappahannock. They looked, from their uniforms, like they were Connecticut boys. We cut them up a bit and then skedaddled back here.” We had become experts at identifying who we were fighting. We found that it helped.

  “Lose any?”

  “Just one of the new boys.”

  “It’s always the way.”

  I sat down and poured myself a small beaker of the powerful liquor. “The trouble is, sir, that this is the third new regiment we have seen in the past five days. Something is up.”

  “I know. Well you won’t be surprised that the three of us have been summoned to Fredericksburg to see the general. Dago and Jed you are in charge.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “Now. We were just waiting for you to return.” He looked at Dago and Jed, “ We’ll be back before nightfall.”

  My immediate concern was Copper. When I reached the horse lines I found the Horse Sergeant, Carlton James. “Has Apples been out today?” I had captured the Appaloosa last year and given her to the sergeant. He loved horses.

  “No sir. Why, you going out again?”

  “Yeah. Gotta meet the general.”

  “Then take Apples. Copper looks plum tuckered out.” She didn’t but I knew that our horse whisperer would want nothing to hurt one of his horses; least of all me.

  The Appaloosa was the second best horse in the regiment. She was not ridden as much as the other horses and was in perfect condition. She positively pranced as we headed east.

  I turned to Danny. “Any news of the colonel?”

  “No, Jack. The last letter I had from Jarvis was at the end of last month. So there is no change so far as I know.”

  That was all that we could have expected. It had been touch and go when we took the ball from his back. He could have been crippled for life. “And any more recruits?”

  “I am afraid they go to the glamorous regiments. The 1st Virginia Scouts is not the most popular.” We had been cobbled together by Jeb Stuart from the remnants of three regiments. I liked to think that we were the best but then I was biased.

  The pickets on the pike stopped us and asked us to identify ourselves. The Union had taken a leaf out of our book and were now trying to operate behind our lines. Mosby’s Rangers and Boswell’s Wildcats had had a disproportionate affect on tactics. So far they had been remarkably unsuccessful but things could change quickly. When they saw Apples they smiled and waved us through. There was just one Appaloosa in this part of the world and she belonged to the 1st Virginia Scouts.

  We held on to the south bank of the Rappahannock, but only just. General Hooker’s forces loomed large just north of the river. We knew, from experience, that there were many areas where the river could be forded. General Lee had other regiments watching them but it was not an easy task. Of course, we would not be meeting the great man himself. We would be meeting General Stuart, the cavalry commander. We had performed services for the general in the past and he held us in high esteem. We hitched our horses outside the general’s headquarters. It was festooned with flags and was clearly the flamboyant general’s temporary home. It was filled with cavalry officers. Jeb Stuart was full of life both on and off the battlefield. His aide, Lieutenant Geraghty, greeted us. Stuart was always changing his aides as he did favours for his friends but we had known the lieutenant for a month or so.

  “Come along gentlemen. The general is in the rear parlour with General Jackson.”

  “Stonewall?” Harry admired the stoic general.

  “None other. I believe he has a request to make of you.” The lieutenant realised that he had been indiscreet and he shut up as he ushered us through.

  There were just the two generals. They could not have been more different. Jeb Stuart was small and almost delicate with more g
old and decoration on his uniform than Joachim Murat. General Jackson, in contrast, was a bear of a man who wore a plain blue frock coat. Colonel Boswell had once had the effrontery to ask the famous right hand of General Lee why he wore a Union uniform. He had been told, quite curtly, that he had always worn it. He could be quite blunt. I always thought it dangerous. He might not be the bright target that was Jeb Stuart but he was a big man in a blue uniform.

  Stuart was always ebullient and he greeted us warmly. He immediately poured us three generous glasses of his favourite whisky. “And how are my favourite scouts faring? Keeping the Yankees on their toes I bet.”

  “General Stuart, if we could keep to matters in hand these gentlemen would be able to get back to their billets tonight.”

  General Stuart cocked his head at General Jackson, “Always has his mind on military matters does Stonewall.” Jackson began to open his mouth and Stuart held up his hand. “Point taken, Tom.” He pointed to the map on the wall. “Now then boys, as you can see the Yankees have us holding this river. There are at least five fords where they can cross upstream of us here: Ely’s Ford, U.S. Ford, Bank’s Ford, Germanna Ford, Scott’s Ford and, of course, your camp at Kelly’s Ford. Now we can hold them at those crossings but we want you to stop them getting close. We want you to divide your command into five columns and do as you did when you were Partisan Rangers. We want you to spend the next two weeks harassing them in the rear of their lines so that they spend all their time looking for you and don’t try to cross the river.”

  Danny frowned; this would be a hard task. “Why two weeks sir?”

  “A good question, major. We will have all of the crossings protected by then. You need to buy us some time.”

  General Jackson stood. “I know I am asking a lot of your men but we are heavily outnumbered and General Lee and I need time to reorganise our forces and defeat this new general, Joe Hooker. He has a large cavalry force and we have been getting reports of lots of new regiments appearing. Cavalry in southern Virginia and the Shenandoah Valley would be a disaster. You have to keep them occupied.”