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  The track to Upperville was difficult. The rains the previous month had made the ground sodden and, in some places, it was still impassable. The road would have been quicker but we needed to remain hidden and so we took many detours. One such detour saved us from an ambush.

  We had had to trek up a shallow valley and over a small ridge to drop down the other side. As we emerged from the trees we saw a gun emplacement and infantry guarding the road below. Had we not detoured we would have stumbled upon the men. They would not have missed. I led the patrol back into the shelter of the trees.

  We rode along the ridge and dropped down a mile or so further on and then headed for Upperville. It was the same story but here there were infantry as well as artillery. I could see that they had learned their lessons and the artillery park was both protected and watched closely. We were not here to raid but to observe. My notes now covered a couple of pages and would provide valuable information.

  “I think we can head on back now although I fear we will have a night in the open again.” I shielded my eyes to look at the sun. It was the middle of the afternoon and we were far from home.

  Perhaps we had tarried in the open too long or maybe our luck had run out. Whatever the reason, we heard the bugle and saw the cavalry galloping from the town. We turned back into the cover of the trees. “Trooper Ritchie, keep an eye on the cavalry.” We rode steadily without any pursuit coming close.

  When I halted the trooper said, “Sir, they headed down the road.”

  That was it. They were planning an ambush. We also had the problem that they could alert the men at the gun emplacement and they would be watching for us. It would be difficult to escape this particular trap. We would have to use our superior skills of horsemanship and our knowledge of the terrain.

  “Check your weapons.”

  After I was satisfied that we were prepared we rode on and skirted the artillery position. We rode back along the ridge towards the impassable ground and there we saw the Yankees waiting for us. There were forty men in the patrol and they were halted on the other side of the shallow valley a hundred and eighty yards away. I halted my men and the Yankees watched us.

  One of the troopers asked, nervously, “Aren’t we going to run sir?”

  “Not yet, Morgan. Take out your carbines and wait for my order to fire.” I knew that we could not go forwards and I also knew that we could not cross that ground. It was like a swamp, we had discovered that earlier. I was waiting to see what the young lieutenant in charge of the smartly dressed troops would do. I smiled when he made his mistake. All that he saw was a shallow valley and a handful of Rebs waiting for him. I watched as he drew his sword and ordered the charge.

  “Open fire when I give the orders but don’t hit the officer he is worth more to us alive and making dumb decisions. Go for the corporals and sergeants. Fire!”

  We had stationary horses and the Yankee cavalry were going nowhere. Their progress halted when their mounts sank up to their saddles in mud. They were like sitting ducks and we picked our targets carefully. My first shot hit a sergeant in the arm, throwing him from his horse. When the trooper next to him dismounted to help the sergeant, Trooper Ritchie hit him too. The young officer gallantly tried to rally his men but it was in vain. Some of them tried to use their carbines to return fire but their struggling horses did not afford them a solid platform. The hillside was filled with our barking carbines. There were so many that we could not fail to hit them. They had had enough and began to fall back out of the range of our handful of carbines. The six horses from the fallen horsemen stood forlornly in the mud as the survivors regrouped.

  Our forward progress had been halted which left us but one alternative. “We will have to go back and take on that artillery emplacement and use the road.”

  I had expected an argument for there were at least fifty men in the emplacement but they merely sheathed their carbines and prepared to return. They were the best of men to lead. We returned to the shelter of the woods as the lieutenant tried to organise his men. They would find the route we had taken and pursue us eventually but I knew that we should be able to lose them in the dark.

  Knowing where the emplacement was allowed us to approach quietly using the cover of the trees. I used hand signals to order the men to draw their Colts. The infantry and artillerymen would have heard the gunfire and would be on the alert but I counted on the fact that they would be looking to the sound of the gunfire and the road rather than behind them.

  We would hit the Yankees in a column of twos. It meant we should be able to carve a path through them. I halted just within the eaves of the trees. The sun was setting in the west and we were almost invisible in the gloom of the east. The Parrot gun had a crew of twelve around it. The thirty or so infantrymen were behind earthworks. They were all looking down at the road. The engineers had left a path, wide enough for three horses, to go down to the road which lay a hundred yards beyond the gun. It was a well placed site for nothing could approach Upperville without having to run the gauntlet of their guns.

  It was now or never. I pumped my right arm three times and we erupted from the trees. We were less than fifty yards from them as we gave our rebel yell and they looked around in terror as we appeared from nowhere. I aimed at the gun crew. They were unarmed but they could fire at us with their cannon if I didn’t. Three of them fell to our guns as Copper thundered at them. I heard the fire from my men behind me. I switched my gun to aim at my left where I saw that some of the infantry had lifted their guns and were preparing to fire. My gun barked three times and I holstered and drew a second.

  I was almost through their lines when I fired two shots at point blank range. I glanced behind me and saw a pall of smoke surrounding my grey troopers as they carved a path of death down the slope. To my horror Trooper Morgan was struck by a bayonet and fell screaming from his horses and then there was a huge flash as a spark ignited the powder which was behind the gun. The smoke wreathed the emplacement and then the roar of the explosion and the concussion of the air hit us. I could hear little but I saw the blue coated infantry thrown to the ground. I dug my heels into Copper and suddenly struck the road. I wheeled left as Iturned to watch the survivors of my patrol follow me. We could not stop until we were clear of the gun but I desperately needed to see how we had fared.

  A quarter of a mile down the road I halted. I did not want winded horses. It looked like Trooper Morgan was our only loss but many of the men sported wounds and injuries. Sergeant James had been at the back. “What happened, Carlton?”

  He shook his head to clear his ears. “I think they hit their powder themselves. I was at the back and I saw them aiming at me; I put my head low and kicked on. They fired and must have all hit the powder and not me.”

  “Well it saved our bacon. We will ride steadily for a while and then try to hide for the night. They will be combing this neck of the woods for us soon. Well done boys. Those Yankees will be talking of your charge for some time to come.”

  As we road back towards Brandy Station I began to evaluate our options. I had no doubt that they would have alerted both Marshal and Warrenton. Those cavalry regiments based there would be out the next day and looking for us. How would we evade them? When we camped I would have to look at the map closely and see if I could plot a way back which avoided detection.

  I spied a track leading up into the Blue Ridge and I led us up it. It twisted and turned. I knew that we were not far from one of our earlier camps and an idea struck me. Once we had reached the top of the ridge I headed south until we came to a clearing.

  “Take off your saddles and let the horses graze. The grass isn’t the best but it will have to do. Eat while I work out how to get back home.”

  “Sir I brought some grain for the horses. You guys come and get it. Ritchie bring Copper while the captain reads the map.”

  I nodded to Ritchie as he led Copper away. The light was going fast but I could still see. If we headed due south we would only have to cross the t
urnpike to Front Royal and then we could use the small country road to avoid both Marshall and Warrenton. We would not reach Brandy Station but we would reach General Lee’s headquarters at Culpeper. It was a circuitous route but it would be a safe route.

  I waved the sergeant over and explained what I intended. “Good plan sir.”

  “Now what about the horses. Will they get us there?”

  “MacKay’s took a thrust from a bayonet. We need to mount him on the spare. The supplies we brought will be gone by the time we leave. Yes, they should do it but we will have to look after them.”

  I stabbed a finger at the pike. “That is our only worry. I want to hit that before morning. I reckon it will be busy during the day. If Hooker is building up his army then that will be his key road.”

  In answer he handed me some jerky. “Then make sure you eat sir. These boys would like to get home and you are their only chance.”

  “You could do just as well Carlton.”

  He shook his head. “I know horses and I reckon I know men but when it comes to making decisions like you do then I am useless.”

  We rested for two hours. I knew we ran a risk of allowing the Union cavalry to tighten their noose but I relied on the fact that it was a large area to cover and they had no idea where we actually were. This time Trooper Ritchie took the rear. He had proved to me that he had the ability to think and react quickly under pressure and he had sharp ears.

  We wound our way down the slope towards the road. We knew this part of the Blue Ridge well. It had been one of our escape routes in the past. As the sergeant and I led the way I reflected that the sergeant and I were the only ones on this patrol who had been here back then. We halted just above the road and listened. Sound travels a long way at night time. We heard nothing. I looked at Sergeant James and nodded. We rode slowly towards the road. We were looking for the small road which wound its ways through the hills towards the Warrenton pike. We would have to cross that road too but I hoped that we would have out run our pursuers by then. We had to risk the road for a short way. The moon came out from behind a cloud, briefly, and showed us the turning. We gratefully took it and entered the shelter of the hills which ran south eastwards.

  We had achieved our first goal and crossed the road in the dark. Would our luck hold on the second road? We could see small homes and farms dotted along our route but they were mercifully dark. There were no early risers. When we reached the small crossroads we halted. There was a cluster of buildings. The road east led to Marshall. If we disturbed whoever lived here then they could send a rider to Marshall and we would be trapped. We had almost made it when a door opened and, from the glow of the light from within I saw a man with a shotgun.

  “Who are you boys?”

  The man was on my left and as I spoke with him I began to ease my pistol from its holster. It was unlikely that I survive an exchange of fire for the shotgun was aimed at my middle. I had learned never to give up, even when things looked to be impossible.

  “The 1st Virginia Scouts sir.”

  There was a heart stopping pause and then he lowered the hammers on the gun. He smiled, “You must be the boys them Yankees are looking for.” He turned into the house, “Betsy, bring that pot of coffee here.” He pointed down the road. “A troop of cavalry came down the road just before midnight looking for you. Seems you stirred up a hornet’s nest up north eh boys?”

  His wife was pouring coffee into our mugs and smiling at us. They looked to be a middle aged couple which explained why he was not in the army. “Yes sir. We come down from Upperville.”

  “You boys ain’t with Mosby are you?”

  “No sir. We’re regulars but we were with the Wildcats.”

  He nodded, “Seems I heard of you boys.”

  “Thank you for the coffee. We had better be off.”

  “You boys take care now.”

  As the door was closed and the crossroads plunged into darkness once more I breathed a sigh of relief. Our luck was holding. If that had been a Yankee sympathiser then I would now be dead. There were many people who supported the Confederacy in the Blue Ridge. It was one of the reasons Mosby and his men survived. It was dawn when we reached the Warrenton Road. East lay Union cavalry and we rode west until we reached the road to Rixeyville. I consulted my map again. We could fork left down this road and ride directly to Brandy Station. We would not need to detour to Culpepper. Things had worked out well.

  We had just crossed the Hazel River when the Yankees found us. I have no idea how they picked up our trail but the troop of blue coated horsemen were spotted by Trooper Ritchie as he let his horse drink from the river.

  “Yankees! A quarter of a mile away!”

  We whipped our horses to race down the road. We could neither slow down nor fight the cavalry who were pursuing us. They could see us and therefore avoid anything we could do. The handful of people in Rixeyville looked in amazement as we thundered through their tiny town, hotly pursued by the cavalry eager to finally capture us.

  “Sergeant James!” The sergeant brought Apples next to Copper.

  “Sir?” He glanced over his shoulder.

  “Keep going to Culpeper. I’ll drop back with Ritchie.”

  He nodded a reluctant, “Sir.” He might not like me putting myself in harm’s way again but he knew that I might see a solution to our dilemma. I just hoped that their horses were as tired as ours were.

  I let the others overtake me and settled next to Trooper Ritchie. They were closing but not rapidly. They were now three hundred yards from us. Although Culpeper was nine miles away we would be safe if we could cover the next five miles before capture. I figured that Lee and Stuart would have scouts on this road too.

  I heard the pop of pistols, as the Union pursuers chanced shots. We were not in much danger but I was acutely aware that they just needed one lucky ball to strike man or beast and we would be in trouble. Trooper Ritchie grinned at me. He was young enough to still enjoy this. “They must want us real bad, sir.”

  “I think we have upset them and their pride.” I glanced over my shoulder again and they were inexorably closing with us. Dare I risk us going faster? The horses were tired. Copper could run all day but even my mount was labouring a little. We were half a mile closer and I could feel their shots coming alarmingly near to us.

  I raised my voice to shout to the men in the front. “Sergeant James, let’s try to go a little faster.”

  “Sir!” I had placed the sergeant at the front for he could judge the pace better than anyone.

  I saw the men in front of me go faster and I turned to Trooper Ritchie. “We will keep the same pace for a while. I want the boys ahead to get a lead.”

  “Yes sir.”

  When the gap was fifty yards I turned and saw that the Union cavalry were just two hundred paces away. I drew my Colt and, holding it as steadily as I could, I fired six shots at the blue coated horsemen. “Now Ritchie, ride like the wind.” As soon as I kicked Copper the game horse leapt forwards. The shots had caused the Yankees to slow and the gap rose to three hundred yards by the time we reached the rest of my men. We had bought a little time and that was all.

  The gap stayed the same and I began to believe that we would escape when Trooper Ritchie’s horse suddenly began to slow. “Sir. My horse, she’s been hit.” I glanced at the flanks and saw that the chestnut had been struck some time during our pursuit. “Leave me sir. You get to the general with the information.”

  “No, we’ll get you out of this.” I could see that the Union cavalry were now more strung out than they had been. We had a spare horse and all we needed was a few minutes. “Troop halt!” They obeyed instantly. “Turn and fire. Ritchie get on the spare horse.”

  I had my two loaded Colts out in an instant and blazed away. The leading riders must have emptied their guns firing at us and had not had the opportunity to reload. They looked in horror as we poured lead into them.

  “Done sir!”

  “Then let’s go!”
/>   We turned and galloped away. We had hurt them but they were now less than a hundred and fifty yards away. The riders at the front had loaded guns and it was a matter of time before they managed to hit one of us. I had ridden my luck one time too many. As I glanced over my shoulder expecting to see them close with us I heard the joyful sound of a bugle, a Confederate bugle. As the troop of Carolina Cavalry thundered past me firing and whooping I saluted with a beaming smile on my face. I was still Lucky Jack.

  Chapter 9

  While the cavalry from South Carolina chased the Yankees back to the Blue Ridge we rode directly to General Lee’s Headquarters. General Stuart was just leaving as we rode in.

  “Captain Hogan. Good to see you sir.” He frowned. “I take it this is not a social visit sir?”

  “No sir. We have just patrolled as far as Upperville. There are Union camps at Warrenton, Marshall and Upperville. We counted at least seven regiments, four of them cavalry.” I handed him my notes.

  “Well done captain. I shall take these to General Lee. You may rejoin your regiment.”

  Riding back to Brandy Station I reflected that was all we would ever get; a pat on the back and well done. It had cost a trooper his life to get that information and he would not even be remembered, save by his comrades.

  I did not have to face Colonel Boswell when I arrived back at the camp. He and the major had been invited to a meeting with the other commanders to plan a war game General Lee had ordered. I was relieved. Harry, Dago and Jed were all glad to see me and we were able to talk freely in the mess.

  “Major Murphy was like a bear with a sore head these past couple of days.”

  “Yeah, Harry is right. He worried that this might be a patrol too far for you. He knew you and the others were tired. I heard him and the colonel having words about it. I sure hope things get back to normal soon. I don’t like what it is doing to the regiment.”

  I shook my head, “You know, Dago, I yearn for the days of Boswell’s Wildcats when there were neither politics nor rules. It made far more sense than now.”