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Strasburg, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
to retire, he again held the rear; and continued in front of the enemy, eternally skirmishing with them, until Jackson again advanced to attack General Banks at Strasburg and Winchester. It was on a bright May morning that Ashby, moving in front, struck the Federal column of cavalry in transitu north of Strasburg, and scattered tStrasburg, and scattered them like a hurricane. Separated from his command, but bursting with an ardour which defied control, he charged, by himself, about five hundred Federal horsemen retreating in disorder, snatched a guidon from the hands of its bearer, and firing right and left into the column, summoned the men to surrender. Many did so, and the rest hemmed in by bitter and determined foes, fell back to escape destruction, and on his track rushed the heavy columns of Shields and Fremont, which, closing in at Strasburg and Front Royal, were now hunting down the lion. It was then and there that Ashby won his fame as a cavalry officer, and attached to every foot of ground over w
Winchester, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
gures, the hard fighters grouped around the man of Kernstown and Port Republic at that time, Ashby was perhaps n the spring of 1862, when Jackson fell back from Winchester, Ashby, then promoted to the rank of Colonel, comhis fearless nerve. Jackson slowly retired from Winchester, the cavalry under Ashby bringing up the rear, wiGeneral Banks ceased the pursuit and fell back to Winchester, when Ashby pursued in his turn, and quickly sentintelligence to Jackson, which brought him back to Kernstown. The battle there followed, and Ashby held the tuadvanced to attack General Banks at Strasburg and Winchester. It was on a bright May morning that Ashby, movi, and the rest galloped on, followed by Ashby, to Winchester, where he threw the guidon, with a laugh, to a frsuch that when the Northern ladies about to leave Winchester, came and said, General Ashby, we have nothing cocted ladies — as more than one Federal general at Winchester was — that was simply impossible. He might have
Fauquier (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
retiring modesty, was Ashby, whose name and fame, a brave comrade has truly said, will endure as long as the mountains and valleys which he defended. II. The achievements of Ashby can be barely touched on herehistory will set them in its purest gold. The pages of the splendid record can only be glanced at now; months of fighting must here be summed up and dismissed in a few sentences. To look back to his origin — that always counts for somethinghe was the son of a gentleman of Fauquier, and up to 1861 was only known as a hard rider, a gay companion, and the kindesthearted of friends. There was absolutely nothing in the youth's character, apparently, which could detach him from the great mass of mediocrities; but under that laughing face, that simple, unassuming manner, was a soul of fire — the unbending spirit of the hero, and no less the genius of the born master of the art of war. When the revolution broke out Ashby got in the saddle, and spent most of his time therein
Georgetown (West Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
the white horse came and went like a dream, said one who knew him at that time. And when he appeared it was almost always the signal for an attack, a raid, or a scout, in which blood would flow. In the spring of 1862, when Jackson fell back from Winchester, Ashby, then promoted to the rank of Colonel, commanded all his cavalry. He was already famous for his wonderful activity, his heroic courage, and that utter contempt for danger which was born in his blood. On the Potomac, near Shepherdstown, he had ridden to the top of a crest, swept by the hot fire of the enemy's sharpshooters near at hand; and pacing slowly up and down on his milk-white horse, looked calmly over his shoulder at his foes, who directed upon him a storm of bullets. He was now to give a proof more striking still of his fearless nerve. Jackson slowly retired from Winchester, the cavalry under Ashby bringing up the rear, with the enemy closely pressing them. The long column defiled through the town, and Ash
Front Royal (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
followed by Ashby, to Winchester, where he threw the guidon, with a laugh, to a friend, who afterwards had it hung up in the Library of the Capitol at Richmond. Iii. The work of Ashby then began in earnest. The affair with General Banks was only a skirmish — the wars of the giants followed. Jackson, nearly hemmed in by bitter and determined foes, fell back to escape destruction, and on his track rushed the heavy columns of Shields and Fremont, which, closing in at Strasburg and Front Royal, were now hunting down the lion. It was then and there that Ashby won his fame as a cavalry officer, and attached to every foot of ground over which he fought some deathless tradition. The reader must look elsewhere for a record of those achievements. Space would fail me were I to touch with the pen's point the hundredth part of that splendid career. On every hill, in every valley, at every bridge, Ashby thundered and lightened with his cavalry and artillery. Bitterest of the bitter
Port Republic (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
the spring of 1862, when Jackson made his great campaign in the Valley, crushing one after another Banks, Milroy, Shields, Fremont, and their associates. Among the brilliant figures, the hard fighters grouped around the man of Kernstown and Port Republic at that time, Ashby was perhaps the most notable and famous. As the great majority of my readers never saw the man, a personal outline of him here in the beginning may interest. Even on this soil there are many thousands who never met that der of wonders to me, a few months afterwards, was that this unknown youth, with the simple smile, and the retiring, almost shy demeanour, had become the right hand of Jackson, the terror of the enemy, and had fallen near the bloody ground of Port Republic, mourned by the whole nation of Virginia. Virginia was his first and last love. When he went to Harper's Ferry in April, 1861, with his brother Richard's cavalry company, some one said: Well, Ashby, what flag are we going to fight under
Richmond (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
m like a hurricane. Separated from his command, but bursting with an ardour which defied control, he charged, by himself, about five hundred Federal horsemen retreating in disorder, snatched a guidon from the hands of its bearer, and firing right and left into the column, summoned the men to surrender. Many did so, and the rest galloped on, followed by Ashby, to Winchester, where he threw the guidon, with a laugh, to a friend, who afterwards had it hung up in the Library of the Capitol at Richmond. Iii. The work of Ashby then began in earnest. The affair with General Banks was only a skirmish — the wars of the giants followed. Jackson, nearly hemmed in by bitter and determined foes, fell back to escape destruction, and on his track rushed the heavy columns of Shields and Fremont, which, closing in at Strasburg and Front Royal, were now hunting down the lion. It was then and there that Ashby won his fame as a cavalry officer, and attached to every foot of ground over which
West Point (Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
nder those brown eyes, as mild and gentle as a girl's, was a brain of fire — a resolution of invincible strength which dared to combat every adversary, with whatever odds. His intellect, outside of his profession, was rather mediocre than otherwise, and he wrote so badly that few of his productions are worth preserving. But in the field he was a master mind. His eye for position was that of the born soldier; and he was obliged to depend upon that native faculty, for he had never been to West Point or any other military school. They might have improved him — they could not have made him. God had given him the capacity to fight troops; and if the dictum of an humble writer, loving and admiring him alive, and now mourning him, be regarded as unreliable, take the words of Jackson. That cool, taciturn, and unexcitable soldier never gave praise which was undeserved. Jackson knew Ashby as well as one human being ever knew another; and after the fall of the cavalier he wrote of him, As a
Jackson (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
hafing at being compelled to retreat, no sight could be more agreeable. Here was an opportunity to vent his spleen; and charging the two mounted men, he was soon upon them. One fell with a bullet through his breast; and, coming opposite the other, Ashby seized him by the throat, dragged him from his saddle, and putting spur to his horse, bore him off. This scene, which some readers may set down for romance, was witnessed by hundreds both of the Confederate and the Federal army. During Jackson's retreat Ashby remained in command of the rear, fighting at every step with his cavalry and horse artillery, under Captain Chew. It was dangerous to press such a man. His sharp claws drew blood. As the little column retired sullenly up the valley, fighting off the heavy columns of General Banks, Ashby was in the saddle day and night, and his guns were never silent. The infantry sank to sleep with that thunder in their ears, and the same sound was their reveille at dawn. Weary at last
Harper's Ferry (West Virginia, United States) (search for this): chapter 1.5
ew it; and so modest and unassuming was his demeanor that a child would instinctively have sought his side and confided in him. The wonder of wonders to me, a few months afterwards, was that this unknown youth, with the simple smile, and the retiring, almost shy demeanour, had become the right hand of Jackson, the terror of the enemy, and had fallen near the bloody ground of Port Republic, mourned by the whole nation of Virginia. Virginia was his first and last love. When he went to Harper's Ferry in April, 1861, with his brother Richard's cavalry company, some one said: Well, Ashby, what flag are we going to fight under — the Palmetto, or what? Ashby took off his hat, and exhibited a small square of silk upon which was painted the Virginia shield — the Virgin trampling on the tyrant. That is the flag I intend to fight under, was his reply; and he accorded it his paramount fealty to the last. Soon after this incident active service commenced on the Upper Potomac; and an event o
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