I WAS on guard one night in the autumn of 1861.
It was only ordinary camp guard and not picket duty.
We had fallen back from the line of Mason’s and Munson’s hills, and were camped well in the rear of Fairfax Court House, which now constituted our most advanced outpost.
The army were fortified at Centreville. We had got tired of waiting for McClellan to make the advance for which we were so eagerly ready. We were evidently preparing to go into winter quarters.
We of Stuart’s cavalry were still posted six or eight miles in advance of the main army; but after our summer, passed twenty miles in front, we felt snug and comfortable at “Camp Cooper.”
Nevertheless, when I saw three rockets—red, white, and blue—go up far to the front, it occurred to me that the fact might mean something.
At any rate, I was lonely on post. I had sung “Juanita” under my breath,—and that it wasn’t permitted to sing out loud on post was probably a rule not made with any invidious reference to my voice, though it might well have been,—I say I had sung “Juanita” under my breath till I had exhausted the capabilities of entertainment that reside in that tender musical composition.
So, for the sake of diversion, if for nothing else, I called out: “Corporal of the guard, post number six.”
When the corporal came and I reported what I had seen, he moodily growled something about there being no orders to “report on Yankee fireworks.” Nevertheless, he communicated my report to higher authority.
Fifteen minutes later a hurried messenger came, summoning me at once to General Stuart’s headquarters, half a mile in front.
Mounting, I rode at a gallop. That was the only gait which Stuart tolerated, except in going away from the enemy.
As I rode out of camp I heard “Boots and Saddles” sounded from all the bugles of all the regiments.
I knew then that “something was up.” “Boots and Saddles” always meant something when Stuart gave the order.
When I dismounted at headquarters, Stuart himself was waiting, although it was three o’clock in the morning. His plume and golden spurs gleamed through the dark.
“Tell me quick!” was all he had to say. I answered sententiously: “Three rockets went up: red to right, white to left, and blue in the middle.”
“You mean our right and left, or the enemy’s?” he asked eagerly.
“Ours,” I answered.
He turned quickly and gave hurried orders to staff-officers, orderlies, and couriers. Then turning to me, he said: “You ride with me.” I appreciated the attention.
Five minutes later a great column of cavalrymen were riding at a gallop towards the front. And just as daylight dawned we broke into a charge upon a heavy force of the enemy.
The hostile force was slowly advancing, not expecting us, and we struck it in flank, taking it completely by surprise.
The demoralization of the Manassas, or Bull Run panic had not even yet gone out of the Northern troops. We made short work of their advance and sent them quickly into disorderly retreat.
One of Stuart’s couriers was killed in the charge. I remember, because he rode beside me, and his head fell clean from his body, and the sight sickened me, so that I fought harder for the minute than I thought I could.
As the enemy broke, Stuart stopped his horse, slapped his thigh, and turning to me laughing, and with that indifference to rank which always characterized him under excitement, exclaimed: “They haven’t got over it yet, have they?”
The Manassas panic always did impress Stuart as an irresistible joke.
A moment later he said: “I’m glad you reported those rockets. Always report whatever you see. Even a shooting star may mean something at headquarters.”
But I have never ceased to wonder why we guards that night had no orders to look out for red, white, and blue rockets, since they meant so much. If they had not been reported by a tired and lonely sentinel, we should have been run over in our tents by a force of ten thousand men.
A celebrated writer says: “War is a hazard of possibilities, probabilities, luck, and ill luck.”
It was luck that night that a sentry was tired of singing “Juanita” under his breath.