In response to yesterday’s post, Todd Berkoff wrote, “There must have been some tension between John Irvin and his cousin David M. Gregg over that postwar appointment to the 8th US Cavalry. Like many people, we wonder why David M. Gregg left the service when he did…I tend to believe he couldn’t stand Sheridan’s ego any longer and refused to serve under him.” Stan O’Donnell echoed the sentiment, writing, “I’m wondering the same thing Todd is? You mentioned that Long John got command of the 8th US Cav in the post-war summer of 1866 and that David McM Gregg had covetted that same command. Is the implication that D MCM Gregg would have reentered the US Army had he been offered that particular command? Or am I interpeting that wrong?”
Let me address those two issues. I was originally going to respond in the comments section to yesterday’s post, but as I thought about it, I realized that there was enough of interest here to warrant a separate post. So, here goes…..
1. Regarding David M. Gregg’s resignation in February 1865: Gregg was very circumspect about the reasons, and never left any written evidence. His resignation letter says that he was resigning to take care of urgent personal business at home. The regimental surgeon of the 6th Ohio Cavalry, a man named Rockwell, wrote in a postwar memoir that he believed that Gregg was showing signs of what we today call PTSD, or post-traumatic stress disorder, only Rockwell referred to it as Gregg’s nerves being shot. There is absolutely nothing to corroborate this, and I don’t believe it.
Here’s what I think happened.
First, I think that David Gregg was really miffed about being passed over for permanent command of the Army of the Potomac’s Cavalry Corps in the spring of 1864. He was the ranking officer after Pleasonton, and he had commanded the corps from time to time when Pleasonton was away. Instead, the high command brought in an infantryman to take command of the corps, and I think that it really pissed Gregg off.
Then, the infantryman, Sheridan, hung Gregg out to dry at Samaria (St. Mary’s) Church on June 24, 1864, leaving Gregg’s two brigades all alone to contend with 7 brigades of Confederate cavalry. Gregg lost about 25% of his command in several hours of very, very hard fighting and was lucky to get out with the remaining 75%. That he did is a tribute to his skillful fighting withdrawal. Sheridan never sent anyone to reinforce or cover Gregg’s retreat, and I think he was rightfully very angry about that.
A few weeks later, Sheridan was ordered to the Shenandoah Valley (August 8), and he left Gregg in command of the remaining cavalry forces remaining with the Army of the Potomac. Again, the appointment was not made permanent, and I think that just added to his growing frustration and anger.
One of David Gregg’s closest friends at West Point was his classmate, William Woods Averell. Averell was entitled to command the Army of the Shenandoah’s Cavalry Corps by seniority, but was passed over by Sheridan in favor of Gregg’s other classmate, Alfred T. A. Torbert, over Averell’s very loud protests. Then, when Averell wisely declined to attack Early’s entire army with three brigades of cavalry on high ground, supported by artillery, the day after the Battle of Fisher’s Hill, Sheridan unceremoniously fired Averell without any real justification for doing so. Averell was refused a court of inquiry, and that trashed his military career. His career was finished.
Then, in the winter of 1865, Torbert himself was fired by Sheridan as punishment for his failure to accomplish Sheridan’s objectives for a raid into the Luray Valley of Virginia intended to punish John S. Mosby and is guerrillas. Torbert was also unceremoniously relieved of command just about the time that Gregg began the process of resigning his commission.
By that time, it was clear that with the bulk of Early’s force having returned to the Army of Northern Virginia and only a scratch force remaining in the Valley, Sheridan would likely return to the Army of the Potomac. While I can’t prove this, I genuinely believe that he couldn’t bear the thought of serving under Sheridan again and that he found it so unpalatable that he preferred to resign his commission than to run the risk of being next in Little Phil’s crosshairs. Given what had happened to his two old friends and West Point classmates, I think it’s a completely reasonable fear/assumption, and is probably the best explanation for his actions.
2. The 8th Cavalry commission: Gregg’s family did not necessarily support his decision to resign; a favorite uncle told him straight out that it was a bad mistake. Gregg attempted farming and fruit growing, but was not good at it. He evidently missed the military, because in 1868, he applied for reinstatement so as to be considered for the command of the 8th Cavalry. Instead, the command went to his first cousin, Long John Gregg. David Gregg’s reaction is not recorded, and we don’t know for sure why the decision was made. I suspect that it probably did cause some tension between the Gregg cousins, but David was too much of a Victorian gentleman to leave behind any written evidence other than some very gracious statements praising Long John’s abilities, integrity, and courage under fire.
Again, we can speculate a bit. Let’s not forget that in 1868, when these events occurred, Grant was the commanding general of the armies, now with four stars. Sheridan was in command of troops in the west, fighting Indians. Sheridan always had Grant’s ear, and it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if Sheridan didn’t put the kabosh on Gregg’s reinstatement, reminding Grant of the circumstances of Gregg’s resignation in February 1865. Sheridan was that kind of guy, and Grant tended to listen to Little Phil, particularly when it came to the cavalry. Hence, I tend to think that this was Little Phil’s payback for Gregg’s resignation.
Or so I think.
Oh, yeah…one other interesting note about all of this….the lieutenant colonel of the 8th Cavalry during at least part of Long John’s tenure in command of the regiment was Thomas C. Devin, who had done such good service under John Buford. Devin was promoted to colonel and assigned to command the 3rd Cavalry, but fell ill with the cancer that took his life a few weeks later. Devin died in 1879, about the same time that Long John retired from the 8th Cavalry.
I hope that helps, guys.Scridb filter
Stan O’Donnell specifically requested this one, so here’s a profile of forgotten cavalryman Bvt. Maj. Gen. John Irvin Gregg….
John Irvin Gregg was born on July 26, 1826 at Bellefonte, Centre County, Pennsylvania, his family’s home for nearly 100 years. His grandfather, Andrew Gregg, served two terms in the United States Senate. He was a first cousin of Bvt. Maj. Gen. David McMurtrie Gregg, and both were first cousins of Pennsylvania’s war-time governor, Andrew Gregg Curtin.
J. I. Gregg stood 6’4” tall, and was called “Long John” by the men who served under his command. He received a sound education in the academies of Centre and Union Counties. In December, 1846, he volunteered as a private for the Mexican War, and on reaching Jalapa received notice of his appointment as first lieutenant in the 11th U. S. Infantry, one of ten new regular regiments. He was subsequently promoted to Captain and recruiting officer, serving with honor to the close of the war, when the new Regular regiments were mustered out of service. Gregg mustered out on August 14, 1848.
Captain Gregg returned to Centre County, where he engaged in the manufacture of iron in the family business, Gregg & Co. He served in the “Centre Guards”, a local militia unit, as first lieutenant, captain, major, and lieutenant colonel. In November 1857, he married Miss Clarissa A. Everhart, “a lady of rare amiability and beauty, whose early death was deeply and sincerely mourned.” He later married again, to Harriett Marr, the daughter of a local Presbyterian minister. They had two sons, Irvin and Robert.
With the coming of the Civil War, Gregg was commissioned first captain and then colonel of the 5th Pennsylvania Reserves, but was shortly thereafter appointed Captain in his cousin David’s regiment, the newly-formed 6th U. S. Cavalry.
His duty in the field commenced with the Peninsula Campaign under Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan, as commander of a squadron of Regular cavalry. He was present at the battle of Williamsburg on May 5, 1862, Kent Court House on the 9th, and on the 11th, his troopers occupied White House Landing on the Pamunkey River. He was with the Union advance at Ellison’s Mills on the 21st, and at Hanover Court House on the 27th.
In the preliminaries to the Seven Days’ battle he skirmished with the rebel infantry, and narrowly escaped capture. Then followed days and nights of weary marching, while the Army of the Potomac fought its way to the James River. Captain Gregg subsequently did important service in the army’s retirement from the Peninsula, and in the campaigns of Second Bull Run and Antietam.
In November, 1862, he was selected to command the newly-formed 16th Pennsylvania Cavalry. Early in January, 1863, he joined the Army of the Potomac, and was assigned to Brig. Gen. William W. Averell’s cavalry brigade. During the remainder of the winter he performed important outpost duty, and acquired a reputation for efficiency that he never lost. The first and only battle in which Colonel Gregg participated as a regimental commander was at Kelly’s Ford on March 17, 1863. After a long day of fighting, Averell withdrew from the battlefield, and left the field in the possession of the Confederates. Even though Kelly’s Ford cannot be considered a Union victory, it nevertheless marked a new era for the Army of the Potomac’s mounted arm.
Gregg commanded a brigade at the June 9, 1863 Battle of Brandy Station in his cousin David M. Gregg’s Second Cavalry Division. At Aldie (June 17) and Upperville (June 21), the fighting was severe, the combatants coming hand to hand. Gregg’s brigade was actively engaged in both actions.
In the battle of Gettysburg, his command was posted so as to protect the right flank of the Union army, and was engaged during the afternoon of the second day, and slightly during the third. After Lee made his escape to Virginia, Gregg’s brigade (along with the rest of Gregg’s division) crossed the Potomac to follow up the rebel rear, and ascertain his whereabouts. However, JEB Stuart covered his movements by leaving his best fighting troopers near the mouth of the valley. Near Shepherdstown, at noon on July 18, 1863, Stuart’s men drove in the Union skirmishers, and close upon their heels, the enemy advanced in force. For eight hours, and until night put an end to the contest, the heavy fighting dragged on, leading to heavy casualties on both sides.
Stuart’s horse artillery was especially effective that day. At first he concentrated his fire on the right, then on the left, and finally, just as the sun was sinking, a fire of “unwonted power and destructiveness” was opened upon the right center. The Confederate horse soldiers charged repeatedly, coming on in three columns, and gaining at times a point within thirty paces of the Union line; but nothing could withstand the withering fire that swept that gory field, and until darkness separated the combatants, Gregg’s small brigade held fast its position. When his brigade finally received orders to retire, they carried away 158 of their own casualties with them.
In the subsequent movement to Culpeper, Gregg was with the advance, and in conjunction with men of Brig. Gen. Judson Kilpatrick’s Third Division, captured a body of the enemy who were there cut off. When General Lee commenced his flank movement towards Centreville, one regiment of Gregg’s brigade was left on the south bank of Hedgeman or Upper Rappahannock River, charged with picketing in the direction of Jeffersonton. At eight o’clock on the morning on October 12, 1863, Gregg received reports that the enemy was advancing in force. With only two small regiments of less than six hundred men, Gregg checked the right wing of Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia for an entire day, enabling Maj. Gen. George G. Meade’s Army of the Potomac to cross the stream and gain a day’s march on Lee.
In November, Gregg reported to Washington for medical treatment. He spent most of the winter there, receiving medical treatment. He reported back to the Army of the Potomac in time for the beginning of the spring campaigning season. In the Wilderness Campaign, his brigade was in Maj. Gen. Philip H. Sheridan’s 12,000-man cavalry column, and for three days was engaged near the vital crossroads at Todd’s Tavern.
On the morning of May 10, Colonel Gregg had the advance in Sheridan’s raid on Richmond, and soon after starting encountered the enemy in force. A brisk skirmish ensued. On the following day, Gregg had the rear of the column, and before the Federals had all moved, the enemy attacked them with great impetuosity near Yellow Tavern on the Telegraph Road, a few miles north of Richmond. Stuart’s troopers doubled up a part of his brigade, and was near throwing the whole Union force into confusion. Gregg brought his artillery into position, and opened on the Confederates with grape and canister in rapid rounds, routing them.
Gregg particularly distinguished himself in the action at Meadow Bridges, in the fortifications of Richmond, on May 12, and again at Trevilian Station on June 11, for which he received the brevet rank of brigadier general. Then, in the engagement at Deep Bottom on August 16, he was wounded in the right wrist. He was also wounded in the ankle at Hatcher’s Run on February 6, 1865, the 6th of February, while charging at the head of a portion of his brigade against the enemy’s infantry.
In April 1865, during the pursuit of Lee’s army from Petersburg, he was slightly wounded at the Battle of Sayler’s Creek, and was captured the next day north of Farmville, Virginia. Fortunately, he was only a prisoner of war for less than a week, as Lee’s army surrendered at Appomattox Court House four days later.
At the close of hostilities, he was brevetted major general of volunteers for distinguished service during the war. He also received brevets to major, lieutenant colonel, colonel, and brigadier general in the Regular Army, for gallantry in action in the battles of Kelly’s Ford, Middleburg, Shepherdstown, Wilderness, Sulphur Springs, Samaria (St. Mary’s) Church, Deep Bottom, Stony Creek Station, and Hatcher’s Run.
He was appointed Colonel of the newly-formed 8th U.S. Cavalry in July 1866, a position his cousin David Gregg had desired. He reported for duty at Camp Whipple in the Arizona Territory. He led a series of expeditions into the Mojave Desert, campaigning against Indians. He was transferred to the New Mexico Territory, where he commanded Fort Union from 1870–72. While there, he attempted to pursue and subdue renegade Apache Indians. In 1872, he led a reconnaissance expedition to survey and map the panhandle region of Texas. General Gregg retired from active service on April 2, 1879, and spent the rest of his life enjoying his retirement and participating in various veterans’ activities. He died in Washington, D. C. on April 6, 1892, and was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.
“Throughout his entire term of service, General Gregg displayed the best qualities of the intrepid soldier, and by his stubborn fighting on many fields fairly won the character of an heroic and reliable officer,” wrote historian Samuel P. Bates, “one who was not afraid to face superior numbers, even under the most unfavorable circumstances, and who made his dispositions with so much coolness and self-possession as to reassure his own men and intimidate the foe.” Frederick C. Newhall described Gregg as “cool as a clock.”
Here’s to Long John Gregg.Scridb filter
Time for another installment of my infrequent series of profiles of forgotten cavalrymen.
John Baillie McIntosh was born at Tampa Bay, Florida, on June 29, 1829. His father, James S. McIntosh, was a Colonel in the United States army, and a native of Georgia. His mother was Eliza (Shumate) McIntosh. He was the grand-nephew of a Revolutionary War general who killed Button Gwinnett, a signer of the Declaration of Independence.
Young John was educated at Nazareth Hall, Pennsylvania, at S. M. Hammill’s School, Lawrenceville, New Jersey, and at Marlborough Churchill’s Military School at Sing Sing, New York, where he received a good education. Demonstrating an inclination toward the military, his family attempted to obtain an appointment to West Point for him. However, he had a brother who was a cadet there, and due to War Department policy, no two brothers of the same family could attend West Point. Instead, upon completing his studies in 1848, the 19-year-old McIntosh entered the navy as a midshipman.
He served on the U.S.S. Saratoga during the latter phases of the Mexican War. In 1850, after two years of service, he resigned. On October 2, 1850, he married Miss Amelia Short, of New Brunswick, New Jersey. He was engaged in various business ventures with his father-in-law between the years 1850-1861.
Soon after the beginning of hostilities in the Civil War, McIntosh was commissioned a second lieutenant of the Fifth United States cavalry, his commission bearing a date of 8th of June, 1861. His brother James M. McIntosh cast his lot with the Confederacy, was commissioned a brigadier general, and was killed in action while commanding an infantry division at the Battle of Pea Ridge in March 1862.
On April 27, 1862, he was promoted to first lieutenant, serving with his regiment on the Peninsula during the summer of 1862. As a consequence of his good service, he received a brevet to major for valor during the Battle of White Oak Swamp during the Seven Days. On September 26, 1862, he was appointed colonel of the 3rd Pennsylvania Cavalry, which he led during the Maryland Campaign, the Fredericksburg Campaign, and then in the spring of 1863.
During the March 17, 1863 Battle of Kelly’s Ford, McIntosh commanded a brigade in Brig. Gen. William W. Averell’s Division. “To the intrepidity,” wrote General Averell, “promptitude and excellent judgment of McIntosh on that occasion our success was chiefly attributable. Although off duty from illness, he voluntarily joined his brigade in the field and displayed all the vigor of an indomitable soldier.” After the battle of Chancellorsville he assumed permanent command of the First Brigade, Second Division, of the Cavalry Corps, Army of the Potomac.
During the fighting on East Cavalry Field at Gettysburg, McIntosh’s brigade had a major role, with the colonel himself engaging in hand-to-hand combat. After the end of the battle, during the pursuit of Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia, he won for himself an enviable reputation as a leader. When the fighting at Gettysburg ended, McIntosh’s brigade of cavalry and Brig. Gen. Thomas H. Neill’s of infantry were detached to follow up the line of retreat, while the main body of Meade’s army marched down on the south side of the Blue Ridge. On July 10, 1863, McIntosh fell in with the rebel force at old Antietam Forge, where a brisk engagement ensued. In recognition of his services throughout this entire campaign he was brevetted lieutenant colonel in the Regular Army, having been previously brevetted Major, and in December 1863, he was promoted to the Regular Army rank of Captain.
At 6:30 AM on May 5, 1864, he held Parker’s Store with a single regiment of cavalry, and received the first attack of the enemy in the Battle of the Wilderness, when Ewell’s Corps advanced. McIntosh’s lone regiment withstood the onslaught with all the stubbornness and determination of which so small a force was capable, and was finally driven down to near the intersection of the Brock Road, where it was relieved by a division of the Sixth Corps under George W. Getty. On May 8, McIntosh charged into Spotsylvania Court House with his brigade, took the town and captured many prisoners. Moving forward, he attacked the rear of Longstreet’s corps, and only withdrew upon the order of General Sheridan.
Following up on his defeat of W.H.F. Lee’s command at Hanover Court House on May 3, McIntosh then achieved a brilliant success on the following day at Ashland, where, with only three regiments, he withstood for two hours the combined attack of three brigades of rebel cavalry,
and finally retired with the loss of only a few led horses. For his gallantry here, he was brevetted colonel in the regular service and made brigadier general of volunteers.
McIntosh played a significant role during the 1864 Valley Campaign. “Although the main force,” says General Sheridan in his report, “remained without change of position from September 3d to 19th, still the cavalry was employed every day in harassing the enemy, its opponents being principally infantry. In these skirmishes the cavalry was becoming educated to attack infantry lines. On the 13th one of those handsome dashes was made by General McIntosh, of Wilson’s
division, capturing the Eighth South Carolina regiment at Abram’s Creek.” And of the Third Battle of Winchester, fought on September 19, 1864, Sheridan wrote, “Wilson, with McIntosh’s brigade leading, made a gallant charge through the long canon, and, meeting the advance of Ramseur’s rebel infantry division, drove it back and captured the earth-work at the mouth of the canon. This movement was immediately followed up by the Sixth Corps.”
Although the result could not have been better, this victory carried a significant cost for McIntosh. During the heat of battle, he was struck in the leg. The severe wound so mangled his leg that the doctors had to amputate the leg below the knee. “For distinguished gallantry, and good management at the battle of Opequon,” such was the language in which the distinction was conferred, he was promoted to the rank of brigadier general in the Regular Army and major general of volunteers by brevet.
In reviewing his record, Brig. Gen. William W. Averell said: “I beg to remark that there are few subalterns thoroughly capable of leading an advance guard. I do not remember above six in the cavalry, and McIntosh stood at the head of the list. As a brigade commander, either in camp or in action, he had no superior.” And Maj. Gen. George Stoneman said: “His bravery, loyalty, and integrity are equal to his capacity, and all are conspicuous.”
On July 28, 1866, he was appointed lieutenant colonel of the newly formed 42 U.S. Infantry, Veteran Reserve Corps, which position he held until the reduction of the army. In the summer of 1870, he was retired with the Regular Army rank of brigadier general. General McIntosh spent the rest of his days in New Brunswick, New Jersey. He died at the age of 59 on June 29, 1888 and was buried in Elmwood Cemetery.
Although he had no formal military training, John B. McIntosh was a superb natural soldier and as gifted a cavalryman as donned the Union blue during the Civil War. The terrible wound that cost him his leg also cost the United States Army the services of one of the most promising officers to emerge during the Civil War. Hopefully, he is no longer a forgotten cavalryman.Scridb filter
Charles H. Veil was an orderly assigned to the service of Maj. Gen. John F. Reynolds. Years after the war, he left this account of the last hours of Reynolds’ life:
At that point, on June 29, 1863, General Hooker was relieved and General George G. Meade placed in command. General Meade was an old army officer and a particular friend of General Reynolds. He at once placed him in command of the left wing of the army, consisting of the First, Third, and Eleventh Corps. On the 29th we marched out toward Emmitsburg, and on the 30th to Marsh Creek with the First Corps, the Eleventh a short distance in the rear, and the Third Corps within supporting distance of the Eleventh.
Meanwhile, Brigadier General John Buford’s division of cavalry, which was also under General Reynolds’s command, had occupied Gettysburg. General Reynolds had no knowledge of where Lee was, but supposed, as reports were, that he was in the Cumberland Valley, heading for Harrisburg. Buford reported that evening that he was in Gettysburg and that all was quiet, that some Confederate troops had been in the town the day before but had gone out again. In that way we camped the night of June the 30th and next morning early started with the First Corps for Gettysburg, the general riding in ahead.
After proceeding about three miles we met one of General Buford’s staff officers riding in great haste with the information that the enemy was advancing on Gettysburg by the Cashtown, or Chambersburg, Pike and that he was then sharply engaged. General Reynolds at once dismounted and sent staff officers to the different corps of his command with orders to press forward the different corps of his command with orders to press forward. He wrote a note to General Meade, giving him the information which he dispatched by another officer, and then mounted his horse and rode rapidly into Gettysburg and to Seminary Ridge, where he found General Buford engaged.
When he met Buford, the Confederates were then in plain view advancing down the pike. The general held a short conversation with Buford, telling him to hold on as long as he could and that he would hurry his men forward to his assistance. In the meantime Reynolds had sent orders to the head of his column to cut across the country from the Emmitsburg Road toward the Lutheran Seminary and rode out in that direction himself until he met the head of his column coming on. He then led them out to where he had first met General Buford and indicated the position he desired them to occupy.
The regiments no sooner were in position than the action commenced. The general rode to the left, evidently with a view of selecting a position to occupy with his troops as they came up. When riding into the McPherson woods he discovered a column of Rebel infantry advancing through the woods and coming in such a direction as would take the troops the general had already placed in action on their left flank. He at once turned and rode toward the seminary, where he met the head of the brigade following the First, or one already in action, and with the leading regiment of that moved forward to the point at which he had discovered the Confederate infantry advancing through the McPherson woods.
As the regiment reached the brow of the little ridge, or incline ground, General Reynolds gave the work to charge, leading in person and riding considerably in advance of his troops. The regiment undertook to follow but met with such a hot fire from the Confederates that, instead of following him, it sheered off to the right or to where the leading brigade was in action, leaving the general and myself alone in front of the advancing Confederate line as he rode into the edge of the woods where the monument now stands marking the spot on which he fell. He turned in his saddle, looking toward the rear and the Lutheran Seminary, where he was struck by a Minnie ball and fell from his horse.
General Reynolds fell upon his face, his arms outstretched toward the enemy. I at once sprang from my horse and ran to his side, gave one glance at his body and seeing no wound or blood, turned his body upon its back. I again glanced over it and, seeing no blood or wound, the suggestion struck me that he had probably been stunned by a spent ball. My next impression was to save him from falling into the hands of the enemy. Not having any assistance, not one of our men being near, I picked him up by taking hold under his arms and commenced pulling him backward toward our line or the direction in which we had come from. As I did so, the Confederates yelled, “Drop him! Drop him!” But I kept on backing off as fast as I could and finally got over the brow of the rise, where I found some men and where we were out of range of the enemy’s fire.
As I laid him down there, I first discovered where he had been struck. The ball had entered the back of his neck, just over the coat collar, and passed downward in its course. The wound did not bleed externally and, as he fell, his coat collar had covered up the wound, which accounted for my not discovering it at first. With the assistance of the men I found, we carried the body across the fields over to the Emmitsburg Road, the one we had marched in on that morning.
This is an authentic account of the circumstances attending the death of the lamented General Reynolds and can be verified by no other living person than myself, having been the only person directly present when the general fell. The sad event impressed itself so indelibly on my young mind that, after these forty-five years that have elapsed since it occurred, my recollections are as vivid as though it had occurred but a few days since.
The death of General Reynolds was a great loss to the Union Cause deeply felt by all, but by no one person as much as myself. I had been with the general from the time he joined us at Harrison’s Landing, in every move and march to the time of his death, and I am always pleased when I recall that I had won his confidence. I knew that on a number of occasions he had entrusted me with messages that ordinarily should have been carried by an officer.
After we carried his body to the little stone house on the Emmitsburg Road and laid it on the floor in the little sitting room. Major Adolph Rosengarten of his staff and I rode into town to try and find a casket, but the best we could do was to get a case that caskets are shipped in. We got one of these, which proved to be too short. One end was knocked out and in that the general’s body was placed and started that evening for Westminster, Major Rosengarten and myself accompanying it. The major rode on the ambulance with the driver and I rode the general’s horse, he having run into our lines after Reynolds fell. Mine was killed as I dismounted.
From Westminster, where we struck the railroad, we went to Baltimore. There the body was embalmed and from there we went to Philadelphia, the general’s home. On the Fourth of July I accompanied the body with the general’s family to Lancaster, where he was buried. I had never met any of the general’s family before this, but they all appeared to know of me and paid me great attention. They appeared to feel themselves under great obligations from the fact of my preventing his body from falling into the hands of the enemy. When we were at Lancaster, so near my home, the general’s brothers and sisters suggested that I should go on to my home for a day or two and I did so. Father and Mother and all, of course, were very glad to see me. After remaining a day or two, I started back and rejoined the army before it had recrossed the river again, in pursuit of Lee.
By the general’s death on the first day, I missed the battle of Gettysburg, save the opening of it, but the short experience I had has never been forgotten and led to a change in the whole course of my life, as subsequent events will show. When I got back to the army I found General John Newton in command of the corps, and I resumed my duties as orderly to the commanding general.
While we were on the march following up Lee, who was again retreating into Virginia, I one day received an order to report in person to General Meade, the commander of the army. I first reported to General Williams, the adjutant general, as I knew was the proper thing to do, and he rode up to the front with me, where General Meade was riding at the head of his staff. “General,” said he, “here is Veil.” The general turned to me and said he had a package General Reynolds’s sisters had sent him to give me. He then handed it to me, saying it gave him great pleasure to do so and that it was something I might be proud of. I thanked him without knowing what it contained, but when I fell back and opened the package I found a beautiful gold watch and chain with a nice letter from the general’s sisters. There was an inscription inside the watch, saying “Presented to Orderly C. H. Veil by the Sisters of the Late General J. F. Reynolds, United States Army, Gettysburg, July 1, 1863.” That I was, and am, proud of the watch you may be assured. I have it yet and always will as long as I live. There is not a farm in Tioga County that I would take in exchange for it. All I regret is that I have not a boy to hand it down to, who in years to come might say he had a watch General Reynolds’s sisters gave his father and had it sent to him by the hand of General Meade, commanding the Army of the Potomac.
Veil received a lieutenant’s commission in the 2nd U.S. Cavalry as a reward for the care that he showed his fallen general’s remains. He had a long career as an officer in the Regular Army in the years after the war.Scridb filter
Here’s another in my infrequent series of posts on forgotten American cavalrymen. The subject of this post is a favorite of mine; his letters home are some of the most useful and insightful I have ever read.
Louis H. Carpenter was born in Glassboro, New Jersey on February 11, 1839. His blood ran as blue as any Philadelphia aristocrat’s: he was a direct, linear descendant of Samuel Carpenter, who was William Penn’s right hand man. Louis enlisted in the army in Philadelphia as a private in 1861 after dropping out of college during his junior year. He served as a private in the 6th U. S. Cavalry until he was commissioned second lieutenant, 6th U. S. Cavalry, July 17, 1862, and first lieutenant Sept. 28 1864. He was brevetted from first lieutenant to lieutenant colonel for gallant and meritorious conduct during the course of the Civil War. Carpenter was one of only three officers of the 6th U. S. Cavalry to escape from its ordeal at Fairfield, PA on July 3, 1863. He served in the following campaigns during the Civil War: The Peninsula, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, Chancellorsville (in Stoneman’s raid to the rear of Lee’s army), The Wilderness (as aide-de-camp to Major General Phillip H. Sheridan), Siege of Petersburg, The Shenandoah Valley, Richmond (Sheridan’s raid) and Trevilian Station.
He remained in the Regular Army after the end of the Civil War. He was appointed Captain on 28 July 1866 of “D” company, 10th Cavalry and served with them for thirteen (13) years of continuous Indian wars. His men respected him, and his company had the lowest desertion rate of the regular army during his charge. His ability to train and lead was notable and he was mentioned in the official reports for Gettysburg and in an order issued by General Sheridan concerning combat on the Beaver Creek in Kansas.
Carpenter was awarded the Medal of Honor as a Captain with the 10th Cavalry (“The Buffalo Soldiers”) during a forced march to the relief of Colonel Forsyth on the Arickaree Fork of the Republican River, Colorado, and for the combat on the Beaver, in the campaign of 1868. Brevetted Colonel for gallant conduct in an engagement with the Cheyenne and Sioux Indians in 1868.
Here is an account of the action that earned him the Medal of Honor: “On the 17th of this month Lieut.-Colonel G. A. Forsyth, A. D. C. to General Sheridan, with a party of white scouts, was attacked and “corralled” by a force of about 700 Indians on an island in the Republican River. Two of Forsyth’s scouts stole through the Indian lines and brought word of the perilous situation of the command to Fort Wallace. Parties were soon on the way to its relief. First and last the following troops were started towards it from different points. Captain Bankhead with about 100 men of the 5th Infantry, Captain Carpenter with Troop H and Captain Baldwin with Troop I, of the 10th Cavalry, and two troops of the 2d Cavalry under Major Brisbin. Captain Carpenter’s troop was the first of these commands to arrive upon the scene. It found Forsyth’s command out of rations, living on horse-flesh without salt or pepper. All its officers had been killed or wounded. Every horse and mule, too, had been killed. Forsyth, who had been twice wounded, was lying in a square hole scooped out in the sand, within a few feet of a line of dead horses which half encircled the hole and impregnated the air with a terrible stench. Captain Carpenter immediately pitched a number of tents in a suitable place near by, had the wounded men carried to them, and the rest removed to a more salubrious air. Twenty-six hours later Captain Bankhead arrived bringing with him the two troops of the 2d Cavalry. On the 14th of the following month, two weeks after he had returned to Fort Wallace with the wounded of Forsyth’s command, Captain Carpenter was ordered to take his own troop and I Troop of the 10th Cavalry and escort Major Carr, of the 5th Cavalry, to his command, supposed to be on Beaver Creek. On the march he was attacked by a force of about 500 Indians. After proceeding, regardless of the enemy’s firing and yelling, far enough to gain a suitable position, he halted his command, had the wagons corralled close together and rushed his men inside at a gallop. He had them dismount, tie their horses to the wagons, and form on the outside around the corral. Then followed a volley of Spencers which drove the Indians back as though they were thrown from a cannon. A number of warriors, showing more bravery than the others, undertook to stand their ground. Nearly all of these, together with their ponies, were killed. Three dead warriors lay within fifty yards of the wagons. The Indians were so demoralized by these results that they did not renew the attack and the troops accomplished their march without further molestation. They were back at Fort Wallace on the 2ist, having travelled 230 miles in about seven days. For their gallantry in the fight, which took place on Beaver Creek, the officers and men were thanked by General Sheridan in a general field order, and Captain Carpenter was breveted Colonel.”
Carpenter’s Medal of Honor citation reads:
Captain Louis H. Carpenter, Company H. Actions: At Indian campaigns in Kansas and Colorado, September October 1868. Entered service at: Philadelphia, Pa. Birth: Glassboro, N.J. Date of issue 8 April 1898. Citation: Was gallant and meritorious throughout the campaigns, especially in the combat of October 15 and in the forced March on September 23, 24 and 25 to the relief of Forsyth’s Scouts, who were known to be in danger of annihilation by largely superior forces of Indians.
He commanded the Army posts of Fort Robinson in Nebraska, Fort Myer in Virginia and Fort Sam Houston in Texas and served as director of cavalry instruction at Fort Riley, Kansas as Lt. Col, 7th Cavalry (1892-1897). He served as President of the Board to Revise Cavalry Tactics for the United States Army. Carpenter was promoted to Colonel, 5th Cavalry in 1897. In May 1898, he was commissioned a brigadier general of volunteers May 1898 for the duration of the Spanish-American War. Carpenter commanded the 1st Division, 3rd Corps at Chickamauga and afterwards commanded the 3rd Division, 4th Corps at Tampa, Florida. Later ordered to Cuba to occupy the Providence of Puerto Principe with a force consisting of the 8th Cavalry, 15th Infantry and the 3rd Georgia Volunteers, his were the first troops to take station in Cuba after the Battle of Santiago. Carpenter was appointed Military Governor of the providence and remained in that capacity until in July 1899. He was relieved and returned to New York, reverting to his Regular Army rank of colonel.
He received a promotion to Brigadier-General U.S. Army and was then retired the next day at his own request on Oct. 19, 1899, after having served over thirty-eight years in the Regular Army. Much of his retirement was spent lecturing and writing about his Civil War service, including a well-known and well-respected account of his participation in the May 1864 Richmond Raid and the Battle of Yellow Tavern, where Jeb Stuart was mortally wounded.
General Carpenter died January 21, 1916 and was buried in Trinity Episcopal Church New Cemetery, Swedesboro, Gloucester County, New Jersey.Scridb filter
Time for another in my infrequent series of forgotten cavalrymen.
Born to an ancient, ennobled Italian family in 1833, Luigi Palma di Cesnola had a glittering military reputation at the beginning of the Civil War. His father had fought for Napoleon. di Cesnola was educated at the Royal Military Academy at Turin, and entered the mounted arm of the Sardinian army. At age seventeen, the young count fought against powerful Austrian armies in Italy’s war for independence. He also fought in the Crimea in the late 1850’s. Finally, in 1860, di Cesnola immigrated to the United States, settling in New York. He married the daughter of an American naval officer and served as the director of a 700-student military school in New York.
With the coming of war, he offered his services to the 11th New York Infantry, and received a commission as major as a result of his prior military service. He was promoted to lieutenant colonel in 1862, before accepting an appointment as colonel of the 4th New York Cavalry. However, in February 1863, the dashing count was dismissed from the service for allegedly stealing six pistols, but he was exonerated, reinstated, and returned to his regiment. At the time, di Cesnola commanded a brigade of cavalry as well as a detachment of infantry and a battery of artillery.
The unhappy colonel protested, and the Judge Advocate General’s office launched an investigation. It found that di Cesnola “was most unjustly wronged,” and he was reinstated to his former rank and position. di Cesnola wrote to his division commander, Brig. Gen. William W. Averell, asking “In regard to my former position I heard that my brigade has been broken up & my Regt is under your command now; though I regret my command has gone yet it is gratifying to me to be under the command of a regular officer like you are.” Averell returned di Cesnola to command of the 4th New York Cavalry, and the dashing Italian count proved himself a brave man in the coming months.
Although the injustice was corrected, this incident cut di Cesnola to the quick. “With what aching heart I return to my regiment few persons can appreciate it,” he wrote to his Congressman a week later. “I tried ever to my utmost in well deserving from my adoptive country and the rewards I received from the Administration I may say were nothing but kicks.” He concluded, “I am…going to the Regiment with a broken heart to stay there some weeks and then I shall resign as it is incompatible with my character to continue.” The dashing count did not resign, and remained with his regiment, which had a troubled history for the duration of its service with the Army of the Potomac.
di Cesnola was a loyal McClellan man, something that did not stand him well with either the administration or with the army’s high command. In late May, a few days after Maj. Gen. George Stoneman, the commander of the Army of the Potomac’s Cavalry Corps, took medical leave, di Cesnola complained to a friend, “Here things go badly. I am the senior Colonel in Averill’s Division, and since he left, other Colonels [Americans] were put in command when the law & any Regulations give me as by seniority of rank the command of it. Oh my heart is every day more sore! Nobody was more enthusiastic in fighting than I was. They succeeded now in making me cold like a stone.” The frustrated officer concluded, “This & thousand other wrong things dishearten me that I shall not be able to stand great deal longer this life of humiliation, never revenged, and injustice.”
Incredibly, the proud count’s humiliation grew. In the aftermath of the June 9, 1863 Battle of Brandy Station, Brig. Gen. Alfred Pleasonton, now commanding the Cavalry Corps, placed di Cesnola under arrest for moving some of his men through an infantry camp while on the way to the front. At the June 17, 1863 Battle of Aldie, di Cesnola led his men into battle without any weapons, and in spite of the fact that his arrest meant that he had no command authority. As a result of di Cesnola’s valiant conduct, Col. Judson Kilpatrick, di Cesnola’s brigade commander, asked Pleasonton to release the count from arrest, and Pleasonton agreed. Di Cesnola was awarded the Medal of Honor for his valor that day, something that undoubtedly rankled Pleasonton a great deal. However, the count also suffered serious combat wounds and was captured and sent to Richmond’s notorious Libby Prison, meaning that he, too, did not command troops in the Army of the Potomac for nearly a year.
di Cesnola had a fascinating career after the Civil War. At the end of the war, he published an account of his time as a prisoner of war in Libby Prison. In 1865, di Cesnola, now a naturalized American citizen, was appointed consul general to Lanarca, Cyprus, while the island was occupied by the Ottoman Empire. He remained there until 1876, illegally acquiring a large collection of antiquities taken from Cypriot tombs that he removed to the United States. He wrote a well-regarded book about his excavations and archaeological studies of the island, and his vast collection of nearly 5,000 items is on display in Harvard University’s Semitic Museum. He also wrote a lengthy description of the collection when it was placed on display. The count sold his collection to the new Metropolitan Museum in New York, and then became the museum’s first director in 1879, a position that he held until his death on November 21, 1904, at the age of seventy-two. di Cesnola’s excavations remain an unhappy chapter in the history of Cyprus, which still views the collection as property of the State of Cyprus. He was buried in Kensico Cemetery in Valhalla, West Chester County, New York.
More than one hundred years after his death, Cypriots often view the Italian count as a grave robber.Scridb filter
Now that we’re working on wrapping up our retreat manuscript for publication (we’ve been adding some incredibly good new material to it), I’m once again focused on the issue of decision-making by the Union high command during the latter phases of the Gettysburg Campaign.
Let’s assume for a moment that Jeb Stuart, in fact, did something inappropriate during the early stages of the Gettysburg Campaign, although I don’t believe he did. If Stuart somehow disappointed Lee during the days just before the battle, Stuart’s performance during the retreat was nothing short of spectacular. His horsemen pretty much kept the Army of the Potomac at bay with almost no help from the infantry until Lee’s defensive line was ready and Lee was prepared to receive an attack by Meade. To borrow a line from old pal Ted Alexander, the retreat was Stuart’s redemption. Nobody could ever say that Lee’s cavalry let him down during the retreat from Gettysburg.
The same certainly cannot be said of the Union cavalry during the retreat. Buford’s and Kilpatrick’s divisions fought well and effectively, but their fundamental usages were wrong. Gregg’s division was a complete non-factor for the entire retreat. Gregg’s troopers did not participate in any of the significant combat during the retreat.
Because Alfred Pleasonton, the Union cavalry chieftain, made terrible decisions about the use of his horse soldiers. Instead of massing his cavalry to try to block Lee’s route of march to the banks of the Potomac River somewhere in the vicinity of Hagerstown, Maryland–which would have forced Lee to fight his way through–Pleasonton instead scattered his three divisions across the countryside. There was virtually no coordination between the three commands, and Gregg’s men were almost totally a non-factor. By being reactive and by scattering his command, Pleasonton ceded the initiative to Lee and gave Lee the opportunity to assume the strong defensive positions on the north bank of the Potomac River that he took up around Williamsport, Maryland.
An ideal opportunity was lost to interdict Lee’s line of retreat, which cost the Union an opportunity to bring Lee’s army to bay before it slipped across the Potomac to the safety of Virginia. The blame for that must lay with Alf Pleasonton and not with Abraham Lincoln.
In addition, the scattering of the cavalry forces also meant that they were not used efficiently for gathering intelligence. Other than Buford, whose skills as a gatherer of intelligence were unequaled in the Union cavalry, very little intelligence of any value was brought in by the Federal cavalry. Instead, the northern horsemen were scattered across the countryside performing uncertain duties. If they weren’t going to be used as a blocking force to prevent Lee from reaching the banks of the Potomac River, then they should have been put to good use gathering intelligence.
Instead, they did neither. For want of a nail, a kingdom was lost.Scridb filter
Phil Trostle of Gettysburg, my favorite certified public beancounter, posed a really fascinating question to me earlier today. Frankly, it’s a comparison that I’d never thought to make, but it makes for an intriguing juxtaposition that’s worthy of further thought and study.
Phil asked whether he was “accurate in drawing some similarities between Stoneman at Chancellorsville and Stuart at Gettysburg.” I’d never even thought to make this comparison. I’d always focused on the ill-advised decisions of Hooker and Grant to send their cavalry away on raids toward Richmond, but not a comparison to Stuart in the Gettysburg Campaign.
Here’s what I wrote in response to Phil’s question:
Interesting. Frankly, I’d never considered the parallel. There are clearly some similiarities, but there are also some major differences.
First, and foremost, Hooker insisted that the raid go on even after the element of surprise was lost. Lee apparently decided it wasn’t much of a threat, because only Rooney Lee’s brigade was sent to pursue. They blocked Averell at Beverly’s Ford and then, after Averell packed it in, pursued Buford for a while. The blame for the debacle definitely has to begin and end with Hooker.
Second, the result is very much the same–insufficient cavalry to screen the advance, but the reasons and implications are different. As just one example, Devin’s brigade–the only one with the army–conducted a superb delaying action on the first day at Chancellorsville, and also was very effective on May 2. Lee, on the other hand, made atrocious use of the cavalry forces available to him.
There is no doubt that both raids were ill-advised and that neither accomplished what their author imagined. There’s also no doubt that these two reaids both left their armies without their eyes and ears.
However, Stuart’s ride at least accomplished what it was ordered to do: he fulfilled each aspect of Lee’s orders, including gathering supplies for the use of the army. Stoneman’s raid, on the other hand, accomplished absolutely nothing of use other than to largely wreck the Cavalry Corps by leaving many of its mounts unusable in the field.
Finally, there’s the issue of additional contributions to the army by the cavalry commander. Assuming, for argument’s sake, that Stuart was late to arrive at Gettysburg, he nevertheless performed magnificent service–perhaps his finest hour–during the retreat from Gettysburg. Stoneman, on the other hand, took medical leave on May 15 and never commanded horse soldiers in the AoP again, bringing Alf Pleasonton to command the Cavalry Corps. Thus, it seems to me that the failure of the Stoneman Raid had more far-reaching implications than did Stuart’s ride during the Gettysburg Campaign.
Very, very interesting thought, Phil. I had not considered previously, and I think it’s worthy of further thought.
I do believe that this question is worthy of further and additional consideration, and I will report back once I work my way through it. It is a fascinating comparison, though, and I thank Phil for bringing it to my attention.Scridb filter
As promised, here is a brief sketch of Bvt. Brig. Gen. Pennock Huey. It is based in part on the information provided by his descendant, Pete Huey. Thanks to Pete for passing this information along. I did the rest.
Pennock Huey was born in Chester County, Pennsylvania on March 1, 1828. He was the son of Jacob Huey and Sarah (Davis) Huey of Kennett Square, Pennsylvania. Jacob was a Quaker farmer, known as “The Squire of Kennett Square” by virtue of his ownership of quite a bit of land in the area. The Hueys were affluent, and Pennock worked as a commission merchant.
Huey was appointed captain of Company D of the 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry when the regiment mustered in in September 1861. He was excommunicated from the Kennett Square Meeting when he went off to war. After learning his trade with the rest of the regiment, Huey went off to war. Fortunately, the regiment’s first colonel was David M. Gregg, a member of the West Point class of 1856, who was a career cavalry officer. Gregg taught the men well, and the 8th Pennsylvania soon became known as a well-drilled and well-disciplined regiment.
Huey received a promotion major on January 1, 1862. When Gregg received a promotion to brigadier general of volunteers during the fall of 1862 and assumed command of a brigade, Huey, although still a major, ended up in command of the regiment, as there was no lieutenant colonel. In the spring of 1863, the Army of the Potomac’s Cavalry Corps was formed, consisting of three divisions. The 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry was assigned to a brigade in the Third Cavalry Division, commanded by David M. Gregg. Col. Judson Kilpatrick of the 2nd New York Cavalry commanded the brigade.
Although still a major, Huey led the ill-fated charge of the 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry at Chancellorsville on May 2, 1863. On June 25, 1863, with a major battle looming, Huey was promoted to colonel and ended up commanding the brigade when Kilpatrick was promoted to division command. Huey led the brigade for the entire Gettysburg Campaign. Huey’s brigade spent the three days of the Battle of Gettysburg in Manchester, Maryland, guarding lines of supply and communication. It was called to join the rest of the Army of the Potomac’s Cavalry on July 4, and participated in the fighting at Monterey Pass during the night of July 4-5.
That fall, when the Second Division was reorganized, Huey returned to regimental command, a position he held for the balance of the war. On June 24, 1864, at the Battle of Samaria (St. Mary’s) Church, at the end of the Trevilian Raid, Huey and a number of his men were surrounded and captured. After a difficult march south, he was held prisoner at Roper Hospital, during the war a military prison, in Charleston, South Carolina.
Huey was eventually exchanged and returned to the 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry. He received a brevet to brigadier general of volunteers for gallant and meritorious services during the war on March 13, 1865, and mustered out with his regiment. After the war he married for the second time (his first wife having died). His wife was Elizabeth Waln Wistar, the daughter of Joseph Wistar and Sarah Comfort of Philadelphia. “Bustleton” was the name of their place near Kennett Square.The Wistars were an extremely prominent and wealthy Philadelphia family; a cousin, Isaac Wistar, was a Union brigadier general of volunteers.
General Huey spent his post-war years as a merchant and an agent for the Pennsylvania Canal Company. Angered that he did not receive the credit for his efforts in leading the charge at Chancellorsville and that Alfred Pleasonton attacked him for allegedly not being present during the charge, Huey spent years accumulating evidence to support his contentions, and then published a small book titled A True History of the Charge of the Eighth Pennsylvania Cavalry at Chancellorsville in 1885 that strongly defended himself and laid claim to credit for leading the ill-fated charge, and not his subordinate, Maj. Peter Keenan, who was killed.
Huey died at the age of 75 on September 28, 1903 on the family farm, Bustleton. He was buried in the St. Luke’s Episcopal Churchyard in Philadelphia.
Huey was a competent regimental commander, and also did a competent job leading a brigade during the Gettysburg Campaign. He was not particularly popular with his peers; one described him as “an overpowering damned fool.” However, he served his country well and had the respect of his men.
Here’s to Bvt. Brig. Gen. Pennock Huey, forgotten Union cavalryman.Scridb filter
With thanks to Jon Morrison (I’ve borrowed part of his description of this episode and the poem from Jon), here’s an extremely funny account of an episode from the siege of Chattanooga in the fall of 1863.Â With Chattanooga cut off and in danger of having Rosecrans’ Army of the Cumberland starve,Â Geary’s division of the 12th Corps marchedÂ to Brown’s Ferry, which forced open a supply line forÂ the beleaguered army.Â Bragg and Longstreet watched this from atopÂ Lookout Mountain, and decided to act.
On the night of October 29th, 1863,Â the division of Brig. Gen. Micah JenkinsÂ undertookÂ a rare night assault.Â During the course of the battle, the Federals were able to hold their positions and drive off the Southerners.Â “An amusing incident of this struggle occurred. When it began, about two hundred mules, frightened by the noise, broke from their tethers and dashed into the ranks of Wade Hampton’s legion, and produced a great panic. The Confederates supposed it to be a charge of Hooker’s cavalry, and fell back, at first, in great confusion.”Â Â General Grant was so amused over this incident that the mules were supposedly given the rank of “brevet-horse”.
With apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I present to you:
The charge of the mule brigade
Half a mile, half a mile,
Half a mile onward,
Right through the Georgia troops
Broke the two hundred.
“Forward the Mule Brigade!
Charge for the Rebs,” they neighed.
Straight for the Georgia troops
Broke the two hundred.
“Forward the Mule Brigade!”
Was there a mule dismayed?
Not when their long ears felt
All their ropes sundered.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to make Rebs fly.
On! to the Georgia troops
Broke the two hundred.
Mules to the right of them,
Mules to the left of them,
Mules behind them
Pawed, neighed, and thundered.
Breaking their own confines
Breaking through Longstreet’s lines
Into the Georgia troops
Stormed the two hundred.
Wild all their eyes did glare,
Whisked all their tails in air
Scattering the chivalry there,
While all the world wondered.
Not a mule back bestraddled,
Yet how they all skedaddled –
Fled every Georgian,
Scattered and sundered!
How they were routed there
By the two hundred!
Mules to the right of them,
Mules to the left of them,
Mules behind them
Pawed, neighed, and thundered;
Followed by hoof and head
Full many a hero fled,
Fain in the last ditch dead,
Back from an ass’s jaw
All that was left of them, –
Left by the two hundred.
When can their glory fade?
Oh, what a wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Mule Brigade,
Long-eared two hundred!