Augusta County: "Imboden's Dash into Charlestown," by Lieut. F. Carter Berkeley, 1917
Summary: Favorable first-person account of General John D. Imboden's Staunton forces in western Virginia
About the 15th of October, 1863, General Imboden's Brigade was encamped in Rockingham County, Va., when he received an order from General Lee to proceed to Berryville, meet General Stuart there, and, in conjunction with him, make an attack on Harper's Ferry and Charlestown and, if possible, capture both. General Sullivan's (Federal) Brigade was at the ferry; and the 9th Maryland (Federal) Regiment of Infantry and a squadron of cavalry were at Charlestown, which is eight miles from the ferry. General Imboden had to guard all the gaps in the mountains from Beverly to Harper's Ferry, and, consequently, never had his full brigade in camp together at one time. At this time he had less than one thousand men with him.
Gen. John D. Imboden raised the Staunton Artillery before the war, and it was the first battery that took the field in Virginia. It took a very conspicuous part in the first battle of Manassas, and on account of the skillful way in which his guns were handled that day Imboden was promoted from captain to brigadier general. Both Johnston and Beauregard complimented him in their official reports of that battle.
Imboden's Brigade at the time of the order mentioned above was composed of the 62d Virginia Mounted Infantry, commanded by that distinguished officer, Col. George W. Smith, a graduate of the Virginia Military Institute; the 18th Virginia Cavalry, commanded by the General's brother, Col. George W. Imboden, now a prominent lawyer in West Virginia; White's Battalion, commanded by Maj. Robert White, late Attorney-General of West Virginia; the Maryland Battalion, commanded by Maj. Sturgis Davis, of Maryland, who had won his laurels under Turner Ashby; Gilmor's Battalion of Rangers, commanded by Harry Gilmor, of Baltimore, who was as rough and daring a rider as ever drew a saber; McNeil's Rangers, of Hardy and Hampshire Counties, W. Va., commanded by Capt. John H. McNeil (this was the company that later in the war, under the immediate command of Jesse McNeil, son of Capt. J. H. McNeil, first lieutenant of Company D, rode into Cumberland, Md., and brought out two major generals, Crook and Kelly, from the very midst of their commands); and McClanahan's Battery, commanded by Capt. John H. McClanahan, a Texan, who had served under Ben McCulloch in Texas until it got too peaceful there for him.
So, as may be seen, our General had in his brigade a lot of choice spirits and was well equipped to make a daring raid into the enemy's lines. I had the honor to command a section of McClanahan's Battery.
Some years ago a Yankee major, giving an account of the capture of Charlestown, said: "The 'Johnnies' had some pretty darned smart officers during the war, and some of them that did the most effective work were the least heard of. Imboden was one of them. He was a smashing good soldier, had the true instincts of a cavalryman, and was as much at home in the saddle for a three-day ride to raid an outpost as he would have been playing bean poker for apple brandy in a crossroads grocery in the Shenandoah Mountains."
Now, nothing delighted a Confederate soldier's heart more than to be ordered to the lower valley of Virginia. They used to speak of it as the "land where the flowers always bloomed and birds always sang." They never failed to meet a warm and cordial welcome there from the noble women, who were so devoted to the cause we were fighting for. Every man from that section able to carry arms was in the Confederate army. Some belonged to the Stonewall Brigade, some to Stuart's Cavalry, and some to Chew's celebrated Battery of Horse Artillery. There were two companies of cavalry-the Clark Cavalry, Company D, 6th Virginia, and Baylor's company (B), 12th Virginia. Most of the men in these two companies were from the counties of Clark and Jefferson, sons of well-to-do farmers, who from early boyhood were accustomed to riding and handling the fine horses for which that section was celebrated. On one occasion I heard a distinguished Confederate officer say of them that he did not believe there were ever two finer bodies of mounted men on earth.
Our advance arrived in Berryville late in the evening of the 17th of October and drove a scouting party of the enemy out of town. We did not find Stuart there, as we expected, our scouts reporting that he could not cross the Shenandoah River on account of high water. The General decided to attack Charlestown alone, if he could find out what was there. A council of war was held, and Major Davis volunteered to go to the vicinity of Charlestown and find out. To this the General agreed and went into camp to take a short rest before his return. The Major knew two renegade Southerners who lived within a mile of the place, and he aroused one of them about midnight and demanded the information he desired. The man told him that his brother, who held a position under the bogus Yankee Virginia government, was in the town; that the loyal people there were very much incensed against him; and that he was afraid he would be handled roughly if he was captured. But he said that if the Major would allow him to get his brother out he would give him the information desired. This was agreed to, and the Major obtained the necessary information and returned to camp in time for us to get to Charlestown by daybreak.
The rays of light from the approaching day began to peep over the Blue Ridge, and a long stretch of fog hung over the Shenandoah like a lake reaching toward the ferry. The landscape around the town was dotted with handsome country residences, for Charlestown is in the midst of a rich farming country. The town lay sleeping before us, the inhabitants little dreaming that their friends and deliverers were so close around them or that they would soon be awakened by the boom of Confederate guns and hear the joyful sound of Confederate horsemen dashing over their streets. I was with my section on the Berryville Pike; and my orders from the General were that as soon as the pickets were driven in we should make a dash for the courthouse, where the enemy was quartered, and open on it promptly, as there was no time to lose.
My boys were enthusiastic when they heard the order and were eager for the command to move. The General sent Captain McNeil and his adjutant, Capt. F. B. Berkeley, in with a flag of truce to demand an immediate and unconditional surrender. Colonel Simpson, the officer in command, gallantly replied: "Come and take us if you can." We met them just before we got to the courthouse, and they said: "Hurry up, Lieutenant; they have refused to surrender! The building is loopholed, and you will have to be quick, or they will kill your men before you can unlimber."
As we entered the town a small boy came out of a house, and I called him to show me the way to the courthouse. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and he said: "Take me up behind you, and I will show you." When we got near the courthouse he said: "As soon as you turn that corner you can see it." I said to the youngster: "Now you get off; for they will fire on us as soon as they see us, and you might be killed." He replied: "0, please let me go along with you; I am not afraid." I had to pull him off my horse, and as he struck the ground he called after me: "I am going, anyhow." And he did, sure enough.
As we turned the corner I saw the Yankees standing at the big windows with their guns in their hands. The courtroom was on the second floor. Just as we got unlimbered I heard the Yankee officer give the command to fire; and as I gave the same command they poured a volley into us, but, strange to say, did not kill a single man. We fired several times rapidly, and soon the courthouse was obscured by the smoke. I discovered that they had stopped firing, so I gave the command to my men to cease firing. When the smoke cleared away, I saw that the enemy had gone. We were so close and the room was so high that our shots had gone under them, and I found that we had only wounded one man, a field officer. Poor fellow! He was lying, horribly wounded, on the courthouse steps. He had on a beautiful sword, which he said had been presented to him and which he asked to be allowed to retain. We fixed him as comfortably as we could and laid the sword by his side. The enemy had gone out of town by the Harper's Ferry Road, but were almost immediately charged by the 18th Regiment and threw down their arms. Capt. Julian Pratt made a dash for the color bearer and secured the colors. Colonel Simpson broke through our lines and struck out for the ferry, with Harry Gilmor in hot pursuit, but reached the troops coming to his relief before Harry overtook him. A lucky man!
As soon as I saw that the Yankees were out of the courthouse I sent two men with a wagon and four horses, which we discovered hitched up near the courthouse, to go in and load up with plunder, for the Yankees had left everything behind in their flight. I especially gave orders to get all the knapsacks and blankets possible. I did not see my captain any more until the next day at Front Royal. We were looking forward to having a supply of blankets and clothing to last the company through the winter; but, to our bitter disappointment, the men had loaded the wagon with drums-thirteen drums of all sorts and sizes. I turned them over to Colonel Smith, of the 62d, and he organized a fine drum corps.
The General came along and said : "Hurry up and get out of town, for the enemy are coming in heavy force from Harper's Ferry." Capt. Frank Imboden was put in charge of the prisoners; and he took them through the town at a double-quick, followed by the small boys, black and white, yelling and jeering at them. We followed and found the streets full of girls waving their handkerchiefs and cheering with wild delight; but they soon changed their tunes when they found that we were going to leave them again in the hands of the hated enemy. They begged and entreated us to stay; and although we hated to do it, we had to go, and go fast, for a much larger force than we had came into one end of the town as we went out of the other.
I tried to get the girls to leave the streets, so that I could rake it with a parting load of canister; but they were too enthusiastic to do so, and we would not have risked a hair of their dear heads to kill a thousand Yankees. The enemy followed us as far as Berryville and made several desperate and gallant efforts to recapture their friends, making it warm for us and giving us a running fight all the way. We fired our guns en eschelon, some firing and some retreating. Several times they came near capturing them. At one place, I remember especially, they got on our right flank and within a few feet of us before we could turn our guns about, when Major Gilmor charged them and saved us. Just as he made the dash at them his horse was killed, but in a second he was on another horse and right after the man who had shot his horse. In the charge he recaptured two of our men that the enemy had taken.
The Yankee major in his account says: "Imboden, with half a dozen shells and a volley or two of carbine and pistol shots and considerable dash, had scooped in pretty nearly as many as his own force numbered. Our folks were never very proud of that day's work. The whole day was a stern chase; but occasionally, when Imboden was pressed too closely and was in need of time to keep the prisoners and plunder ahead out of the way, he stopped long enough to give us a sharp taste of fighting that showed the metal that was in him."
In another page of the major's story he says: "Our guns were well at work; and as Minor was short of officers, I was directing one of his sections when, with a whoop and a yell, out of a thick undergrowth a little to our rear came a couple of Harry Gilmor's squadrons, with that dare-devil sabreur leading them, not more than fifty yards away, and, of course, it did not take them long to 'git there.' The rush was so sudden and unlooked-for that our support gave way; and Gilmor made straight for our guns, rode right over and past them, sabers slashing and pistols firing as they went. I had been tugging like blazes at my revolver, but could not get the blamed thing out; and as they rode over us a long-legged, red-headed fellow made a vicious slash at me over the wheel. I promptly dodged under the muzzle of the gun, and he did not reach me. 'Fours, left wheel!' rang out, and they came back before you could draw your breath. I laid for the 'son of a saber' that had reached for me before, for I had got out my gun by this time. I did not see my red-headed friend; but a handsome, dark-mustached youngster, a, boy in looks, was making a point to run me through. Dern my buttons, gentlemen, if that saber did not look as long as a fence rail! I dropped flat under the gun's axle, and the boy swept past. As far as my experience goes, that dash of Gilmor's was one of the handsomest things of the kind that occurred during the war."
The major was mistaken about the two squadrons. Harry hardly had one with him at that time.
The poor prisoners were on foot, and we were mounted; so they had a hard time of it, but as soon as their friends stopped the pursuit we gave them a good rest. We got safely back to our camp in Rockingham. Our loss in killed and wounded was not great.
An interesting incident in this connection is that, these prisoners got to the valley pike at New Market (I think it was), where their officers were paroled and were put in charge of Maj. Houston Hall, of the 62d Virginia Mounted Infantry. The gallant and amiable Major hired conveyances for the whole party at New Market, and, a sufficient store of old apple brandy having been laid in, the journey to Staunton was made very pleasant for all.
The truth of the proverb that "Kindness is never thrown away" has seldom been better illustrated than in this case. Sometime during the winter of 1864-65 Major Hall had the misfortune to be captured and was sent to Fort Delaware for safe-keeping. I was there at the time and recollect very well when the news was brought into our barracks that a new regiment had come to release the one that had for some time been doing guard duty on the island. In a little while word of inquiry for Major Hall, of the 62d Virginia, was passed through the barracks. The Major answered the call and went off with the orderly, wondering what was wanted with him, and so did we who waited for his return. This return took place just after the tattoo was beaten on the garrison drums, when Major Hall came into his division of the barracks under the friendly escort of a couple of officers of the newly-arrived guard regiment. It did not take long for the Major to explain that this regiment was the 11th Maryland and that he had been out to dinner with their mess. That he had been well dined by somebody was evident to the meanest capacity. The 11th remained on guard over us for several weeks; and Major Hall spent most of his time during the day in the quarters of its officers, returning at night to the barracks.
The beautiful valley of Virginia was overrun and its people robbed and plundered many times. At the close of the war there was scarcely a barn or mill standing from Harper's Ferry to Staunton, and the renegade Hunter destroyed many of its beautiful country residences. The returning survivors of the great struggle found only ruin and desolation; but with the same heroic spirit that inspired them through the bloody struggle they went to work, and in a few years the valley bloomed like a rose garden-barns, mills, residences, and fences were rebuilt, and now everything looks lovely. But they haven't forgotten the cause they fought for nor the heroes who fell in its defense. Go into their cemeteries, and you will find beautiful monuments erected to the memory of the noble dead. Go into their homes, and you will find matrons with silvered heads, who can tell you of scenes of horror that they have witnessed, and their eyes will grow bright again when they tell you of the deeds of daring and gallantry of the men who wore the gray.
A YOUNG VIRGINIA HERO.
In August, 1864, with a section of McClanahan's Horse Artillery, I was encamped with General Imboden's Brigade in Clarke County a mile or two from the Shenandoah River. The 62d Virginia was picketing at Berrie's Ferry, commanded by Col. George Smith and Lieutenant Colonel Long, two magnificent officers. We had just returned from General Early's great march on Washington. Our command had been actively engaged all summer, the men were pretty well worn out, and we were lying there quietly resting. Colonel Smith sent word to the General that everything was quiet on the river, but that he would like to have a piece of artillery sent to him. I had only one gun for duty, my other gun having been disabled a few days before in a lively little fight near Leesburg. I was in a very bad condition myself, being broken down and afflicted so with boils that I could not sit on my horse. Knowing this, the General told me to send the gun down to the ferry in command of a sergeant, saying that there would be nothing to do then and that there was no necessity for my going. I told Sergeant Shank to take the gun and report to Colonel Smith. He took with him a squad of young fellows from Randolph County and a friend of his, Michael Hinkel. I do not believe a braver body of men ever took a gun into action. They had been with me at New Market, Piedmont, Lynchburg, and in many other battles, and I knew their worth.
The men of the 62d were then lying under the shade on the banks of the beautiful Shenandoah, scattered along the river in a thin line. Some were mending their clothes, some sleeping, some smoking and fishing, and many of them writing letters to their people at home, but all had their arms by their sides. The beautiful river was rolling sweetly and gently on to the sea. Everything looked calm and serene. Who would have thought that in a few minutes a scene so peaceful would be broken into by a bloody tragedy-that the beautiful blue grass would soon be stained with human blood, the velvety ,sod torn by the iron feet of charging squadrons, and the placid river filled with dead and dying men and horses? But such is war. Our sergeant had just about gotten in hearing distance of the ferry when he heard the rattle of musketry and the "Rebel" yell of triumph. The enemy had suddenly appeared on the other side, and a squadron of cavalry had made a dash across the ford to see what was there; and they saw, for they recrossed more rapidly than they had crossed-but not all of them.
The sergeant reported to the colonel at once and was told to select the best position he could and fire on the enemy, which he thought were in large force on the other side, and that the reconnoitering party would report how few men we had and would soon return in much larger force. Shank was on the road that ran down to the ferry. The water was low and now fordable. Just to his right was a ridge running parallel with the river, and on this ridge he took his position. To his surprise, when he got on it he discovered the enemy's infantry and cavalry in large force massed in a bottom on the other side within easy range of his gun. Without further orders he opened on them, throwing with deadly aim shrapnel into this body of human beings. Men and horses went at every fire; and the fire-was rapid, for veterans were behind the gun. The great mass broke and scattered in every direction to escape the fire. The Yankee general, seeing that unless that gun was silenced his expedition would be a failure, ordered up a six-gun battery and soon made it hot for the gallant little squad. The young hero saw that he must do something to save his men for the expected charge, so he made the men run the limber and the horses behind the crest of the hill and ordered them to lie down and protect themselves. But in order to let the Yankees know that they were still on hand he and his friend Hinkel kept up a fire from the gun alternately. Seeing that he had to quiet that gun before he could make a successful charge across the river, the Yankee general ordered a regiment of cavalry next to the ford to dash across and capture the gun. They came on gallantly, riding over our thin line of infantry. Up the road they came, thundering with a shout of victory, as they thought, turned to the left, and dashed up the hill, expecting to take the gun in the rear. But sad and terrible was their disappointment. The gallant and cool sergeant, seeing the intent of the movement, ran his gun by hand into a thicket just on his right ; and when the enemy got to the place where they had seen the gun they met instead a deadly shower of canister, and so rapidly was the gun served by those gallant Randolph boys that the enemy fled precipitately and panic-stricken back down the hill, every man for himself, trying to recross the river, which few of them ever did, for Smith had gotten his men together and was ready for them, pouring into their already depleted ranks a terrible fire and, not taking time to reload, knocking the fugitives from their horses with their guns. Shank rushed out from his position and captured two cavalrymen who had been dismounted. Each had a loaded six-shooter and forty rounds in his belt. The fight was over.
Generals Imboden and Bradley Johnson, hearing the fight-ing, came as rapidly as possible to the assistance of the little band, but the Yankees had gone. Our young sergeant came down to the road and was modestly standing there, seeming not to know that he had done anything great. He had shown himself to be a born soldier, not only brave, but a strategist. As General Imboden rode up Colonel Long said: "General, there stands the hero of the day. But for him we could not have held the ford." The General and other officers shook hands with him and congratulated him, and as the compliments were showered on him he very justly began to feel as proud as did Wellington after the battle of Waterloo. But he always gave the brave Randolph boys their share of the glory.
When I heard the firing I got on my horse, as painful as it was, and went to my brave boys as soon as I could. But it was all over when I got there. The work had been done, and well done. The General told me to send him a recommendation for Shank's promotion, which I did. He indorsed it and sent it to General Early, and he no doubt sent the papers to Richmond, where they stayed, as many others of the same kind had done. Our government made a great mistake not to commission such men. Napoleon did it.
Sergeant Shank at that time was about eighteen years of age. His comrades will all testify that he always had the bearing of a soldier, a gentleman, and a Christian. In reviewing his conduct at Berrie's Ferry I do not think it too much to say that what he did compared favorably with Stonewall Jackson's conduct when he won his first laurels at Cherubusco.
For the last two years of the war I had the honor of commanding a section of McClanahan's Horse Artillery. Most of the men under my command were from the valley and from West Virginia. Their ages ran from about seventeen to twenty. General Lee once said that there never was a finer body of soldiers on earth than the Artillery Corps of the Army of Northern Virginia and that he had never known them under any circumstances to desert their guns. I can truthfully say for those young fellows who served under me that they were always cheerful and obedient to orders in camp and on the march, and in battle they stood to their guns, even when death looked them in the face. I am proud to have been their commander, and I believe that I have their love and affection; they certainly have mine from the bottom of my heart. And I pray that when the bugle sounds the last tattoo we shall all meet in the "sweet by and by."
Bibliographic Information: Source copy consulted: Confederate Veteran, Vol. 25, p. 149-152, 1917
