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The following article was written by Ned Harrison, a Greensboro, N.C., writer
'Jackson's Death Shook Confederacy to Core'
The war would continue for another two years, but at the end of those two
months, in 1863, the South no longer had the manpower needed to win the war.
It began with Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee's brilliant victory at Chancellorsville (May 1-5, 1863) and ended with the twin defeats at
Gettysburg (July 1-3, 1863) and at Vicksburg a day later.
In between those two peaks must be added possibly an even bigger loss: the death of Lt. Gen. Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson from battle wounds followed
by pneumonia.
Gen. Josiah Gorgas, who almost single handedly armed the South, said, "For myself, I felt that our last hope was gone, and it was now only a question of
time Yesterday, [the Confederacy] rode on the pinnacle of success. Today, absolute ruin seems our portion. The Confederacy totters to destruction."
Jackson's death shook the Confederacy to its roots. He got the name "Stonewall" ("There stands Jackson like a stone wall. Let us rally on the
Virginians"--Confederate Gen. Barnard E. Bee) at First Manassas on July 21, 1861, in the first major battle of the Civil War. From that moment on, he
became a symbol of the best in Southern leadership: daring, determined, professional.
He took command of the Shenandoah Valley District in November 1861. By March 1862, he was on the offensive with a mere 16,000 men, keeping three Union
Armies off balance and worried about their own safety. In fact, Jackson was directly responsible for denying about 30,000 men to Gen. George B. McClellan
and his 1862 Peninsula Campaign in Virginia. Because of Jackson's success in the Valley, President Lincoln feared for the safety of Washington, and
ordered the troops to fight Jackson in the Valley rather than going to add to McClellan's army.
Jackson lost his life as a result of the battle that proved Lee's defensive genius. Chancellorsville has gone down in history as the battle in which Lee
best understood the numbers, terrain, tendencies of opposing generals, abilities of his own leaders--and factored in all those details to act with
professionalism and daring.
The one thing he could not control was casualties. Jackson was in the middle of all the fighting at Chancellorsville on the afternoon of May 2, shouting
exultantly to his men, "Press forward. Press right ahead," to encourage them in pursuit of the retreating Union soldiers. When a young officer complained,
"They are running too fast for us, we can't keep up," Jackson coldly replied, "They never run too fast for me, sir. Press them, press them."
The moon was full that night, huge through the drifting smoke of battle. Jackson, scouting terrain for attack and pursuit the next day, had ridden
forward with a few of his staff. They were only a few, scarcely 20, and as they rode back, the sound and then appearance of horses aroused Confederate
pickets from the 18th North Carolina, who had just repelled a Northern cavalry attack. They opened fire, and really did not do a great deal of
damage. "Cease firing, you are firing into your own men," shouted one of Jackson's party.
The officer in charge of the pickets feared a Federal trick: "Who gave that order?" he shouted. "It's a lie. Pour it into them, boys." And then the whole
line opened fire. Jackson was wounded twice in the left arm and once in the right hand. He was taken to the rear. At an aid station at Wilderness Tavern,
his arm was amputated.
A stunned Lee bemoaned the loss: "He has lost his left arm, but I have lost my right."
Jackson appeared to make a rapid recovery. "I am wounded, but not depressed," he said with good spirit. By May 7, his condition had changed. He was
restless, fevered, in pain. Lee said, "God will not take him from us, now that we need him so much."
But Jackson's condition worsened, and at times in his delirium he called out orders to officers on the battlefield. On Sunday, May 10, 1863, doctors told
Mrs. Jackson that the general would not last the day.
When she told him, he said, "It is all right. It is the Lord's Day. My wish is fulfilled. I have always desired to die on Sunday." The last words this
national hero uttered were, "Let us cross the river, and rest in the shade of the trees."
(Note: The best book I have found about the life of Jackson is "They Called Him Stonewall" by Burke Davis of Greensboro. Davis has written many books on
the Civil War, all of them well-researched and a pleasure to read.)
A few months ago, I received a letter from Paul H. Cronk of Roanoke. It contained a long report by one of his ancestors who had been at the Battle of
Gettysburg, July 1-3, 1863.
Several days later, Judith C. Coffman of Salem wrote, enclosing a copy of a report "from my great-great-uncle Frank Stoke to his brother. The original is
documented at Gettysburg. Portions have been in the TV series of the Civil War."
As I read the letter that Coffman sent, I realized that I had read this Stoke report before--and sure enough, the Cronk and the Coffman report from "F. M.
Stoke" were the same.
It turns out, as near as they can tell, that Paul Cronk and Judith Coffman are third cousins (they think.) But the report from their common ancestor is
the sort of thing that makes historians drool. The letter is dated Oct. 26, 1863. Stoke had fought for the Union (a Pennsylvania regiment) during the
battle, and then returned to Gettysburg a second time to tend the wounded who still filled a
"hospital composed of large tents which cover eighty acres of ground. It is laid off in
streets which give it the appearance of a city."
His letter continues, "When we first came here, there were five thousand sick and
wounded and as high as seventeen die each day. It is heart-rending to pass through streets and hear the cries of agony that burden the
air. Those who die in the hospital are buried in a field south of the hospital; there is a large
grave-yard there already. The dead are laid in rows with a rough board placed at the head of each man--they are nearly all Confederates."
The Stoke letter has the added advantage of being an eyewitness report on the battle itself. He describes the results of the shooting done by thousands of
combatants: "on the ground occupied by the left wing of our army the timber is dead from the effects of the minie-balls. It is impossible to count the balls
in any one tree, they seem to be shot into the trees in clusters like wine grapes.
"About three hundred yards [away] is a small stream of water called Rock Creek
the Rebels lost 2300 men on less than two acres of ground. They are buried in holes capable of holding from twenty-five to a hundred men."
One final, and apt, description of a battle site: Stoke writes that as he walked through the battlefield, he came upon "a chain of the largest rocks I
ever saw; it seems as though nature in some wild freak had forgotten herself and piled great rocks in mad confusion together. This place is known as the
Devils' Den." Those who have been to Gettysburg will recognize it immediately.
And so we come back, again, to a place that still haunts this nation. Gettysburg is part of who we are. About 160,000 men fought over those three
days. At least 50,000 of them were casualties: killed, wounded, missing, prisoners, an appalling 31 percent.
My thanks to Paul H. Cronk and Judith C. Coffman for sharing this special bit of Americana with us.
NED HARRISON is a Greensboro, N.C., writer who specializes in military history. He writes regularly about the Civil War. If any of your ancestors
were part of the War years, either as a soldier or on the home front, and you know their stories, he wants to hear from you. Write Ned Harrison, News &
Record, Box 20848, Greensboro, N.C. 27420.
Copyright 2001 The Free Lance-Star
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