Lieutenant-Colonel Scott Shipp to Major-General Francis H. Smith, July 4, 1864

HEADQUARTERS-CORPS OF CADETS,            

July 4, 1864.

GENERAL: In obedience to General Orders, No. --, headquarters Virginia Military Institute, June 27. 1864, I have the honor to submit the following report of the operations of the Corps of Cadets under my command in the field from May 11 to June 25, inclusive:

In obedience to orders from Major-General Breckinridge, communicated through you, at 7 a.m. on the morning of May 11 the Corps of Cadets, consisting of a battalion of four companies of infantry and a section of 3-inch rifled guns, took up the line of march for Staunton. The march to Staunton was accomplished in two days. I preceded the column on the second day some hours for the purpose of reporting to General Breckinridge, and was ordered by him to put the Cadets in camp one mile south of Staunton.

On the morning of the 13th I received orders to march at daylight on the road to Harrisonburg, taking position in the column in rear of Echols' brigade. We marched eighteen miles and encamped; moved at daylight on the 14th; marched sixteen miles and encamped.

At 12 o'clock on the night of the 14th received orders to prepare to march immediately, without beat of drum and as noiselessly as possible. We moved from camp at 1.30 o'clock, taking position in the general column in rear of Echols' brigade, being followed by the column of artillery under the command of Major McLaughlin. Having accomplished a distance of six miles and approached the position of the enemy, as indicated by occasional skirmishing with his pickets in front, a halt was called, and we remained on the side of the road two or three hours in the midst of a heavy fall of rain. The general having determined to receive the attack of the enemy, made his dispositions for battle, posting the corps in reserve. He informed me that he did not wish to put the Cadets in if he could avoid it, but that should occasion require it, he would use them very freely. He was also pleased to express his confidence in them, and I  am happy to believe that his expectations were not disappointed, for when the tug of battle came they bore themselves gallantly and well.

The enemy not making the attack as was anticipated, or not advancing as rapidly as was desired, the line was deployed into column and the advance resumed. Here I was informed by one of General Breckinridge's aids that my battalion, together with the battalion of Col. G. M. Edgar, would constitute the reserve, and was instructed to keep the section of artillery with the column, and to take position, after the deployments should have been made, 250 or 300 yards in rear of the front line of battle, and to maintain that distance. Having begun a flank movement to the left, about two miles south of New Market, the nature of the ground was such as to render it impossible that the artillery should continue with the infantry column. I ordered Lieutenant Minge to join the general artillery column in the main road and to report to Major McLaughlin. After that I did not see the section of artillery until near the close of the engagement. Major McLaughlin, under whose command they served, was pleased to speak of the section in such complimentary terms that I was satisfied they had done their duty.

Continuing the advance on the ground to the left of the main road and south of New Market, at 12.30 p.m. we came under the fire of the enemy's batteries. Having advanced a quarter of a mile under the fire we were halted and the column was deployed, the march up to this time having been by flank in column. The ground in front was open, with skirts of woods on the left. Here General Breckinridge sent for me and gave me in person my instructions. The general's plans seem to have undergone some modification. Instead of one line, with a reserve, he formed his infantry in two, artillery in rear and to the right, the cavalry deployed and, guarding the right flank, left flank resting on a stream. Wharton's brigade of infantry constituted the first line; Echols' brigade the second. The battalion of Cadets, brigaded with Echols, was the last battalion but one from the left of the second line, Edgar's battalion being on the left. The lines having been adjusted the order to advance was passed. Wharton's line advanced; Echols' followed at 250 paces in rear. As Wharton's line ascended a knoll it came in full view of the enemy's batteries, which opened a heavy fire, but not having gotten the range, did but little damage. By the time the second gotten line reached the same ground the Yankee gunners had the exact range, and their fire began to tell on our line with fearful accuracy. It was here that Captain Hill and others fell. Great gaps were made through the ranks, but the cadet, true to his discipline, would close in to the center to fill the interval and push steadily forward. The alignment of the battalion under this terrible fire, which strewed the ground with killed and wounded for more than a mile on open ground, would have been creditable even on a field day.

The advance was thus continued until having passed Bushong's house, a mile or more beyond New Market, and still to the left of the main road, the enemy's batteries, at 250 or 300 yards, opened upon us with canister and case-shot, and their long lines of infantry were put into action at the same time. The fire was withering. It seemed impossible that any living creature could escape; and here we sustained our heaviest loss, a great many being wounded and numbers knocked down, stunned, and temporarily disabled. I was here disabled for a time, and the command devolved upon Captain H. A. Wise, Company A. He gallantly pressed onward. We had before this gotten into the front line. Our line took a position behind a line of fence. A brisk fusillade ensued; a shout, a rush, and the day was won. The enemy fled in confusion, leaving killed, wounded, artillery, and prisoners in our hands. Our men pursued in hot haste until it became necessary to halt, draw ammunition, and re-establish the lines for the purpose of driving them from their last position on Rude's Hill, which they held with cavalry and artillery to cover the passage of the river, about a mile in their rear. Our troops charged and took the position without loss. The enemy withdrew, crossed the river, and burnt the bridge.

The engagement closed at 6.30 p.m. The Cadets did their duty, as the long list of casualties will attest. Numerous instances of gallantry might be mentioned, but I have thought it better to refrain from specifying individual cases for fear of making invidious distinctions, or from want of information, withholding praise where it may have been justly merited. It had rained almost incessantly during the battle, and at its termination the Cadets were well-nigh exhausted. Wet, hungry, and many of them shoeless--for they had lost their shoes and socks in the deep mud through which it was necessary to march--they bore their hardships with that uncomplaining resignation which characterizes the true soldier.

The 16th and 17th were devoted to caring for the wounded and the burial of the dead. On the 17th I received an order from General Breckinridge to report to General Imboden, with the request upon the part of General Breckinridge that the corps be relieved from further duty at that time and be ordered back to the Institute. The circumstances of General Imboden's situation were such as to render our detention for a time necessary. We were finally ordered by him to proceed to Staunton without delay, for the purpose of proceeding by rail to Richmond, in obedience to a call of the Secretary of War. Returning, the corps marched into Staunton on the 21st; took the cars on the 22d; reached Richmond on the 23d; were stationed at Camp Lee until the 28th; were then ordered to report to Major-General Ransom: ordered by him to encamp on intermediate line. On the 28th left Camp Lee; took up camp on Carter's farm, on intermediate line, midway between Brook and Meadow Bridge roads; continued in this camp until June 6. On the 6th received orders to return to Lexington; reached Lexington on the 9th; Yankees approached on 10th; drove us out on the 11th; we fell back, taking Lynchburg road: marched to mouth of the North River and went into camp. Next day (Sunday, the 11th) remained in camp until 12 m.; scouts reported enemy advancing; fell back two miles and took a position at a strong pass in the mountains to await the enemy. No enemy came. We were then ordered to Lynchburg; went there; ordered to report to General Vaughn; ordered back to Lexington; reached Lexington on the 25th. Corps furloughed on June 27.*

I am, general, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

 S. SHIPP,                  

Lieutenant-Colonel and Commandant.

Maj. Gen. F. H. SMITH,

Superintendent.

_________________

* Nominal list of casualties (omitted) shows 8 killed and 44 wounded.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 37, Part 1 (Serial No. 70), p. 89-91

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Tuesday Morning, June 14, 1864

Have had many experiences since yesterday morning. Our guard has been very kind, and we have done everything for them as if they were our own men, because we feel that our safety rests with them. Yesterday the best one came and said, “An officer has just been at the gate, demanding to know if this house has been searched; I told him it had been; has it?” Phoebe said “No.” He said the officer asked if there were not anything suspicious about us; the guard assured him there was not. “Now,” said he, “you must assure me there is nothing contraband in your house, or I may compromise myself greatly by what I have done.” We told him of the cadets who had left their trunks here; he said they must be examined, but that it would not do to send them at this late hour down to the Provost Marshal, after he had pledged himself that the house had been searched. He evidently was nonplussed, and so were we. He begged us to be in haste and have the trunks opened. We furnished a hatchet; he hewed them open, and there were the uniforms! He said they must be destroyed somehow, and that we had better burn them. We kindled a big fire in the ironing room, and piled it up with nice cloth clothes; but the smell of the burning cloth went all over the house, and the guard said we would be betrayed. Then, in our alarm, we poured water on the charred clothes, and by his directions, tore them to pieces. I suppose what we destroyed had cost two thousand dollars. Oh! what a consternation seized us as the guards bade us hurry. We were in despair about concealing the remnants, but he bade us shun concealment; to leave the remnants out upon the floor, and tell the officers, if they should come, that we had been searched, and he would confirm what we said. “All this is out of order,” he said, “but I want to keep your house from being plundered, which it certainly will be if they find all these clothes.” Such a pile as they amounted to! We were frightened at it; so I crept into the loft above the porch, and stowed away under the rafters quantities of the rags. We tore to strips all Frank's outside clothes, and how my heart did revolt at it, and my fingers refuse to do their office: we cut up Mr. P.'s new coat, which he had just gotten at a cost of something like $300. We were afraid to let the guard know what an amount of uniform there was, lest he should think we were deceiving him. These officers and cadets (there were seven trunks besides Frank's and Mr. P.'s) had just sent their trunks here by the V. M. I. servants, and we did not know some of the young men even by name or sight. Just as I was descending from the loft, candle in hand, the guard's head appeared above the stairs! One of the servants had just time to wave me back, and then I crouched at the open trap door, the guard talking a few feet from me; I expecting every instant that he would advance and put his head up to see if there was anything suspicious up there. I never was placed in such circumstances of danger in my life. I called on God to aid me. After a little, the guard turned away, having ordered the buttons all to be given to him. Such a relief as I experienced! After coming down, I found another cadet's suit, which had never been worn, of nice English cloth, which in Confederate money would have cost $500. — I took a penknife and slit it to pieces, and added it to the pile. Going out into the passage I encountered the guard coming down from the third story where the clothes lay, with a pair of new shoes in his hand; he said his comrade had an old pair on, and he might as well take this cadet's, as they were contraband. He took Frank's cap, vest, and pants, and this morning the other fellow rode away with them on. I had become so alarmed that I thought it time he should know the wounded man was here, so I said, “Come in and see this wounded cadet!” He seemed surprised, but came in, and talked very civilly; the cadet lay pale and motionless, never opening his eyes. The guard asked if we did not need help in sitting up with him at night, and talked so kindly that quiet tears began to steal down the poor wounded boy's face — for he is only seventeen. Phoebe began to weep too; the guard looked on a moment, and then said, “Well, in the other world there will surely be somebody made to suffer for all this!” I take time to note this; it is an incident worth preserving.

There was still Jackson's sword. With great trouble we carried it under our clothes — that sword that had flashed victoriously over many a battle field — and finally concealed it in an outhouse. Then breathing freely for the first time since our fright, we went to the guard and told him there was not to our knowledge, and we were willing to take our oath upon it, an article of contraband clothing, or an instrument of defence in the house. He said he was perfectly satisfied, and nobody should enter the house to search, except over him.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 194-6

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Monday Morning, June 13, 1864

I had a calm, solemn, two-hours conversation yesterday, with an intelligent and seemingly Christian man, which has filled me with entire despair for the Confederacy. He listened to my solemn declarations that I knew the spirit which animated every man, woman, and child was a martyr spirit; was a conscientious belief that in the sight of heaven they were doing their holiest duty; that there was a deadly earnestness among our men which would make the last remnant of them fly to our mountain fastnesses and fight like tigers till the last inch of ground was taken from them: that then the women and children would be swept into the Ocean on one side, and into the wilds of Mexico on the other, but there could be no yielding. “If,” said he, after listening with deep interest to what I had been saying, “if I believed that your spirit animated your army, I would feel obliged to lay down this sword; I could not fight against men who fought for conscience’ sake.” “I beseech you, sir,” I said, “to believe it; for it is as true as that the heavens are above us.” This is the sentiment expressed by the best of them. He took from his pocket-book some leaves which he had gathered from Jackson's grave, which he said he would keep as sacred mementos. One of the guard which he sent us, decent fellows, who have kept us from being insulted, asked me for some trifle that had belonged to Jackson, saying, “We think as much of him as you do.” I gave them each an autograph.

We were told the house was to be searched for arms as some of our neighbors’ have been. I delivered up all the sporting guns, but forgot that I had hidden Jackson’s sword in a dark loft above the portico. At one o'clock last night I crept up there as stealthily as a burglar, and brought it down, intending to deliver it up to this Lt. B.; but on running up the back way to Dr. White's gate, and consulting him, he said he had his old sword, which had never been in the service, and advised me to keep it as long as I could. I have hidden it in Anna Jackson's piano. We hear that we are to be searched this morning; almost every house in town has been, and but for the interest this Lt. has taken in us, I believe we should have been too.

Gen. Smith's house has not been burned; they have not yet discovered our wounded man. Oh! I am so exhausted — so heart and soul weary! We have heard many times this morning that the Cadets have been captured. Lynchburg no doubt has fallen, for there was no force there. The servants are flocking away. The soldiers almost force them into the omnibuses. We have a young girl here now, our Mary's sister, whom they were about to drag away; Mary went and brought her here for safe keeping.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 192-4

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Sunday, June 12, 1864 – 12 o’Clock

We have just heard that Gen. Smith, Col. Williamson, and Col. Gilham with some of the Cadets have been taken prisoners! Where is my husband? Where is Frank? If our house is burned to night, and we hear of my husband being captured or killed, what will life be worth? God protect and have mercy upon us all! To whom can we look but Thee!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 191-2

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Saturday Morning, June 11, 1864

Last night all our alarm was again aroused by a courier arriving with the news that the enemy had turned suddenly back, and were in full force at Brownsburg, and that McCausland was retreating with his 1400 men before him. This was soon confirmed by the arrival of brother Eben and Mr. W. again fleeing. The enemy's column entered Brownsburg as they left; they stayed long enough to hear the musketry of the skirmishers; this return was so sudden that they had barely time to escape. Some of the Institute professors were here to tea; all had to depart at once, when Mr. P. came in saying that he had just read a dispatch from McC. saying that he would be here in two hours, and that the enemy was at Cedar Grove, eight miles from this. Sure enough, in less than two hours, McC's men were at Cameron's farm. Mr. P. and two of the officers rode out to see McC. — did not get back till three in the morning; we sitting up till then. Indeed we did not go to bed at all; only threw ourselves down for an hour or so. The cadets have been under arms all night; have not yet moved. Resistance was at first spoken of; but there are only three of the Institute cannon brought back, and McC. has found to his cost that it is in vain to offer opposition with such a mere handful as could be brought together, to the ten thousand who are approaching. So certain did we feel yesterday that the danger was for the time over, that Mr. P. had his stock all brought back from the mountains, and I had “unhid” as George says, our silver. At once Uncle Young [a trusted servant] was dispatched with the carriage horses to Overseer Clark, and he was ordered to proceed at daylight to the mountains. A courier came in at ten o'clock P. M. saying that another force was advancing by way of Kerr's Creek; whereupon E. and the gentlemen from Brownsburg, one a wounded Lt., mounted and decamped. If the enemy advances on Lexington this morning, McC. will most probably burn our bridge, and retreat, the Cadets with him, on the Lynchburg road. Mr. P. goes with the Cadets. They only arrived from Richmond night before last.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 187-8

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Saturday Evening, June 11, 1864

Our fears have all been realized: the enemy is upon us, and is in pursuit of McCausland, who left the town about an hour before they entered. About ten o'clock this morning, McC. burned the bridge as the enemy approached it; he then began to fire upon them. We have been shelled in reply all day; one shell exploded in our orchard, a few yards beyond us, — our house being just in their range as they threw them at the retreating Confederates. The Cadets, my husband among them, remained on the Institute hill, till the shot and shell fell so thick that it was dangerous; the Cadets then retreated, and are several hours ahead; but they are infantry, and this is a cavalry force altogether. Mr. P. is just two hours ahead of them. The people from the lower part of the town fled from their dwellings, and our house was filled with women and children. Just in the midst of the thickest shelling, the poor wounded boy from the Institute hospital was carried here, surrounded by a guard of cadets. He has borne the removal very well. I have distributed some of J.'s blackberry-wine, which I have always forborne to open, among the frightened and almost fainting ladies. About four o'clock the head of the Yankee column came in sight. I went out and watched them approach; saw six of our pickets run ahead of them some ten minutes. One of them dropped his gun near our door. For two hours there was one continuous stream of cavalry, riding at a fast trot, and several abreast, passing out at the top of town. Then the infantry began to pour in: these remained behind, and with cavalry who came in after, flooded the town. They began to pour into our yard and kitchen. I ordered them out of the kitchen, half a dozen at a time, and hesitated not to speak in the most firm and commanding tone to them. At first they were content to receive bacon, two slices apiece; but they soon became insolent; demanded the smokehouse key, and told me they would break the door unless I opened it. I protested against their pillage, and with a score of them surrounding me, with guns in their hands, proceeded to the smokehouse and threw it open, entreating them at the same time, by the respect they had for their wives, mothers, and sisters, to leave me a little meat. They heeded me no more than wild beasts would have done; swore at me; and left me not one piece. Some rushed down the cellar steps, seized the newly churned butter there, and made off. I succeeded in keeping them out of the house. We have had no dinner; managed to procure a little supper; we have nailed up all the windows. I wrote a polite note to Gen. Averill, asking for a guard; none was sent. At ten we went to bed, feeling that we had nothing between these ravagers and us but God's protecting arm.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 188-9

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: June 6, 1864

No sooner is one alarm over than another comes. Mr. P. took me down to the hospital this morning, to see some wounded cadets, one of whom was wounded in seven places, and will probably die. As we returned, and were stopping at Mr. Sam Moore's, to see a V. M. I. professor who had a piece of his skull grooved out by a minnie ball, we were startled by the news that the enemy were at Milboro'. We reached the church just as the services were closing, so did not go in. Found that Gen. W. E. Jones's command was approaching the town, only two miles out. At dusk, in walked Capt. George Junkin and another officer; they belong to Jones' division, and have left their companies five miles out, to come in and pass the night with us. We were just about to have our bread and milk supper handed; but of course more substantial fare had to be prepared for tired soldiers; so we all had real coffee, biscuits, and bacon; a royal repast for these times. . . .

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 182-3

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: May 19, 1864

My birthday. I feel the pressure of years upon me in this respect, that all life seems sadder; hope's wings droop; illusions vanish. Yet am I a slow learner of the solemn lessons thus taught me. Letters from Frank; the Cadets have had a severe time of it. Several have died of their wounds; forty-five were wounded. They are now ordered on to Richmond, by the Secretary of War, and I expect nothing else than that they are in for the remainder of the war, and my husband with them. We hear nothing but tales of blood. Today comes another report of a fight between Lee and Grant, and the details of Beauregard's success at Richmond. Pickett's Division stormed the enemy's breastworks, and have 700 or 800 killed and wounded. E. C. is in this Division; we know not whether he has fallen, and are afraid to hear. People busy here scraping lint; the schools dismissed in order that the children may help. . . .

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 181

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: May 18, 1864

Surely we have fallen upon evil times! Last night we received intelligence of the very severe battle at or near New Market, between Breckenridge and Seigle; the latter was repulsed, and is retreating, pursued by Breckenridge. The Cadets asked to be permitted to take the front; they were allowed to do so. (Later, this is doubtful, but General B. says, “They behaved splendidly!”) Five of them were killed, and forty-five wounded, some of them very badly. For a while we did not know but that Frank or Preston Cocke or William Lewis were among the killed; but when the list came, we could not find their names! Thank God for sparing them! But they are pushing the enemy on; another battle will probably ensue, and then their turn may come. We received a Richmond paper, the first for ten days, and find that a fight has taken place near Sister's; thirty killed; and there she is, alone on her plantation; her three only sons in battle. How do we ever live through such scenes as are daily coming to our notice! The reserve is ordered out all over the State. Matters are touching the point of desperation. All seems to depend upon the final throw. We will soon have attained “the zenith point of hope,” or “the nadir of despair.”

Father and J. do not begin to conceive what we go through here. How should they? Thank God they do not!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 180-1

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: December 20, 1863

An order from Imboden for the cadets to march to Buchanan. They started this morning. Mr. P. went at noon. A very cold day.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 174-5

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: December 19, 1863

Busy all forenoon getting breakfasts for soldiers, and filling haversacks. Two young cousins of Mr. P. (Moncures) who have lived most of their lives in Paris, came, looking as rough and dirty as any of the soldiers we saw yesterday. They belong to Lee's cavalry, and had straggled behind. We fed them, mended them up, and they passed on refreshed. I asked one of them if he could realize that he used to promenade the “Boulevards,” and take his dinner at the “Palais Royal.” Their father is worth millions.  . . . Yet these young men were just as merry and contented as possible, though living a life infinitely harder than the worst worked slave. One of them had on coarse jeans trousers. The cadets are to go on to Buchanan tomorrow morning. The weather is bitterly cold, the roads very bad, and hard frozen. This day a twelvemonth poor Randolph was buried.

“Pain in the heart — pain in the head —

Grief for the living — grief for the dead!”

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 174

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: December 6, 1863

Again the Cadets and Home Guard are summoned out; they started yesterday; and Mr. P. went early this morning. It is a cold raw day, and they will find marching and bivouacing in the open air very disagreeable. The reports are that the enemy is advancing upon the Valley from four different points. When will these alarms cease? I am in despair about the war.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 172-3

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: November 11, 1863

I feel angry when I have been tortured to no purpose, as now. This evening the Cadets and Home Guard are back again without anything happening to them. I have heard no particulars; last night rumor after rumor reached us, and at last we became convinced that they were really on the return. Imboden had a slight skirmish with the enemy, but whether any of the Rockbridge forces took part in it, I don't know. Mr. P. has not returned; stayed to hunt deer on the mountain, as he failed to find Yankees!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 171

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Tuesday, November 10, 1863

Hear that there was fighting yesterday all day at Callihans, six miles west of Covington; that the Home Guard and cadets were being pushed on as fast as they could move, in order to assist, and expected to arrive at 4 o'clock, P. M. So my husband and Bro. W. may have been in a battle — may be wounded — may be prisoners — may be killed — all is uncertainty. These torturing rumors are very hard to bear.

Exceedingly cold today. A Flag of Truce note from Julia to W. — Father is sick, to add to my anxieties. Had a letter in reply to mine to Judge Ould about William Cocke. Mine was sent on to Washington City, and is returned endorsed, “No record of W. F. Cocke.” So that settles the question; he perished in the assault upon Gettysburg. I have to communicate this to his mother. What awful times we live in!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 170-1

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: Sunday, November 8, 1863

But little like the day of sacred rest. Last night, after dark, and just after I had heard that 14,000 of the enemy were advancing, and there had been two days' fighting near Huntersville, or rather, twelve miles this side, and when my mind was filled with discouragement, G., who had gone out, was heard to exclaim, “Here is Papa!” Yes! to my joy — but he had hardly drawn off his gloves, had certainly not been one minute in the house, before he was sent for to receive a dispatch brought by a courier, summoning the cadets to Covington. He started out at once, but came back and stayed until morning, when he hastened on to join the corps, and march towards Covington. We went to church, but the services were interrupted by the announcement that the ladies must go home and make instantly 250 haversacks. All was commotion and anxiety. The congregation had been anxious before; it was composed wholly of females, and a few old men and boys; but all anxiety was heightened. Met Mr. Middleton as I came home, who was just returning to hurry on provisions. All the force of the county is ordered to Clifton Forge for the present. The whole available force is so small, that if there are 14,000 of the enemy near Lewisburg, pushing on eastward, this handful can't keep them back. The reason Imboden sent Mr. P. the dispatch yesterday to send the corps back, was because he said he was moving so rapidly that only mounted men would avail him any thing. But now infantry and, everything is desired.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 169-70

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: November 6, 1863

A lovely day, and in contrast to the feelings of the whole population. Last night I became uneasy at Mr. P.'s not coming home from the Institute till near ten o'clock, so I went out to meet him, taking Johnny along. After waiting a half hour on the street, he came at last, but with the alarming tidings that a courier had come in from the West, asking that the cadets and the Home Guard should be forthwith sent to the assistance of Col. Jackson¹ and Imboden; that 7000 of the enemy were between Jackson and the Warm Springs. So we were up before day this morning; I with a heavy heart. The cadets have gone, and the Home Guard from the various parts of the country. Mr. P. gone too; I feel very desolate. Bro. Eben² stopped to dinner; on his way his horse fell with him and hurt him considerably, but he will try to go on. The whole town is in commotion; no men left in it; even those over sixty-five have gone. I can't help hoping they may not have to stay any time or fight a battle.

_______________

¹ This was Colonel William L. Jackson, a cousin of Stonewall Jackson, and a former lieutenant-governor of Virginia. His men nicknamed him " Mudwall" Jackson, a play upon the sobriquet of his more famous kinsman. — E. P. A.

2 The Rev. Eben D. Junkin, then pastor of New Providence church, about sixteen miles from Lexington.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 168-9

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: April 30, 1863

This evening Mr. P. left us for Columbia, S. C, whither he goes as a delegate to the General Assembly. [Presbyterian highest church court.]  . . . This night one year ago he was summoned from his bed at midnight, by a despatch from General Jackson, and he had to march the next morning with the cadets. Thank God he is called away on no such summons tonight, but goes on the peaceful errands of the church. May the great Head of the church watch over his precious life!

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 162

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: May 17, 1862

With what different feelings do I make a record in this little note book today, from last Saturday! Last night my husband, almost without any warning, (none, except that we heard Jackson had relieved the corps from farther duty, and they were soon to return), stepped in upon us just as tea was over. What a welcome we gave him! I do thank God for his mercy in having fulfilled my petitions, as I would fain hope, in restoring to me safe my precious husband. He was not in the battle at McDowell, though they marched 40 miles in one day in order to come up in time. The fight was just over, but he was left in charge of the battle field, helped to bury the dead, and saw the wounded borne off the field; the Southerners lost some 60 or 70 killed, and some 280 wounded; about 340 he certainly thinks in all. What the Federal loss was he could not tell. The Confederates buried about 40 of them, and the country people around say that multitudes of wagon-loads of dead and wounded were carried away. As the Confederates pursued, they came upon many graves just filled up, but how many were in them of course they could not tell. It seemed awfully unfeeling to hear Mr. P. say that they took off the dead men's shoes before burying them, and in one instance a soldier applied to him for leave to wear them. He stopped one soldier who was cutting buttons off a dead Federal's coat. (Buttons are a scarce article in the Confederacy!) The corps of cadets could not get the permission of the Board of Visitors to continue in the service, or they would have gone on with Jackson's army, as he desired them to do. This accounts for their return.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 140-1

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: May 15, 1862

Have had various notes from Mr. P. since Saturday. Was extremely relieved to find that he was not in the fight; that there were only 50 killed and 250 wounded, instead of 300 killed, as first reported. It is not true that Major Ross was killed. The pursuit of the Federal forces has been kept up for several days. Tonight, a letter from Mr. P. says they halted on Monday, to rest the army half a day, and hear a sermon from Dr. Dabney, a thanksgiving for the victory. This evening we hear the report that Jackson is retreating – the Federal force having been reinforced with fresh troops. Mr. P. says a battle seems imminent; he is not on Jackson's staff, but marching with the corps of cadets. News of the burning of the steam iron-clad ship, Merrimac. What a sacrifice! But I record here nothing of public news, beyond what touches myself. It is not my purpose to do more.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 139-40

Diary of Margaret Junkin Preston: May 1, 1862

A dreary dismal day of rain, and my feelings are in accordance with the weather. At midnight last night Mr. P. was summoned to the Institute by a dispatch received from Jackson, requiring the corps of cadets to march at once to his support in an expected battle. Before three o'clock he returned, saying he too was to go early in the morning. Although something of the kind has been continually dreaded, it was a shock to me — and such a grief! He is gone — to be exposed certainly to the chances of a stern battle; there is no mail communication between Jackson's position and this, so I can't hear from him, and must be content with rumors, which are torturing, because generally so exaggerated.

After he left me, I shut myself in his study, and blotted the leaves of his Bible with my tears, while I read on my knees the 91st Psalm, and besought God to realize to him all the promises contained in that Psalm. Then, with my finger on the Saviour’s promise, “Ask and it shall be given you,” etc., I plead his fulfilment of it to me in my precious husband's behalf; and I think I felt a relief in laying my aching heart on the bosom of the Redeemer. “Be not afraid, only believe! God has been so good to us in the past, let us trust him for the future” — my Beloved said to me as he held me in his arms at parting. With God's help I will try and act upon his counsel. Am I not limiting my heavenly Father's power when I feel that my husband is less safe on the battle field than at home? Wherever he is, the Almighty arms are around him; this being so, why should I be afraid? “Why art thou so fearful, oh, thou of little faith!”

SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 138-9