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After Action Report, St. Albans
To Major General Jake Jennette
1st Division, Army of Northern Virginia, commanding
I herewith submit my report on the actions of the ANV detachment in the vicinity of St. Albans, this past September 19-21, 1864.
The
detachment consisted of good turnouts from the 4th and 6th regiments,
and the 9th battalion, Our total field strength was approximately 20
soldiers, supported by a battery of mountain howitzers. This small
detachment acted in support of the military raid on the city of St.
Albans, Vermont.
My lovely
wife and I embarked from Wilmington, running the blockade, and taking
to the high sea. Our ship made its way undetected on the trip north,
and we found ourselves in the bustling city of Montreal, Quebec,
Canada, on the St. Lawrence River. We found it quite a simple matter to
catch a train south to St. Albans. We found that our encampment was an
easy walk from the station. There was no difficulty in getting
situated, and we were made to feel very welcome by all. Camp set up
proceeded with dispatch and we settled in for most comfortable
afternoon and evening. We were pleased to see Private Gerald
Nelson form the 1st Maryland, Sgt. Dan Spinner of the 12th Georgia, as
well as civilians, Robert and Wendy Benedict from Alabama had all
made the arduous trip up to the far north.
We also
found, camped as we were on the town green, that many townspeople
stopped by, wondering about our presence in their town. I believe we
were able to put their minds at rest for the moment, and, after sharing
the fine companionship of good friends, we settled in for a rather cool
but comfortable night's sleep.
Morning
broke, rather raw and overcast, with a considerable wind. At the
Officer's call we covered the day's activities with Captain Steve Smith
of the 2nd Mississippi, who had arranged our stay. With a period of
unscheduled time ahead, I was able to dry out the head of my banjo upon
the fire, and played a selection of airs, to the delight of the
townspeople who continued to wander by in ever increasing numbers, I
might add. I attempted to continue to play, even with the town band
behind me giving a concert. The visiting townspeople were quite
fascinate2d with my banjo, almost as though they had never seen one.
From 9 to 10,
drills were held. The artillery drill went most smoothly at 9,
followed by a short but crisp infantry drill. I supervised the
drills, but did not feel the need to step in, as the men were in good
hands. The noon hour approached, as we spoke with the ever increasing
crowds of townspeople, and soon luncheon was served and enjoyed.
At 1 o'clock,
the sounds of activity were heard in the enemy camp, and we quickly
formed our forces to meet the threat. Our artillery opened up, laying
down a hot fire, which weakened our foes considerably. Moving quickly
onto the field, we opened a hot fire on our wobbling enemy. We
advanced, but though they fought with gallantry, we were too much for
them. As we made for their lifeless bodies, to attempt to render what
assistance we could, ( and perhaps liberate some shoes from those who
no longer needed them), the Federal officer, Capt. Peter Gilbert, who
was known to me before the war, dragged himself to his feet, and drew
his sword, in a last valorous attempt. Seeing that his wounds
were surely mortal, I decided the humane course was to draw my sword
and release him from this mortal coil. The sad deed done, we
retired from the field.
After we
retired, Lt. Bennett Young's raiders arrived to liberate funds
from the local banks. we could hear the commotion, but were unable to
see exactly what transpired.
As a modern
aside, this was far from a normal event. We were camped at taylor
park, which is actually the town green in St. Albans, and was where the
townspeople were led during the raid itself. Our "battle" was a small
skirmish designed to lead the many spectators to the location of a play
with local actors, recreating the raid. The only way to see it, really,
was on a jumbotron which was erected in the park. I heard an estimate
that 6000 spectators came through the park on Saturday. While
that seems high, the actual number was likely in four digits. If you
like doing living history, this is the event for you.
The hordes of
townspeople grew and grew. It was decided that a short parade through
the green might be entertaining for them, and so we marched. We did
seem to be very well received.
On our return
to camp, the parade of townspeople to us continued apace. Despite the
cool temperatures, overcast skies, and the ever strong winds, they
came. I lit the fire again, this time to make my banjo playable,
and entertained the throng with a series of lively airs. My
lovely wife joined me on her guitar, and we had a small concert for the
passersby. They had many questions, which we were happy to answer
as best we could.
After a time,
we learned of an afternoon church service scheduled at a lovely
Episcopal church on the green, St. Luke's. At the appointed time,
3:30, we enjoyed an excellent service of Evening Prayer. The
stained glass in the church was truly beautiful.
We returned
to camp feeling renewed by our experience. We had friends visit,
including Lt. Col. Rathbun, of the 9th Battalion, with whom I discussed
plans for thew upcoming campaign into the Shenandoah Valley. We were
still besieged by the many curious townspeople, who all wanted more
banjo music. The town band had begun yet again, seeming to play every
three hours or so. Their music was not unpleasant, but I
much prefer playing airs myself.
The afternoon
gave way to the early evening. The fire was lit, and our dinner
was cooked, a delicious stew prepared by Mrs. Johnson. Our civilian
friends, the Benedicts made use of the fire for their dinner as well.
Having had an excellent repast, we settled in for the evening, joined
by Pvt. Nelson, the Benedicts, and Sgt. Spinner, who had brought along
his metal vest contraption. I used an oil lamp to dry my banjo, as Mrs.
Johnson brought out her guitar. We had a lovely evening playing
music for the camp, and the ever present townspeople, as well as most
pleasant conversation and fellowship. The hours passed quickly,
and the night air was decidedly warmer then the night before. Soon
enough, we retired to comfort of our tents, where we all passed a most
comfortable night.
Morning
dawned, and blessing of blessings, the sun began to fight its way
through the cloud cover! The ever-present wind continued, but the
warmth of the sun made it seem not so bad. We had an officers' call at
8:00, and planned the days actions. With a little free time, I
pulled out my banjo. The sun dried the head marvelously, and the
strains of the familiar airs flowed freely into the morning air.
Townspeople continued through at a rapid rate, though not as many
stopped to question us, perhaps beginning to accept our presence.
Cavalry, artillery and infantry drills took place much as the previous
day, to good effect, although our ranks were diminished by several
soldiers who had to return to Montreal. After the drills, I strummed a
few more familiar airs, until I heard once again a stirring from the
advancing Federals. Our artillery again managed to keep the advancing
foes at bay, though at the expense of one gun, while we formed what was
left of our infantry. The men moved onto the field with dispatch, but I
fear our fate was sealed. The Federal delivered a most effective
fire, and our ranks thinned quickly. After a short time, the few
Confederate soldiers remaining melted into the trees, while the
victorious Federals celebrated over the taken guns.
From the
safety of our camp, we heard a sound that must have been out of a
dream. The Raid, which had taken place yesterday, seemed to be
happening again! Lt. Young, whom I knew to have ridden to
Montreal, or his ghost, appeared again, and the banks, with no
funds left, were magically restored, only to be emptied again!
As this
mirage played out, we reformed our depleted ranks, and prepared to
march through the green again, a huge throng of townspeople having
gathered again. We began to march, the crowds waving as we progressed.
Our hallucinations began again though, when we came to a
halt. It seemed as though the raiders, rather then having
escaped, were presented to the populace, who, rather than calling for
their heads, actually applauded! What engendered these mad thought, I
know not, but soon enough, it passed, and we returned to our camps to
prepare for the long journey back to the safety of Virginia.
We began to
break camp, loading our equipment onto the wagons, and after some hours
of work, made our weary way to the train station, for the short ride to
Montreal. From that lovely city, we embarked for the sea voyage
home. Our trip was uneventful until our arrival at Wilmington,
where our reentry to the Confederacy was hotly contested by the hated
blockaders. We feared that we would be taken, however, our
prayers were answered by the opening of a fearsome fire from the walls
of Ft. Fisher. Once there, we were able to make our way back to
Virginia.
Respectfully submitted this 29th day of September, 1864,
Colonel Bradley Tyler Johnson (aka Leonidas Jones) commanding
6th Regiment, 1st Division, Army of Northern Virginia
The Liberty Greys
Any Fate But Submission