rm were at the mercy
of the invaders. Already the Federal commissaries had laid hands on
herds and granaries. It is true that the Northerners waged war like
gentlemen; yet for all that the patriotism of the Valley soldiers was
sorely tried. They were ready to go to Richmond if the time had come;
but it was with heavy hearts that they saw the Blue Ridge rise behind
them, and the bivouac on Mechum's River was even more cheerless than
the sodden woods near Port Republic. The long lines of cars that
awaited them at the station but confirmed their anticipations. They
were evidently wanted at the capital, and the need was pressing.
Still not a word transpired as to their destination.

May 4.

The next day was Sunday, and Jackson had intended that the troops
should rest. But early in the morning came a message from Edward
Johnson. Fremont's advanced guard was pushing forward. "After hard
debate with himself," says Dabney, who accompanied him, "and with
sore reluctance," Jackson once more sacrificed his scruples and
ordered the command to march. The infantry was to move by rail, the
artillery and waggons by road. To their astonishment and delight the
troops then heard, for the first time, that their destination was not
Richmond but Staunton; and although they were far from understanding
the reason for their circuitous march, they began to suspect that it
had not been made without good purpose.

If the soldiers had been heavy hearted at the prospect of leaving the
Valley, the people of Staunton had been plunged in the direst grief.
For a long time past they had lived in a pitiable condition of
uncertainty. On April 19 the sick and convalescent of the Valley army
had been removed to Gordonsville. On the same day Jackson had moved
to Elk Run Valley, leaving the road from Harrisonburg completely
open; and Edward Johnson evacuated his position on the Shenandoah
Mountain. Letters from Jackson's officers, unacquainted with the
designs of their commander, had confirmed the apprehension that the
Federals were too strong to be resisted. On the Saturday of this
anxious week had come the news that the army was crossing the Blue
Ridge, and that the Valley had been abandoned to the enemy. Sunday
morning was full of rumours and excitement. 10,000 Federals, it was
reported, were advancing against Johnson at West View; Banks was
moving from Harrisonburg; his cavalry had been seen from the
neighbouring hills, and Staunton believed that it wa