was returned to Moorefield.
When the man was brought before me, I made some examination of him
and then ordered him taken to the guard-house. At this time Cluseret
appeared on the scene, and in an excited way demanded that I should
order the prisoner to be shot forthwith. This being declined, he
again produced his order to supersede me, and declared he would at
once take command and himself order the man shot that night. I
could not deny his right to assume command notwithstanding what
had taken place, but I strongly denied his authority to shoot the
captive, and insisted that there was no cause for shooting him
summarily; that only through a court-martial or military commission
could he be condemned, and a sentence to death would, to carry it
out, require the approval of the President. (It was not until
later in the war that department, district, or army commanders
could approve a capital sentence.) Cluseret vehemently denounced
the authorities, including the President, for their mild way of
carrying on the war, and talked himself into a frenzy. As he was
preparing an order to require the Provost-Marshal to shoot the man
without trial, I repaired to the telegraph office and made Milroy
acquainted with the situation, whereupon he ordered me to retain
command of the post until further orders. Milroy, on coming to
Moorefield the next day, sustained me, and the soldier was treated
as an ordinary prisoner of war. Cluseret pretended to be satisfied,
and later succeeded in getting himself assigned to command the
expedition to the Shenandoah Valley--not a very desirable one in
mid-winter. He reached Strasburg, and moved through the Valley
northward to Winchester, but was pursued by a small force under
Jones. This made it necessary to reinforce him, and I started
under orders for that place _via_ Romney and Blue's Gap, and was
joined on the way by Milroy with the body of his division. On
leaving Moorefield, on the 30th of December, I with two orderlies
rode ahead about a mile to the South Branch of the Potomac to
examine the ford, as we had no pontoons, and, having crossed the
river, awaited the approach of the wagon train and its guard, which
was to take the advance, as no enemy was known to be in that
direction. As the head of the train reached the ford Captain J.
H. McNeil (whose home was near by), with about fifty of his guerilla
band, attacked it by emerging from ambush on the Moorefield side
of the river. A