I
consider the “Marne Taxis” the second most innovative experiment
in the history of military transport. On the night of 7 September,
1914 about 1,000 Renault taxicabs and their drivers were
requisitioned off the streets of Paris to transport 6 thousand
soldiers 31 miles, where they arrived just in time to stop the German
march on Paris and save France. This desperate measure also produced
two odd facts. In feeding the cab drivers, twenty refused their wine
ration – an almost unbelievable 0.02% of Frenchmen were actually
oenophobes. The second odd fact was that paying off the meters,
which were kept running, cost the French tax payers only about
70,000 francs - proving that Parisians never tip. The greatest
innovative experiment in military transport came on 18 July, 1861, at the little railroad
station of Piedmont Station, Virginia on the Manassas Gap Railroad,
when for the first time in history an army was transported by rail
directly to a battlefield. And this one also produced two odd facts.
It
all began with Jefferson Davis' desperate telegram to Joe Johnston,
on 18 July, 1861- “General Beauregard is attacked; to strike the
enemy a decisive blow, a junction of all your effective force will be
needed.” The attack by General Tyler's division might have been a
farce, originally intended as a feint. But the crises for the
Confederacy of the slave states was real. Outnumbered two to one in
both theaters, the rebellion could survive only if the two rebel
armies could combine against one of the federal armies. But from Winchester, to Manassas Junction was 60
miles. A forced march by road would take four to five days. The
troops would arrive exhausted, spread out and with substantial loses to straggling.
And the federals could probably match that march. But at his
headquarters in Winchester, General Johnston had what he hoped was a
better idea.
Johnston
sent his chief engineer, Major W.H.C. Whiting, to the closest Manassas
Gap Railroad connection - Piedmont station. His orders were to find if “trains, capable of transporting the troops to their
destination more quickly than they were likely to reach it on foot,
could be provided there." Whitting
reported back that MGRR president Edward Marshall promised his
railroad could transport Johnston's entire 11,000 man army to
Manassas Junction in just 24 hours. However the supply wagons and
artillery would have to go by road, since he had no rail cars capable of
carrying them.
Johnson
now called out the local militia to hold Winchester, while his army
maneuvered. He also left behind his 1,700 sick men, unfit for duty.
If federal General Patterson had moved against Winchester any time
between the 18 and 24 July, he would have faced around 3,000 barely
trained and badly armed old men and boys, and sick and wounded
soldiers, with little artillery support. Even General Patterson, with
just 6,000 men left after the 90 day Yankee volunteers had all gone
home, could have captured Winchester. But he never tried.
The
first to step off was Duncan's Kentucky Battalion, members now of
Colonel Thomas Jackson's brigade. Private J.W. Brown wrote to his
father, "We broke up camp at Winchester, Va. on the 18th...
and made a forced march, marching all day and all night, of thirty
miles...” In fact they left after noon, and marched only 17 miles
from Winchester to Ashby's Gap. The 1,000 foot pass through the Blue
Ridge mountains, was a toll road and paved. It had been named after
Thomas Ashby, who founded the village of Paris at the eastern end of
the gap. Jackson's brigade arrived there after dark, having marched
17 miles in 14 hours. Jackson then let his men catch some sleep in a
field south of Paris.
Joe
Johnston and his staff rode on the 7 miles on to Piedmont station
that night, to discover there were no cars waiting and just one sad
locomotive. It turned out the Manassas Gap Railroad had only one
engine, and the engineers told the frustrated general that it would
take 8 hours to make the 30 mile round trip to deliver just one 2,000
man brigade, and return for a second. It appeared railroad president
Marshall was a true executive, well versed in schmoozing bankers and
investors, but who had no idea how to actually run his railroad. Johnston contained his anger, and set about assembling every box and
passenger car he could find.
When Jackson's men arrived about 6
a.m the next morning, 19 July, they found a train ready and waiting, with steam up in the
engine. And the entire neighborhood had assembled to greet them. It
was, according to soldier John Casler, “a regular picnic with
plenty to eat, lemonade to drink, and beautiful young ladies to chat
with" . It would remain a romantic image for the next 150 years.
By 8 a.m. Jackson and his men (short the 33rd
Virginia regiment, which had to wait for the next train) were loaded,
and the train roared off at 8 miles an hour - 30 minutes to
Rectortown, 21/2 hours to Broad Run, 3 hours to Gainsville and 4 ½
hours to Manassas Junction, stopping at every station to refuel, add
water and oil the engine.
The
return trip, running empty, took about an hour less, and the little
engine that could arrived back in Piedmont Station about 3 p.m.. It
was quickly reloaded with more troops and set out for the second
trip. By now Johnston had scrounged up a second engine, one of the
half dozen liberated from the Baltimore and Ohio shops in
Martinsburgh, and smashed together another train, which he sent off
about five that evening.
This
third run carried the 7th
and 8th
Georgia regiments. Private W.A.Evans would recall later, “I thought
the top of the car would be the best place...But soon the heated
metal and boards, supplemented with cinders and smoke from the
engine, caused me to want to be inside the car. So at the first
station I swung down and entered. I thought of the "black hole
of Calcutta" and began to think my time had come - not from
Yankee bullets, but from choking suffocation. I felt that I was being
cooked alive...I slept some, of course, but was waked up every few
minutes...by rude jolts as we backed or went into a side track to get
out of the way of an approaching train.”
The
approaching train was the returning little engine, empty again. And
when it pulled into Piedmont Station, at about 10 p.m., Friday, 19
July, it found even more eager troops ready to load. Instead the
exhausted train crews went home to get some sleep. Joe Johnston was
apoplectic, but while the engineer and crew slept, the engine was
probably serviced, as was the additional engine, spending the night
in Manassas Junction. Rebel commanders were unfamiliar with the
limitations of railroad equipment and expected it to work miracles,
when it fact it had already done just that. The first amazing fact
about this experiment in military transport was that in one day, about
6,000 men - half of Johnston's army - had been delivered 50
miles to the battle field. They had no artillery, or supply trains,
but you can't have everything.
Saturday
morning, 20, July the men of the 8th
Georgia infantry regiment, remembered “the good ladies who
furnished our breakfast and filled our haversacks.” But the
hospitality of Piedmont Station had by now run low. Mrs. William
Randolph complained, “ The soldiers...have eaten up everything I
have in the house, and still they keep coming." That night, the
last train carrying the 10th
Virginian regiment left Piedmont Station about 3 a.m, filled with
exhausted, hungry men, who had seen no romantic examples of southern womanhood
offering succor.
These
men had not eaten since leaving Winchester, and the engine was now
traveling barely 5 miles per hour, because of wear and tear to the
roadbed. At one water stop the hungry soldiers spotted blackberry's
in a nearby field. McHenry Howard was among those who could not
resist. “I heard a voice exclaiming furiously, 'If I had a sword
I would cut you down where your stand,' and raising my eyes I beheld
the crowd scatting for the cars before an officer striding up from
the rear.” The officer turned out to be a tired and frustrated
General Kirby Smith. “...he came up close and glared at me,
thinking he was going to strike me and wondering what I would do, and
when he turned off I was glad to regain my position on the car top.”
Shortly
after resuming its journey, the train derailed. The crash was likely
caused simply by the wear on the track and the wheels, never meant to
carry this volume and these weights, and having been badly maintained
for years by a company always operating near bankruptcy. No one was
killed because the crews had been running at a reduced speed. But the
soldiers had little doubt it was sabotage. According to W.A. Brown,
“Some body tore up the track on Saturday night which had to be
relaid...” Henry McDaniel of the 9th
Georgia was clearer. “An engineer caused a collision of the trains
on Saturday and that kept us out of the fight. He was afterward shot.
He was a northern man." And W.A.Gus Evans contended it was a
conductor who was “court martialed and shot, charged with bribery
by the court and intentionally producing the collision...”
It
seems likely that someone, a civilian conductor or an engineer, working for
the Manassas Gap railroad was dragged before a kangaroo court,
tried, convicted and shot that Saturday. And it seems likely that if
the unfortunate victim had intended to cause damage, he would made
certain the train was running faster when it was run off the rails,
or sooner, before all but the last brigade of Joe Johnston's army
had reached Manassas Junction. But the soldiers were weary, after a long forced march, with no food and little water. They were
frustrated with the delays, lack of sleep, and they were not thinking clearly. They were also suspicious
of the mechanics and their mechanical world that was destroying the
economic viability of slavery. And it seems likely that on 20 July,
1861, they struck out in anger at the only part of the north they
could reach at that moment.
Non
one seems to have recorded the name of the officer who ordered the
railroad man's death. The rebel victory on the 23 July laid bare the
paranoia behind the act, and it seems likely the officer responsible
was no longer proud of his action. This was the second odd truth the
southern cavaliers would learn over the next four bloody years. Never
start a war. Ever. Besides killing people, and destroying lives, it puts far too much power in the hands of tired,
frightened and and angry average people, who will then do things they will regret for the rest of their lives.
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