None of us would listen. The armies
formed, facing each other on Virginia soil. Soon in our trampled fields,
and broken herds, and ruined crops, in our desolated homes and hearts,
we, brothers in America, learned the significance of war.
They crossed our little valley, passing through Alexandria, coming from
Harper's Ferry, these raw ninety-day men of McDowell and Patterson, who
thought to end the Confederacy that spring. Northern politics drove them
into battle before they had learned arms. By midsummer all the world
knew that they would presently encounter, somewhere near Manassas, to
the south and west, the forces of Beauregard and Johnston, then lying
within practical touch of each other by rail.
My men, most of them young fellows used to horse and arms, were brigaded
as infantry with one of the four divisions of McDowell's men, who
converged along different lines toward Fairfax. For nearly a week we lay
near the front of the advance, moving on in snail-like fashion, which
ill-suited most of us Virginians, who saw no virtue in postponing fight,
since we were there for fighting. We scattered our forces, we did not
unite, we did not entrench, we did not advance; we made all the mistakes
a young army could, worst of all the mistake of hesitancy.
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