In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

43 ✵ the cold winds of March 1862 were nothing in Winchester compared to the chill of a prospective evacuation by Jackson. News on February 27 that Union troops occupied Charles Town, some twenty-four miles to the northeast, struck fear. Rumors of a pending threat had circulated for several weeks. Some residents, as Dr. Abram Miller observed, were leaving. He also noted that those who hoped “the south may be conquered” were in “fine spirits” about Jackson’s possible departure. Angrily he lashed out, “Such people ought to be shot.” Most people refused to countenance the idea of an evacuation. They believed that Winchester was “the key that locked the door to Richmond.” To imply anything else was to question Stonewall’s infallibility . Many regarded the general as “a Moses who was divinely appointed to lead us out of the wilderness.”1 Despite such faith, speculation created uneasiness and, among some, panic. Behind the bold optimism, many expected Jackson’s evacuation. With the army moving supplies in late February, the more cautious began sending their valuables up the Valley. News on March 3 of increasing Federal activity caused several prominent families to make preparations to leave. Dr. Hunter McGuire was so agitated that he not only sent his family out of town but threatened to burn his home. Some later returned, but as Phillips notes, “Usually, such people were constantly poised for flight.” Most remained. As Stephen Ash suggests, a number of factors influenced that decision: “hardship and uncertainty of refugee life . . . the desire to protect property that could not be removed . . . [and] fear of losing home and livelihood prevailed over fear of the enemy.”2 Later in November Mrs. McDonald, reacting to her husband’s suggestion of moving to Richmond, confided, “It is not an easy matter to move about the world with seven children in the best of times, and the most quiet, but now it seems next to impossible.”3 With heightened apprehensions the post office, county court, and local banks sent off their books, records, and specie. The cashier of the Bank of 2 TheTasteofHumiliation beleaguered winchester 44 Winchester, Robert B. Wolf, buried its papers and funds in the basement of Dr. William Miller’s home. Edwin S. Brent, bookkeeper for the Bank of the Valley, took its specie and records to Baltimore. The town’s records were shipped to Lexington, while the county’s went to Luray. Julia Chase, by birth a New Englander and Unionist, noted that Southerners were “frightened almost to death of the Yankees.” Gleefully she observed, “The Virginians have always said never surrender, that they never ran. Pretty good number are running now fast enough.”4 Reports of Federal units reaching Stephenson’s Depot, four miles north of Winchester, shocked residents. With artillery “flying” down streets and soldiers moving in different directions, pandemonium broke lose. Kate Sperry watched in disbelief: “The people are all crazy—perfectly frantic for fear this place will be evacuated and the Yanks nab them.” She observed her neighbors destroying their flags “for fear the Yanks would see them,” but she was determined to keep hers. Unionists rejoiced. But the failure of the Federals to appear turned their joy into despair. Overjoyed, Southerners went out to the town’s breastworks to cheer and wave flags over the Yankees’ repulse by Col. Turner Ashby’s men. Yet uncertainty stoked Unionist fears that Jackson might burn the town before it fell. Rumors of railroad cars and the depot being filled with shavings spurred alarm. A fire on the night of March 8 and the burning of several wagons seemed to give credence to the suspicion.5 But skirmishing near town reinforced optimism “that Jackson will defend the town at all hazards.”6 Despite rumors of impending reinforcements, a more realistic Mrs. Hugh Lee on March 11 began securing the family’s silver, clothes, and papers.7 Meanwhile, three regiments with axes hurried north to obstruct the Martinsburg Pike with trees.8 The militia busily improved the town’s crude defensive fortifications. When David Strother later inspected them, he felt humiliated. To him the redoubt seemed “a trifling obstruction, easily knocked to pieces by field-artillery, and very easily turned and avoided.” He “was profoundly grieved and mortified to see such wretched exhibitions of engineering from [his] own people.” He discovered that “Most of the works were parapets of earth about two feet high and three or four feet thick, some of them topped...

Share