CHAPTER 16
THE LONG GRAY ROUT
Carolinian troops seize a redoubt during the Siege of Norfolk
It was September 20, 1827, and Chancellor Jackson was tearing his way up the entirety of the Virginian heartland. Out west, his troops were just holding the line still and harassing Virginian Kentucky, but back east, the Virginian Republican Army had been in a total "long gray rout" since the Battle of Boykins. The famous Virginia Military Institute had been completely humiliated. Winfield Scott finally managed to drag his forces together and housed them in Richmond to resupply.
Without Norfolk's shipyards, Cuban holdings would certainly fall apart, as well as Virginian naval strength in general. Jackson knew this and made his men form a battle line just barely thick enough across southern Virginia that the Virginians couldn't break through into the Carolinas. Meanwhile, he took most of his soldiers, especially the "Bloody Boys of Boykins," now his most ardent followers, and created siege works outside of Norfolk. By early October, his big guns were finally brought in: giant Prussian-made siege mortars. With shells lobbing overhead on a now constant basis, the defenders' morale began to plummet. The formerly pristine gray and white uniforms of the VMI cadets began to turn brown, black, and red. The population inside the city lived in constant fear that any second one of Old Hickory's shells would kill them in an instant.
Outside the city, Jackson would regularly ride with his officers, resplendent in their high-collared blue uniforms and bicornes and always raising morale. The defendants would look out, sometimes taking pot-shots, but always missing the Chancellor. Every day, more and more of the city fell to ruin, and Jackson would ride again to seek out where to press the attack. His sappers were trying to mine under the city's defenses, but for the most part the city held strong. But even the strongest can only take so much.
On November 1, 1827, Jackson grew sick of playing games. He ordered his full force of artillery to open fire, knowing full-well how many civilians would die in an all-out shelling. He didn't care, he just wanted to get the siege over with before winter truly set in and ruined the momentum of the offensive. At 2 o'clock in the afternoon of that day, every field piece in the siege works opened up. The roar of the guns was deafening, and the sound of bone-chilling screams and collapsing structures followed. Buildings collapsed like houses of cards. Artillery fire from inside the town also fired back as the determined defenders refused to give up. Jackson was quoted as telling his officers, "Hard pounding, gentlemen. Let's see who pounds the longest."
One of the many attempts by the Confederation to breach the walls of Norfolk, Virginia
Just as Jackson and his men were prepared to storm the gates of the city for the final time, the completely unexpected happened. General Winfield Scott and 9,000 Virginian troops came rushing over the nearby hills and artillery blasts from that same direction started to come down on the Carolinians. Jackson himself was thrown from his horse, shrapnel through his leg. Stubborn and determined, he refused to be removed from the field of battle. Instead, he got on another horse, wrapped a scarf around his bleeding, shattered leg for a tourniquet, and drew his sword. He rode up and down the siege camp, rallying the men. Some 15,000 men of the Carolinas were shocked and terrified as the substantial Virginian force came charging up their rear. Quickly turning to face this new enemy, they formed infantry squares in the camp as 800 men of the Virginia Cavalry bore down on them, breastplates shining in the sun and horsehair helmets more than a little similar to the famous French cuirassiers. As the horsesoldiers came down upon them, led by Major Winston P. Henry, the men frantically held their ground. The heavy cavalry absolutely tore into the under-prepared Carolinians, inflicting mass casualties.
Jackson, however, was a man of such a sole focus that defeating Virginia was consuming his entire body and mind. He quickly dispatched orders for his "Bloody Brigade," the most valiant survivors of the Battle of Boykins, to reinforce the center of his army, with his personal standard as Chancellor leading the way. Moralizing the still mostly-green young troops with their presence, the center held, repulsing the cavalry. The Virginian horsesoldiers went scurrying back to their infantry ranks, which were mostly still holding.
Making up the core of Scott's infantry forces was the 3rd Irish Brigade, the Emerald Boys, led by Brigadier General Eustace O'Connor. The job of these hearty Celtic troops was to take what damage the cavalry had inflicted and put a finger in the wound which Scott's 15th VMI Cadet Regiment could follow up with a death blow and start routing the Carolinians back to from whence they came. With the band striking up "Fight For Uncle Henry," green banners waving, 4,000 Irish expatriates went forward. Jackson personally was at the exact spot they were heading, still bleeding profusely but holding his army together.
What followed was a massacre on both sides. The Emerald Boys fired volley after volley, ravaging the Carolinian ranks as the 15th VMI Cadets were bringing up the rear, still some distance behind. Seeing that his army couldn't take much more of this slaughter, Jackson ordered his Bloody Brigade on a direct charge at the Irishmen, taking withering musket fire the entire way. The fields were strewn with campground and siege equipment, and it was hard to keep the momentum going, but finally they crashed head-on into the Irishmen and engaged in vicious hand-to-hand combat. The green coats of the Carolinians and the the grays and blues of the Virginians became red with blood, and bodies dropped like flies. Just then, one of the powder supply wagons for the Carolinian camp was hit by a stray bullet and exploded in a massive fireball. Irish troops were all around it when it went off, sending splinters and shrapnel and fire absolutely everywhere. The blood-curdling shrieks of soldiers set on fire filled the air, even over the sounds of the guns. Dozens of men went down as the explosion caused a chain reaction detonation through that portion of the siegeworks. Jackson himself now led a cavalry charge through the flames, appearing to the confused and dazed Irish as riders from their darkest nightmares.
Some of the Irish fell back, their spirits broken and getting cut down like animals by the now-encouraged Carolinians. As Scott charged forward himself to try, once more, to rally his troops in the face of Jackson advancing, he saw General O'Connor himself, sword in the air, flintlock pistol in the other hand, walking behind his main body of troops, trying to keep them from shattering.
"Turn them around, dammit! Get your Irish sumbitches back into line or I'll hang 'em all!" bellowed an irate Winfield Scott.
O'Connor, his uniform now half-burnt (a private had had to snuff flames out) and sporting a fresh bullet hole through his bicorne, screamed back, "My men are terrified of Jackson, sir! We have to fall back to behind Thorpe's Hill and regroup!"
Scott threw his riding gloves on the ground in disgust. "Dammit, man! I order you to get your potato-grubbing farmboys back into formation!" Right after those words left his mouth, Scott was struck by a stray bullet in the shoulder, sending him flying backwards off his black horse. With a thud, he hit the ground and was out like a light. O'Connor, now with no real superior officer, realized he had to take command. As his men saw Scott laying motionless on the ground, morale plummeted even lower. At last, he ordered the bugler to blow retreat. O'Connor threw Scott over his shoulder and the Irish Brigade began sprinting back to the hill they had just advanced from. The VMI Cadets were just now arriving behind them, bayonets bristling, uniforms unstained and pants yet white, and the cries of
"Old Virginia forever!" were strong at first. But as the Irish tide broke upon Jackson's shore and the Emerald Boys fled for their lives, the Cadets'
esprit de corps fell drastically. Before long, the entire army was put in flight.
As the slaughter continued into the night, Jackson returned to his camp to once again commence heavy shelling of the city. The ordinance continued to burst all through the night, sending hundreds inside to their doom. The whole of Newport News was ablaze. The Southron capital of commerce was burning. Finally, early the next morning, a white flag of surrender was raised over the main gate of the city. Jackson, now patched up from his wounds but unable to walk, rode with his command to accept the Surrender of Norfolk. Virginia's finest port was no more. Numerous ships of the Virginian Navy were burned at the docks and widespread looting was common. Over 1,000 civilians were killed in the bombardment, something which Virginia would never forgive nor forget.
In the west, this entire time was spent with Virginian General Rumford Pickens decisively whipping two Carolinian armies from the field and any day he was expected to break through the thin Carolinian line and charge into the Confederation. Jackson now knew he had to hurry, else watch his forces get stuck in enemy territory with no means of support or resupply. He had to marshal his exhausted army and march upon Richmond. Also brewing was the first ever North American slave revolt and the entrance of the Republic of Maryland (unofficially) into the war...