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John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Mosby. (search)
, capture an army train, or ambush some detached party of Federal cavalry out on a foraging expedition. Such a life is attractive to the imagination, and the men came to have a passion for it. But it is a dangerous service. It may with propriety be regarded as a trial of wits between the opposing commanders. The great praise of Mosby was, that his superior skill, activity, and good judgment gave him almost uninterrupted success, and invariably saved him from capture. An attack upon Colonel Cole, of the Maryland cavalry, near Loudon Heights, in the winter of 1863-64, was his only serious failure; and that appears to have resulted from a disobedience of his orders. He had here some valuable officers and men killed. He was several times wounded, but never taken. On the last occasion, in 1864, he was shot through the window of a house in Fauquier, but managed to stagger into a darkened room, tear off his stars, the badges of his rank, and counterfeit a person mortally wounded. H
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., A fight, a dead man, and a coffin: an incident of 1864. (search)
young lady, and then knelt down beside them. The glazing eyes of the wounded man looked out from his haggard face. Who are you? he muttered. I am Lieutenant Cole, was the reply, in a sad and pitying voice; I am sorry to see you so dangerously wounded. Yes — I am-dying. If you have any affairs to arrange, my poor friend, you had better do so, said Lieutenant Cole; and I will try and attend to them for you. No — the ladies here-will- There he paused with a hoarse groan. You are about to die, said the Lieutenant; there is no hope. I am a Christian, and I will pray for you. As he spoke he closed his eyes, and remaining on his knhis pistol, which by some negligence had been left upon his person, he fired upon his guard. The bullet missed its aim-and the guard firing in turn, blew out Lieutenant Cole's brains. A singular coincidence comes to the writer's memory here. The mother of the young ladies whose adventures are here related, had on this day gone