CHAPTER V JOSEPH HOOKER My next commander, and personally most beloved of all, was General Hooker; or "Fighting Joe Hooker," as we used to call him. I first saw him in December, 1861, when my brigade reported to him in lower Maryland. He was already in command of a New England brigade and a New York brigade there, and our brigade (Second New Jersey-his Third Brigade) completed his division, that became so well known afterward as Second Division, Third Corps, or "Hooker's Division," Army of the Potomac. General Hooker was then in the prime of manhood, with steel-blue eyes, sandy hair, and clear-cut featureswell set-up, but not corpulent-about six feet high; soldierly in his bearing and movements, and. the beau ideal of a division commander. His talk was brilliant and incisive, and instinctively he impressed all who came in contact with him as an officer who knew what to do and how to do it, and confident of accomplishing it. I well remember his first inspection of our brigade, and how thoroughly he overhauled us. It was on a bright Sunday morning in December, 1861, at Rum Point, Md., opposite the Confederate batteries at Cockpit Point, Va. And as he went through us, regiment by regiment, there did not seem to be a defect in a uniform or gun or knapsack or mule team, that his eagle eye did not detect, nor a well set-up officer or soldier that he did not compliment and praise. He was a West Pointer; he had distinguished himself in Mexico; and it was fair to expect great things of him in the future. The winter of 1861-62 he devoted to drill and discipline-everybody had to "toe the mark”—and to winning the confidence and affection of his officers and men; and it is safe to say, that when we landed on the Peninsula in the spring of 1862, there was no finer division in the Army of the Potomac. It approved itself at Williamsburg in May, where it received its "baptism of fire." It distinguished itself at Fair Oaks in June, where it helped greatly to save the day. It marched and fought like a Macedonian phalanx or a Roman legion, with bent brow and firm front, in the memorable "Seven Days' Battle" from front of Richmond to James River, in June and July, 1862. Indeed, in all the Peninsula campaign, there was no hard marching or heavy fighting that Hooker did not participate in, and everybody felt that, whatever else happened, his division at least was sure to be bravely and skillfully commanded. Hooker himself was always present on the field, alert and vigilant, conspicuously mounted on a white horsewith flaming eyes, florid face, and high shirt collar, that soon wilted down when we got engaged--but as cool and collected under fire as if directing a parade or a picnic. In every engagement he always seemed to know exactly what to do and when to do it; and it goes without saying, his men always went into action with alacrity and intrepidity, because they knew he would not put them in improperly, or fight them blunderingly, or imperil them unnecessarily. He was never ordered to attack, that he did not obey promptly and intelligently. He was never called on for support, that he did not respond cheerfully and gallantly. Ever ready, ever willing and eager, always equal to the occasion, he never missed a battle or skirmish in the Peninsula campaign 1 See p. 26. when it was his duty to be present, and hence early acquired the sobriquet of "Fighting Joe Hooker," and well deserved it. He did not fancy this himself, as he said it implied mere brute courage, whereas he claimed. capacity for command. But the name, nevertheless, came and "stuck" all through the war, because it aptly described his surface characteristics; that is, his readiness to fight and ability as a fighter. When we were ordered back from the Peninsula, Hooker's division was one of the first to reach Alexandria, and, heeding the call and distress of poor Pope, with gallant Phil Kearny's division hastened loyally to the front, while Porter's and Franklin's divisions lagged lamentably behind. Had they moved as promptly as Hooker's and Kearny's, our second Bull Run might have resulted quite differently. Hooker, indeed, did not even wait for his private baggage, nor for the horses of his field and staff officers, but, recognizing the great need of General Pope, marched at once to Warrenton and fought gallantly by his side at both Bristoe and Manassas. Poor Kearny (peace to his ashes and tears to his memory!) did the same, and then fell at Chantilly the next day but one afterward, in the midst of a twilight reconnoissance (September 1). But, all the same, he baffled Lee's plans and headed off Stonewall Jackson on the march for Fairfax Court House, and thus saved our line of retreat to Alexandria and Washington. Hooker was deeply touched when he heard Kearny had fallen (they were close friends and dear to each other), and we were all whelmed in a common grief. He was our Chevalier de Bayard, the idol of his division and pride of the army; our Phil. Sheridan of 1862, with a great career before him. I was only a short distance away when he fell; and I think Chantilly (fought in an evening thunderstorm) was the saddest hour I saw in |