FYI on Stringfellow

[RJNorton]

I found this article in the The Vernon Pioneer of June 1, 1877. I am not sure if it's the Scout's Life article John refers to because it is written in the third person. But I shall post it anyway.

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ARTICLE – SCOUT’S LIFE

AN ILLUSTRATION OF THE PERILS THROUGH WHICH A BRAVE VIRGINIAN PASSED
MAJOR MCCLELLAN in Philadelphia Times.

The second adventure which I have promised to relate occurred when the federal army occupied Culpepper Court House, and the Confederate army lay in Orange County, Virginia. General Lee desired certain information which it seemed could be best obtained by an individual scout, and Stringfellow was selected for the service. It was necessary that he should penetrate the enemy’s camps, remain concealed as long as possible, and return when he had collected the desired information. His operations were to be conducted most at night. He wished to be accompanied by two men, one of whom, Farrish by name, had his home in the immediate vicinity of the enemy’s camp, and being intimately acquainted with all the country, could accurately guide him from place to place in the night as by daylight.

The expedition was undertaken on foot, as the distance was not great, and concealment was of prime importance. The men were clad in their own uniform as scouts not spies. The country was a difficult one for the operations of a scout. From the long and frequent occupation by both the contending armies the land had been almost entirely denuded of its timber, and only here and there a few thin clusters of trees remained standing.

One day had passed since they had entered the enemy’s lines; and with nightfall they commenced their wanderings among the hostile camps, mainly with the purpose of locating the different corps, and of ascertaining whether any troops had been detached from the army of the Potomac. The night had been nearly consumed in this way, when reaching one of the clusters of trees, of which I have spoken; they laid themselves down to catch a few moments rest. A single blanket covered the three men. Treacherous, fatal sleep! Their fatigue was greater and the night was further spent than they had supposed, and the sun shining bright in their eyes, when the party of six Federal soldiers, with their muskets in their hands, pulled away the blanket which covered them, and saluted them with a humorous

“Good morning Johnny Reb! Wake up!”

Stringfellow, lying upon his back was the first to arouse and to comprehend the situation. Knowing that an open attempt to seize his arms would draw death upon him at once, he feigned to be only half awakened, and much to the amusement of his tormentors, turned upon his side, muttering and grumbling at being awakened, telling them to go away and let him alone. But by turning upon his side he gave to himself the opportunity of placing his hand unobserved upon the handle of his pistol and in another second he sprang upon his feet and opened fire. His companions joined in the attack, and for a few moments the firing was rapid and fatal.

The Federal soldiers stood their ground, but at such close quarters the musket was no match for the revolver. There was no time to reload under the quick eye of Stringfellow, and once discharged the muskets were useless. A few seconds terminate the encounter, in which Stringfellow, found himself the sole survivor of his party, Farrish was killed; his other comrade had disappeared, he knew not how; four of the Federal soldiers lay dead at his feet; and the two others, having thrown down their empty guns, were running for their lives.

But though the victor in this fight perils multiplied themselves around him. The trees among which he stood were surrounded on every side by open fields dotted thick with the enemy’s tents, some at a distance, some close at hand. Concealment was impossible, and he must run for his life; but run in what direction he might, enemies would be sure to intercept his course for the adjacent camps had been aroused by the firing, and the soldiers who had escaped would be sure to return with others to avenge the death of their comrades. At a distance of a few hundred yards, a little branch made its way through the open fields toward the river. Its banks were fringed with bushes, and while it offered only an utterly forlorn hope, Stringfellow turned toward it and ran. He was seen by those who had already started for his capture; seen to cross the open field; seen to enter the brush on the bank of the stream. And now vindictive shouts announced that the enemy felt sure of their prey, but not so.

Entering the bed of the stream, a kind Providence guided him to a spot where the water had hollowed out for him a hiding place, behind the roots of an old stump. Underneath the bank and behind these roots he forced his body, having hastily collected what driftwood was within reach, still further to conceal his person; and there he lay, half covered by the water and the mud, and awaited the result.

From every direction men were hurrying to the spot with the perfect assurance that the daring enemy would soon be in their power. For long, long hours did scores of searchers continue to examine every foot of the brush that lined the stream. Many times did hostile foes pass directly over Stringfellow’s body, and once a man more inquisitive than others, stopped while wading in the bed of the stream to examine the very spot where he lay. But the driftwood which was skillfully arranged for his concealment deceived the man, and he passed on without making the discovery. Toward afternoon the search slackened, and by nightfall it was abandoned.

But not until the noise of the camps was hushed in slumber did Stringfellow dare to leave his retreat. Then following for some time the course of the little stream, he passes in safety out of the enemy’s line, swam the ---between the pickets and thankful to God for his deliverance, found himself once more among his friends.