Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1912-03-12

A few days before the adventure I
have related had another in Fairfax.
I had heard Of cavalry outpost which
was at a considerable distance from
the reserve. I thought could capture
and bring 1t off without much risk.
The night was dark, and a deep but
soft snow lay on the ground. We
stopped within a mile Of the picket at
a house In the pines where one Ben
Hatton lived. I knew he was in the
habit Of visiting the camp to trade for
provisions for the family. and could
tell me a great deal. So we called Ben
out Of bed, and he told us he had been
to the camp that evening and knew
exactly where the pickets were. Ben
was impressed as guide. He submit
ted very gracefully. It was not long
before Ben led us in sight Of the
picket fires. The soldiers were peace
fully sleeping. Approaching within
two or three hundred yards, deter
mined to dismount and attack them on
foot and in the rear. The soft snow
would enable us to creep close upon
them without noise. We tied our horses
In clump Of pines and two Of my
men were left with the horses as a
guard. One Of them was called Coon
skin," from the cap he wore; the other
was Jimmie, an Irishman, had picked
up In q hospital.
AS Ben had rendered all the SER
vice I required Of him as guide and
was a non-combatant, he also stayed
with the horses. There was very lit
tie trouble in getting behind the picket.
At fifty yards shot was fired to scare
them; but we had them prisoners al
most before their eyes were open. Just
then there was a fusillade in the pines
where our horses were standing. I
supposed that a force had fianked me,
had come up and made an attack on
Jimmie and Coonskin to get our horses.
Leaving a part Of my men to bring
on the prisoners I mounted the other
men quickly on the captured horses
and dashed back to the support Of
Coonskin and Jimmie. The firing
ceased just as we got near. When we
reached the spot our horses were still
standing unmolested, but Coonskin
and Jimmie could not be found. We
called. The only answer we got was
q groan from Ben. We found him ly-
ing on his back in snowbank bleeding
from a shot through the thigh, a flesh
wound.
All that Ben could tell us was that
the Yankees had come up and attack
ed them, and after a severe fight all
had gone of. Ben did not know wheth-
er the Yankees had carried off Jimmie
and Coonskin, or whether they had
carried off the Yankees. I gave orders
to the men to mount and lift Ben up
behind one Of them, for knew II the
Yankees ever found out he had been
my guide that night 1t would be the
last of Ben. He was bleeding pretty
freely, but was able to hold on. When
we had all mounted we saw that Coon
skins and Jimmie's horses were still
standing there. This deepened the
mystery. Why should the Yankees
take them off and not take their horses
or ours? Or, II they had driven off
the Yankees, why had they run of on
foot and deserted us as well as their
horses?
Ben Hatton was carried home, and
we left him rolled up in bed in care
Of his wife. His acting as our guide
was kept a profound secret. We could
give him no surgical attention, as his
home was so near the enemy, but the
wound soon healed. 1t was odd that
the only man that got hurt that night
was an unarmed non-combatant. Ben
had the glory Of having been shot in
the war, Of which he was very proud
when the war was over.
In two days both Coonskin and jim
mie came to our rendezvous near the
Blue Ridge, but by different roads.
They had trudged twenty-five miles
through the snow. Each imagined that
they had been attacked by an over
whelming force, and that he alone was
left to tell the tale Of the disaster. BY
comparing the statements Of the three
found that the catastrophe came
about in this way: To keep themselves
warm while waiting for US they had
walked around a good deal, and had
become separated in the pines. Coon
skin saw Jimmie and Ben moving
among the horses, and mistook them
for Yankees. He opened on them and
drew blood at the first fire. Ben yell
ed and fell. Jimmie, supposing that
the shot came from Yankee, returned
the fire in the dark on Coonskin. They
continued firing on each other and
lodging behind trees until they saw US
galloping up. We had left them on
foot. They mistook US for the enemy.
Ben Hatton died in the belief that he
was a hero and that the Yankees shot
him. He was fond Of showing his
scar, and I never told him who shot
him.
A few days after this affair, my
scout, John Underwood, informed me
that the First Vermont cavalry had
an outpost Of thirty or forty men at
Herndon, a railroad station in Fair
fax. could hardly believe that the
enemy had placed cavalry in such an
exposed position. Their camp was
five or six miles away at Dranesville
and could give no support If the out
post were attacked. So I resolved to
give them another lesson. Hearing that
the reserve Of the picket stayed at a
house, I resolved to attack In day
time. when they would not be ex-
pecting me. Underwood conducted
us through the forests by all
sorts of winding paths until we got
In their rear on the road leading to
their camp. We then rode in quietly
and soon came upon a vidette, who
did not have time to fire and give notice
to the reserve before we caught him.
It was about noon, the hour when the
relief was come to the picket post
from the camp. About 200 yards In
front Of US we could see the Green