In June 1865, Harper's Weekly ran this rendering of a photograph
of "Sheriden and his generals," showing General George Crook at center,
with George Armstrong Custer to the right, and Sheriden standing to the left of Crook.
(Photograph by Alexander Gardner, 1821-1882)

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Account by J.W. Duffy, of McNeill's Rangers,
in the Confederate Veteran of 1918:

CAPTURE OF GENERALS CROOK AND KELLY.

BY J. W. DUFFEY, WASHINGTON, D. C.

[Many fragmentary accounts of the capture of Generals Crook and Kelly have appeared from time to time, usually with a trace of truth and a profusion of fiction. The only authentic account given to the public was prepared by Comrade John B. Fay, who recently died in Washington, a native of Cumberland, Md., who planned the capture and served as pilot on the raid. His account appeared shortly after the war, and was copied by several newspapers, but never put in a more permanent form. Many of his terms and phrases were so well chosen and so admirably stated, I shall be at liberty to use them in this account whenever they serve my purpose. While he set forth the leading facts in the case, he omitted many details, for the obvious reason he shared a leading part in them. Many of them have never been published, and, although of minor importance; yet as they are directly related to the story and may serve as sidelights for the reader, they are incorporated in this narrative.]

It should be noted that Capt. Jesse C. McNeill was in command when the generals were captured, having succeeded his father, Capt. John H. McNeill, who had organized the company in 1862 for scout duty in the South Branch Valley. The senior McNeill was mortally wounded by an accidental shot from one of his own men while making a daybreak attack on a company of cavalry near Mount Jackson, Va., October 3, 1864. And, stranger than fiction, shortly after the calamity, when Sheridan's army was falling back from Harrisonburg to Winchester, General Sheridan made his headquarters for a night in the same house where the wounded McNeill was fighting a losing battle with death; and there Sheridan met and interviewed the man whom he had previously designated as "the most daring and dangerous of all bushwhackers." The application, however, was a misfit, as Mr. Neill did not adopt that method of warfare. He resorted to it once, and then only as a retaliatory measure.

In his interview with McNeill, General Sheridan evidently concluded "a bird in hand is worth two in the bush." He ordered a detail and ambulance to move McNeill down the Valley within the Federal lines. The next day, when the ambulance arrived, McNeill could not be found. He had been placed in an improvised ambulance and was far on the way to Harrisonburg, where, in Hill's Hotel, he died November 10, 1864.

Jesse McNeill, being first lieutenant, became commander, and later received his commission as captain. In the few remaining months before the close of the war, he exemplified much of the daring and dash of his father without his father's maturity and caution. After the war he married Miss Sharrard, of Hardy County, W. Va., and later moved to Illinois, where he died in 1912.

As military experts have expressed their estimate of the capture of Generals Crook and Kelly, two or three brief quotations may be introduced.

Governor O'Ferrall, of Virginia, in his book, "The Civil War," says: " It was as bold and successful an achievement as any during the war and deserves a place in every book which treats of that stormy period."

Gen. John B. Gordon, in his "Reminiscences of the War," says: "In daring and dash, it is the most thrilling incident of the entire war."

In a "History of the Laurel Brigade," known originally as the Ashby Cavalry, by Capt. William M. McDonald, it is said: "The capture of Generals Crook and Kelly was an event that excited the North with astonishment at the audacity, and the South with admiration for its boldness and exultation over its success."

Plans for the capture of the generals had been in process for some time. Fay had discussed with McNeill the feasibility of the Capture, he having made two trips into Cumberland to ascertain the number and location of the pickets, the exact location of the sleeping apartments of the generals, and all other items of information deemed necessary.

The time for the raid was tentatively set. Fay was commissioned to proceed several days in advance to make a final reconnaissance; and if it was ascertained "all is quiet on the Potomac to-night," the raiding party would be in readiness to start at once.

Fay selected as companion Comrade C. Richie Hallar, known among the Rangers as "Pense" Hallar, because he joined the Company in Pennsylvania, a youth of courage and prudence, and who, at this writing resides in Kansas City, Mo. They proceeded on their difficult mission and in due time found conditions still favorable.

But those two scouts were not of the class who stop short of "assurance doubly sure." As a man may change his bed and board on short notice, or no notice, a matter of first importance was to make sure that the generals would be found in

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their accustomed beds when the raiding party arrived; therefore, asa further precaution, Fay secured the cooperation of two well-known and trusty citizens in Cumberland. One of them was to ascertain at a late hour whether the generals had "turned in" for the night, the night for which the capture was planned, the other to report to Fay and the raiding party at a designated time and place. With those details settled, Fay and Hallar retraced their steps and by daybreak they were twenty miles away, breaking their fast with a bachelor farmer friend, Vause Herriott, in a quiet section of Hampshire County about five miles from Romney.

From Herriott's Hallar was dispatched "through a blinding snow" to report to McNeill, who, according to agreement, had moved his camp from Moorefield to a secluded place near Romney. The raiding party consisted of forty-eight of McNeill's men and sixteen well-known men of other commands. On receiving the report from Hallar, the troop started in the late afternoon and, proceeding by an obscure route, arrived at Harriott's about sunset and there met Fay.

After feeding our horses and ourselves for the last time for a continuous ride of eighty miles, the major part of which promised to be a neck-and-neck race, we mounted and with Fay as a guide rode off in the dark. Between us and the Potomac where we expected to cross the river were twenty rugged miles over several ridges, one of which is dignified as Knobly Mountain. The sky was clear, the temperature biting cold, and the snow in many places banked in formidable drifts. Crossing Knobly, we were forced to dismount and make a way through the drifts for our struggling horses.

Passing down Knobly by the "Ren" Seymour home, we forded the river at the Sam Brady farm and found Fay's faithful ally, an Irishman by the name of George Stauntan, waiting with a favorable report. From that point to Cumberland is five miles by the New Creek (now Keyser) road, but that road was known to be well guarded; the other road through Cresaptown and the Narrows, though double the distance of the New Creek road yet being clear of pickets we had planned to go that way. But the hours had slipped by and the night was so far gone it was considered impossible to reach the city before daybreak by the longer road.

At that juncture one of two things had to be done: either turn back and give up the game or take the hazard of the New Creek road. The raiders knew the risk of attempting to capture pickets without communicating an alarm to the main body of troops, and being far from base as they were, if the enemy should be aroused there would be slim chance of escape. In that supreme moment the expedition was saved from failure by the confidence and courage of Fay. The New Creek road with its hazard was taken. McNeill and Vandiver, followed by Kuykendall and Fay, rode ahead as an advance guard, the rest of the troop under Lieutenant Welton keeping close behind.

Two miles were cautiously passed with no sound to break thestillness of the morning except the crust of snow beneath the horses' feet. Suddenly there was a pistol shot at the front, and at the same instant an outcry: "I surrender-I surrender-I surrender!" The picket had been shot at and, though unhurt, it was a case where one might as well be killed as frightened to death. He had challenged the advance guard with the usual: " Halt! Who comes there?" "Friends from New Creek," was the reply. He then said: "Dismount one and advance with the countersign." McNeill dashed at him as a wild beast springs on its prey, and, unable to check his horse at the picket's side, fired in his face as he passed.

Two companion pickets sheltered in the fence corner took to their heels, but were captured without firing another shot. The three captured pickets were brought to the middle of the road and ordered to give the countersign. They refused to give it. Neither hope of reward nor fear of death seemed to move them. McNeill placed the muzzle of his pistol between the eyes of one of them with a threat to pull the trigger, but he stood as still and silent as the petrified sentinel at the gate of Pompeii. His dogged silence was as admirable as it was provoking. It was suggested, "Hang him and choke the word out of him." Halter straps were soon in evidence, and, as one encircled his neck, he opened his mouth and said: "'Bull's Gap' is the countersign."

Fortunately, as it developed later, the reserve picket post did not hear the pistol shot. With the prisoners mounted on their own horses, the troop moved on toward the reserve picket post, which proved to be beyond an intervening hill more than a mile distant, and was composed of a squad of infantry sitting before a blazing log fire engaged in a game of cards. With but little ceremony, the countersign served its purpose. The picket squad was surrounded and quietly captured. Their arms and ammunition were destroyed and themselves paroled on honor to remain on the spot until we returned. If they kept their parole, they are still at their post, as we did not return that way and had no intention of doing so. It was believed we could accomplish our work before they could give an alarm.

Inside the picket lines the lights of the city were soon in view. Its population at that time was about 8,000, with a garrison of Federal troops variously estimated at from 7,000 9,000. The morning star, high above the horizon, admonished us of the near approach of day, and whatever remained to be done in darkness must be done soon. Proceeding in a dog trot, and, on entering Green Street, slowing down to an apparently careless gait, some of the men lazily whistling Yankee tunes, we passed around the courthouse hill. Crossing the bridge over Will's Creek and up Baltimore Street, the halt was made with the head of the column in front of the Revere House and the rear of the column in front of the Barnum, which was about a hundred yards from the Revere. In front of each hotel a sentinel leisurely paced his beat undisturbed by our approach, evidently assuming a scouting party had come in to report.

A detail of two squads had been previously made with Kuykendall and Vandiver in charge of the squads for the Barnum and Revere, respectively. The first to dismount was Sprigg S. Lynn, a native of Cumberland, who captured and disarmed the sentinel in front of the Barnum, and, quickly followed by Kuykendall, John Daily, and John H. Cunningham, proceeded to General Kelly's apartment on the second floor. The first room entered proved to be that of the adjutant general, Major Melvin, who was asked where General Kelly was. He replied: "In the adjoining room." The communicating door being open, it was entered at once. When General Kelly was awakened, he was told he was a prisoner, and to make his toilet as speedily as possible. With some degree of nervousness, he complied, inquiring as he did so to whom he was surrendering. Kuykendall replied: "To Captain McNeill, by order of General Rosser!" He had very little more to say after that. In a very short time, he and Melvin were led to the street and mounted upon horses, the owners of which gave them the saddles and rode behind.

At the Revere House a similar scene was taking place. The sentinel in front of the hotel was quietly captured, but the front door was locked. After knocking it was opened by a negro boy, Jacob Gassman, who had been a clerk in the hotel, went up to where General Crook slept and, supposing the door was locked, rapped several times. A

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voice within asked: "Who's there?" Gassman replied. "A friend," and was told: "Come in." Vandiver, Samuel Tucker, and James Daily, son of the proprietor of the hotel, arrived by this time, and all entered the room. The General meanwhile having half risen, Vandiver said: " General Crook, you are my prisoner!"

"What authority have you for this?" inquired Crook.

"The authority of General Rosser, of Fitzhugh Lee's Division of Cavalry," was Vandiver's reply.

General Crook then got up and said: " Is General Rosser here?"

"Yes," replied Vandiver, "I am General Rosser. I have twenty-five hundred men, and we have surprised and captured the city."

This settled the matter as far as the bona fide general was concerned. He was intensely surprised by the bold announcement, but, knowing nothing to the contrary, accepted Vandiver's assertion as the truth and submitted to his fate with as much grace and cheerfulness as he could command.

After Vandiver and his party disappeared into the hotel, Fay and Hallar went to the telegraph office adjoining and proceeded to put that apparatus out of commission. The telegraph operator was A. Thomas Brennaman, who was asleep with his feet up on the table when they entered, and the first notice he had of their intrusion was when one of them kicked the table over. However, it became apparent later on that the damage to the telegraph had been repaired in due haste.

General Crook was soon ready, though the squad did not appear with him on the street for some minutes after Kelly had been mounted, and minutes then meant more than ever before or since. Several headquarters flags were brought with the prisoner, and, when all were mounted, breathing suddenly became easier with the waiting troop.

On the street while waiting for the generals to be brought out, a citizen, an early bird who had better been in bed, approached and inquired: "Boys, what's up?" He found out, being taken in hand as the column wheeled and moved orderly down the street.

It was not known then that among the late arrivals in those hotels were Brig. Gen. R. B. Hayes and Maj. William McKinley, or we might have had a larger harvest of generals and two future Presidents of the United States.

Near the chain bridge on Baltimore Street there was a government stable where several fine horses were secured, among them "Philippi," General Kelly's celebrated charger. One of the men brought out a Shetland pony, the steed of the son of an officer, which later was turned loose because it was not able to keep up with us.

With the men and prisoners provided with horses, Fay led the way, taking the tow path down the river. Two picket posts, one at the canal lock on the edge of the city, the other about a mile and a half below, were passed with but little ceremony when informed that the Rebels were coming and we were going out to meet them. At Wiley's Ford, about one mile below the city, we crossed the Potomac at daybreak. But though on Virginia soil again, we were not safe. Sixty rugged miles, through disputed territory, from which scouting bands of the enemy were seldom absent, lay between us and Moorefield, with no guarantee of safety then. West of us at New Creek, now Keyser, which is forty miles from Moorefield, with a good road between, there was a strong force of cavalry. On the east, at Winchester, which is sixty miles from Moorefield with a direct road connecting those places, Sheridan had cavalry enough to block the roads and scour the mountains, and both New Creek and Winchester were connected by wire with Cumberland. The cavalry force in Cumberland was known to be small, but sufficient to make trouble for us, and would soon be on our trail, so that we still had "to run the gauntlet" with our prize. The first requisite was enduring horse flesh. In the make-up of the raiding party, men were chosen with the best horses, it being well known that " the life of the scout hangs on the heels of the horse."

Four or five miles from the city we heard the boom of a cannon giving the alarm. When we were getting up speed, General Crook complained of discomfort and, turning to William H. Maloney, at his side, said: "Can't you go ahead and get me a saddle?" Maloney said he did not know where he could get one. The General laughed and said: "Take one from the first Yank you meet and tell him General Crook ordered you to take it." Maloney dashed ahead to Jacob Kyles and said: "I want a saddle for General Crook." Kyles, who had just been aroused from the night's slumber, supposing Maloney to be a Yankee, said: "You took the only saddle I had yesterday." When Maloney informed him that he was not a Yankee and had Crook a prisoner, Kyles directed him to a flour barrel where a saddle was procured.

Passing through Romney, with headquarters flags flying and a mixture of blue coats, some of the citizens were uncertain whether it was a troup of Rebels or Yankees. From that point the Trough road to Moorefield was taken, an abandoned road near to and parallel with the South Branch of the Potomac.

The cavalry from Cumberland came in sight two miles south of Romney and captured Joseph Sherrard and wounded John Poland, who had stopped at the farmhouse of William B. Stump. The cavalry then proceeded to press our rear guard. While the prisoners were being hurried on, the rear guard was strengthened and a position was taken on an elevation covered with scrubby trees, the road climbing the hill in a serpentine fashion, while an abrupt ridge on one side and the river on the other made it impossible for the enemy to flank us. When the enemy ascertained the advantage we had secured in position, they withdrew and discontinued pursuit. We waited an hour to give the prisoners a good start, and then followed on. Meanwhile the sun had softened the snow sufficiently to ball under our horses' feet, thereby increasing their labor and decreasing our speed.

Shortly after entering the Moorefield Valley, where the road from New Creek could be seen, we observed a cavalry force heading for Moorefield at the top of their speed. The two roads are but a mile apart and the river is between. The cavalry proved to be the 22nd Pennsylvania, Colonel Greenfield commanding, and known among us as the Ringgold Cavalry, our old enemies with whom in times past we had had many lively tilts, and after the war our warm friends, with whom we fellowshiped in reunions--the first on record of the blue and the gray meeting in friendly relations.

But at the time of this incident both sides were bent on business--the race was on--the vapor from their panting horses extended back in a long level line like the smoke of an express train. Two miles ahead they would cross the river and then the two roads came together. We were in no mood for a reunion at that junction.

It was evident we could not pass through Moorefield, the rallying point of McNeill's Rangers, as we had hoped to be able to do; on the contrary we must resort to a well-known expedient when hard pressed by the enemy--take to the bushes. As we turned to a trail through the woods and ridges, General Crook cast a parting glance at the blue column and quietly exclaimed: "So near and yet so far." We passed out of sight and quickly crossed the road from Winchester on

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which Sheridan's cavalry were coming, and passing east of Moorefield as the sun sank below the horizon, pressed on south of the town, recalling meanwhile the words of Wellington at Waterloo. When his shattered columns were making their last stand and Blucher had not arrived with reinforcements, the British commander said: "Come, Blucher, or night!" We had no Blucher to look to, but night favored us and, eight miles south of Moorefield, the wearied men and jaded horses found refuge in a friendly gorge of the mountain, and while they slept the only sentinels to keep watch were the shining stars.

The pursuing cavalry from New Creek bivouacked at Moorefield, and although reinforced during the night by troops from Winchester, made only a desultory and futile effort to strike our trail.

After a few hours' rest and scant rations, Lieutenant Welton, with Raison C. Davis and others in charge of the prisoners, and all mounted on fresh horses, proceeded up the South Fork of the south branch of the Potomac, thirty miles south of Moorefield, to the intersection of a road leading east through Dry River Gap to Harrisonburg. But, night coming on, they camped near Raleigh Springs, twelve miles west of Harrisonburg. No event of importance occurred during the day, notwithstanding it was the birthday of George Washington.

But there was something of a coincidence that night. While the generals were sleeping on the "cold, cold ground" in old Virginia, an entertainment was going on in a theater in Cumberland, and Miss Bruce, who after the war became Mrs. Kelly, appeared on the stage and sang "He Kissed Me before He Left." A voice in the audience responded: "I'll be damned if he did; McNeill didn't give him time."

The next morning, arriving at Harrisonburg, a short stop was made at Hill's Hotel for "refreshments." As the generals dismounted, Crook still cheerful and good-natured, exclaimed: "Gentlemen, this is the most brilliant exploit of the war." One of the citizens who heard the remark and who treasured it as a war episode, was Benjamin P. Newman, father of judge E. D. Newman of Woodstock, Va.

The effect on the generals of the long horseback ride had become so manifest, provision was made for a more comfortable mode of travel. An old stagecoach was pressed into service for the remaining twenty-five miles to Staunton, where, that evening, the prisoners met General Early, after which they were served with a bountiful supper and introduced to soft beds, the first they had seen since leaving their own in Cumberland. In the three days they had traveled one hundred and fifty-four miles.

After a night in Staunton they entrained for Richmond. On the way Colonel Mosby became a passenger on the same train. Among the daring achievements of Mosby had been the capture of Gen. Edwin H. Stoughton at Fairfax Courthouse, Va. On the train, when Mosby learned of the capture of Crook and Kelly, he extended his hand to Lieutenant Welton and said: "You boys have beaten me badly. The only way I can equal this is to go into Washington and bring out Lincoln." (As a matter of fact, a scheme had been devised for the abduction of President Lincoln, but the suspected treachery of an accomplice snuffed out the plan before it could be put in operation. The writer has no evidence, however, that Colonel Mosby was implicated in the scheme.)

Arriving at Richmond, the prisoners were passed over to the Confederate authorities. The next day Welton and Davis went to see how the generals were faring, and were pleased to find them in clean and comfortable quarters and in good spirits. The day following, just before leaving the city, they went to see them again and on the way bought a pint of whisky, paying sixty-five dollars for it, with which to refresh the generals. The leave-taking, as related by Lieutenant Welton in after years, had the mellow tone of friends in time of peace rather than enemies in war.

These four men have passed from us, the last survivor being Lieutenant Welton, who died in Petersburg, W. Va., his native place, in 1923.

Raison C. Davis, known after the war as Judge Davis, of Louisville, Ky., died in Louisville in 1910. He was a native of Clarksburg, W. Va., and an uncle of J. W. Davis, the Democratic candidate for President in 1924.

General Crook, after the war, married Miss Daily, a daughter of the proprietor of the Revere House, and a sister of C. J. Daily, who had a conspicuous part in the capture of the general. General Crook died in Chicago in 1890.

General Kelly, after the war, married Miss Bruce, of Cumberland. The general died in Western Maryland in 1891.

The night of the capture the father of this writer was a transient guest at the Revere House. He knew nothing, of the capture until he came downstairs that morning. He found the hotel lobby well filled with men in excited conversation. There was much speculation as to who did it, how it was accomplished, and whether or not the generals would be recaptured. The Rebels were being roundly denounced and consigned to a warmer place than Dry Tortugas when, suddenly, a stentorian speaker exclaimed: "Gentlemen, its the Jumboest joke of the war!" The crowd broke loose in a burst of laughter and filed into the dining room for breakfast.

John G. Lynn, president of the Kenneweg Co., wholesale grocers of Cumberland, and Mr. William H. Malony, formerly of Romney, W. VA., but now residing in Cumberland, are the only two survivors of McNeill's Rangers living in this section. Not over eight or ten members of the company are living.

Mr. John G. Lynn, Sr., eighty-four years of age, in spite of his advanced age has a wonderful memory and often recalls the stirring exploits of McNeill's Rangers, which seldom exceeded in quota sixty members and captured and sent to Southern prisons 2,400 prisoners during the duration of the war. The members of McNeill's company were principally boys and young men from Cumberland, Md.; Hampshire, Hardy, and Pendleton Counties, W. Va.