The Confederates, when the order was given to halt, had dropped where
they stood, and lay sleeping by the roadside. But their commander
permitted himself no repose. For more than an hour, without a cloak
to protect him from the chilling dews, listening to every sound that
came from the front, he stood like a sentinel over the prostrate
ranks. As the dawn rose, in a quiet undertone he gave the word to
march. The order was passed down the column, and, in the dim grey
light, the men, rising from their short slumbers, stiff, cold, and
hungry, advanced to battle.
Jackson had with him on the turnpike, for the most part south of
Kernstown, his own division, supported by the brigades of Scott and
Elzey and by nine batteries. About a mile eastward on the Front Royal
road was Ewell, with Trimble's brigade and ten guns. This detachment
had moved on Winchester the preceding evening, driving in the Federal
pickets, and had halted within three miles of the town. During the
night Jackson had sent a staff officer with instructions to Ewell.
The message, although the bearer had to ride nine-and-twenty miles,
by Newton and Nineveh, had reached its destination in good time; and
as the Stonewall Brigade moved silently past Pritchard's Hill,
Trimble's brigade advanced abreast of it beyond the intervening woods.
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