LITTLE KIL DEPARTS

A column of blue-coated horsemen trotted down a sloppy road in Culpeper County, Virginia, the horses' hooves splashing mud on every animal's belly and each rider's stirrups, boots, and uniform trousers. Several score in number, they were mostly officers with the Army of the Potomac's Third Cavalry Division.

Sunday morning, April 17, 1864, was a rather "cold and unpleasant day," especially for the staff officers in the vanguard. Severe rain the previous evening had left the region's narrow country lanes in wretched shape, worsening conditions brought on by two weeks of miserable weather. But the young aides were unsettled less by the weather than by the reason for the ride. The men were making their way a brief distance — four and a half miles — along the Carolina Road, traveling between the outlying hamlet of Stevensburg and Brandy Station, the nearest stop on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad. Circumstances and emotions made it seem a much longer trip to the depot, where they would give a handshake and one final salute to a man they had come to admire.

At the head of the column was a diminutive figure in officer's livery who bore himself with assurance beyond his twenty-six years, though he felt only despair now. He had led the Third Cavalry Division in "many a hard fight" the last eleven months and, as one trooper put it, "for dash his equal is not in this army." But as the winter was ending, Brigadier General Judson Kilpatrick's storied career had lurched to an abrupt halt. His failed raid on Richmond had placed any idea of promotion on the backburner for another year.

Kilpatrick's musings as he rode to the train depot went unrecorded, but perhaps he reflected on his army career in a war that had seemed tailor made for a dashing cavalry officer and aspiring politician. Back in New Jersey as a youth, he had stumped for his local congressman, who handily won the election. The grateful politician returned the favor by providing an appointment for the young man to the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. It was here that "Little Kil," the nickname his classmates bestowed on him, developed his oratorical skills, giving his class's valedictory address on graduation day in May 1861. His eloquence with words, so essential for nineteenth-century politicians, would serve him well in the army. As one officer recalled, Kilpatrick was "a ready and fluent speaker — an orator, in fact — and had the gift of charming an audience with his insinuating tongue." No doubt Lincoln appreciated the young officer's talent at turning a phrase when the