The Raid of the One Hundred
Narrow Escape #8
Ironton Register 6 Jan. 1887
Submitted by Shirley Reed
“Hello, Major McMahon, you are the person I want to absorb for a moment or two,” said the Register reporter when he met the old veteran enjoying the warmth of Mr. Walburn’s office.
“What do you want me for?” asked the Major, “I am at peace with all the world.”
“Oh, that “Narrow Escape” that you had, give it to me quick,” returned the reporter.
“Give me time to think one up, don’t pounce on a fellow so sudden. There are lots of “Narrow Escapes” with a fellow who was out four years, but it is not so easy to pick one out to tell.”
“Tell him about that raid of the one hundred,” interposed Charley Crawshaw.
“That was nothing but a piece of cheek,” replied the Major. “We came out of that without the loss of a horse or man and didn’t fire a gun. It was only a piece of glaring impudence all through. It was in January 1863 that Gen. Crook sent 100 men on a raid to burn the New Bern bridge.
“They were made up of men picked from the companies of the Second Va. Cavalry. It was in January. As I said, we started from Fayetteville, West Va. The entire regiment, Col. Powell in command, went to Lewisburg to attract the attention of the enemy, and at Meadow Bluff, the 100 cavalrymen in command of Lieut. Col. Paxton took off southward. I was with the raiders, and we left the main body of the cavalry at 10 o’clock at night, reaching Edgar’s ford of Greenbrier river at daylight.
“Before we got there, however, I suggested to Col. Paxton that we should pull off all the brass on our uniform and coyer ourselves with our gray blankets, for if we didn’t, we wouldn’t last two hours after we crossed the Greenbrier. The suggestion was at once adopted, and well was it, for across the ford, we ran into a rebel camp that was just hustling about getting an early breakfast.
“But we kept off to one side, within talking distance, however, and some of our boys exchanged words with the confeds. They hollered, “What cavalry is that?” and one of our boys responded, “Clarkson’s cavalry, been down about Gauley on a raid.” They looked a little curious, and we could tell there was some doubt among them, but we appeared as indifferent and unconcerned as possible and managed to get along without any disturbance.
“We had not gone far before we overtook Col. McCauslin, a very prominent rebel officer, in those parts. He rode along with our command for some miles, Capt. Arkrim keeps with him and entertains him. Ankrim was an old Virginian himself and played it fine on McCauslin.
“Still, we never had any idea but that the latter saw through the ruse, for he exhibited a disposition to part from his company, which he finally did, after a ride of four miles, with a kindly farewell and a perfect show of innocence. Of course, he struck out to rally his own forces, but Ankrim had mystified him so that he was not able afterward to catch us.
“We passed through Centerville, Monroe county, while they were holding some sort of an election. The town was full of people, and reb troops were there in abundance. Our boys talked with the rebs as we rode along the streets, and the people talked back; at the same time, I could see some dubious looks among the countenances. Soon after we left the town, we met a bunch of rebel cavalry coming up the road.
“At first sight of us, they stopped suddenly and looked with some alarm at us; but we didn’t let on to notice them, so they came ahead, and we passed each other with many a “how are you?” “where are you going?” “what’s the news?” Thus we met rebs all along. Indeed they came uncomfortably thick. Here we were, a hundred of us, going right among them and through their country, with only an old blanket between their vision and the federal blue.”
“We got to the mountains by night, and there we fed at an old fellow by the name of Col. Symmes, and we gave him an order on the reb. the quartermaster at Newbern for his pay. We beguiled that old fellow nicely. He was very exact in measuring the corn, and when some of the boys were a little impatient and tried to get a feed before he had measured it, he shoved them aside and insisted that they wait. He wanted exact measurements and exact pay.
“Near there, we also encountered a reb paymaster, who had about $100,000 of confed. money and was on his way to pay off the troops. We passed the time of day with him and expressed a wish to get back to our command in time to draw our pay. We played it nicely on him, and he left us thinking we were Johnny Reb. beyond a surmise.”
“Our guides got mixed up at Peters Mountain and were completely lost. There was snow on the ground, and that helped to bewilder them. They were unable to tell which way to go to get to the New Bern bridge. It was then after dark, and we were 25 miles from Newbern bridge, so we concluded to get out of there.
“We then started and rode all night, crossing New river above Blue Stone and then to Raleigh, where we met two of our own companies, which had been sent out to look after us, and from there, it was an easy and safe ride to Fayetteville.
“We had been gone four days, rode all the time night and day, right through the enemy’s country, with no support, and with no intention to fight, but only to play it on the rebs by pretending to belong to that side. We met them everywhere, talked with them, and it is a perfect mystery that they didn’t find us in time to surround us and capture the whole business.
“This is no bloody tale, but I tell you that the four days of hard riding and harder anxiety was a good deal more powerful than a right smart skirmish would have been. As I remarked when you first spoke, that it was no very “narrow escape,” but a perfect specimen of Yankee brass.”
Well, Major, that is a good one,” said the reporter. “It gives variety to our narratives. I know you were in bloodier affairs, but this is just the kind of “Narrow Escape” we want this week. The boys in the war had variety, and we want to tell it all.”
Major John McMahon
Cincinnati Enquirer 31 Aug. 1903 Ironton, Ohio, August 30 – Major John McMahon, of this city, who has only recently passed his eighty-second birthday, is probably the only Mexican War pension in this section of the Ohio valley.
Major McMahon was born in what is now Rome Township, this county when this part of Ohio was a wilderness with a few widely scattered inhabitants. He served as a Lieutenant in the Mexican War and figured in many of its decisive engagements. Upon the breaking out of the Civil War, he enlisted in the cause of the Union and was made a Major of Battalion in the 2nd West Virginia Cavalry, recruited from the States of Ohio, Kentucky, and West Virginia, contiguous to the conjunction of the Ohio and Big Sandy Rivers.
During his early life in this county, Major McMahon was associated with the late David Sinton, the Cincinnati iron master who began his career as a cinder raker at Olive Furnace, one of the many historic charcoal furnaces of the Hanging Rock Iron Region.
Major McMahon relates that the attention of the furnace company was called to Mr. Sinton in a peculiar way. While Sinton, McMahon, and others were working on the cinder dump one day, back in the antebellum days, a lumbering ox team was driven up to the furnace with a load of charcoal. The driver suggested that the men guess the weight of it. They did so, and Sinton estimated it almost to a pound.
The furnace master was present and, appreciating the Judgement of his employee, soon gave him a position to work half of the time in the office. From this time, his advance was rapid, and before he left Lawrence County, Mr. Sinton was considered one of the shrewdest ironmen in the region. He laid the foundation of his fortune here and later made a name in Queen City.
Major McMahon is still in the enjoyment of fairly good health and mingles with his friends almost daily. His mental faculties are clear, and he has a rich fund of reminiscences concerning men and affairs in the pioneer days.
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