The ninth of flaming June, eighteen hundred and sixty three,
Oh why do hawks love to fight their monstrous battles in June?
Stuart’s cavalry paraded at Brandy Station sent by Robert E Lee
As townsfolk stood agog, at more troopers arriving so soon?
But Lee’s Confederate Army of Northern Virginia marched on
Taking a different trail from Stuart’s decoys’ pompous display,
West of Culpeper, to reach the Blue Ridge Mountains by dawn;
Across the Rappahannock River, Union infantry plan a foray.
General Pleasonton swarms men through the Swamp Birch
Stuart and his Rebels are struck by a two-pronged attack,
They rally as battle rages all day, around St. James Church,
The Union tries to seize Fleetwood Hill so artillery may crack.
Lieutenant John Carter Stuart with strength to pull the plough
Manhandles a single cannon most way up this damned hillside
Deceives them Yankees, could be thirty guns beyond the brow
That final flare of powder n’ shot has begun to stem the tide.
Yet the battle repeatedly swings upon a blood stained slope
Another vicious stalemate no heroic attack or helter-skelter ride
An inglorious waste of youthful lives, dead awash with hope
A snuffing out of futures without any given right to decide
A.McTiernan
