The First Battle of Bull Run (First Manassas) on 21 July 1861 was the first major battle of the American Civil War and a wake-up call for both sides which, until then, believed that the war would be over quickly, and they would come out the winner. Each side pointed to earlier, smaller, battles to support their claim.

The engagement is known as the First Battle of Bull Run (or First Bull Run) and the First Battle of Manassas (or First Manassas) because of the way each side named battles. The Union named them after streams, the Confederates after towns. Bull Run was a tributary stream; Manassas Junction was a town.

The Battle of First Bull Run (First Manassas) drastically changed how both North and South viewed the war and also how they saw themselves. Prior to the battle, each side was confident in their armies but, afterwards, it was clear that both armies were disorganized, and both made critical mistakes and, at the same time, that neither was prepared to back down.

The Union forces finally fled the field at the end of the day following a strong Confederate counterattack – an event described by the English journalist William H. Russell in his 1861 article Battle of Bull Run (an excerpt of which is published today as Panic at Bull Run) – but, until the success of that counterattack, it was unclear which way the battle was going to go.

Neither side believed the other would show such resolve and neither anticipated the losses. The casualty count for the battle was much higher than any previous engagement – a total of 4,878 to 2,896 for the Union and 1,982 for the Confederacy.

The battle convinced both sides that the war would be a long and bloody affair and, in time, as engagements such as the Battle of Antietam and the Battle of Gettysburg ended in much higher casualty counts, those of the Battle of First Bull Run (First Manassas) would increasingly seem minor.

The American Civil War began with the Battle of Fort Sumter (12 to 13 April 1861) and the engagements that followed had relatively few casualties. The Battle of Rich Mountain (11 July 1861), for example, had a casualty count of 46 Union and between 170 to 600 Confederate.

These low numbers, and the Union victories of Major General George B. McClellan at the Battle of Philippi (Philippi Races) and Rich Mountain encouraged the North to believe victory would be won quickly and with little loss of life. The South believed exactly the same thing and for the same reasons, noting, for example, their victory in the Battle of Big Bethel (10 June 1861) in which their casualty count was only eight.

After the Confederate victory at the Battle of Fort Sumter, both sides had called for volunteers – and those calls had been answered. Brigadier General P.G.T. Beauregard, who had won at Sumter, was placed in charge of Confederate forces and Brigadier General Irvin McDowell, who had limited field experience, was chosen to lead the Union Army of Northeastern Virginia.

McDowell, whose strengths were in administration, not combat, insisted that he be given time to train and discipline his troops – most of whom had no military experience – but his request was denied by the Lincoln Administration on the grounds of the Union victories already noted.

It was clear to Abraham Lincoln and his cabinet, as well as the Northern press, that a direct attack on the Confederate capital at Richmond would end the war quickly – and one did not need a professionally trained force for that. Further, the enlistment for many of the volunteer army would be up by the end of July and action needed to be taken before that happened.

Consequently, McDowell was ordered to move against Richmond as quickly as possible – and did so not only with untrained and undisciplined troops but also with companies and units in various kinds of uniforms. The Union volunteers knew nothing of war and signed up expecting to have a grand adventure and be back home in a few months. They dressed as they saw fit, behaved as they pleased, and routinely argued with officers.

The Confederate forces under Beauregard were in the same state of disorganization and also lacked discipline and training. Many Confederate soldiers wore the blue uniforms they had worn in the US Army, others wore gray, others wore brown or whatever color clothes they pleased. The variations in uniform, on both sides, would result in several moments of confusion during the battle and one of those would actually result in a pivotal moment toward the day’s end.

The command structure was also confused and so, although Beauregard began the engagement with a grand plan for defeating McDowell, this would have to be amended as communication breakdowns and miscommunication became a serious problem throughout the battle.

Beauregard began the day with a significant advantage: the pro-Confederate spy in Washington, D.C., Rose O’Neal Greenhow, had provided him with McDowell’s battle plans. Even this, however, could do little good in an army lacking organization and clear communication from command.

The Confederate Army of the Potomac under Beauregard was encamped at Manassas Junction and the Army of the Shenandoah, under Confederate Brigadier General Joseph E. Johnston, was in the Shenandoah Valley. McDowell ordered Union Major General Robert Patterson to engage Johnston and prevent him from joining Beauregard. Patterson followed these orders, pinning Johnston down at Winchester.

Meanwhile, on the afternoon of 16 July, McDowell marched his massive army of 35,000 toward Centreville near Manassas Junction. The march proceeded slowly because the soldiers were unused to a disciplined military advance and seemed to think of the experience as a walk during which one could pause by the side of the road, pick berries, and drink some water from a stream. The march took two days to cover roughly 35 miles.

On the 16th, Greenhow sent a message to Beauregard that McDowell was on the move, and he should prepare, which he did. On the morning of 18 July, General Johnston received orders to move to Manassas and support Beauregard. General J.E.B. Stuart used his cavalry to screen Johnston’s departure and Patterson believed that Johnston was still pinned down. Actually, Johnston’s troops had boarded trains and were heading for Manassas Junction. They arrived and were in place by 20 July.

Beauregard’s original plan was for an offensive, launching an assault on McDowell’s left flank and rear, breaking the lines. McDowell’s plan was almost the same: a feint at the Stone Bridge at Bull Run and a full assault on the Confederate left flank.

Morning to Noon

McDowell moved first – marching his troops from Centreville toward the Confederate left at 2:30 in the morning. The troops were unaccustomed to marching in the dark – and very few knew how to march properly at all – leading to a blockage behind General Tyler’s division on the Warrenton Turnpike. Further delays meant the Union army would not be in position until around 6:00 am.

Beauregard was eating breakfast at his headquarters when the Union began shelling a little after 5:00 am. These headquarters were in the house of Wilmer McLean and a shell came through the roof, alerting Beauregard to the fact that McDowell had begun his attack.

McLean would soon after sell his farm and move to Clover Hill, Virginia – later known as Appomattox Court House – and his second home would be where Robert E. Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant on 9 April 1865. McLean is supposed to have later said, “The war began in my front yard and ended in my front parlor.”

Recognizing his original plan was now impossible, Beauregard ordered defensive positions and quickly sent orders by couriers to his generals. Scholar T. Harry Williams describes what happened next:

But a strange set of people were employed at headquarters that day. In addition to his not too competent staff, a good many enlisted men and civilian guides who were present were entrusted with the bearing of important orders. Apparently, no record was kept of their names, and after the battle, curiously enough, they disappeared and were never heard of again… (81)

Beauregard had sent orders for Brigadier General Richard S. Ewell to lead the attack, but the first order sent was to wait until all troops were in position. General James Longstreet was sent orders to move south to Ewell’s position but never received them. Ewell, having never received the second order to move, remained in place and missed his opportunity to attack.

Meanwhile, the bulk of the Union force was steadily advancing on Confederate positions. Confederate Colonel Nathan “Shanks” Evans with a brigade of 1,100 men held against roughly 20,000 Union soldiers under Major General David Hunter, General Tyler, Colonel William Tecumseh Sherman, and Colonel Ambrose Burnside.

Evans held until his lines were broken by an advance by Sherman. The Confederate line retreated in disorder toward Henry House Hill. McDowell, certain of victory, did not order his troops forward to press the advantage. Calling out, “The day is ours!”, he ordered an artillery bombardment of the hill by the batteries of Captain Charles Griffin and Captain James B. Ricketts.

While all this had been going on, various dignitaries and citizens from Washington, D.C. had arrived at Centreville, some walking, some in carriages, and many bringing picnic lunches along. All of them were there to see, first-hand, the great Union victory and the swift end to the war.

Noon to Afternoon

On Henry House Hill, the Confederate lines were organized by Colonel F.S. Bartow, Brigadier General Barnard Bee, and Colonel Thomas J. Jackson, leading a brigade of Virginians. Jackson, who felt there was no need to fear death because God would take him when it was his time, stood calmly amidst the hail of gunfire and cannonballs, directing his troops to hold the line.

General Bee, rallying his brigade, pointed to Jackson and shouted, “There is Jackson standing like a stone wall! Rally behind the Virginians!” (McPherson, 342). As McPherson (and others) have noted, Bee could have meant that line as an insult in that Jackson had not moved to support Bee earlier. Bee was mortally wounded and died soon after so there is no knowing what he meant, but the line was interpreted as praise and the Virginian colonel became known as “Stonewall Jackson.”

McDowell ordered Griffin and Ricketts to move their guns closer to Henry House Hill. Some of their fire struck the Henry House, tearing off the feet of the 85-year-old widow Judith Carter Henry, who later died from her wounds, becoming the first civilian casualty of the Civil War.

At around 3:00 pm, a group of men in blue uniforms advanced on the batteries of Griffin and Ricketts who prepared to fire on them. They were stopped by Major William F. Barry who claimed they were Union troops. They were actually the 33rd Virginia who were quickly supported by J.E.B. Stuart’s cavalry and the guns were taken by the Confederates.

This was the pivotal moment in the battle. The Confederates turned the guns on the Union troops and then Jackson ordered a bayonet charge. At around 4:00 pm, Beauregard ordered a full charge of his entire line, sweeping the field, and sending the Union army back in disorderly retreat.

Afternoon to Evening

The Union lines at first tried to hold but, by around 5:00 pm, the lines had completely broken, and the retreat became a rout. Scholar Alan Taylor comments:

Exhausted by the heat of July and smoke of battle, the Yankees panicked and fled, throwing away guns and packs to make better speed. McDowell’s army dissolved into a terrified, fleeing mob, but the Confederates were too disorganized and weary to pursue. Instead, they looted the dead and wounded Yankees. (173)

The retreating army ran into the civilians with their carriages and picnic lunches who were already on the road back to Washington, D.C. Certain that the Confederates were in pursuit, the rout became panic-stricken.

William H. Russell, who had observed the battle and was caught in the retreat, noted the “disgraceful conduct” of the Union troops trying to climb into occupied carriages or up onto occupied horses (Streissguth, 53). The retreat was mocked in the Southern press as “The Great Skedaddle.”

Confederate President Jefferson Davis arrived at Manassas that evening, sent a joyous telegraph back to Richmond on the victory, and then asked Beauregard and Johnston why the enemy had not been pursued all the way to Washington, D.C. Neither general answered but the answer was that the Confederate army at the end of the day was almost as disorganized as the Union in retreat.

Davis pressed for an advance later that night or even the next day – but rain started falling, the roads turned to mud, and any advance on Washington, D.C. was impossible.

Meanwhile, in that city, Lincoln and his cabinet had been awaiting news of the great Union victory and so were disappointed, to put it mildly, when the news arrived of their defeat. The citizens, soldiers, and politicians of the North were stunned by the Confederate victory. It had been inconceivable to them on every level. Taylor writes:

The stunning Union defeat undercut American credibility abroad. The editor of the London Times scoffed at the United States as “a so-called Power that can scarcely defend its capital against its fellow-citizens.” Irritated by Yankees, a Canadian woman exulted when Manassas “caused all Canadians to scorn and laugh at them.” (174)

In the South, of course, the victory at Manassas was greeted with joy and a sense of relief in the hope that now, perhaps, the Yankees would leave them alone. Taylor describes the reaction:

Confederates grew cocky, for Manassas seemed to confirm their superiority over the wretched Yankees. An Alabaman wrote a new song, entitled, “Run Yank or Die,” in which Union troops broke and fled whenever they heard the chorus “Hurrah for Slavery.” The song became a hit in the Confederate army and on the home front. A Georgia congressman boasted that this one battle “has secured our independence.” (174)

This turned out not to be true, of course. On 22 July, President Lincoln signed a bill for the enlistment of 500,000 soldiers for three years of service. He then replaced McDowell with George B. McClellan, the hero of Northwestern Virginia, who would turn the demoralized and defeated survivors of Bull Run, and the new recruits, into the professional fighting force of the Army of the Potomac.

In the South, the initial jubilation and hope for peace gave way to the realization that the North had only lost one battle, not the war. As the casualty count became more widely known, the early hope of an easy victory dissipated. Beauregard became a national hero, as he had earlier after his victory at the Battle of Fort Sumter, but was criticized by Davis and his supporters for not pursuing the Union army and finishing the war at Manassas.

In the end, both sides realized that the Battle of First Bull Run (First Manassas) was not the end of anything at all. It was only the beginning of more battles with higher and higher casualty counts – and it was going to last far longer than anyone would have believed the morning of 21 July 1861 at Manassas Junction