The 7th Florida Takes Prisoners to Richmond

   Several times in the past, I have written about prisons, concentrating on prison guards (here) and moving prisoners across the South (here). Captain Robert B. Smith, Company K, 7^th Florida Infantry, was in charge of a group of guards and prisoners following the battle of Murfreesboro. He recorded his story in 1914.

   “In the winter of 1863, after the battle of… [Murfreesboro]… all of the non-commissioned officers and privates who were captured at that time were sent to Richmond, Va. There were 3,300 of them.

Bristol, TN/VA in 1857

   At Knoxville, Tenn., our regiment, the 7^th Fla., was detailed to guard them as far as Bristol, on the line of the Virginia and Tennessee [Railroad]. Nothing of any particular interest happened until we reached the Watauga River. There was a very high bridge over that river, and a raiding party of Federals from Cumberland Gap had burned the bridge, and the cars could proceed no father.

   We had to march from there to Bristol, a distance of 12 or 14 miles . . . When we reached Bristol I went to the commander, Maj. Keys, and roused him out of bed and told him who I was and what I had for him. He was taken completely by surprise and did not know what to do with the prisoners. Some one, however, must have notified the railroad authorities, for there were two trains of box cars to take us on to Richmond.

   Major Keys had no one to send along as a guard, for his men were off on a scout and would not be back for two days, or more. He wanted me to go on with my regiment, but I could not, for my orders were to carry the prisoners to Bristol and return.

   I told Maj. Keys I did not think a guard was necessary—that he could take them himself. He asked me if I would be willing to go with them without a guard. I told him I would be glad to.

   Arrangements were soon made. The 7^th Fla. Was sent back under command of a subordinate officer, and the 3,300 Federal prisoners and I boarded the cars and were soon ‘on to Richmond.’”

   At Wytheville, Va., the trains stopped a long time, and the men, being hungry, swarmed off the cars to beg or buy something to eat. I could not blame them. The Mayor or Marshall wanted to know why I didn’t keep them on the cars.

   I could not help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation—one man guarding 3,300! However, I told him, “All right,” and went the entire length of the two trains and gave the orders that ‘no one was to leave the cars.’ Strange as it may seem, that order was obeyed just as if they had been my own men.

   One man died on the way and was put off at a station and the trains moved on. I never knew what [was] the cause of his death. When we got to Lynchburg it was early morning of the second day from Bristol. There I reported to Col. Lyons, the commandant. He wanted me to go on to Richmond, but I said: ‘No; I cannot, for some of those men have been without food for three days and are suffering.’

   He said: They have no formation and you cannot give them rations. It will be a ‘grab game’ just as it was at Knoxville, Tenn., where you last rationed them.’

   That seemed very reasonable, but a happy inspiration came to me at that moment, and I told him I could issue the rations to every man, and would assume the whole responsibility. All I asked was two hours’ time. He agreed to my proposition and issued orders for 3,000 rations. The railyard where the cars with the prisoners were was an ideal place for my experiment. Very many citizens were attracted there, curious to see and to hear.

   I mounted a box car and announced that I was going to give them rations and I wanted their help. They assured me mostly heartily that I should have it. Joy beamed in their faces and added speed to their feet and sharpness to their wits. I told them in a few words what I wanted done and began calling them by states.

   “Maine troops, fall in on the extreme right; New Hampshire troops, fall in next, Western and Northern states. After naming every state from Maine to California, there were several hundred men left. I called out to them, “Where do you belong?”

   Some one yelled out, “Call the Southern states.”

   I had not thought of that, so I called, “North Carolina troops, fall in!” Quite a good many moved to the right, and then, “South Carolina troops, fall in!” and sure enough there were some from South Carolina. The citizens began to guy them unmercifully, and when I gave the command, “Tennessee troops, fall in! it seemed that there were a hundred or more. The citizens did not guy them so much. But when I called Virginia I thought the citizens would come over the fence after them.

   Soon all were in two ranks, and I had the orderlies to step two paces to the front. Out of these orderly-sergeants, I selected 65 captains for 50 men each, and instructed them to write down the names of their men and then go with a detail of our men to draw rations.

   They were warned that if any man of their company was cheated out of his rations the captain and his four men would have to supply him with a ration, even if they went without.

   There was no complaint. That evening we loaded cars quickly, using our same formations, and proceeded on to Richmond, where we arrived at 7 o’clock the next morning. The railroad authorities were afraid to take us over the James River on their bridge neither would they permit us all to cross at the same time. We still had our company formation and could easily manage that order by sending a few companies at a time.

   Soon we were over in the city. Many people were in evidence as spectators, but they were civil and good-natured. Just to have a little amusement, as we were marching in the middle of the street towards Libbey prison, I gave the order, “By companies, right wheel into line, march!” This order was promptly obeyed, and we marched by company front until we reached Libbey Prison, where I took my leave of these jolly prisoners.”[1]

   This is quite a remarkable tale: one officer, escorting 3,000 prisoners through Tennessee and Virginia. Is there any chance of proving this post-war account? First, there is not a published history of the 7^th Florida Infantry (that I can find). The 7^th Florida was organized in April 1862 in Gainesville, Florida. They were assigned to the Army of Tennessee.[2] They are not listed in the order of battle for Murfreesboro. They were a part of Bragg’s army when it invaded Kentucky, and, in February 1863, were doing garrison duty at Cumberland Gap. They were reported in Knoxville from February 1863, through Saunder’s Raid in June 1863. So they are in the right place at the right time. (Many of the Florida Compiled Military Service Records are very difficult to read.)[3] Maybe the 7^th Florida was serving as provost marshal in Knoxville. An article detailing the movements of the 19^th Georgia Battalion notes on January 5, 1863, that when author’s battalion arrived in Knoxville, “we reported to Capt. A.S. Moseley, 7^th Regiment Florida Volunteers, who is an able and efficient officer.”[4]

   There is an interesting piece in the file of Capt. Robert B. Smith dated March 25, 1864, to the Quarter Master regarding other matters. And then there is this: “Also awaiting receipts from the Qu. Master for tents & cooking utensils turned over at Knoxville Tenn when we were ordered to Virginia.”[5]

   Were prisoners from Murfreesboro sent to Richmond? On January 13, 1863, the Daily Richmond Whig reported that 168 Federal captured at Murfreesboro were in Lynchburg, with another 800 more expected to arrive that night.[6] An Abington newspaper reported a few days later that “For several days past, the trains going eastward have been loaded down with prisoners from Murfreesboro, en route for Richmond.”[7] At least some of the Federal prisoners captured at Murfreesboro were sent to Richmond. Is there any record of Smith’s prisoners’ marching in company front formation through the streets toward Libby Prison? Not that I have found so far.

   Maybe some a good book on the 7^th Florida would prove what seems like a tall tale. Or, maybe one of those Federal prisoners captured at Murfreesboro wrote about the event after the fact. It seems that most of the Murfreesboro prisoners were paroled rather quickly.

  

---

[1] Robert B. Smith, “3,300 Federal Prisoners and I.” Civil War Times Illustrated, December 1975, 41-43.

[2] Crute, Units of the Confederate States Army, 77.

[3] CMSR, Record of events, 7^th Florida Infantry, Roll 0076, M251, RG109.

[4] The Macon Telegraph, January 9, 1863.

[5] Robert Smith, CMSR, Roll 0079, M251, RG109.

[6] Daily Richmond Whig, January 13, 1863.

[7] The Abington Virginia, January 16, 1863.

The Confederate graves at Arlington

    At a recent event, someone posed a question about the Confederate graves at Arlington. His ancestor is one of the ones in Section 16. But the greater question is: were there Confederates buried in Arlington during the war? That is a great question, and the internet is all over the place.

   Arlington was constructed by George Washington Parke Custis and was home to him and his family. The house sits on Arlington Heights, overlooking Washington, D.C. Custis’s daughter Mary married Robert E. Lee, and after the death of Custis, the house passed to her. When Robert E. Lee was in town, and not on duty someplace, this is where he called home. Lee was here when called upon to put down John Brown’s insurrection at Harpers Ferry, and it was here Lee returned when called from Texas in 1861. It was here that Lee chose to resign from the United States Army and enter the service of Virginia. It was in mid-May when Mary Lee left Arlington for the last time. On May 23, 1861, 10,000 Federal troops crossed the Potomac River and seized Arlington Heights.[1]

   The home and grounds became a military encampment and headquarters. Irvin McDowell set up his headquarters in the house. Fortifications were constructed nearby. Arlington would be inside those fortifications protecting Washington, D.C. 

Graves in Arlington, ca. 1865 (LOC)

   In 1862, the U.S. Congress passed an act dealing with collecting taxes “in the Insurrectionary Districts within the United States.” Mary Lee was taxed $92.07, and she sent the funds through a relative. However, the tax commissioners refused to accept the payment, declaring that the payment had to be paid in person by the legal owner. Mary was unable to do that The property was seized, and a sale held where the U.S. government, for $26,800, purchased the house and 1,100 acres.[2]

   Due to the proximity of the front lines, sometimes at the very door of the city, Washington was one vast military hospital. Churches and schools were pressed into service in emergency duty. Early in the war, the civilian hospital, the Government Hospital for the Insane, and the Union hotel were seized for permanent hospitals. Others were opened: the Providence Hospital, the Judiciary Square Hospital, Mount Pleasant Hospital, the Armory Square Hospital, St. Aloysius Hospital, and others. At the height of the Maryland Campaign, there were about sixty hospitals in the capitol.[3]

   Many of the Federal dead were taken to the Soldiers Home Cemetery, on Rock Creek near Fort Totten. Needing more space, Montgomery Meigs, Quartermaster General of the Army, who was in charge of the burial of Federal soldiers, allowed Federal soldiers to be buried on the grounds of Arlington. The first documented war-time grave appears to be that of Pvt. William Christman, 67^th Pennsylvania Infantry. He was interred on May 13, 1864, near the slave cemetery on the grounds of Arlington. A few others followed, but on June 15, 1864, Meigs requested Secretary of War Edwin Stanton to declare Arlington House and two hundred surrounding acres, a military cemetery. Stanton approved it the same day. It is often speculated that Meigs’ actions were to keep the Lee family from ever returning to the property. By the end of 1864, over 7,000 graves were located on the grounds.[4]

   Confederate soldiers, Southern civilians, and Northern political prisoners were kept at the Old Capital prison, a former hotel that had served as a hotel, and as the U.S. Capitol building after the British burned the Capitol in 1814. Official records record that 5,761 prisoners passed through this prison. Many were on their way to some other installation. However, at least 457 died while incarcerated at the Old Capitol Prison, most of them in the prison hospital or another hospital within the city. Some of those were interred at the Congressional Cemetery, about a mile away from the prison. (You can read more about the cemetery here) But were all of them?

    Apparently not. They were buried in different cemeteries across the city, including Soldiers’ Home Cemetery, Rock Creek Cemetery, Congressional Cemetery, and starting in 1864, Arlington. Samuel E. Lewis was a Confederate doctor during the war, moving to Washington, D.C. after the war where he continued his practice. He was also a member of the Charles Broadway Rouss Camp, No. 1911, United Confederate Veterans.  Lewis was concerned with not only the care of aging veterans, but also with the burial of Confederates who died during the war. There were over 500 Confederates who died in the Federal capital. There was a modest relocation of 241 Confederate soldiers’ remains to Virginia and the Carolinas in the 1870s, organized by various Ladies Memorial Associations. Yet the others remained.

A map showing the original location of Confederate
graves with the new section. (Virginia Museum of History)

   It was Lewis who urged the military, Congress, and the president to get involved and designate a number of acres within Arlington for the reburial of the remaining Confederate dead in Washington, D.C. Taking care of the Confederate dead was something that President McKinnley advocated in a speech in Atlanta, Georgia, in 1898. Congress appropriated $2,500 for the purpose of removing those dead from the Soldiers’ Home Cemetery and three different plots within Arlington, to Section 16 of the Arlington National Cemetery in 1900. Not everyone was in favor of this idea. The Southern Memorial Association wanted the remains of the Confederate soldiers returned to the various states and reburied in Southern cemeteries, most notably, Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond. Eventually, Lewis won the argument.[5]

   There were 136 Confederate graves at Arlington, and 128 at the Soldiers’ Home Cemetery. Reinterment work began in early 1901, and the work was finished in October 1901. Each soldier’s grave was marked by a white marble tombstone. What became known as the Confederate section was near what was then the main entrance of the cemetery.[6]

   To return to our question, yes, there were Confederate prisoners of war buried at Arlington National Cemetery once internment began in the spring of 1864. There were also Confederates interred at other cemeteries as well. Those interred at Arlington were originally in three different sections and were consolidated into Section 16 in 1901. There are still Confederates buried in the Congressional Cemetery as well. Probably half of the Confederates who died and were buried in Washington, D.C., during the war were returned to Virginia and North Carolina.

[1] Perry, Lady of Arlington, 230-31.

[2] Ashabranner, A Grateful Nation, 30.

[3] Janke, A Guide to Civil War Washington,  69, 76-80.

[4] Ashabranner, A Grateful Nation, 32-34.

[5] Krowl, “In the Spirit of Fraternity” The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography, 111, 2:151-186.

[6] Ibid.

Robert E. Lee’s Compiled Service Record

    For anyone wishing to research a person, regiment, or just about anything else connected to the War, the first place to stop is the Compiled Service Records. At the very end of the war, scores of boxes from the Confederate War Department were turned over to Federal officials in Charlotte (you can learn more about this here). These papers were transported to Washington, D.C., where they were gone through by officials, trying to tie Jefferson Davis to the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.

   Part of the War Department papers were the muster roll sheets for the various regiments in Confederate service. These muster rolls were completed once every two months and were used to pay the individual troops. Other correspondence was also included. All of this wound up in Washington, D.C.

   After the war, there were various pension acts passed. For Federal soldiers, the pensions came from the US Congress. For Confederate soldiers, pensions came from their various states. The validity of each claim had to be verified. Were they good soldiers who were honorably discharged versus not-so-good soldiers: men who had deserted or been dishonorably discharged. Beginning in the 1890s, the War Department began creating the Compiled Service Records. The muster roll sheets, regimental returns, descriptive books, information from hospitals, and any other materials the clerks could find were copied onto various cards (usually one for each surviving muster). With other surviving documents, these cards were placed in envelopes and filed away by states and regiments. When a pension applicant or state official wrote the War Department inquiring about a veteran’s service, it was (usually) easy to pull those records, summarize the information, and send a letter with the necessary details.

   Robert E. Lee never served in a regiment. He, along with thousands of others who were staff officers, had a special category  (now known as “Confederate officers). Although Lee served as a military advisor to Jefferson Davis, as commander of the Army of Northern Virginia, and then, toward the end of the conflict, as overall Confederate commander, his folder only contains 66 pieces.

   Several of the cards refer to letters found in other places. For example, there is a card for a letter that Lee wrote to Jefferson Davis on February 19 and February 23, 1865. They are in the file of Charles E. Jones. Both letters deal with correspondence from Beauregard. Another refers to a special order issued on June 2, 1862, assigning Lee to command the army in Virginia.

   One card outlines Lee’s service as commander of the department of South Carolina, Georgia, and East Florida, including a list of his staff; his promotion to brigadier general in the regular Confederate Army; and his parole at Appomattox on April 9, 1865.

   And then there are more mundane things, like a requisition for forage for the third quarter of 1864. Lee had two horses (Traveler and Lucy) and asked for eight pounds of corn and eight pounds of oats, daily. It is interesting that in August 1864, the voucher listed four horses.

   There are pay vouchers for his thirty years of service. It is interesting to note that Lee was paid $301 a month, plus an additional $100 a month for commanding an army, plus an extra $54 a month for his thirty years of service. There are several official letters that Lee wrote. One is dated March 26, 1863, and addressed to Maj. A. H. Cole. His total pay for the months of April, May, June, and July, 1863, was $1,820.00.

   Included is a telegram from Lee to Secretary of War James Seddon, written December 4, 1862, regarding corn in the upper Rappahannock valley; a note from Secretary of War Seddon regarding the nomination of Lee for Commander in Chief; and various other letters while Lee was serving as military advisor to Davis in the spring of 1862.  These include notes to Beauregard, E. Kirby Smith, Lovill, and Josiah Gorgas.

   Also included are a handful of letters from twentieth-century people, including Douglas Southall Freeman, asking for details on Lee’s military service. Writing on August 15, 1925, Freeman was interested in any correspondence from Lee between April 1 and April 10, 1865. Freeman was advised to consult on the Official Records.

   I was curious about how Lee’s Compiled Military Service Record, at 67 pages, stacked up against some of the other Confederate commanders: P.G.T. Beauregard comes in at 170 pages; E. Kirby Smith, 81 pages; and Joseph E. Johnston, 129 pages.

   Once again, if you are going to research a person or regiment/brigade, etc., the Compiled Military Service Records, now housed at the National Archives and available online at fold3.com, is the place to start. You might find nothing, and you might discover a gold mine!

A Union officers’ thoughts on the South

 

So many times, we want to see the War as a conflict pitting a unified North against a unified South. Nothing could be further from the truth. In a previous post, we discussed the way in which Northern famers produced foodstuffs that were sold to brokers, transported through Northern ports, then loaded onto ships that made their way to the Bahamas, and were then sold to Southerners and transported into Southern ports on blockade runners. You can check out the post here.

John Pelham (Digital Archives Alabama)

Recently, while reading Sarah Kay Bierle’s new Emerging Civil War biography on John Pelham, I came across another example of the blurring  of those lines between what we think we know and the reality of this situation. A native of Alabama, Pelham was trying to finish his senior (fifth) year at West Point when the war erupted at Fort Sumter in South Carolina. Pelham promptly submitted his resignation and returned to Alabama.

A host of Pelham’s fellow West Point cadets became common names in Civil War historiography. They include Wesley Merritt, Horace Porter, Stephen D. Ramseur, Joseph Wheeler, George A. Custer, and James Dearing.   One of Pelham’s classmates was future Union artillery commander and Medal of Honor winner Henry DuPont. From Delaware, DuPont provides a differing perspective on both the struggles that Southern cadets endured and the thoughts of some of those who stayed with the Union.

You do not understand the position that Rosser and Pelham are in. They are not in the service of the Southern confederacy now, as they have not accepted the appointments; in fact, they know nothing more about it that you or I do, only having seen them in the paper. Take Pelham, for instance, and a man of nicer and more honorable feelings never lived. Some months ago the Governor of his state wrote to him offering him a high rank in the state forces if he would resign and come home. He would have nothing to do with it & did not even answer the letter and had not applied for any position in the confederate troops. But, like many others, they have appointed him a first lieutenant, that is, have published in the newspapers his appointment, there having been no application made for the place. He does not intend to serve in the [United States] army but will resign as soon as he graduates, which is quite right under the circumstances, as he cannot be expected to fight against his home and friends. He will, though, as an honorable man, never accept a commission from the Confederate States until he has resigned the one he holds in that of the United States. He thought that, painful as it would be to give up his diploma after having undergone so much to obtain it & the many advantages which the possession gives, that, nevertheless, if he receives an official notification that his services were solicited in the defense of his home, that it would be his duty to give up his own inclinations & interest and tender his resignation & go home and accept the position offered to him, and was very glad that they did not send him any official information consequently. (24-25)

After commanding a battery at First Manassas, Pelham became JEB Stuart’s Chief of Artillery. It was Pelham who flanked the advancing Federal infantry at Fredericksburg in December 1862. At the battle of Kelly’s Ford on March 17, 1862, Pelham was struck in the head by shell fragments. He died at Culpeper Courthouse the following morning. Pelham was posthumously promoted to lieutenant colonel and is buried in Jacksonville, Alabama. 

Saving Pamplin Historical Park: Its Story, My Story, How You Can Help

 

   On July 16, 2025, my friend Chris Mackowski hit the airwaves for Emerging Civil War News with a fantastic announcement: the American Battlefield Trust is purchasing Pamplin Historical Park. When Pamplin Park opened in 1994, it was hailed as a “major player in that conflict.” (Richmond Times-Dispatch, June 22, 1994.)  The park, separate from the Petersburg National Battlefield, would “refocus attention on the dramatic events that led to the fall of the Confederacy.” (Richmond Times-Dispatch, April 27, 1994) 

   So what was the battle of Pamplin? Well, there was not a battle by that name. The Pamplin part is the name of the family that preserved the property. Located just below Petersburg, the property was purchased in 1810 by William E. Boisseau. Boisseau built Tudor Hall, and the family lived in the structure until 1864. That fall, McGowan’s South Carolina brigade arrived. The Boisseau family went elsewhere (probably Petersburg) and Brig. Gen. Samuel McGowan used the home as his headquarters. McGowan’s brigade left the entrenchments that ran through the farm on March 29, 1865, replaced by Brig. Gen. James H. Lane’s North Carolina brigade. Lane was minus one regiment, but the other four spread themselves throughout the works. One Tar Heel wrote that they were about ten paces apart. In the early morning hours, the massed VI Corps struck the position, breaking through the thinly held lines. Robert E. Lee was forced to evacuate the Petersburg and Richmond lines, moving west. The Boisseaus were forced to sell the property after the war. It was purchased by Asahel Gerow of New York. In the mid-20^th century, the property was purchased by Robert Pamplin and his son, direct descendants of the Boisseaus. They are the ones who created Pamplin Historical Park, which not only includes the best preserved earthworks in the nation, but also the restored Tudor Hall, the Breakthrough Museum, and the National Museum of the Civil War Soldier.

   My connection? In the late 1990s, I was working on my first book, a history of the 37^th North Carolina Troops. That regiment was stationed in those very works on the morning of April 2, 1865. Pamplin Park had just received the battleflag of the 37^th North Carolina on loan from the Museum of the Confederacy. I stood gazing at the flag for some time, counting the bullet holes that had been repaired during the war. Just a few dozen steps away were the breastworks where the 37th North Carolina was located, and where that very flag was captured.

   That history of the 37^th North Carolina was published in 2003. In 2005, I wrote an article about the breakthrough for America’s Civil War.  And in 2018, Savas Beatie published General Lee’s Immortals, my history of the Branch-Lane brigade. (You can order the books here)

   I’ve visited Pamplin Park many times over the years. Sometimes, I am a tourist, just walking among the trenches where the breakthrough took place so many years ago. Several times, I have been invited to speak about the events and the Branch-Lane Brigade (twice in 2024). In 2016, a monument to Lane’s Brigade was dedicated at the park. I was not the speaker – Edd Bearss was. But I had a chance to join with a great group of re-enactors, and spend a couple of days doing interpretive programs at the park.

   The American Battlefield Trust needs to raise $600,000 by November to finish the purchase of the Confederate defenses at Pamplin Historical Park (total cost is over $21,000,000). Like most other historic sites, not just those dedicated to the Civil War, Pamplin has struggled since 2020. This is a win-win situation for everyone. The American battlefield Trust already owns 200 acres of land adjacent to this 400+-acre tract. It is the location from which the VI Crops launched its attack. The American Battlefield Trust will continue the excellent stewardship of the Pamplin family and will allow this site to be preserved to teach the future about this important story of the past.

If you would like to help support this important effort to help preserve this unique site, you can find more information here

Nassau Bacon – from Ohio

 

      “We are eating new beautiful onions from Nassau,” Charles Blackford wrote in June 1864. Blackford was Longstreet’s assistant judge advocate.  Blackford’s letter home about the onions is a little more revealing concerning foodstuffs in the ANV in the spring and summer of 1864. He continues: “With our onions we have bacon cured in Ohio and shipped to Nassau to be sent to us by blockade runners.” It is well known that by 1864, most foodstuffs for the Army of Northern Virginia were coming from Nassau on blockade runners and into the port at Wilmington.[1]

   Almost everyone is familiar with the role of the blockade in supplying the Confederate armies. Agents from various states and the Confederate government worked out trade deals – either cotton, or promises of future cotton – in exchange for munitions of war, medicines, and foodstuffs. These items were then loaded onto ships, making their way to the ports in the Bahamas, largely Nassau. The items were then transferred to shallow-draft blockade runners and steamed into various Southern ports. By 1864, it was really only the port of Wilmington that was still open and supplying Lee’s army in Virginia. 

The Advance, a North Carolina blockade runner.

   “Nassau bacon is a term frequently used during the war. James C. Elliott, 56^th North Carolina, recalled that in 1864 “Our food was miserable—musty meal and rancid Nassau bacon. Our bread was cooked at the wagon yard on canal, west side of Petersburg.”[2] Another Tar Heel reminisced that “old soldiers will all remember Nassau bacon, a very gross, fat, porky substance which ran the blockade at Wilmington and was distributed among Lee’s veterans as bacon.”[3] Moxley Sorrel, also on Longstreet’s staff before being promoted to brigadier general in the fall of 1864, thought that some “bacon from Nassau was coming through the blockade, and it would not be incredible for the blockading fleet to allow it to come through in hope of poisoning us.”[4]

   But what of Blackford’s claim – that his bacon had been cured in Ohio and sent to Nassau? Hamilton Cochran, writing in Blockade Runners of the Confederacy  in 1958, explains how the process worked. Brokers, or “bacon buyers,” would visit hog farms in New York and other states “and offer hog raisers far more per pound for their hams and bacon than the United States government or civilian merchants were offering.” After the brokers bought large quantities of hog meat, it was  “salted and shipped out of New York or Philadelphia to Bermuda or Nassau. . .  Upon arrival in the islands, the hams and bacon were sold at quadruple their cost to agents of the Confederate States Quartermaster Corps, then shipped to hungry soldiers on the firing line.”[5] Eugene R. Dattel notes that at times, the meat shipped out of Boston or New York was sent to Canada first, then on to Bermuda or Nassau. The meat was also sent to Liverpool, unloaded and then reshipped to the Caribbean.  By January 1865, over eight million pounds of meat had arrived in the port of Wilmington alone. “This was extremely good business for Northern farmers whose sons were dying on Southern battlefields,” Dattel notes.[6]

   This round-about way of importing bacon (and other items) produced in the North to feed Confederate armies was not really a secret. Major General W.H.C. Whiting wrote in June 1863 that many of the blockade runners in Wilmington were “mostly filled with Yankee goods.” Whiting arrested the crew of one steamer, the Arabian, which had bypassed Nassau and sailed directly from New York.[7] War Clerk John Jones noted in October 1864 that Beverly Tucker was in Canada, contracting with a New York firm, to trade bacon for cotton “pound for pound.” The Secretary of the War had authorized the negotiations.[8] Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, James Seddon and others all knew about this operation. And it was not just limited to Wilmington. The trade was so heavy in eastern North Carolina and eastern Virginia that in January 1864 the Subsistence Department needed 600 to 800 bales of cotton each week, delivered to Weldon.[9] Writing after the war, Robert Tannahill told former Commissary General Lucius B. Northrop that “there is no telling the amount of supplies we could have gotten from the North in the way of exchange for cotton.”[10]

   Even Northern officials knew of the trade, much of which originated in New York. The American consul at St. George’s Bermuda, wrote to Secretary of State William H. Seward in June 1863: “I beg to apprise you that large quantities of mdse [merchandise] are shipped from N. Yk  [New York] to these islds and transshipped o/board steamers for blockaded ports. There is no doubt that Major Walker who styles himself Confederate States Agent, is receiving goods ex N. Yk by almost every vessel under various marks. A large portion of the goods shipped from here to Wilmington are from N. Yk.”[11] The trade continued, even after the capture of the Cape Fear River and Wilmington. On March 8, 1865, U.S. Grant telegraphed Secretary of War Edwin Stanton that “We have supplies going out by Norfolk to the rebel army stopped, but information received shows that large amounts still go by way of the Blackwater.” In another telegraph, Grant told Stanton that spies or informants in Richmond “send word that Tobacco is being exchanged for Bacon…” Lincoln gave Grant the authority on March 10 to suspend all trade permits and licenses, regardless of whoever issued them, within the state of Virginia, with a few exceptions.[12]

   If you would like to learn more about food and the Confederate Army in Virginia, check out my book, Feeding Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia, here.

 

[1] Blackford & Blackford, Letters from Lee's Army, 252.

[2] Elliott,  The Southern Soldier Boy, 26.

[3] Clark, ed., Histories of the Several Regiments and Battalions, 4:53.

[4] Sorrel, Recollections of a Confederate Staff Officer, 281.

[5] Cochran, Blockade Runners of the Confederacy, 47.

[6] Dattel, Cotton and Race in the Making of America, 198.

[7] Jones, A Rebel War Clerk, 1:319, 321.

[8] Jones,  A Rebel War Clerk, 2:290.

[9] OR, Series 1, XLVI, pt. 2, 1104; Goff, Confederate Supply, 167.

[10] quoted in Goff, Confederate Supply, 168.

[11] “American Consular Records-Civil War Period.” Pt. 1, Bermuda Historical Quarterly, 17 (Summer 1961) 66.

[12] Basler, The Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln, 8:342-4.

The Deadliest Single Shot of the War

   The Civil War looks different in different parts of the country. The guerrilla actions in Missouri and Western North Carolina are a far cry from the large battles waged in North Georgia and Central Virginia. The same is true for the naval actions. Ships on blockade duty off Charleston Harbor are far different from the ironclad gunboats that steamed along the Mississippi River.

   In 1861, the Federal government began building special ironclads that were able to navigate the Mississippi River. The USS Mound City was one of those ironclads. Constructed in Mound City, Illinois, in 1861, she was 175 feet long in total and drew five feet of water, with a speed of nine miles per hour. Her armament consisted of thirteen cannons overall: thee 9-inch, six 32-pounders, and four rifled 42-pounders, with a crew complement of 175 men.[1]

   The Mound City steamed up and down the Mississippi River.

USS Mound City.

    Typically, an ironclad would escort a mortar boat down the river to bombard Fort Pillow.  On May 10, 1862, the Confederate River Defense Fleet attacked at Plum Point Bend. Most of the Federal ironclads did not have sufficient steam to maneuver. Three Confederate vessels, the CSS General Brag, General Sumter, and General Sterling Price, rammed the USS Cincinnati; the vessel later sank. The USS Carondelet and Mound City arrived, and the CSS Earl Van Dorn rammed the Mound City, opening a four-foot hole in the Federal ironclad. The captain was able to run the ship ashore before it sank. The timber and cotton-clad rams of the Confederate fleet were able to sink two ironclads with no losses. They moved off before the rest of the Federal gunboats arrived.[2]

   The Mound City was repaired and rejoined the squadron. A month later, the Mound City took part in an expedition up the White River in Arkansas to destroy Confederate gun emplacements located at St. Charles, Arkansas. This would allow Federal vessels to resupply a Union army under Maj. Gen. Samuel R. Curtis. Curtis was attempting to capture Little Rock but was stuck at Batesville due to a lack of supplies. Confederate forces under Maj. Gen. Thomas C. Hindman constructed fortifications near St. Charles to stop such an action. Besides the two artillery batteries, three ships were scuttled in the river as obstructions. Additional logs were floated down the river and driven into the bottoms to further impede ships. The main battery consisted of two rifled 32-pounders taken from the CSS Pontchartrain. The secondary position contained two, 3-inch Parrott rifles. Cannons were removed the CSS Maurepas before it was scuttled, and added to the defenses. Overall, the Confederate force numbered just seven cannons and 114 crewmembers, including 34 men from the 29^th Arkansas Infantry.[3]

   Joseph Fry, a former U.S. Naval Officer, the commander of the CSS Maurepas, was in overall command.

   The Federal expedition was composed of several ships – the timberclads USS Conestoga, New National, and White Cloud. Aboard the New National and the Jacob were members of the 46^th Indiana Infantry. Several miles below St. Charles, two scouting parties, one on the land and one on the river, were sent forward. They found the Confederate defenses but could not determine their strength.[4]

   On the morning of June 17, Federal naval vessels began moving up the river. The Mound City was in the lead. Confederate infantry, with a 12-pound howitzer, were sent as sharpshooters along the riverbank. When within two and a half miles out from the defenses, Confederates were spotted and the Mound City opened fire, scattering the pickets. The Federal infantry disembarked on the shore, and, with skirmishers posted, began to advance.[5]

   The Mound City began dueling with the shore batteries. Confederates were able to do much damage against the ironclad, even before they fired what appears to be the deadliest single shot of the entire war.  The Mound City moved to steam past the first battery when a solid shot struck near a gun port, killing three or four gunners. Then, the shot ruptured one of the ship’s boilers, filling the ship with scalding steam. Of the approximately 175 men on board, 125 were killed and over twenty others were wounded. The Mound City floated down the river and ran aground. Fry demanded that the remaining men onboard surrender. When they refused, the Confederates opened fire, killing several.[6]

   Additional Federal gunboats moved up into the position, and the Federal infantry positioned themselves to storm the works. With the Federals just fifty yards away, the Confederates abandoned their works. Twenty-nine Confederates, including Fry, were captured. Eight others were killed during the battle. The Mound City was towed downstream and the Federals began working on clearing the obstructions from the river. Many of the dead Federals were buried in a mass grave near the lower battery. The Federals destroyed the earthworks, transported the smaller cannons back to Memphis, and spiked the larger cannons, dumping them in the river.[7]

   What became of the USS Mound City? She was repaired and served in the Vicksburg Campaign, and later, the Red River Expedition. After the war, she was decommissioned and sold at public auction on November 9, 1865. The vessel was broken up in 1866.[8]

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[1] Mirza, Encyclopedia of Civil War Shipwrecks, 100.

[2] Symonds, The Civil War at Sea, 111.

[3] Chatelain, Defending the Arteries of Rebellion, 132, 181; Bearrs, “White River Expedition, June 10-July 15, 1862.” Arkansas Historical Quarterly, 21 (4): 315-318.

[4] Bearrs, “White River Expedition, June 10-July 15, 1862.” Arkansas Historical Quarterly, 21 (4): 312-314.

[5] Bearrs, “White River Expedition, June 10-July 15, 1862.” Arkansas Historical Quarterly, 21 (4): 319-20.

[6] Barnhart, “The Deadliest Shot,” Civil War Times, 45 (March/April 2006) 30-36

[7] Barnhart, “The Deadliest Shot,” Civil War Times, 45 (March/April 2006) 30-36; Hubbs, “A Rebel Shot Causes “Torture and Despair,” Naval History, 16 (2):46-50.

[8] https://www.navsource.org/archives/09/86/86066.htm