The 3rd Georgia Infantry Commandeer Breckinridge’s Train

   In reading through Jefferson Davis’s papers, there is an interesting discussion regarding a train. It is April 1865. Davis and most of the Confederate cabinet have moved from Greensboro to Charlotte. John C. Breckinridge, Secretary of War, had caught up with Davis in Greensboro. As the group makes its way across the piedmont of North Carolina, Breckinridge is called away to meet with Joseph E. Johnston as Johnston is meeting with William T. Sherman at the Bennett farm outside Durham.

John C. Breckinridge (LOC)

   Davis, who had reached Charlotte on April 18, was anxious for Breckinridge to rejoin him. While Federal cavalry had wrecked most of the railroad around Greensboro and Salisbury, it was still possible to get trains almost to Salisbury. Breckinridge telegraphs Davis from Salisbury on April 20: “We have had great difficulty in reaching this place. The train from Charlotte which was to have met us here had not arrived. No doubt seized by stragglers to convey them to that point. I have telegraphed the commanding officer at Charlotte to send a locomotive and one car without delay. The impressed train should be met before reaching the depot and the ringleaders severely dealt with.” Davis responds: “Train will start for you at midnight with guard.”[1]

   Now, the rest of the story…

   In 1916, W. Frank Marsh was in Charlotte, reading a historical marker that described the last meeting of the Confederate cabinet in the city. Marsh, a member of the 3^rd Georgia infantry, had made it all the way through the war, surrendering at Appomattox Court House. “We were not able to secure transportation back home, so many of us started to walk through Virginia and North Carolina, half starved and some of us almost barefooted. We reached a point past China Grove [Rowan County] coming into Charlotte, some two hundred of us, hungry and sad and a motley lot all bent upon getting back into the country where we had our homes. We came upon a train destined for China Grove to bring back General Breckinridge from there to the conference of the Confederate Congress in Charlotte [the Confederate Congress never met in Charlotte, only the Cabinet], but we took possession of that train and demanded that the conductor take us to Charlotte. He refused and said he was under orders to get General Breckinridge and take him to Charlotte as fast as possible. We insisted and took charge of the train with the result that we told the conductor he could detach the engine and tender and go to China Grove to get the general, who would have to ride upon the woodpile in the tender.”

   “We remained in charge of the cars until the engine came back from China Grove with the General riding in the tender and I guess he was mad, but we hooked onto the cars and were brought in toward Charlotte. Finally, the conductor announced we were in Charlotte, and we all got out of the train only to find that we were not in Charlotte but in a bull pen some half a mile or more from the town and all held prisoners. The home guards had been ordered out in Charlotte and they had us in charge, while they took away our three officers and locked them up in Charlotte for failing to keep the soldiers in subjection instead of letting them confiscate the train.”

   “The next morning we were all released and going into Charlotte found that they had released our officers. Something to eat in those times looked bigger to our eyes than a gold brick. Well, we went down to the railroad station and there we found a train of cars with an engine attached and steam up, ready to go somewhere.”

   “We all rushed on, but the doors were locked and we couldn’t get in, so a lot of us climbed onto the roofs and this broke in the old timber. We found that it was Jeff Davis’ special loaded with Confederate gold and silver, with many kegs of coins aboard and when Jeff Davis found us so determined to get to Georgia he ordered a train made up and we were carried to Chester, S.C., which was as far as the train could go as the bridge had been burned. Those were stirring times and no mistake.”[2]

   There is much to process between these two accounts – trains still running in North Carolina in April 1865, telegraphs still operating, the passage of Lee’s paroled men through North Carolina after Appomattox, a glimpse of the remnants of the Confederate treasury, along with the charming magnanimity of Davis, it is just nice to flesh out the fragments of two communications between Davis and Breckinridge.

  

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[1] OR, Vol. 47, pt. 3, 814. See also Davis letters, Vol. 11, 553.

[2] The Charlotte Observer, October 20, 1916.

Jefferson Davis v. Stonewall Jackson

   Confederate historiography is rife with accounts of Jefferson Davis’s legendary support of certain commanders, like Braxton Bragg, Leonidas Polk, and Lucius B. Northrop, along with politician Judah P. Benjamin, and his equally legendary feuds with others, like Joseph E. Johnston. Even with Johnston, the fault was more his than that of Davis, as in his correspondence, the President, often exhibits a great deal of grace and aplomb.

   But Davis was not, at least early on, an enthusiast of Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson. That might come as a shock, considering that many still celebrate Lee-Jackson Day across the South. Often, Lee is number one, with Jackson a close second in admiration of military skill.

   It appears that Davis and Jackson had never met prior to the spring of 1862. Davis was an 1828 United States Military Academy graduate. During his West Point years, he is described as frequently challenging the academy’s discipline, which includes being involved in the famous Eggnog Riot of Christmas 1826.[1] While serving in the regular army, Davis was court-martialed for insubordination in 1835.[2] Davis resigned from the U.S. Army shortly thereafter. He then became a cotton planter and politician, serving in the U.S. House from 1845-1846. During the Mexican-American War, Davis raised a regiment, for which he served as colonel, and fought at Monterrey and Buena Vista. He then served in the U.S. Senate from 1847 to 1851, as Secretary of War under President Franklin Pierce, and then again in the U.S. Senate from 1857 to 1861.

   Jackson was not a politician, nor a planter. He did gain entrance to the United States Military Academy, graduating in 1846, 17^th out of 59^th students. Jackson was also in the Mexican-American War, serving as a second lieutenant in Company K, 1^st United States Artillery. His unit saw action at the Siege of Veracruz, and the battles of Contreras, Chapultepec, and Mexico City. After Mexico, Jackson saw action in Florida battling the Seminoles. Jackson also resigned from the U.S. Army, taking a position of professor of Natural and Experimental Philosophy and Instructor of Artillery at the Virginia Military institute.

   Davis, being so intimate with the going-ons of the War Department, would have seen Jackson’s name in the reports and telegraphs that arrived in Richmond after the start of the war. Colonel Thomas J. Jackson took command of the garrison at Harpers Ferry in late April 1861. Robert E. Lee was critical of Jackson for occupying Maryland Heights, undoubtedly relaying the fears of others. Jackson wanted Confederate forces to take the offensive at once. Jackson would next clash with Joseph E. Johnston. While Jackson commanded over 7,000 men at Harper’s Ferry, he had a commission only in Virginia. Johnston, after Virginia joined the Confederacy, was a brigadier general in the Confederate army. When Johnson arrived to assume command of the post at Harper’s Ferry, no one had notified Jackson, who refused to relinquish command. Eventually, Johnston found an endorsement with Lee’s signature on it, and Jackson acquiesced. Jackson then assumed command of all Virginia regiments at Harpers Ferry.[3] Promotion to brigadier general came on June 17, 1861. Jackson went on to become the first icon of the South, earning the sobriquet of Stonewall Jackson at the battle of First Manassas in July 1861. A promotion to major general came in November 1861.

   It was Jackson who came up with the plan for the Romney Campaign. Jackson asked for reinforcements for the campaign and received W.W. Loring’s division. Finding few Federals in Romney, Jackson withdrew his brigade back to Winchester, leaving Loring at Romney. Loring has been described as incompetent and not having the ability to control his already demoralized soldiers. Loring’s officers believed that Jackson’s men were living high (and warm) in Winchester while they suffered through one of the coldest winters on record at Romney. Loring signed and forwarded a petition from eleven of his officers to Richmond asking that Jackson’s orders be overridden and they be allowed to withdraw from Romney. Others wrote to their Congressmen, and with Loring’s approval, Brig. Gen. William B. Taliaferro went to Richmond to plead their case. All of this happened without using the proper chain of command, as Loring believed Jackson would not endorse and forward the letters. Davis sided with Loring and ordered the Secretary of War to telegraph Jackson, ordering him to move Loring’s men. Jackson complied with the orders, then telegraphed, “With such interference in my command I cannot expect to be of much service in the field.” He requested to be assigned back to his old teaching job or allowed to resign.[4]

   Davis considered the Romney Campaign, and Jackson, “utterly incompetent.” It was only through the work of Joseph E. Johnston that the ruffled feathers of Jackson were smoothed and his resignation returned to him.[5] Jackson preferred charges against Loring, charges that Johnston endorsed and forwarded, but the matter was dropped in Richmond. A few days later, Loring was promoted to major general at Davis’s request and sent to the Western Theater.

   A couple of months later, Jackson commanded all the troops in the Shenandoah Valley, with orders from Johnston to prevent Banks from reinforcing McClellan on the Peninsula. The next squabble came with Richard Ewell. Ewell was angry over Jackson’s secrecy, so angry, that Ewell sent one of his brigadier generals, Richard Taylor, to meet with Davis. Taylor just happened to be Davis’s brother-in-law (Davis’s first wife). It was Ewell and Taylor’s request that an officer be sent to the Valley, an officer who outranked Jackson and who could take command. Davis agreed and wanted to send either James Longstreet or Gustavus W. Smith. Davis agreed to send Longstreet as soon as possible and Taylor returned to Ewell with the news. Lee stepped in, and as one historian put it, prevented Davis from “making a truly colossal blunder.” Over the next few weeks, Jackson, with Lee’s encouragement “carried out one of the more brilliant campaigns of military history.”[6]

   The first meeting of Davis and Jackson is thought to have occurred on July 2, 1862, at Lee’s Headquarters near Malvern Hill. Lee was meeting with several of his generals when Davis arrived unannounced. Introductions were made. Dr. Hunter McGuire was an observer at the event, and it was McGuire who informed Jackson who Davis was, although he probably already knew. Woodward writes that Jackson’s “feelings toward Davis, however, were none too cordial, for he had not forgotten the Romney campaign and Davis’s intervention in Loring’s favor during the affair.” Hunter McGuire wrote that Jackson “stood as if a corporal on guard, his head erect, his little fingers touching the seams on his pants, and looked at Davis.” It was Lee who broke the awkward silence. “Why President, don’t you know General Jackson? This is our “Stonewall Jackson.” Davis bowed stiffly, and Jackson saluted. Lee and Davis soon adjourned into another room to talk. Davis and Jackson spoke later that day. Jackson was alone among Lee’s generals to continue to pursue McClellan.[7]

   Davis, Lee, Jackson, and others met in Richmond on July 13, devising the strategy of pursuing John Pope and his army in Northern Virginia. Jackson’s brilliant Second Manassas campaign still did not seem to inspire trust with Davis. When the army was reorganized after the Maryland Campaign, the rank of lieutenant general was created. Davis told Lee that “You have two officers now commanding several divisions and may require more. Please send to me as soon as possible the names of such as you prefer for Lt. General.” Lee could request promotions for Longstreet and Jackson, or Lee could recommend someone else, bypassing Jackson. Woodward believed that Davis was giving Lee “a convenient opportunity for reducing Jackson’s responsibilities.”[8] Lee responded with: “My opinion of the merits of General Jackson have been greatly enhanced during this expedition. He is true, honest, and brave; has a single eye to the good of the service, and spares no exertion to accomplish his object.”[9]

Did Davis, during the war, ever come around to being a supporter of Jackson? Perhaps. Davis was ill during the Chancellorsville campaign. However, like many others, he was concerned over Jackson’s wounding. Varinia Davis wrote that one of the Davis servants (slaves) was sent to the railroad depot where the latest news about Jackson’s health was reported on the arriving trains.[10] It was Davis who sent the first (new) national flag to rest on the casket of Jackson as it arrived in Richmond. In a letter to Lee on May 11, Davis described the event as “a great national calamity.”[11] In the funeral procession, Davis followed near the hearse in a carriage. Later that day, when someone came to the White House to discuss business with Davis, Davis “remained silent for a while and then said, ‘You must excuse me. I am still staggering from a dreadful blow. I cannot think.”[12]

   Is it possible to read more into the attitude of Jackson in meeting with Davis at Malvern Hill in July 1862? Maybe. Jackon was “stiff” around many people. Did Jackson know of Ewell and Taylor’s mission to get him replaced? Maybe. Did Jackson smart from the interference of Loring and his officers after the Romey campaign? Yes. Jackson did resign over the event. A larger question: why did David dislike Jackson so much? Was it disdain because Jackson was not of the social class of Davis and Lee? That is just something to consider.

[1] Cooper, Jefferson Daivs, 33.

[2] Davis, Jefferson Davis, 68-69.

[3] Robertson, Stonewall Jackson, 234-44.

[4] Woodworth, Davis & Lee, 87-88.

[5] Tanner, Stonewall in the Valley, 83, from the diary of Thomas Bragg.

[6] Woodworth, Davis & Lee, 121-22; Parrish, Richard Taylor, 153.

[7] Woodworth, Davis & Lee, 171.

[8] Woodworth, Davis & Lee, 202.

[9] OR, 19, pt.2:643-4.

[10] Davis, Jefferson Davis, 2:382-83.

[11] OR 25, pt. 1:791.

[12] Davis, Jefferson Davis, 2:382-83.

The use of Black spies in Eastern North Carolina.

   While researching my upcoming book on the battle of Plymouth (Savas Beatie), I came across one of the few accounts of the execution of a Black man for spying. A member of the 1^st Virginia Infantry, the morning of the battle, recalled that they found a Black man “wearing the dress of a field hand, and having a red handkerchief tied around his head.” Under these clothes was “the full uniform of a Yankee soldier.” The spy was “hung on the spot,” his identity unknown. Most people would either discount this story, or add it to a somewhat questionable list of atrocities committed by Confederate soldiers during the Plymouth Campaign.[1]

From Colyer.

   Yet in 1864, Vincent Colyer published an interesting account of using slaves as scouts and spies in Eastern North Carolina. Colyer, born in New York in 1824, was an artist. During the war, he served with the United States Christian Commission. In March 1862, after the battle of Roanoke Island and New Bern, Federal General Benjamin Butler appointed Colyer Superintendent of the Poor. He was ordered to employ up to 5,000 Black men, offering them $8 a month, one daily ration, and clothes. These men, mainly former slaves, constructed forts, unloaded cargo vessels, repaired bridges, built cots for hospitals, and operated as spies and scouts. Colyer writes that up to fifty Black men were employed as scouts and spies. “They went from thirty to three hundred miles within the enemy’s lines; visiting principal camps and most important posts, and bringing us back important and reliable information.”[2]

   Colyer then gives us a few names and exploits. One spy, Charley, made three trips to Kinston. W.M. Kinnegy also scouted for the Federals in Kinston. Two freemen who came into the lines were used to scout in the Beaufort area. 

   Spies are seldom mentioned in official correspondence. When they are, their race is almost never mentioned. Major General J.G. Foster, wrote from New Bern on January 20, 1863 to Henry Halleck, “I have just received information from a spy, who has been within the enemy’s lines and conversed with their soldiers, to the effect that the rebel force in this State has been largely increased; that the main body intended to be thrown by railroad either to Weldon or Wilmington… The rebel soldiers reported to the spy that 75,000 men were at Goldsboro.”[3] Writing from Suffolk on March 21, 1863, Maj. Gen. John J. Peck asked Major General Dix: “Is it not time for your peddler [spy] to return?”[4] Writing from Wilmington in August 1863, Maj. Gen. W.H.C. Whiting complained to the Secretary of War that he had too few men. The few that he did have were busy, among other things, in the “detection of spies.”[5]

   Spies were even used in the greater Plymouth area. Major General John Peck, commanding the eastern North Carolina district, gave several accounts of using the local population to gather intelligence on Confederate operations.  In February 1864 Peck mentions a letter from Brig. General Wessels, commanding at Plymouth, that Wessel’s “spy has just come in from Halifax. He came from Wilmington, and 25,000 pounds of iron was on the same train.” It was iron for a gun boat. On March 18, Peck reported that Wessels had reported on the “return of a man sent out … to procure information concerning the ram at Halifax.” On March 29, Peck wrote that “My spy came in from Kinston last evening, having been out seven days.” There is little clue about the race of each of these spies, although Peck adds that in March, an officer had examined “all the contrabands” and that they “agree that there is a large force at Kinston, and also at Greenville, and that the obstructions below Kinston are being removed.”[6]

   The use of Blacks as spies, both free and formerly enslaved, was something of which even the Confederate high command was aware. In May 1863, Robert E. Lee, in writing to Lt. Col. J. Critcher, 15^th Virginia Cavalry, noted that "The chief source of information to the enemy is through our Negroes."[7]

   Was the treatment of the Black man caught wearing a Federal uniform under other clothes unusually harsh? Maybe not. Execution has been the normal punishment for spies caught by the enemy for quite some time. We need only to mention names like Timothy Webster and Sam Davis. There were other Black spies, probably the most famous on the Northern side being John Scobell, who worked for Pinkerton. Overall, the work of Black men and women as spies is one that needs to be explored more. That is a challenge. If spies are successful, no one, except their handlers, know of their accomplishments.

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[1] The Daily Dispatch, April 23, 1864.

[2] Colyer, Report, 9.

[3] OR, 18: 524.

[4] OR, 18:566.

[5] OR Vol. 29, pt. 2, 670.

[6] OR, Vol. 33, 291.

[7] OR. Vol. 25, Pt. 2, 826.

Samuel Johnson and the Plymouth Massacre

    Major General Benjamin F. Butler was in a tizzy. He had received a deposition from the provost marshal bearing incredible news, a note he had forwarded to General Grant. The deposition was from the orderly sergeant of Company D, 2^nd United States Colored Cavalry (USCC), Samuel Johnson. Johnson claimed that he was in Plymouth, North Carolina, with a “Sergeant French.” French was a recruiting officer and was in Plymouth “to take charge of some recruits.” Johnson claimed to have witnessed the April 1864 battle of Plymouth, the most successful combined Confederate army-navy venture of the war. On learning that the Federal garrison was going to be surrendered to the Confederate command under Brig. Gen. Robert F. Hoke, Johnson

Pulled off my uniform and found a suit of citizen’s clothes, which I put on, and when captured I was supposed and believed by the rebels to be a citizen. After being captured I was kept at Plymouth for some two weeks and was employed in endeavoring to raise the sunken vessels of the Union fleet.

   From Plymouth I was taken to Weldon and from thence to Raleigh, N.C., where I was detained for about a month, and was forwarded to Richmond, where I remained until about the time of the battles near Richmond, when I went with Lieutenant Johnson, of the Sixth North Carolina, as his servant, to Hanover Junction. I did not remain there over four or five days before I made my escape into the lines of the Union army and was sent to Washington, D.C., and then duly forwarded to my regiment in front of Petersburg.

   Upon the capture of Plymouth by the rebel forces all the negroes found in blue unforms, or with any outward marks of a Union soldier upon him, was killed. I saw some taken to the woods and hung. Others I saw stripped of all their clothing and then stood upon the banks of the river with their faces riverward and there they were shot. Still others were killed by having their brains beaten out by the butt end of muskets in the hands of the rebels. All were not killed the day of the capture. Those that were not were placed in a room with their officers, they (the officers) having previously been dragged through town with ropes around their necks, where they were kept confined until the following morning, when the remainder of the black soldiers were killed.

   The regiments most conspicuous in these murderous transactions were the Eighth North Carolina and, I think, the Sixth North Carolina.[1]

   Johnson’s account is often used as an example of the brutality of Confederate soldiers toward Black Federal soldiers captured during the war. Yet, Johnson’s account has numerous problems. First and foremost, there is no Orderly (or First) Sergeant Samuel Johnson in the 2^nd USCC.[2] Maybe the regiment was wrong. There was a Samuel Johnson in the 3^rd USCC. He did not enlist until July 11, 1864, in Vicksburg, Mississippi. Another Samuel Johnson enlisted in the 4^th USCC in New Orleans on March 1, 1864. Yet another Samuel E. Johnson enlisted in Columbus, Ohio, on December 20, 1864, in the 5^th USCC. This soldier was appointed sergeant on February 1, 1865.[3] Maybe the provost marshal in his deposition got the first name wrong. There was a corporal Berry Johnson, but he was in Company G; Corp. Henry Johnson served in Company B; Sgt. Joseph Johnson served in Company L, but did not actually enlist until March 9, 1865; Pvt. Kuggs Johnson is the only Johnson in Company D, but he did not enlist until March 14, 1865; Richard Johnson enlisted on December 24, 1864 in Prince Anne County, Virginia. He was also a private, and his compiled service record states he was in various engagements like Petersburg, Virginia, on May 9, 1864; Richard R. Johnson was a sergeant in Company C but is reported present from March to June 1864. Maybe his service record was lost. But why not a pension record?[4]

   If Johnson’s service cannot be substantiated in the Company D, 2^nd United States Colored Cavalry, then that should end the conversation right there. Digging a little further, there is a record for a George N. French somehow connected to the 2^nd USCC. He does not seem to have been officially mustered into the regiment until March 18, 1866, at the rank of second lieutenant. In July (25^th or July 2, ‘65?) a B.H. French writes to the government asking about a son who was a lieutenant in the 2^nd USCC, stating he had been captured at Plymouth. B.H. French was living in Chicago at the time she wrote. There appears to be no prison record, no parole record, and no pension. What became of French?

   Johnson stated that after two weeks in Plymouth and a month in Raleigh, he was sent to Richmond, remaining an undisclosed time, when he was sent to be the servant of a “Lieutenant Johnson, of the Sixth North Carolina.” There is no Lieutenant Johnson/Johnston in the 6^th North Carolina. By the time that Samuel Johnson arrived with the 6^th North Carolina, that regiment had been ordered to the Shenandoah Valley.  From the vicinity of Hanover Junction, Johnson stated he escaped into Federal lines.

   What of the murder of Black Union soldiers so graphically described in Johnson’s affidavit?  One challenge is this: there were no Black regiments stationed in Plymouth during the battle. There were some recruiters and Black recruits for Black regiments. And it is possible that some were killed. However, one Richmond newspaper reported on April 27, 1864, that “two negroes in Yankee uniforms,” arrived with General Wessells (the Federal commander) and the other federal officers in Richmond.[5] Obviously, not all Black men found in uniform were executed in Plymouth.

   Black men, women, and children were held for some time in Plymouth. One newspaper reported that citizens from the surrounding area were “hastening” to Plymouth to “to reclaim the property stolen from them by the Yankees. Besides a large number of negroes, horses and other articles identified by their owners.”[6] On April 23, Gen. P.G.T. Beauregard telegraphed Gov. Zebulon B. Vance, instructing him to send “the slaves captured” at Plymouth “to Wilmington,” to work on the fortifications.[7]

   It is interesting that Samuel Johnson never mentions James Dearing. Dearing’s ad hoc cavalry command plays a role in hunting down both Blacks and local unionists in many other accounts (many post-war, or contemporary to our time) of the battle. Many had escaped to the swamps where Dearing was sent to hunt them down. One report stated that 300 to 400 actually gave themselves up, and Lt. Charles French, with the U.S.S. Miami, picked up “many escaped soldiers . . . who had taken to the swamps.”[8] Yet Johnson never brings those in the swamps up in his affidavit.

   After the war was over, the members of the 101^st and 103^rd Pennsylvania Infantry, who fought at Plymouth and were captured, considered the matter at one of their reunions. They came to the conclusion that men like Samuel Johnson, and the veterans who wrote about the “massacre” after the war, were “mistaken.” They believed that “many negroes and native North Carolina Union soldiers were killed, and perhaps an occasional one brutally murdered, by individual soldiers, but the victims, apprehending cruel treatment, were attempting to make their escape, when by the laws of war, the victors are justified in shooting even an unarmed man.” They believed that Union soldiers, placed in the same situation, might enjoy the “same kind of sport.” They believed that Wessells, who was still in Plymouth when this supposedly took place, “would have instantly taken issue with the Confederates, had he any suspicion of such atrocities.” Considering that the 101^st and 103^rd finished the war in Andersonville Prison and had every right to be embittered against their foe, they declined to endorse the idea of a large-scale massacre of Black soldiers following the battle.[9]

   It is interesting to note that Samuel Johnson claimed to belong to the 2^nd USCC. Just a few weeks prior, the 2^nd USCC ambushed portions of Ransom’s brigade near Suffolk, Virginia, killing and wounding several. When Confederates discovered the house the sharpshooters were using, they set fire to it, with the Black soldiers inside, later declaring that “Ransom’s brigade never takes any negro prisoners…”[10] On passing along Johnson’s affidavit, Butler told Grant that “something should be done in retaliation for this outrage.” He had several prisoners from the 8^th North Carolina and, if in independent command, “I should take this matter into my own hands.” Grant ignored him and the testimony of Samuel Johnson.[11]

   It is entirely possible that Confederate soldiers, in the heat of the moment, killed fellow combatants after they had surrendered. It happens in all wars and not just with Confederate soldiers. Federal officers lost control of their soldiers at the battle of Fort Gregg in April 1865 (read more here). But the idea that Wayne Durrill advanced that “roughly six hundred U.S. soldiers, most of them black, whom the Confederates failed to take prisoner,” were killed, along with the testimony of Samuel Johnson, should be seen as unsubstantiated myth.[12]  

 

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[1] OR, Ser. 2, 7:459-460.

[2] Both compiled service records on Fold3 and Ancestry were checked, along with pension records. I also had someone else double check this.

[3] Various compiled service records.

[4] CMSR, Roll 0024, M1817, RG94.

[5] Richmond Whig, April 27, 1864.

[6] Richmond Examiner, quoted in the Memphis Daily Appeal, May 9, 1864.

[7] Papers of Vance, 3:185.

[8] The Daily Confederate, Apr. 30, 1864; ORN 8, 641.

[9] Dickey, History of the 103d Pennsylvania, 269-70.

[10] Charlotte Daily Bulletin, March 18, 1864.

[11] OR, Ser. 2, 7:459-460.

[12] Durrill, War of Another Kind, 206-8.

Tuscaloosa’s Prisoner of War Camp

Henry Wirz, second commander of the
Tuscaloosa Prison Camp. 

   Early during the war, one local Alabama historian wrote, Tuscaloosa became a camp for Federal prisoners. Federal soldiers captured at the battle of First Manassas were sent to Tuscaloosa. The thinking is that Tuscaloosa was so far south, no prisoners would try to escape. At first, warehouses and hotels near the river were used to house the prisoners. Later, a larger camp was constructed elsewhere.[1] Maybe there is some truth in this assessment.

   On October 25, 1861, Secretary of War Judah P. Benjamin wrote to Alabama governor A.B. Moore about a facility to house prisoners: “I am told,” Benjamin wrote, “you have at Tuscaloosa not only legislative buildings, but an insane asylum and a military institute, all unoccupied. We are greatly embarrassed by our prisoners as all our accommodations here are required for our sick and wounded. It would be a great public service if you can find a place for some, if not all, of our prisoners. We have over 2,000 here.”[2] Added to this, in November 1861, a group of Union operatives destroyed several bridges through East Tennessee. Those who were caught and “identified as having been engaged in bridge-burning” were tried by a “drum-head court-martial” and, if found guilty, were “executed on the spot by hanging.” Those without proof of involvement but suspected, were arrested and sent to Tuscaloosa, imprisoned “at the depot selected by the Government for prisoners of war.”[3] By November 28, some twenty-two prisoners from Carter County had been arrested, sent to Nashville, and were expected to be sent to Tuscaloosa (it is not clear if all twenty-two were to be sent, or just “5 or 6 known to have been in arms.”)[4]

      An abandoned paper mill that was totally unsuited for the job as a prison was selected. When the prisoners began to arrive, some locals were used as guards.[5] Prisoners, at least those captured in the east, were transported via rail from Petersburg, Wilmington, and Montgomery, then steamboat via the Alabama, Tombigbee, and Black Warrior rivers.[6]

   Were all 2,000 prisoners that Benjamin referenced, plus an untold number from the bridge burners, sent to Tuscaloosa? Probably not, but just how many were sent is unclear. There were enough for new Alabama governor John G. Shorter to write to Benjamin on December 19 that he had “Better send no more prisoners to Tuscaloosa . . . Accommodations exhausted.” Also, the state asylum was not available to be used as a prison.[7]

   In December 1861, Capt. E. A. Powell organized a company of prison guards. Powell stepped aside and the company became known after their new captain, C.D. Freeman (Freeman’s Company of the Alabama Prison Guards. They served at the prison in Tuscaloosa until the fall of 1862 when they were transferred to the prison in Salisbury.[8]

   On March 5, 1862, Braxton Bragg ordered that the Federal prisoners in Memphis were to be forwarded to Tuscaloosa.[9] After the skirmish on the Elk River near Bethel, Tennessee, on May 9, 1862, the prisoners were sent “over the mountain by the turnpike road to Tuscaloosa”[10] As early as December 1861, Capt. Elias Griswold was reported as in command of the prison at Tuscaloosa. Griswold apparently held this command through April 11, 1862, when he was promoted to major and ordered to Richmond, Virginia, to be provost marshal.[11] On learning that Griswold was heading to Richmond, local citizens asked that his assistant, Henry Wirz, be placed in command.[12]

   Some of the Federal prisoners from the battle of Shiloh in April 1862 were sent to the prison at Tuscaloosa.    

The Confederate prison in Tuscaloosa was closed by the fall of 1862 and the prisoners were paroled or sent elsewhere.[13] Tuscaloosa was later reopened in the spring of 1864, housing Federal soldiers captured during the Overland Campaign and Brice’s Cross Roads.[14] Just when the prison finally closed and if it was still using the old paper mill is unclear.

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[1] Hubbs, Tuscaloosa, 40.

[2] Sanders, While in the Hands of the Enemy, 49.

[3] Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 7, 701.

[4] Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 7, 701.

[5] Hesseltine, Civil War Prisons, 64.

[6] Colton, Travels in the Confederate States, 60.

[7] Sanders, While in the Hands of the Enemy, 49.

[8] CSR, Roll 0502, M331, RG109.

[9] Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 10, part 2, 298.

[10] Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 10, part 1, 887.

[11] CSR, M331, RG109.

[12] CSR, M331, RG109.

[13] Sanders, While in the Hands of the Enemy, 122.

[14] Sanders, While in the Hands of the Enemy, 219; Radley, Rebel Watch Dog, 170,