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.

Camp Holmes

   There was more than one Camp Holmes during the war. In September 1861, there was Camp Holmes  in the Fredericksburg area.[1] Another was located near the mouth of the Little River in Indian Territory.[2] And there was also a Camp Holmes in Raleigh, North Carolina. It is unclear just who was the source of the name for the one in the Indian Territory. The ones near Fredericksburg and in Raleigh were both named for Confederate Lieutenant General Theophilus H. Holmes (1804-1880).

   A North Carolina native and son of former North Carolina governor Gabriel Holmes, T.H. Holmes was a graduate of West Point and a career army officer prior to the war. Holmes bounced around in different commands, including eastern North Carolina. After a lack-luster showing during the Seven Days campaign, Holmes was shuffled off to the Trans-Mississippi theater, commanding the district from October 1862 to March 1863. The new commander, E. Kirby Smith, appointed Holmes to command the Department of Arkansas. Holmes resigned that appointment and was appointed commander of the reserve forces in North Carolina.

   At the start of the war, there were many different camps of instruction in the greater Raleigh area : Camps Badger, Boylan, Vance, Winslow, Wyatt, Ellis, Mangum and Crabtree. Many of the camps were short lived, opened to handle the influx of new volunteers as the state began recruitment efforts in 1861. The Conscription Law mandated that most of these camps be closed. Camp Holmes, opened in 1862, became the primary camp of instruction not only for the Raleigh area, but for the state.[3]

Camp Holmes (National Archives)

  Camp Holmes contained barracks for soldiers, but also a hospital, quartermaster and ordnance depots, offices, and a guardhouse. In charge was Major (later colonel) Peter Mallett. Mallett was able to report by June 10 that he had selected a location to the north of Raleigh for the camp.[4] The camp was opened by July 15, 1862.[5] The primary function of Camp Holmes was to process new soldiers coming in due to the Conscription Law. It was also a place to hold those new recruits and to hold deserters who had been captured, until they could be forwarded to regiments in the field.

   Camp Holmes would assume a new responsibility in March 1863. The previous October, the Confederate Congress had passed regulations stipulating what was to become of recaptured slaves. Section 2 stipulated that the depots for recaptured slaves were to be established by the Secretary of War  “at convenient places, not more than five in number, in each State, and all slaves captured in such State shall be kept in such depots.” According to section 3, physical descriptions of each slave, where they were arrested, and the name of their owners were to be recorded and published in one or more newspapers. Section 4 stated that “While such slaves are in the depot they may be employed under proper guard on public works…”[6] While other states had more than one camp (Virginia had three) North Carolina had only one – the Camp of Instruction in Raleigh.

   The late Walter C. Hilderman III wrote a good book on Confederate Conscription in North Carolina – They Went into the Fight Cheering (2005) that makes frequent mention of Camp Holmes, Colonel Mallett, and the role of Mallott’s Battalion in the enforcement of the Conscription Act. There is not, however, anything on just Camp Holmes or the role of the camp as a depot for recaptured slaves.

The other Camps of Instruction that Cooper designated were  Alabama – Notasulga (Camp Watts) and Talladega (Camp Buckner); Arkansas – Little Rock; Florida – Tallahassee; Georgia – Macon and Decatur; Louisiana – Monroe, Camp Moore, and New Iberia; North Carolina – Raleigh (Camp Holmes); Mississippi – Brookhaven and Enterprise; South Carolina – Columbia (Camp Johnson); Tennessee – Knoxville and McMinn; Texas – Houston; Virginia – Richmond (Camp Lee), Petersburg, and Dublin.[7]

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[1] OR Ser. 1, Vol. 5, 884.

[2] OR Ser. 1, Vol. 13, 892, 893.

[3] Hilderman, They Went into the Fight Cheering, 25.

[4] OR, Ser. 4, Vol. 1, 1148.

[5] Camp Holes Letterbook, Vol. 6, Peter Mallett Papers, SHC.

[6] OR, Ser, 2, vol. 5, 844.

[7] OR, Ser, 2, vol. 5, 844.

The Slave on the Ten Dollar Note

   We have talked about Confederate currency once before – Lucy Pickens, the first woman on American paper money. You can check out that post here. Another interesting story is found on a Confederate ten dollar note – that of Oscar Marion, the slave of Francis Marion. Francis Marion, of course, was known as the Swamp Fox. Starting in 1780, he often led small bands of men against British supply lines and gathered intelligence for Gen. Nathaniel Greene. Marion’s men would often hide out in the swamps of South Carolina after conducting their raids. In one episode, an officer, wishing to discuss a prisoner of war exchange, was blindfolded and led to Marion’s headquarters in the swamp on Snow Island. As the meeting began, the blindfold was removed, and Marion offered the officer a seat on a log. After the meeting, Marion asked the officer to remain for dinner, which was a sweet potato, roasted on the fire, and served on a piece of bark. The British office then learned that Marion and his men served without pay. According to one Marion biographer, the British “officer was so much impressed with what he had heard and seen, and so convinced of the impossibility of overcoming soldiers who fought thus upon principle, and for the pure love of liberty, that he decided to” resign his commission.[1]

   In 1840, South Carolina artist John Blake White painted this very scene. There is Francis Marion, the British officer, and Oscar, Marion’s slave, cooking the sweet potatoes on the fire. This image was later cut into a plate and appeared in the center on the 1861 Confederate ten dollar note. To the image’s left is Robert M. T. Hunter, Confederate Secretary of State and later Confederate senator and to the right is a statue of Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom, justice, law, and victory.[2]

General Francis Marion Inviting A British Officer to Share His Meal or The Swamp Fox

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[1] Marion, The Swamp Fox, 149-50.

[2] https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/GPO-CDOC-107sdoc11/pdf/GPO-CDOC-107sdoc11-2-83.pdf

Site Visit Saturday: Battery Buchanan

 

  Fortifications below Wilmington, and along the Cape Fear River in North Carolina, began not long after North Carolina left the Union. These fortifications would eventually grow into places well known to us today, places like Fort Fisher on the east bank of the river, and Fort Anderson on the west bank.

   In 1864, another fortification was constructed on the furthest tip of the peninsula, now known as Federal Point, but called Confederate Point during the war. The new fortification was called Battery Buchanan, named for Admiral Franklin Buchanan of the Confederate Navy. It was a two-tiered, oval-shaped earthwork one mile south of Fort Fisher. Within this sand battery were four cannons – two 10” Columbiads and two 10” Brooke Smoothbores. They were under the command of Captain Robert Chapman and manned by Confederate sailors, and then later Confederate States Marines.

   Even after the capture of Fort Fisher by Federal forces in January 1865, Battery Buchanan held, kind of. Some of the Confederate defenders of Fort Fisher fell back to this position, including the wounded Major General WHC Whiting, and Fort Fisher’s commanding officer, Colonel William Lamb. Yet these new soldiers found that the Battery’s defenders had spiked their guns and withdrawn across the Cape Fear River. With the threat of being overrun by the 27^th USCT, those inside the abandoned Battery surrendered.

   The remnants of Battery Buchanan were declared a National Historic Landmark in 1961, and the site is open for visits. More information can be found at the Fort Fisher visitor center.

   I have visited this site numerous times over the past twenty-five years. This image was taken in June 2012.  

Site Visit Saturday: Darien, Georgia

 

   It is easy to miss the exit for Darien, Georgia, while zipping along I-95. Yet while the Federals did not have Eisenhower’s interstate system to work with, they did not miss Darien in 1863.

   Settled in 1736 by Scottish Highlanders, the community was originally known as New Inverness. The name was changed to Darien in honor of Darien Scheme, another Scottish colony in Panama. The new colony was seen as being on the edge of the frontier between the Spanish and the English, and hence there were two forts built at different times to protect the frontier: Fort St. Georgia, followed by Fort Frederica. In 1739, the colonists in Darien signed the first petition in Georgia against the introduction of slavery into the colony.  During the American Revolution, Darien became an important port town. Rice and cotton were rafted down the Altamaha River for export. The port town continued to grow following independence, and the county seat was moved to Darien, which was incorporated in 1816. Later, yellow pine was rafted down the river and shipped North to meet a growing demand for building materials.

   In June 1863, Darien was raided by two African-American regiments stationed at nearby St. Simons Island. Those two regiments were the 2^nd South Carolina Infantry (US), commanded by Col. James Montgomery, and the 54^th Massachusetts Infantry, commanded by Col. Robert G. Shaw. Most of the town was looted and destroyed, including the homes of black residents and slaves and the First African Baptist Church, reported to be the oldest African-American church in the country. Colonel Shaw would later call the raid on an undefended site of little strategic importance, a “Satanic Action.” Local citizens fled to the nearby community of Jonesboro as refugees. The burning of Darien was featured in the movie Glory (1989).

   Some parts of the town were later rebuilt, but there are still ruins visible, ever after 160 years.

   As an aside, John McIntosh Kell (1823-1900), a Confederate naval officer on both the Sumter and the Alabama, was born nearby at Laurel Grove Plantation.

   I last visited Darien in December 2013.

Confederate Wagon Trains, Teamsters, and Wagoneers

   Over the years, I have collected quite a few volumes on the War. They include general reference works, biographies of military and political figures, books on places, and on battles. In only one of these multitude of volumes can I find one chapter on the subject of wagon trains. That would be found in Earl Hess’s Civil War Logistics, and this chapter looks at the role of wagon trains mostly on the Federal side.

  When most people think about Confederate wagon trains, the retreat of Confederate forces from the battle of Gettysburg is the primary event that pops into mind. Under the command of Brig. Gen. John D. Imboden, that wagon train of supplies and wounded stretched 15 to 20 miles (probably more) and was attacked several times by Federal cavalry. While these transportation systems are now an important piece of history, seeing a wagon or a train of wagons was a common occurrence in the 1860s.

   Turning first to Army Regulations (1863, Confederate. The Federal 1861 regulations are almost identical), we find that each infantry regiment is entitled to six wagons. A textbook regiment is 1,000 men, so overall, that is not a lot of room to haul food, mess equipment, and officer’s baggage on campaign. Of course, save for the opening days of a campaign, regiments were seldom at full strength. By mid-1863, at least in my experience, a regiment had 400-600 men. Plus, the medical department for each regiment “is allowed two four-wheeled, and the same number of two-wheeled ambulances; and one wagon for the transportation of hospital supplies.” Federal regulations actually specified the size of the wagon – 22x41x114 inches, inside measurement. It seems this was omitted from Confederate regulations. Of course, we know that wagons were always in short supply for the Confederacy. The wagon train for a regiment was under the command of the colonel of that regiment. The actual commander of the wagon train was the wagon-master, who, according to regulations was under the command of the quartermaster’s Department. The wagon-master had command over the teamsters or wagoneers. Strangely enough, a “wagon-master” is not a rank that I have encountered on the Confederate side.

   Digging a little deeper, Scott’s Military Dictionary (1861) tells us that for “each regiment of dragoons, artillery, and mounted riflemen in the regular army there shall be added one principle teamster with the rank and compensation of quartermaster-sergeant and to each company of the same two teamsters, with the compensation of artificers.”  (610) It is interesting that there is no mention of the Infantry.

Edwin Forbes, "The Supply Train" 1876.

   So how well do these numbers stand up to what actually happened? That, my friends, is a hard conclusion to reach. Just how many wagons were with each regiment? Five to six seems to be the rule. In August 1862, when Col. John B. Palmer was ordered to move his regiment, the 58^th North Carolina Troops, from the present-day Johnson City area to Cumberland Gap, he was instructed to take just five wagons (Hardy, The Fifty-Eighth North Carolina Troops, 39). A field officer in Colquitt’s brigade (ANV), writing in December 1862, complained that his brigade (five) regiments only had thirty-seven wagons, six of which were worn out. He needed six foraging wagons, but only had one.” (Glatthaar, General Lee’s Army, 212) What I do now know is this: does the number of wagons, both for Palmer and Colquitt’s brigade, include the ambulances and wagon for transporting medical supplies? Or, were those two always separate?

  Peter Wellington Alexander, a correspondent for several war-time Southern newspapers, fills us in with several important observations early in the war. Writing in December 1861, he has this to say about the Quartermaster’s Department: “It is the duty of this department to provide transportation, fuel and quarters for the men, and forage for the teams and staff and cavalry horses. The rules adopted in the Army of the Potomac [later Army of Northern Virginia]—and the same is true, I presume, elsewhere—had been to impress all the transportation and forage in the counties adjacent to Manassas. Where the owners were willing to part with their teams or provender, they received pay for them; otherwise, they were seized and the owners turned over to the government for remuneration. There cannot be fewer than 1,500 to 2,000 wagons, and six to 8,000 horses, in the service of the Quarter-Master’s department for that division of the army… At first drivers were impressed with the wagons. Now, they are detailed from the ranks, of the army—young men who have no experience in driving and who complained that they did not enlist to drive wagons. They were required to alternate, and thus every day or two there was a new driver, who was ignorant both of the ability and disposition of the horses, and who soon teaches them bad habits.” (Styple, Writing and Fighting the Confederate War, 59)

  There is a lot to unpack, at least for early war, in that statement. The Confederate army would have had next to no wagons at the start of the conflict. Maybe a handful found at various captured military post throughout the South, but really not enough to provision and equip the army. So, military officials bought or impressed both wagons and teams. I’m sure this is not only true for Confederate forces in Virginia, but Tennessee, Alabama, and South Carolina as well.

   Second, the drivers of these wagons came from the ranks. For many who write about the war, we often see long wagon trains driven solely by impressed or hired slaves/free people of color. That might be true, especially after mid-1864, but not entirely. I’ve noticed over the years quite a few men detailed from the ranks to drive wagons. In the 39^th Battalion Virginia Cavalry, I documented fourteen men who served as teamsters. The average age was 36. (The youngest, fourteen, the oldest forty.) The records are really spotty, as with most Confederate regiments. All of these men save two were listed as teamsters when the compiled service records of 39^th Batt. VA Cav. end in December 1864. Only one of those men, Pvt. Alexander J. Ramsey, was listed as being sick and wounded prior to being assigned as a teamster. I can’t really say that those who were disabled or unfit to march with the infantry were assigned to this duty. Another interesting example from the 39^th Battalion is Pvt. Anthony S. Butts. Private Butts was conscripted into the Confederate army in 1863, and was assigned to ANV headquarters staff. For the rest of war, right up until Robert E. Lee arrived in Richmond on April 15, 1865, Butts was driving Lee’s personal ambulance. Of course, the 39^th Battalion Virginia Cavalry did not function as a traditional cavalry command. Many of these men detailed as teamsters, like Butts, were serving in other commands.

   Did Black men serve as teamsters? Yes. Where they prominent in that role? I really can’t say. There were a couple of attempts in 1864 to get detailed men back in the ranks. Marion Hill Fitzpatrick wrote in November 1864 that “Jeff Davis recommends the calling out of Forty Thousand able bodied negroes [for teamsters].” (McCrea, Red Dirt and Isinglass, 528) Obviously, some of them could have been used to replace white men detailed as teamsters.  Some regiments did have Black teamsters. The 30^th Virginia Infantry had six. (Pamplin Historical Park) Tim Talbot has an account on his blog of a member of the 1^st Maine Cavalry capturing (in late 1864) ten Confederate wagons loaded with provisions, along with their “drivers (all colored men).”

   How did the men in the ranks feel about the men detailed as teamsters? Another good question. Joshua Lupton, 39^th Battalion Virginia Cavalry, was detailed to serve as the wagon master for ANV Headquarters staff. His brother John thought Joshua’s assignment was an easy one. All he had to do was “issue forage to General Lee's horses twice a day.” (Hardy, Lee’s Body Guard, 25) Undoubtedly, there was some resentment over this “easy assignment." At Appomattox, when the time came to surrender, those men who had been detailed as teamsters were sent back to their regiments to march in the proceedings. Brigadier General James H. Lane felt that these men should all be placed in a group together. "I did not wish to surrender any but those brave fellows who had followed us under arms,” he wrote after the war. (Fayetteville Observer, June 8, 1897.)

   I think this subject needs a lot more research, so, more to come.

The Fate of Black Confederate Prisoners of War.

      Lt. Col. William S. Pierson Hoffman’s Battalion was in a pickle. A group of new prisoners recently captured at the fall of Port Hudson had arrived at the prisoner-of-war processing center in New Sandusky, Ohio. The four officers, Col. I.G.W. Steedman (1^st Alabama), Capt. R.M. Hewitt (Miles Legion), Capt. O.P. Amacker (9^th Louisiana Batt. Cav.), and Lt. J.B. Wilson, (39^th Mississippi), had brought along six servants, “four colored and two white, the latter small boys.” When the officers had surrendered, the six servants were permitted to accompany them. “Their journey had taken them from Port Hudson, to Governor’s Island in New York, and finally to the outskirts of Johnson’s Island. “Please give me such directions as you think proper,” Pierson asked Col. William Hoffman, Commissary General of Prisoners in Washington, D.C., regarding the matter.[1]

   The question that Pierson posed to his superior is an interesting one: just what was the policy of the Federal government regarding captured Confederate camp servants (both enslaved and free)? It is possible that the Federal government did not have a policy, as the question appeared several times. Louisville, Kentucky’s provost-marshal, Col. Henry Dent, asked the same question in December 1862: “Several slaves have been brought to the prison with their masters who were captured, said slaves having acted as cooks &c. I should like to know what shall be done with.” Dent realized he could not turn them loose. They would be arrested, jailed, and then sold for jail fees. Neither could he send them North, where “they are liable for their value by civil proceedings. Our people protest against their being let loose in our midst.”[2]

   An interesting clue is found in a letter from Col. Peter Porter, 8^th New York Volunteer Artillery, stationed at Fort McHenry, written to Colonel Hoffman on October 6, 1863. Hoffman had obviously written to Porter on the matter, for Porter quotes Hoffman: “You state that Captured negroes are ranked as Camp followers, and therefore [are] Prisoners of War.” William Duane’s A Military Dictionary (1810) defines camp followers as “Officers servants, sutlers, &c. All followers of a camp are subject to the articles of war equally with the soldiery.” (164) All of the servants of officers, captured by the Federals, were considered prisoners of war. But what to do with them? Colonel Porter continues: “It is respectfully suggested that they be employed in the services of the Government as paid laborers and teamsters—thus rendering service to the Government, and avoiding the return of such as were slaves. It is further suggested that those among them who are freed men with families and desire to go should be sent south with the first installment of prisoners going thither—as exchanged prisoners or not as the Government thinks best.”[3]

   To some degree, that appears to be what happened. Bvt, Brig. Gen. W.W. Morris, commanding Fort McHenry, wrote to Lt. Col. Wm H. Cheeseborough about the disposition of black prisoners. He had 64 “Negroes, Servants of Officers in the Rebel Armies” who had arrived at the fort since the battle of Gettysburg. According to Morris, 16 “had enlisted in the Negro Regt now in process of Organization in Balt[imore]—four… have been enlisted as Assist Cook in Co D 5^th N.Y. Artillery, now at this post—four… left clandestinely with the 21^st Reg-N.Y. I[nfantry]. National Guard, on its return to New York-, the balance, forty, are still here and chiefly employed in police duty.” So it would seem that soon after these black Confederate prisoners arrived in a prison camp, they took the Oath of Allegiance and were released.[4]

      However, there is some evidence that not all of these black Confederate prisoners were enthusiastic about taking the Oath of Allegiance. The Staunton Express, reprinting a piece published on October 13, 1863, told its readers that “The Petersburg Express is informed by Lieut. Daniels, who has just arrived at Petersburg from Fort Norfolk, that some 35 or 40 Southern negroes, captured at Gettysburg, are confined at Fort McHenry. He says that they profess an undying attachment to the South. Several times Gen. Schneck had offered to release them from the Fort, it they would take the oath of allegiance to the Federal Government and join the Lincoln army. They had peremptorily refused in every instance, and claim that they should be restored to their masters and homes in the South. They say they would prefer death to liberty on the terms proposed by Schneck.”

   On the surface, it would be easy to dismiss the Staunton Express article as hyperbole. Yet there are accounts that support the idea of black Confederate prisoners refusing to take the Oath and gain their freedom.  Lieutenant Robert Park, 12th Alabama Infantry, wrote in July 1864, while near Washington, D.C., that his “negro cook” Charlie was missing. Park believed he had been enticed to leave or “forcibly detained by some negro worshipper.” Yet Park discovered in December that Charlie was being held as a prisoner of war at Fort McHenry, refusing to take the oath.[5]

   There are undoubtedly more black Confederate prisoners of war who refused to take the Oath and remained prisoners of war until the very end. Historians are largely silent on the issue. Since many of the prisoner of war register books have been digitized and are now online (through familysearch), we can uncover more of these stories.

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[1] Official Records, Series 2, vol. 6, 397-398.

[2] Official Records, Series 2, vol. 5, 36.

[3] Peter A. Porter to William Hoffman, October 6, 1863, Letters Received from the Commissary General of Prisoners, Record Group 107, National Archives, quoted in James M. Paradis, African Americans and the Gettysburg Campaign, 60.

[4] W.W. Morris to Wm H. Cheeseborough, July 30, 1863, Letters Received from the Commissary General of Prisoners, Record Group 107, National Archives, quoted in James M. Paradis, African Americans and the Gettysburg Campaign, 59-60.

[5] Southern Historical Society Papers, vol. 1, No. 5, 179, 379.

Searching for the Hospital Support Staff

   On a few occasions, I’ve blogged about African-Americans in the Confederate army. It is a subject that needs much more objective exploration. My current book project, “Feeding the Army of Northern Virginia,” will contribute some to that discussion, exploring the roles of both the enslaved and the free people of color who worked for the Confederate army. Lately, I’ve been researching and writing about the rolls of African-Americans in the Confederate hospital system in Virginia. I’m not really aware of anyone who has looked at just how many were employed by the hospital system overall, but it must have been in the thousands. Men, mostly, served as nurses, cooks, kitchen assistants, helpers for the baker, boatmen, carpenters, hospital farmers, laundry workers, and staff for the icehouses. 

   Thanks to an excellent book by Carol C. Green, we have some good material on the African-Americans who worked at Chimborazo hospital in Richmond. As was customary in the South, every January, the enslaved were hired out to various employers. The hospital system hired quite a few. The average pay in 1863 was $240 year. This was increased to $300 a year in 1864 (plus rations and in some cases, clothing). A few even earned $400 a year. The majority were employed as nurses, with cooks coming in as the second leading occupation. In 1863, slave owners were paid $60,000 for the services of their chattel. Slaves who worked through the Christmas season received extra pay.

   Hospital administrator James B. McCaw ran into some difficulty with the owners of the slaves laboring at Chimborazo in May 1862. McClellan’s Army of the Potomac was within sight of the Confederate capital. McCaw wrote to Surgeon General Samuel Moore: “I have at this time only two hundred & fifty-six cooks & nurses in my Hospital, to take care of nearly four thousand sick soldiers and the owners of these slaves are threatening to remove them to the interior of the country to avoid losing them. I am confident a large number will be moved in a few days unless measures are taken to prevent it.”

   Moore responded, telling McCaw “If these negroes are permitted to leave, the hospitals will be abandoned & the sick left destitute.” (47)

   James Brewer, in his book, The Confederate Negro: Virginia’s Craftsmen and Military Laborers, 1861-1865, writes that the members of the Confederate Medical Corps readily trained both enslaved and free people of color to be nurses. (95) Besides duties in the farms, fields, and boats, the nurses were responsible for bathing all patients as they arrived, daily “sponge baths,” distribution of rations in the wards, changing the straw in the bed sacks monthly, scouring the wards, and the movement of patients who were not ambulatory.

   As already mentioned, a small number were free people of color. Most of them, like their enslaved counterparts, are now just names. “Candis” was hired in 1862 to work as a cook in Division #2, Chimborazo Hospitals. She was paid $240 for the year, the same pay as the male cooks. Later, she became a nurse, and in 1864, her pay was raised to $300 a year. For her services, she was paid more than twice what the Confederate soldier in the ranks received.   

  There is a “paucity of facts [that] hampers the study” of African-Americans in the Confederate army, to paraphrase Brewer (103). Many of the Confederate medical records were destroyed on the night that Richmond burned. I, for one, would love to know more about the life of Candis. How old was she? Did she have a family? What did she do before or after the war? Wouldn’t it be awesome to have her story…

Black, but not Black enough?

   It seems that any time that documentation is presented regarding Free People of Color volunteering and fighting as Confederate soldiers, there are cries of "they must have been lighted skinned."   To me, it seems like when they are presented with facts, some folks want to change the playing field, to redefine what being black or a "free person of color" was for 19th century men and women.

   What was the definition of a free person of color? According to the 1855 North Carolina Revised Code, a free person of color is a "free negro, free mulatto, or free person of mixed blood, descended from negro ancestors to the fourth generation inclusive, (though one ancestor of each generation may have been a white person)..." (State Constitution, Section IV Cl. 3 (page 23)) Notice how the law did not describe the way a person looked. That was immaterial. It was based upon his ancestors, who his parents and grandparents, etc. were.

   My first encounter with free men of color enlisting, and serving, in the Confederate army, came more than twenty-five years ago. I was researching for my book on the 37th North Carolina Troops and stumbled upon the case of Franklin and William Cousins/Cozzens. Franklin was born ca.1832. William Henry was born ca. 1841. The latter is in both the 1850 and 1860 Watauga County, North Carolina, Federal Census. Franklin only appears in the 1860 census, with his wife and a young daughter. Both are listed as being mulatto. John Preston Arthur, in his A History of Watauga County (1915), tells us that the father of William and Franklin, along with their uncle, "came from near East Bend, Forsythe County, soon after Boone was formed, bringing white women with them. (149) William Lewis Bryan, later the first mayor of Boone, moved to town in 1857, and left a description of his new community. Among those living in Boone were "Ellington Cousins, colored." (Watauga Democrat June 23, 1949)

   I've told the story before, but here are the high points: in the early days of North Carolina's involvement of the war, Capt. George W. Folk, former representative in the General Assembly, was in town raising a company. When the company moved to Asheville, Folk kidnapped Franklin and William Henry, forcing them to serve as camp servants. Another former local representative, Mark Holesclaw, got involved, writing Gov. John W. Ellis, asking for the release of the two. Folk already had "ten or fifteen free negros to tend on them..." The two Cousins brothers were both of "good Caracter" and would pass for "white men." (The Papers of John Willis Ellis, volume 2, 844-845) Apparently, the Cousinses were released. On September 14, 1861, they voluntarily joined the "Watauga Marksmen," later designated Company B, 37th North Carolina Troops. Franklin was killed fighting in the battle of Second Manassas on August 29, 1862. William served as a wagon master part of the time. He was captured on April 2, 1865, confined at Point Lookout, and took the Oath on June 10, 1865.

   The next four Confederate soldiers we know less about. Probably related to Franklin and William Henry were Bloom and Lemuel Cuzzens. Bloom was born ca.1835 and is listed as a mulatto shoemaker in the 1860 Yancey County, North Carolina, census. Lemuel does not appear on the census, but I believe it was in one of the Yadkin County Heritage books that I read he and Bloom were brothers. Both Bloom and Lemuel enlisted in the Yadkin Boys in June 1861, which became Company F, 28th North Carolina Troops. Bloom deserted on or about June 30, 1862, and Lemuel died of typhoid fever in Richmond on July 18, 1862.

   William and "M.L." Townsend/Townsell, were also living in Watauga County in the 1860 census, although the area would be considered Avery County today. William was born ca.1840, and M. L. - Marion L., was born ca. 1841. Both are listed as mulatto on the census records. Both enlisted on July 15, 1861, in the "Hilbriten Guard,"  later Company F, 26th North Carolina Troops. Marion was killed on July 1, 1863, fighting at Gettysburg, while William was listed as a deserter on November 1, 1863.

   The final example is one I recently learned about: William T. Jones. From what limited information available, the six previous individuals were all born freemen. William T. Jones was born a slave and then, sometime prior to 1856, was freed. Jones is not listed as black or mulatto in the 1860 census, but he is listed as mulatto in the 1870 Moore County, North Carolina, census. Jones was a mechanic when he enlisted in the Moore County Scotch Rifleman in 1861. In fact, he was elected a 3rd lieutenant and rose through the ranks to become 1st lieutenant, prior to being captured near Petersburg on June 17, 1864. Jones was transferred from Fort Delaware, to Hilton head, to Fort Pulaski. Yes, he was a part of the Immortal 600. Jones survived the war and was paroled on June 16, 1865. Jones, in his Oath of Allegiance signed at Fort Delaware, is described as having a "Ruddy" complexion, with brown hair and hazel eyes. (You can read more of William T. Jones' story here.)

William T. Jones (findagrave)

   Many will say that since three of the seven cases presented here were cases of "light skinned" free men of color, they somehow slipped by the notice of Confederate authorities. But at the same time, the men in the ranks had no problem serving with, and in the case of Jones, under the authority of, these men. The census taker knew they were free men of color. Mark Holesclaw knew Franklin and William Henry Cousins were not white when he wrote Governor Ellis. Jonathan Horton, who became the first captain of Company B, 37th NC Troops, lived just a couple of doors down from Franklin Cousins. He knew they were not white.

   These seven are just a few of probably hundreds (I know of four others off hand, not mentioned here). The four I mentioned from Watauga County (there was a fifth free man of color that served in the 11th Battalion North Carolina Home Guard), all came from a free people of color population of just 32. How many more served from Moore County, with a free people of color population of 184? I think if more people were willing to dig deeply into the makeup of counties and regiments, then we could get a better understanding  of how racially integrated the Confederate army was. Instead, most of us take  one of  two easy routes at either end of the spectrum: there were 10,000s of black Confederate soldiers, or there were no black Confederate soldiers. I disagree with both extremes, as history, like people, is usually shaded with a variety of nuances.

Black Camp Servants as foragers in the Army of Northern Virginia

   That's a big-sounding title for a post on my long-running blog, don't you think? When I submitted my proposal to Savas Beatie for "Feeding the Army of Northern Virginia," I included an appendix on the role of African-Americans in camp. I'm still hopeful that I can gather enough material to turn this into a whole chapter.  Overall, the historiography seems to be slim on the subject (if I am missing something, please drop me a line and let me know).  Even Glatthar's General Lee's Army only hints at the role of camp servants in relationship to food, devoting a small chapter to "Blacks and the Army."

Camp Servant in Union Army. 

   An early-war portrait goes like this: every Confederate soldier who arrived in camp carried a shotgun, wielded a bowie knife, and had a manservant to facilitate his every need. That was, of course, far from the truth. The majority of Southerners did not own slaves, and an even fewer percentage of men who were serving in the army owned slaves. While the Confederate army apparently never kept a count of camp servants, there were probably thousands of them.

   Many, especially in the officer's corps, considered a camp servant as an essential element.  Being an officer taxed the limits of many men. They were taking care of the wants and needs of one hundred men, while also trying to learn their own positions. There was little time to attend to their own wants and needs. This was especially true when it came to food, and more than just food, the acquisition of foodstuffs. Captain Ujanirtus Allen (21st Georgia Infantry) wrote home in August 1862, "The fact is I have lived very hard for several months. If I had one [servant] he could get many things in the country." (1) Captain John M. Vermillion (48th Virginia Infantry) echoed Allen: "We need a great many things in camp we haven't got... I would like very much to have a servant to look up provisions and cook for me..."(2)

   Many of the servants did just that: they roamed the countryside looking for items to supplement the cook pot. At times they made it back home. Jed Hotchkiss, of Stonewall Jackson's staff, wrote in April 1863 that his servant William had just returned from home, bearing a box of provisions. (3) Robert E. Lee wrote in the latter half of the war of several times when his mess steward, Bryan, made trips from Richmond to Orange Court House or from Petersburg to Richmond. (4) William Dorsey Pender, then colonel of the 6th North Carolina State Troops, wrote to his family that when Harris came to the army, he wanted him to bring a box of sweet potatoes. (5) Camp servants, since they were not officially Confederate soldiers, could come and go. They had an enormous sense of mobility. Their masters, or employers, simply wrote them out a pass and sent them on their way. A soldier had to have a pass signed by numerous higher-ups. Only so many were granted at a time for the soldiers. Often, these camp servants were sent away with money to buy provisions. They held a certain level of trust for those who owned or employed them.

   Some men brought slaves from home to serve as cooks. Others hired slaves or free men of color and brought them from home, while a third group hired slaves or free men of color from the surrounding neighborhoods where they were stationed. Col. James K. Edmondson, 27th Virginia Infantry, wrote home in November 1861 of a servant he had hired: "I presume you did not know that I had gotten a servant. I sent a requisition to Lexington before I left Centreville for a free boy to cook for me..." (6)  

    Edmondson goes on to describe his living arrangements. While we might assume that the three or four camp servants might room and board together, not so witht Edmondson: "...I have gotten myself one of these little straight up and down tents, just large enough for myself and servant to stay in--his bed is on one side and mine on the other and in the middle I have a large oven of hot coals which keeps the tent very comfortable..." (7)

   Unless I am missing something, no one has ever really explored this topic. Jamie Amanda Martinez in Confederate Slave Impressment in the Upper South, focuses on enslaved peoples who were hired or impressed to work in Government facilities or on fortifications. Glatthaar, in General Lee's Army, focuses on "Blacks and the Army" (his chapter heading), instead of Blacks in the Army.  (Confession: I've not read Woodward's Marching Masters yet.) Even James E. Brewer, who wrote The Confederate Negro: Virginia's Craftsmen and Military Laborers, 1861-1865, devotes little space to the role of camp servants. Brewer laments the loss of the records of the Commissary General of Subsistence Office, devoured by the fire of April 2-3, 1865. But even Brewer was more focused on the Confederate government's use of Black Americans, and less on the soldiers/servants in the field. Maybe, in time, we can flesh out more of this story.

 Notes

1 Allen and Bohannon, "Campaigning with 'Old Stonewall'," 145

2 Chapla, 48th Virginia, 9

3 Hotchkiss, Make me a Map of the Valley, 134.

4 Dowdey and Manarin, The Wartime Papers of R.E. Lee, 679; Jones, Life and Letters of Robert Edward Lee, 348. Walter Taylor writes that Bryan was Benard Lynch, born in Ireland. See General Lee, 221.

5 Hassler, One of Lee's Best Men, 122.

6 Turner, My Dear Emma, 69.

7 Turner, My Dear Emma, 69.