More Confederate diversity – the Bunker brothers

    Several years ago, I wrote a post about the way the Confederate army was racially integrated. Actually, I’ve written on that subject a couple of times, talking about the lives of free men of color like the Townsend brothers in the 26^th North Carolina and the Cozzens brothers in the 37^th North Carolina. These men volunteered to serve, and, according to the 1860s, they were not white. You can check out those posts here and here.

   Along those same lines is the service of Christopher Wren Bunker. However, Bunker’s father was not Black, but was born in Thailand, as was his uncle. The two brothers are better known as Chang and Eng Bunker, the famous Siamese Twins.

   The brothers were born in the fishing village of Mekong, Siam, now Thailand, in 1811. They were conjoined at birth, and in August 1829, came to the United States. Due to their being conjoined, they were seen as oddities and picked up jobs with Hunter and Coffin and later with P.T. Barnum, traveling around the United States. They decided to settle in the states, became naturalized citizens, broke with Barnum, adopted “Bunker” as a surname, and set out on their own. For a time in the late 1830’s, they quit touring and settled in the Traphill section of Wilkes County, North Carolina.  Eng and Chang met two sisters, Adelaide and Sarah Yates, whom they married in 1843. Eng and Sarah had ten children, while Chang and Adelaide had twelve children. They relocated to Surry County, North Carolina.[1]

   One of those sons was Christopher Wren Bunker, born to Chang and Adelaide in 1845. On April 1, 1863, in Wythe County, Virginia, Bunker enlisted in Company I, 37^th Battalion Virginia Cavalry. He was mustered in as a private. Bunker was captured at Moorefield, Virginia, on August 7, 1864, and sent to Camp Chase, Ohio, arriving on August 24, 1864. A descriptive list described Bunker as having a dark complexion, brown eyes, and black hair, five foot eight, and twenty years of age. On March 4, 1865, Bunker was transferred to City Point, Virginia, where he was paroled.[2] 

Christopher W. Bunker (findagrave)

   But wait, there is another Bunker in the 37^th Battalion Virginia Cavalry. Stephen D. Bunker, son of Eng and Laura Bunker, also served. According to his widow’s pension record, Stephen D. Bunker enlisted in July 1864. There is no clear record in the 37^th Battalion for Stephen, but there are a couple of pages for a D.C. Bunker who was absent wounded in 1864.[3]

   What about the 37^th Battalion Virginia Infantry? They were originally known as Dunn’s Partisan Rangers, organized in August 1862. Lt. Col. Ambrose C. Dunn was the first commander. The battalion saw duty during the Jones-Imboden Raid, the battle of White Sulphur Springs, the Siege of Knoxville, and the Valley Campaigns of 1864, including the battle of Moorefield and third battle of Winchester. The battalion disbanded in mid-1865.

   Chang and Eng Bunker passed away in 1874 and are buried at White Plains Baptist Church Cemetery in Surry County, North Carolina. Christopher Wren Bunker passed in 1932 and is buried at the Antioch Baptist Church Cemetery in Surry County.  Stephen D. Bunker passed in 1920 and is also buried at White Plains Baptist Church in Surry County.

   While there is probably not another story quite like that of Chang and Eng Bunker and their sons Christoper and Stephen, there are undoubtedly many other documented cases of diversity in the ranks of Confederate regiments.

 

 

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[1] Daniel Traywick, “Eng and Change Bunker,” Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, 1: 269-70.

[2] CMSR, RG109, M324.

[3] CMSR, RG109, M324.

Site Visit Saturday: Fort Macon

 
  Located on Bogue Banks on the North Carolina coast, Fort Fisher was the second fort constructed on this spot. The first was known as Fort Hamilton. Fort Macon was named in honor of Nathaniel Macon, a North Carolina politician who served in both the US House and Senate. The fort was seen as a way to protect the towns of Beaufort and Morehead City. (Blackbeard was known to sail in and out of Beaufort Inlet; Beaufort was captured by the Spanish in 1747 and the British in 1782.)

   Fort Macon was a part of the Third System of US fortifications and designed by Brig. Gen. Simon Bernard, US Army Corps of Engineers. Construction began in 1826 and was finished in 1834, costing $463,790. Because of poor management, the fort was in a sad state of affairs in 1861.

   The fort was under the command of Ordinance Sergeant William Alexander. He and his family were the only ones present on April 14, 1861, when the Beaufort Harbor Guards arrived to seize Fort Macon. By the next day, two other companies of North Carolina volunteers had arrived at the fort. On April 17, a force of sixty-one free and twenty-one slaves, all African-Americans, had arrived at the fort to begin maintenance work. Over the next few weeks, a railroad was laid to the wharf, and thirteen 24-pounder cannons were shipped, and in some way, mounted at the Fort. Various volunteer companies from the eastern portions of the state garrisoned Fort Macon, with Col. Charles C. Tew appointed commander. Then, that summer, Tew was replaced by Maj. William L. DeRossett, then Lt. Col. John L. Bridgers, followed by Col. Moses J. White. Later, the independent companies were mustered into traditional regiments or were designated as members of the 1^st North Carolina Artillery.

   Due to the threat of attack, the newly mustered 26^th North Carolina Troops was assigned to the fort in September 1861, along with the 7^th North Carolina State Troops, the latter staying for a month. This was followed by a company of the 3^rd North Carolina Artillery. In early 1862, Federal forces began a campaign that resulted in the capture of Roanoke Island and New Bern. The Federals turned their attention to Fort Macon next. Although hopelessly surrounded, the garrison at Fort Macon refused to surrender. On April 25, 1862, Federals began to bombard the fort, which was hit an estimated 560 times. The fort surrendered the next day.  

   Fort Macon was repaired and garrisoned by Federal soldiers for the rest of the war, including Company G, 2^nd Massachusetts Heavy Artillery, the last company to leave the fort in June 1865. Following the war, the fort was used as a civil and military prison. It was deactivated in 1877 but garrisoned by state troops during the summer of 1898. In 1903, it was abandoned and sold as surplus military property in 1923. It was acquired by the state of North Carolina in June 1924 for $1, and in 1936, became one of the state’s first state parks. The fort was leased to the US Army in World War II, maned by Coast Artillery troops.

   Fort Macon is still a state park, in an excellent state of preservation, with a fantastic museum and education center. For more information, see Paul Branch’s Fort Macon: A History (1999).

   I last visited the fort in June 2018.

Confederate Music – a quick primer

 

Robert E. Lee once remarked that “I don’t believe we can have an army without music.”[1] Lee was referencing the brass band of the 26^th North Carolina Troops which serenaded the general several times during the war. Yet brass bands were not the only type of music encountered by Confederates during the war. There were the drum and fife corps, the brass bands, and the informal music encountered around the campfire.

Field Music – Kautz, in his Customs of Service (1864) hits the nail on the head when he writes “The law with regard to drum-majors is obscure.”[2] That might be said of the enlistment of musicians as a whole. Confederate regulations state that those recruits “found to posses a natural talent for music, to be instructed (besides the drill of the soldier) on the fife, bugle, and drum… boys of twelve years of age and upward may…be enlisted for this purpose.” “Regiments will be furnished with field music on the requisitions of their commanders.”[3] It would appear that most infantry regiments had a drum and fife corps, while artillery and cavalry commands had buglers. It would seem that the position was appointed from the ranks. And in most cases, there appears to be no more than a handful of musicians at any time. They were typically not boys. In the 16^th North Carolina, there were 24 men listed as musicians; the youngest was 18 and the oldest 35. In the 18^th North Carolina, there were some boys, (12-16 years old), but they were later discharged. These musicians were some of the hardest working men in the army. Everything was regulated by a drum call: there were calls for assembly, first sergeant’s call, reveille, retreat, tattoo. Drumbeats were used to keep step while on a march, set the pace for a double-quick march, signal a halt, and could be used in battle to command both skirmish lines and regular battle lines. Concerning the latter, it is seldom that we find reference to firing by drums during a battle. Bugle calls, especially for the cavalry, were far more useful.

Brass band of the 26th North Carolina

Brass Band – the band was different from the field music. It would almost seem that one regiment in a brigade (a brigade was typically composed of four to five regiments) would have a brass band. The purpose of the brass band was more to provide entertainment and as a morale boast, over the field music. Bands often performed in the evenings, serenading the men, and the generals. According to Oliver Lehman, a member of the band of the 33^rd North Carolina Troops/Lane’s brigade, the brass band played every morning at nine for guard mounting duty, at dress parade about sunset, and for reviews. Also, when the weather was favorable, the band played for an hour every evening.[4]  Many of these bandsmen were “professional” musicians. Lehman came from the same Moravian community that produced members of the band for the 26^th North Carolina.

Camp Fire Music – the various states and communities across the continent were a musical people. People sang at home, at taverns, at churches. And the soldiers brought that musical heritage with them. They sang church songs, and tavern songs, and quite a few made-up songs themselves. Fiddles, fifes, and maybe a banjo or guitar were commonly employed. Soldiers spent an enormous amount of time in camp, and the scratch of a fiddle could be heard many evenings as the soldiers sang about the war, about home, about loved ones they had not seen in months or years. At times, musicians would form bands and put on concerts and minstrel shows for their fellow soldiers. A couple of songs, like “Home Sweet Home” and “Lorena” made some soldiers so home sick that it was rumored they were banned from camp. Probably the most famous musician in the Confederate army was Sam Sweeny, one of three musician brothers well-known before the war. Sweeny was on the staff of JEB Stuart, following the general around and plucking tunes on his banjo.

Sam Sweeny playing banjo in camp. 

All of these types of music could boost morale among the soldiers. Writing from Florence, Alabama, November 17, 1864, Captain Thomas J. Key, 28^th Battalion Georgia Artillery, wrote that “The whole earth resounded and echoed with music this morning before the rising of the sun. Band after band commingled their soft and impressive notes, melting the hearts of some and buoying up the spirits of others.”[5] Many could probably join with Captain Key, extolling the virtues of a well-played song in camp, on the march, or in battle.

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[1] Clark, NC Troops, 2:399

[2] Kautz, Customs of Service, 76

[3] Confederate Regulations, 393.

[4] O. J. Lehman, "Reminiscences of the War Between the States." 1862 to 1865." The Union Republican, October 19, 1922.

[5] Cate, Two Soldiers: The Campaign Diaries of Thomas J. Key, CSA, December 7, 1863-May 17, 1865, and Robert J. Campbell, USA, January 1, 1864-July 21, 1864, 150.

Hardtack v. flour v. corn meal

   A friend recently asked the question: “did Southern troops ever live off of Hardtack like Federal soldiers?” That’s a great question! And the simple answer is: sometimes.  (PS: this article is based on my research for my upcoming book, Feeding the Army of Northern Virginia.)

   Hardtack is made from flour, water, and sometimes salt. This mixture is rolled out and cut into pieces that are baked until, well, hard. They have been around for a long time and are also known as sea biscuits, or ship’s biscuits, or many other names. A standard issued of hardtack for Federal soldiers, for a day, was one pound, or about ten pieces. Hardtack is not a term frequently used in letters and diaries written during the war by Confederate soldiers in the East. It does appear more frequently in post-war writings. And, when the term hardtack is used, it usually denotes captured foodstuffs. For example, a member of the 13^th Virginia Infantry, writing after the war, noted that at Second Manassas, he drew from his haversack “a piece of fat pickled pork and some hardtack—the rations I had selected from the varied assortment at Manassas.”[1] While at Frederick, Maryland, in September 1862, one member of the 15^th Georgia complained that all of their hardtack was marked “’Cincinnati.’ It is a common remark that Banks is Jackson’s Quartermaster and Commissary.”[2]     

   More often, Confederates referred to their hardtack as crackers. A member of the 5^th Alabama Infantry, writing from a camp near Fairfax Court House on July 16, 1861, noted that he was stationed as a guard at the commissary tent, presumably just for his regiment. He reported that he was guarding twenty-five barrels of crackers. A few days later, this same soldier reported that there was no flour locally, and they had to make use of crackers instead, and that “they are hard almost as a rock.”[3] Many soldiers found their crackers almost inedible. A member of the 44^th North Carolina complained in October 1862 that the “Crackers you cannot brake them hardly with your hands. Yesterday Mr. Sykes had some Crackers beatting them up with a... hammer and said to me it is hard bread to have to take a hammer to brake it."[4]

    Soldiers were likely to be issued flour than hardtack. Earlier in the war, the Confederate government had purchased a bakery in Richmond to bake loaves of bread to be shipped to the men in the field. This really did not work, as the “light bread” as the soldiers called it, went moldy before it could arrive in the camps. Instead, the commissary department switched to grinding flour and shipping it to the front ranks. Ideally, flour would be issued to troops in camp, while crackers would be issued to men on the march. Most of the crackers which the men mention eating while on campaign seem to have been captured by the Federals. Instead, the men had to make do with flour, and usually no cooking utensils. From Manassas in July 1861, a member of the 10^th Alabama complained that they had to bake their dough on planks and boards.[5] At Beverly Ford on August 22, a member of the 12^th Georgia wrote of baking their dough on flat boards and stones before the fire.[6] On the way to Gettysburg in June 1862, a member of the 26^th North Carolina wrote home that they were drawing flour. They stopped at 4:00 pm and commenced cooking.[7]  

   That’s not to say that the flour also did not come from the Federals. There are mentions of barrels of flour captured at Ball’s Bluff, during the Rominey Campaign, Seven Pines, Manassas Junction, and Williamsport, and taken from civilians during the Gettysburg campaign and Early’s Washington campaign in 1864.

   Not everyone was in favor of the flour. A member of the 53^rd Georgia wrote from near Hagerstown on July 13 that he had eaten so much flour bread that he preferred corn bread.[8] Corn meal was a third option. A member of the 1^st Maryland wrote from Fairfax Court House in early August that they were able to make first-rate cornbread.[9] Yet even this wore on some. South Carolinian Barry Benson wrote after the war that they were issued so much corn meal in the winter of 1863 that “our teeth staid on edge; even freshly cooked, the bread would taste sour.”[10] While cornbread might seem like a Southern staple, the corn meal ground during the war, epically, late in the war, was full of husk and kernels. “Often the corn meal issued to us… [was] so bad that hardtack… was hailed with delight,” wrote a member of the 17^th Virginia in 1864.[11] From camp near Orange Court House in March 1864, one Tar Heel told the people at home that they were drawing “tolerable good rations,” including corn meal. However, he wished he could draw flour. “We are tired of meal."[12]

   As the war grinned on, there was never enough, whether it be crackers, wheat flour, or corn meal. Most of it really depended on the environment. (But that’s another post.)  A soldier simply had to draw “his waist belt a little tighter… and waited with bated breath the order to clear our works and charge the enemy.” If the charge was successful, then the “enemey’s camps furnished the rations we failed to get in the morning…”[13]

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[1] Swank, Raw Pork and Hartack, 34.

[2] Ivy W. Duggan Diary, UGA, 95-96.

[3] Hubbs, Voices from Company D, 18, 25-26.

[4] Wright, The Confederate Letters of Benjamin H. Freeman, 14.

[5] Rourke, "I saw the Elephant, 15

[6] Ivy W. Duggan Diary, UGA, 87-88. 

[7] Smith and Price, “Your Affectionate Husband Until Death" Company Front, 55.

[8] Ronald, ed. The Stilwell Letters, 188.

[9] McKim, A Soldier’s Recollections, 46.

[10] Benson, Berry Benson's Civil War Book, 55.

[11] Toalson, No Soap, No Pay, 94-95

[12] Hancock, Four Brothers in Gray, 253.

[13] Herbert, “The Seventeenth Virginia Infantry,” SHSP, 12:294.

Writing County-Specific Civil War Histories

Over the past few days, while working on the Feeding the Army of Northern Virginia project, I have spent some time looking through some Virginia county histories. I am trying to find some more details about civilians and boxes from home. I have some good sources, but I can’t pull everything from my work on North Carolina. I need a little more “diversity.”

I often talk to people who are interested in local history in some form or fashion. And looking at the old, worn, and tired county histories found on shelves today, we need a new generation of county historians willing to do the hard work and provide their communities with fresh material. For the purpose of this discussion, I’m just going to talk just about mid-19^th century United States. Many of these ideas could be applied to other time periods.

What makes a good war-time local history book? That’s a great question. I know what I like to see: numbers, an understanding of how the war as a whole relates to a local story, and for many people, names.

Let’s start with the last aspect: names. For many people, they want to know how their ancestors were involved. Were they good Confederates, bad Unionists, or some of the many dissidents who tried to avoid the war altogether? Oftentimes, we just get fragments of people’s lives: a muster roll sheet, a pension application, maybe service as a juror. But those three things can tell us a lot. When did a man enlist? If 1861, he probably had some type of conviction about the war. If 1862, he was probably forced in by Conscription. (That’s not to say he was Conscripted, but he did understand the law). If he received a pension application, then he served until disabled, or until the end of the war, and was favorably viewed by the local pension board, and the state. If he can be found serving as a juror, then for at least part of the war, the court system was still functioning.

Middle point: an understanding of the how the war as a whole relates to a local story. So many local histories that I study have a few paragraphs about the 1860s, and never put anything into context. For many counties, the war is far away, in Pennsylvania or Mississippi, and the only interaction is the stories sent back home by the soldiers in the field. But that is not exactly true, is it? Caldwell County, North Carolina, had two companies in the 26^th North Carolina Troops. At the battle of Gettysburg, these two companies sustained almost 100 percent casualties. Those losses, all at one time, had an enormous impact on that county. Battles, conscription, tax-in-kind, reconstruction, deserters, the underground railroad… having that understanding about how the war as a whole fits into the local scene makes a better book.

First point, last: numbers. For the past 25 years, I have lived in Southern Appalachia. I have strong roots here, ancestors who were here during the American Revolution, the Civil War, and on into the 1960s. There have been some good books about the area during the war years. Inscoe and McKinney’s The Heart of Confederate Appalachia and Fisher’s War at Every Door come to mind. Yet there is a huge hole when it comes to more localized studies. I frequently hear (and at times refute) that all counties in the area were pro-Union, and that simply is not true. How do I know? I’ve taken the time to break down a couple of counties by the 1860 census, line up soldiers, and count. Until others tackle this type of project, we’re just simply not going to know. Maybe some of those east Tennessee counties had a majority that were pro-Union, but until someone takes the time to really look, it is just a guess.

I have two type histories under my belt. Civil War Charlotte was released in June 2012, and Watauga County in the Civil War in October 2013. Two others are in the works, and maybe more in the future. So, I have a little experience in the matter. The volume on Watauga County is better, I believe. We learn as we go. But, instead of just lecturing people who need to be involved in this type of research, or maybe you feel inspired to jump into this line of work (it is a labor of love), here are some tips. (I’m also happy to field questions.)

•         The 1860 census. Create a spreadsheet based upon the 1860 US census for whatever county you are working on. Pull out the men ages 11 to 60. I find it helpful to leave them as they appear in their districts. This allows me to see enlistment and desertion patterns. In your spread sheet, include name, age, birth/death dates, CS/US, when they enlisted, deserted, returned, paroled, imprisoned, what regiment/company they served in, slave ownership, personal wealth, and where they are buried. The latter allows you to see migration patterns. If your state does not have a troop book series, start with pension applications. Most are online these days. Look for patterns and then go explore others in those same companies. This is a very time-consuming study, but the backbone of the project.
•          Look for resources EVERYWHERE. Former county or community histories; both CS and US pension applications; family histories; family files at the local library; Southern Claims Commission, both allowed and disbarred; church/association histories; newspapers, both local, regional, and state (war-time and post-war); the Official Records; the Supplement to the Official Records; Confederate Veteran; slave census; slave narratives; local or regional historical and genealogical society newsletters; court records… (this list could go on ad infinitum). It has been my experience that material comes ONE OR TWO SENTENCES AT A TIME. Enough of these sentences might allow us to put a paragraph together. I once found a family history stating a man served as the local salt commissioner during the ar. I already knew that salt was a big deal. This one sentence was what I needed to really tie that story in locally.
•          Document everything, where it came from, using some standard form of documentation, like MLA, or Chicago, or something. A history book without documentation is just about worthless. People need to know that you are just not making stuff up.
•          Assume that not everything you read is going to be true. People misremembered events, some of them lied; stories get confused over the years. It is always nice to be able to back up a story with something else from the time period. Also, a letter from 1862 or 1863 is a better source than a story from a grandson. It is not always possible to back up events. In this case, preface your writing by saying something like “According to the family…” That way, your readers know that this may not be exactly factual. At the same time, it is important to capture as many stories as possible. The person reading your final product is probably not going to root through the 1000 sources that you did.
•        Read other county-level studies. It is not easy to find these. Only 20 of North Carolina’s 100 counties have been covered. Virginia has done better over the years. Tennessee and Alabama are horrible. As far as actual recommendations, hmm… Jordan’s Charlottesville and the University of North Carolina in the Civil War, was ok, as was Shaffer’s Washington County, Virginia, in the Civil War, Williams’ Lexington, Virginia and the Civil War, and of course, my Watauga County, North Carolina in the Civil War.
•          Unless you know what you are doing, try to get a traditional publisher to publish your book. Unless you have access to a proofreader, copy editor, peer review, and someone to set it up, it is not going to turn out very well as a self-publish. Also, as badly as I hate doing this myself, always include an index (and notes, see #3 above). Use high-quality images. Get a couple of other people to read it and give comments. They will see things you do not.

So that’s my list. I’m sure there will be others that pop into my head over time, and maybe some updates. This post goes along with a couple I wrote a few years back on writing regimental histories. If I can ever help, please feel free to drop me a line.

The Blalocks, again.

This article appeared in the Herald Dispatch from Huntington, West Virginia, on April 1, 2019. Overall, it's not a bad piece. My thoughts, like this introduction, are in red. You can read the original article here:

A walk through an Appalachian graveyard

By DEREK HALSEY

West Virginia will forever be connected to the Civil War. It was created when it became the first and only state to secede from the Confederacy on June 20, 1863, after years of neglect by the plantation-owning aristocracy in greater Virginia that was determined to continue slavery instead of paying their southern brethren a living wage. That is how some would view the conflict anyway, as others fought for the South and what they viewed as their besieged homeland.

West Virginia was also the perfect example of brother fighting brother and cousin fighting cousin during the War Between the States. The truth is that Union sympathizers and soldiers could be found in every Confederate state except for South Carolina. The Free State of Jones existed in Mississippi, the thousands-strong Hill Country Militia was located in Texas, the Mountain Feds were based in Arkansas, the Jayhawker fighters fought in Louisiana, the Winston County soldiers came out of Alabama, the Independent Rangers held court in Florida, the Pickens County brethren were from Georgia, and thousands of Eastern Tennessee fighters fought with the Union forces.

Western North Carolina was no different, and that history includes the true story of Sarah Malinda "Sam" Blalock. "Sam" Blalock was one of only two female soldiers who disguised themselves as men and fought during the Civil War. Her story is well-documented throughout history.

Only two? There are scores of others with well-documented histories, many even more interesting than Mrs. Blaylock's!

Montezuma Cemetery is located on highway 181 in-between Linville, North Carolina and Newland, North Carolina, sitting up on a hill on the southern slope of Sugar Mountain. This area in the western third of the Tar Heel State features the highest mountains east of the Rockies. Just a few hundred yards from the cemetery is a turn in the road that unveils a beautiful view of nearby Grandfather Mountain, which is 5,945 feet in elevation.

In the old cemetery is a tombstone that reads "Sarah M., wife of William Blalock, Born March 10, 1839 - Died March 9, 1903." Commonly known as Malinda Blalock, she grew up in a time period when life was very hard. The life expectancy in the 1800s was short, even during the times when there was no war. A few feet away from Blalock's grave are headstones that tell that story.

A couple known as L.B. and E.L Townsend, for instance, lost a nine day old infant in 1892, lost a two year old daughter named Doshia in 1896, and they lost another infant in 1908. A few yards away are the tombstones of the Bumgarner family, which sadly includes four gravestones depicting the death of the infants born to W. and C.E. Bumgarner. Wife Celia E. Bumgarner, says her epitaph, was born in 1857 and died just 37 years later. The couple did raise a son into adulthood named Ira, but he died just a few months shy of his 20 birthday in 1892.

As for Sarah Malinda Pritchard, according to an article by Kelley Slappie for northcarolinahistory.org, she met and married William 'Keith' Blalock in 1839, even though the Pritchard and Blalock families had been feuding for over 100 years. Keith was by all accounts a bit of a rough cob and ten years older than Malinda when they joined forces. Once married, they lived on and around Grandfather Mountain, where there was plenty of game and fresh water.

So, Keith and Malinda got married the same year she was born? Also, according to the 1860 Watauga County, North Carolina, Federal census, they were exactly the same age: twenty-two. The 1870 Mitchell County, North Carolina, Federal Census, listsKeith as being 32, while Malinda is 29. His tombstone, right beside Malinda's, gives a birth date of November 21, 1837.

As the Civil War approached, both Keith and Malinda Blalock became Northern sympathizers. What happened next has not only become a part of American lore, it is also a matter of historical fact. An important witness named James Moore recalled this true tale in The Morning Post newspaper in February of 1900.

Moore was a Confederate soldier in charge of rounding up draftees as a member of Captain Rankin's Company F of the 26th North Carolina Regiment, and that was when he came across the Blalocks.

It is interesting that Moore's record states something a little different. Moore was medically discharged from Company F, 26th North Carolina, on December 6, 1861. He re-enlisted in the company on March 20, 1862. Now, that's not to say that Moore and Colonel Vance were not talking about new recruits for the regiment, but Moore was not in the army until March 20, the same day that the Blalocks joined. Furthermore, everyone who joined on March 20 was a volunteer. No one was being drafted at this time. While there was  talk of a Conscription bill, it had not passed Congress yet, and would not be enforced until August-September of 1862.

Keith Blalock had a plan. The goal was to join the Confederate forces and then defect to the Union troops once they were engaged in battle somewhere north. Joining him in the Army was his brother Samuel Blalock and they were now led by Colonel Zeb Vance, a future governor of North Carolina.

As it turned out, "Samuel" Blalock was in fact Malinda Blalock, Keith's wife. She wrapped down her breasts and cut her hair short and successfully passed as a male soldier.

Said Moore in his sworn newspaper account, "I was not present at the battle of New Bern, being absent on detail at home to get recruits. I brought back with me about 45 men, among whom was a young man who went by the name Samuel Blalock. It turned out that he was a woman, the wife of Keith Blalock, but no one in the company knew of it until she and her husband confided it to me in secret at Salisbury (NC) on our way to Kingston to join the regiment. They told me of this, as they said, because, from my remark that 'this recruit resembles Keith's wife so much,' that I suspected she was his wife, and they concluded it was best to make me their confidant so I would not tell anyone about it. I never told anyone about it except my brother-in-law, Isaac N. Corpening, who was also in the Company."

It is safe to say that Malinda "Sam" Blalock was already well-versed in all things firearms and holding her own, probably both due to training with her husband and living the backwoods life of the 1800s. We know this because she was a soldier in good standing for at least two months in the company of men.

Said Moore, 119 years ago. "Sam Blalock's disguise was never suspected. She drilled and did the duties of a soldier as any other member of the company and was very adept at learning the manual and drill."

The Blalocks never found themselves near any Union troops, however, so they decided to find a way to leave the Confederate Army. Keith came up with an idea that was crazy and agonizing, yet it worked. He found some poison ivy, some say poison oak, and rubbed it all over his body. Once the welts and rash had become horribly obvious, he played it off as a disease along the lines of small pox and they quickly let him go. "Sam" wanted to leave as well so she could follow her husband, but her furlough was initially denied. It was then that she confessed to being a woman and proved it to Col. Vance.

So why not slip just a few miles down the road towards New Bern, where the Federal army is in April 1862?

This is a great story, and oft-repeated, but his military record says poison sumac and a hernia. It was the latter that really got him out of the army in April 1862. In February 1863, the Confederate government revised  its enlistment policy. It now said that if you had a "single reducible hernia" you still had to serve; you were not exempt for medical reasons.

Once back home, the Confederate draft enforcers soon realized that the Blalocks were healthy as well as deceptive and they tracked them down near their hideout on Grandfather Mountain, a craggy and thick-wooded summit. The couple escaped, albeit with Keith getting a bullet wound for his troubles. It was then that they became guerilla fighters, known then as "bushwackers." Some say they crossed into Tennessee and joined another bushwacker group known as Kirk's Raiders." Michael C. Hardy, however, the author of the book "Kirk's Civil War Raids Along The Blue Ridge," says that there is no official record of the Blalocks and Kirk ever meeting each other.

This paragraph kind of compresses a couple of different events. Keith and Malinda are thought to have been at their home in Coffey's Gap when someone (militia or home guard) arrived. They were forced up Grandfather Mountain to hide in a hog pen under an overhang (or rock house.) Keith's first wounding took place in August 1864, maybe a year later. He claims in his Federal Pension application that he was out scouting, alone.

Either way, Keith and Malinda "Sam" Blalock engaged in lethal raids together all over western North Carolina during the second half of the Civil War. As fate would have it, one of their raids involved James Moore's family.

Actually, their raids were confined to lower Southern Watauga and Northern Caldwell Counties, and maybe a little of Mitchell,  not all over western North Carolina.

"One night while I was home on furlough from wounds received at Gettysburg, in the spring of 1864, her husband and his gang attacked my father's home at the Globe in Caldwell County," said Moore, 35 years after the end of the war. "We had a regular battle with them, in which my father was severely wounded. And, we wounded two of them, one of whom, it was said, was this one-time member of my Company who I enlisted, Malinda Blalock."

Malinda was believed to have taken bullets to her shoulder. After Moore left to return to the war, the Blalocks raided his homestead again in the fall of 1864. This time, Keith had his left eye shot out of his head and the Blalocks soon left North Carolina for, as Moore remembers, 'either Colorado or Montana."

I'd sure love to find where the story of Malinda's wounding starts. Usually it is during the battle of New Bern in March 1862. This time, it is during the raid on Moore's farm. Of course, the Blalocks were not actually with the 26th North Carolina during the battle. How much she was actually with Keith is a great mystery. They had a son in 1863 [Columbus]. I would hazard a guess that she was out-of-commission for at least part of that year.

After the Civil War ended in 1865, the Blalocks came home to western North Carolina, settled down and started a family that included five kids. Malinda "Sam" Blalock died of natural causes in 1903 at 64 years of age. Her husband Keith died a decade later in Hickory, NC.

Actually, Keith killed John Boyd on February 8, 1866. Keith blamed Boyd for the murder of his step-father during the war. Keith was put on trial for the murder, only to have the case dismissed. They were in Mitchell County in the 1870 and 1880 census. At some point after that, they went  to Texas for a while, and maybe Oregon.  

How the folks of that area dealt with each other immediately after the end of the war is left to history. It was probably hard to b  e cordial to a couple that shot bullets at you just a few months earlier. One thing is for sure, however, no matter what side of the conflict you were on; Malinda "Sam" Blalock was a force to be reckoned with during a very dangerous time in our nation's history.

I really appreciate the nod in this article. Overall, the article is not bad. It is much better than the piece that appeared in Our State during the sesquicentennial. What solid information we have about the Blalocks is extremely limited. Everything else comes decades after the war, like the piece by James Moore (1900), and John Preston Arthur (1915).

Revision: 1,500 Confederate regiments

I recently found the late Arthur Bergeron's Guide to Louisiana Confederate Military Units, 1861-1865, on my own shelf. Not sure why I did not look at it when I made my initial post a few weeks back. Crute's Units of the Confederate States Army lists 77 infantry, cavalry, and artillery organizations from Louisiana. Bergeron lists 111. So, the new number of Confederate regiments, battalions, and batteries raised during the war stands at 1,500. I image this number will continue to rise.

A couple of days ago, I received this question through my contact form, from Edgar: "I found many union regimental histories/biographies on the Hathi Digital website when I was researching Sherman's march campsites (Goldsboro-Raleigh) last winter, but I can't find much about Confed. regiments there." So, why not more Confederate regimentals? That's a question. The reason that a person cannot find more Confederate regimentals on online databases like HathiTrust is probably because they were not written.

Using North Carolina as a guide, we find in Stewart Sifakis's Compendium 233 Confederate regiments, battalions, and batteries. Of those 233 organizations, only seven had histories written and published by the veterans themselves. Those seven are:

Harris, Historical Sketches of the Seventh Regiment North Carolina Troops, 1861-1865 (1893)

Smith, The Anson Guards: Company C, Fourteenth Regiment North Carolina Volunteers 1861-1865 (1914)

Mills, History of the 16th North Carolina Regiment in the Civil War (1901)

Carr, History of Company E, 20th N. C. Regiment 1861-1865: Confederate Grays. (1905)

Underwood, The 26th Regiment N.C. Troops, Pettigrew's Brigade, Heth's Division, Hill's Corps, A. N. V. 1861-1865 (1901)

Sloan, Reminiscences of the Guilford Grays, Co. B 27th N. C. Regiment (1883)

Day, A True History of Company I, 49th Regiment North Carolina Troops (1893)

If my math is right, that is only 3 percent of North Carolina regiments, battalions, and batteries that had a book written about their service prior to the 1960s. To take this a step further, of the seven, only three are actually regimental histories. The others deal with companies. Now, to North Carolina's credit, the North Carolina Confederate Veterans Association, under the direction of Walter Clark, began to collect essays by veterans about their regiments at the turn of the 20th century. This was later published in 1901 in a five-volume set. To my knowledge, no other state has anything equal to this: a short history of almost every regiment, written by a veteran of that regiment. (By the way, all five of these volumes have been digitized and are online.)

   So to answer the question posed, the reason there is not more information on these regiments is because the veterans did not write down their histories. Union regimentals are plentiful. Confederates, not so much.