Confederate submarines

When someone mentions Confederate submarines, everyone thinks of the C.S.S. Hunley, and rightfully so. The Hunley did become the first submersible combat vessel to sink an enemy warship. But the South’s drive to build and successfully implement innovative warships goes far beyond one ship in February 1864. There were several other Confederate submarines and attempts to disrupt the blockade of Southern ports.

An excellent resource on the subject is Mark Ragan’s Union and Confederate Submarine Warfare (1999). The only thing that could make this book more beneficial would have been an appendix, maybe a quick reference guide, listing the barest details of each submarine.

Another note: the Confederacy built both semi-submersible and completely submersible vessels. The former are at times referred to as torpedo boats or David-Class Torpedo Boats. These craft were built of wood, contained a single screw, and had a steam boiler. They were fifty feet in length, had a four-man crew, and boasted a spar torpedo on the end. They were designed to run at night semi-submerged toward a Federal vessel, to drive the torpedo inside the vessel, and to then back away. On October 5, 1863, a “David” vessel attacked the U.S.S. Ironsides in Charleston, seriously damaging the vessel. The Confederate David was able to return to harbor. (135-137)

Information on many of these Confederate submarines is extremely limited. Many of the Confederate naval records were destroyed at war’s end. 

The Hunley by Chapman

Franklin G. Smith wrote to the Columbia Herald on June 10, 1861, about building a fleet of Confederate submarines: “Excepting our privateers the Confederate States have not a single ship at sea. Throughout our southern seaports, men of a mechanical turn and of the right spirit must go to work, maturing the best plans for the destruction or the capture of every blockading ship. From the Chesapeake to the mouth of the Rio Grande, our coast is better fitted for submarine warfare than any other in the world. I would have every hostile keel chased from our coast by submarine propellers. The new vessel must be cigar shaped for speed - made of plate iron, joined without external rivet heads, about thirty feet long, with a central section about 4 x 3 feet - driven by a spiral propeller. The new Aneroid barometer made for increased pressure, will enable the adventurer easily to decide his exact distance below the surface.” Of course, there never was a fleet of submarines built, but there were a few of note.

Pioneer – built in New Orleans, Louisiana, and tested in February 1862. The ship was 34 feet long, 4 feet wide, and 4 feet high. It was powered by a hand crank that was attached to a propeller. The Pioneer was scuttled in a canal near Lake Pontchartrain when New Orleans was evacuated. The Federals raised and examined the ship, and in 1868, it was sold for scrap.

Bayou Saint John submarine – no one seems to know the name of this vessel. It was dredged out of Bayou Saint John in 1878. When it was eventually opened, three skeletons were found inside. The submarine is now on display at the Capitol Park Museum – Baton Rouge.

Shreveport submarines – there were supposedly five submarines under construction in Shreveport, Louisiana, by the Singer Submarine Corporation in 1863. One of these was sent to Houston, Texas, while the other four were scuttled toward the end of the war. The other four are still submerged but apparently “surface” in the news when they are exposed during low water levels at the Cross Bayou. See https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2015/01/24/mystery-of-missing-civil-war-subs-resurfaces/22288817/

Richmond submarines--these include several built by Tredegar Iron Works. One was tested on the James River below Rocketts at the end of 1861. In this test, a diver emerged from the submerged vessels and planted an explosive charge on the bottom of a barge. Once secure in the submarine, the charge was detonated, sinking the barge. On October 12, 1861, an unnamed submarine, possibly the one above or maybe a different vessel, was launched at Sewall’s Point and made for the U.S.S. Minnesota. The craft became entangled in a net and was almost captured. It is not really clear what became of these vessels.  

Pioneer II (American Diver) – built in Mobile late 1862. It started out with some type of electrical motor, and then had a steam engine, and eventually had a hand crank. On its first mission in February 1863, in an attempt to attack the Federal blocking fleet there at Mobile Bay, it foundered in heavy seas and sank. But the crew did survive.

Colonel E. H. Agaman – was the idea of Col. E.H. Agaman. His submarine was rocket powered. It is not clear if the submarine itself was rocket powered, or the torpedo. After the fuel for the rocket was shipped from Augusta, Georgia, to Mobile in April 1863, this vessel disappears from the pages of history.  

CSS Squib also operated in the James River. In April 1864, the Squib placed a torpedo on the hull of USS Minnesota and detonated it. The torpedo was too close to the surface, and the Minnesota was not seriously damaged. The final disposition of the Squib is unknown. The Squib is also referred to as the Infanta. There were also operating at the end of the war three others: the Scorpion, Hornet, and Wasp.

CSS Hunley – most famous. Constructed in Mobile and transported to Mobile, the Hunley sank twice and killed a crew and a half before the attack the USS Housatonic. Of course we know that the final crew of the Hunley did not return and sank as well, somewhere beyond where the Housatonic went down.

CSS Captain Pierce might have sunk the USS Tecumseh in August 1864 in the battle of Mobile Bay. The boiler of the submarine might have exploded shortly thereafter.

CSS St. Patrick was privately built in Mobile and transferred to the Confederate navy in January 1865. The St. Patrick struck the Federal ship USS Octorara with a torpedo, but the torpedo misfired and did no damage and the St. Patrick escaped.

There were at least two submarines under construction in Wilmington, North Carolina, in late 1864, early 1865. But their final dispositions are unknown.

(For more information, please check out Ragan’s Union and Confederate Submarine Warfare in the Civil War, or, Daniel Franignoul’s “Submarine Monsters of the Confederacy,” Confederate Historical Society of Belgium)

The fighting Averys

   “Major, tell my father I died with my face to the enemy,” is a well-known last request made during the war. It was uttered by Col. Isaac Avery after he was mortally wounded at the battle of Gettysburg. Isaac Avery was just one of five Avery brothers who rose to prominence in the 19^th century. They were all the sons of Isaac and Harriet Erwin Avery. The Avery family were large landowners in western North Carolina.

William W. Avery

   The oldest brother was William Waightstill Avery. Born in Burke County in May 1816, W.W. Avery graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in 1837. He later studied law under Judge William Gaston and was admitted to the bar. Avery became a trustee of the University in 1850, and in 1857, became a director of the Western North Carolina Railroad. Avery served several terms in the General Assembly, and in the 1856-1857 term, was speaker of the North Carolina Senate. He, along with Thomas L. Clingman, was a strong advocate for secession. In 1858, he ran for a seat in the US House, but lost to Zebulon Baird Vance. In 1860, Avery was chairman of the state’s delegation to the Democratic National Convention, meeting in Charleston. Appointed Chairman of the resolution committee, Avery “favored the majority report denying the right of congress or territorial legislation to prohibit slavery in the territories, demanding federal protection for all property in those territories, upholding the Fugitive Slave Act, and advocating the acquisition of Cuba from Spain as soon as practicable.” Many delegates walked out, but not the North Carolinians. They would walk out when the convention met again in Baltimore. Once North Carolina left the Union, Avery served as a member of the provisional Confederate Congress and as chairman of the committee on military affairs. Avery failed to win an appointment to the Confederate senate and returned to western North Carolina, where he worked on raising a regiment for Confederate service. W.W. Avery was mortally wounded while leading local home guard in a skirmish with raiders in northern Burke County in late June 1864, dying on July 3, 1864. Avery was married to Mary Corinna Morehead, daughter of Governor John Motley Morehead, and they had several children.[1]

Clark M. Avery

   Clark Moulton Avery was the next son with a wartime connection. He was born in October 1820 and, like his older brother, graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Unlike his brother, he was not a politician, but instead farmed a large piece of property in Burke County. In February 1861, friends enticed Avery to run for the state secession convention, and election that he won. However, the convention did not meet. Avery would not serve when the actual convention met in May. Instead, when the principles of the foundation of the United States came under attack, Avery joined the military. On April 25, 1861, he was elected captain of Company G, 1^st North Carolina Volunteers, fighting at the battle of Big Bethel in June 1861. Then-colonel D.H. Hill wrote that "Captain Avery Company G displayed great coolness, judgment and efficiency in the battle of Bethel." As the regiment neared the end of its six-month term of enlistment, Avery was elected lieutenant colonel of the 33^rd North Carolina Troops, and then in January 1862, colonel. In March 1862, Avery was captured at the battle of New Bern, being released seven months later. He returned to his regiment and was wounded in the fighting at Chancellorsville and at Gettysburg. At the battle of the Wilderness in May 1864, Colonel Avery was struck in the left arm. When he refused to go the rear, a stretcher was brought forward, and he was carried along the lines, encouraging his men. Avery was eventually struck four times that day, including in the leg, neck, and through the body. Avery survived for six weeks before dying of his wounds on June 18, 1864. Avery was married to Elizabeth Tilghman Walton and was survived by four children.[2]

Isaac E. Avery 

   Isaac Erwin Avery was born in December 1828 in Burke County. For one year, he attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill but then left the school to help manage his father’s farms in Burke and Yancey Counties, North Carolina. He also worked with Charles F. Fisher and Samuel McDowell Tate to construct the Western North Carolina Railroad. When the war came, he worked on forming a company that became a part of the 6^th North Carolina State Troops. Avery was elected captain of Company E on May 16, 1861. He was promoted to lieutenant colonel and then colonel of the 6^th NC and was wounded at the battle of Malvern Hill. On July 2, 1863, while leading Hoke’s brigade in an attack on the Confederate left, Avery was mortally wounded, penning the famous note after his wound: “Major, tell my father I died with my face toward the enemy.” Avery died the next day. Colonel A.C. Godwin, 57^th NC, wrote in his official report that, upon the death of Avery, “the country lost one of her truest and bravest sons, and the army one of its most gallant officers.” His slave, Elijah, began to return to Burke County with the body, but he was forced to stop and bury Avery in Williamsport, Maryland. Avery’s body was later moved to Rose Hill Cemetery in Hagerstown.[3]

   Alphonso Calhoun Avery was born in September 1835. After graduating from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Avery studied law under Chief Justice Richmond M. Pearson and was licensed in June 1860. AC Avery helped his brother Isaac raise a company and was then elected first lieutenant in that company in the 6^th NCST. Following the battle of Seven Pines, he was promoted to captain, but by the end of 1862, he was transferred to the staff of Maj. Gen. D. H. Hill as assistant inspector general. Major Avery later served on the staffs of John C. Breckinridge, Thomas C. Hindman, and John B. Hood. At the end of the war, Avery was commanding a battalion in the western parts of North Carolina, attempting to curtail some of the damage being done by Federal raiding parties and bushwhackers. Avery was captured in Salisbury by some of Stoneman’s men and was imprisoned at Camp Chase until August 1865. After the war, Avery practiced law and was elected to the state senate; he lost his seat when the radicals came to power, served as a delegate to the Constitutional Convention of 1875, and then served as judge of the superior court. Trinity College (now Duke University) conferred upon him a MA, and the University of North Carolina honored him with an LL.D. In 1888, A. C. Avery was elected an associate justice of the Supreme Court, serving for eight years. In 1892, he assumed the position of dean of the law school at Duke University. Avery retired in 1897 and became a prolific writer, respected historian, and prominent member of the Southern Historical Society. His first wife was Susan Washington Morrison, daughter of the Rev. R. H. Morrison. His brothers-in-law included D.H. Hill, Stonewall Jackson, and Rufus Barringer. Avery’s second wife was Sarah Love Thomas, the daughter of Col. William Holland Thomas. A.C. Avery died in June 1913.[4]

   The last Avery brother to serve in the war was Willoughby Francis Avery, born in Burke County in May 1843. He was attending the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill when the war broke out, and, leaving the school, he joined the 3^rd North Carolina Cavalry, where he was elected third lieutenant. When the company was reorganized, he failed to win reelection and resigned. Avery was then appointed a second lieutenant in Company C, 33^rd North Carolina Troops. Promotion to first lieutenant came on January 14, 1863, and on December 15, 1863, he was promoted to captain and transferred to Company E. A month later, he was transferred to Company I. Captain Avery was wounded in the mouth and throat at the battle of the Wilderness in May 1864, returned to duty in November 1864, and was captured at Salisbury on April 12, 1865. He was confined at Camp Chase and released in June 1865. After the war, Willoughby Avery edited newspapers in Charlotte and Asheville before returning to Burke County and establishing a newspaper in Morganton. He was married twice and died November 1876.[5]

   There are, of course, the Avery daughters as well. Adelaide Leah Avery (1822-1897) never married but became one of the first librarians in Burke County. Mary Ann Martha Avery (1831-1890) married Joseph Franklin Chambers. Harriet Justina Avery (1833-1902) married Pinckney B. Chambers, a major in the 49^th North Carolina Troops. The last daughter, Laura Myra Avery (1837-1912), never married.

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[1] Warner and Yearns, Biographical Register of the Confederate Congress, 9-10; Powell, Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, 1:67.

[2] Powell, Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, 1:111; Allardice, Confederate Colonels, 68.

[3] Jordan, NC Troops, 4:266; Allardice, Confederate Colonels, 47; The Herald-Mail, November 4, 2007.

[4] Powell, Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, 1:66-67.

[5] Manarin, NC Troops, 2:221; Jordan, NC Troops, 9:220; Powell, Dictionary of North Carolina Biography, 1:72.

The other first shots of the war.

   Everyone is familiar with the bombardment of Fort Sumter in April 1861.  Confederate forces demanded the return of the property, and Federal forces declined. After word arrived that the Federals were going to reinforce the fort, Confederate forces, on April 12, opened fire. After a thirty-six-hour bombardment, Federal forces surrendered a smoking, partially burned-out fort. This event is widely heralded as the first shot of the war.

   However, what if the war actually started three months earlier, in January 1861?

Fort Barrancas (Florida Memory)

   January 8, 1861 - If Charleston Harbor was ablaze with excitement in March and April 1861, Pensacola Harbor was on fire. There were three forts in Pensacola. All three, Fort Pickens, Fort McRae, and Fort Barrancas, were unoccupied. There was a company of forty-six men at nearby Barrancas. After conferring with Commodore James Armstrong at the nearby naval yard, who promised no help, Lt. Adam Slemmer moved his men into Fort Barrancas, put the guns into working order, established a guard, and on the night of January 8, raised the draw bridge. “About midnight on the eighth a group of men approached the fort and failing to answer when challenged, were fired upon by the guard. The alarm was sounded as the group retreated in the darkness. . . Slemmer doubled the guard and they waited through the night to see if another attempt would be made to take possession of the fort.” The following day Slemmer began to move his small command from Fort Barrancas to Fort Pickens. Florida passed its ordinance of secession the following day.[1]

   January 9, 1861 - Major Robert Anderson’s forces at Fort Sumter were on short on men. When Anderson abandoned Fort Moultrie in Charleston Harbor on the evening of December 26, 1860, and moved to Fort Sumter, he had eighty men under his command. Seeking to reinforce the Fort Sumter garrison, Lt. Gen. Winfield Scott secretly boarded 200 Federal soldiers into the Star of the West. Except, it was not a secret. The Star of the West left New York Harbor on the evening of January 5. Newspapers, both North and South, were starting to carry the news the following day. Waiting for the day to get light enough to enter the harbor and head to the fort, the Star of the West was spotted by a patrol boat that alerted a masked battery on shore. The battery was manned by cadets from the Citadel. They fired several shots, two hitting the vessel. Gunners at Fort Moultrie aimed their pieces as the Star of the West came into sight, firing a few rounds but doing no damage. With no signal from Fort Sumter, and an unknown vessel heading swiftly in their direction, the Star of the West broke off and headed back out to sea and back to New York.[2]  

Marker in Vicksburg (HMdb)

   January 13, 1861 – Named for its owner, the A.O. Tyler started life as a 180-foot-long, three-side-wheeled packet steamboat that plied the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. With the secession of states bordering the Mississippi River, orders went out to gain control of the waterway to “prevent any hostile expedition from the Northern States descending the river.” Part of the Jackson Artillery was ordered to Vicksburg, and permission given to call out local militia companies. One account says that on the night of January 13 (or maybe January 11), the A.O. Tyler, heading south from Cincinnati, was fired upon, stopped, and searched. It was then allowed to continue on. Another account states that a blank charge was used and had not the A.O. Tyler stopped, a live round would have been used next. Later, the A.O. Tyler was purchased by the Federals and used as a river gunboat.[3]  

   These are just three accounts. There are undoubtedly more waiting to be discovered.

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[1] Taylor, Discovering the Civil War in Florida, 27-28; Coleman and Coleman, Guardians of the Gulf, 39.

[2] Detzer, Allegiance, 152-59.

[3] Rowland, Military History of Mississippi, 35-6; The Louisville Daily Courier, January 21, 1861.

Fighting on both sides: Richard K. Meade, Jr.

Maj. Richard K. Meade, Jr. 

   There are a handful of men who have the distinction of fighting on both sides during the war. One of those is Richard Kidder Meade, Jr.  Born in Brunswick County, Virginia, in 1835, he was the son of Richard K. Meade, a U.S. Congressman and diplomat, appointed as US Minister to Brazil by President James Buchanan. Richard K. Meade, Jr., was a member of the West Point class of 1857, graduating third in his class. Among his classmates were E. Alexander Porter, Richard H. Anderson, Samuel W. Ferguson, and John S. Marmaduke. Assigned to the engineering corps in the US Army following graduation, he arrived in Charleston on December 10, 1860. Major Robert Anderson first sent him to Castle Pinckney, but Meade discovered that he did not have enough materials to finish the project assigned to him.[1]

   When Major Anderson chose to transfer his command to Fort Sumter, 2^nd Lt. Meade used one of the barges to help move the troops. Meade was back at Castle Pickney when James J. Pettigrew arrived on the following day. Meade had no soldiers, just himself and an ordnance sergeant, along with several workers. When Meade refused to open the gate, Pettigrew’s men procured ladders and scaled the walls. Pettigrew demanded Meade surrender on order of the governor of South Carolina, which Meade stated he could not do. The US flag was hauled down and a red flag with a white star was run up. Meade refused to watch the flag go up and retired to his room to write his report. Meade also refused a parole, believing that to do so acknowledged South Carolina as a foreign government. Meade then headed for Fort Sumter.[2]

   Major Anderson sought Meade’s opinion when the Star of the West was fired upon, and when Governor Pickens sent two men to demand the Fort’s surrender. At the later, it was Meade who suggested that the matter be referred to their superiors in Washington, telling Anderson that if they fired on the South Carolinians firing on the ship, “It will bring civil war on us.”[3] Meade was placed in charge of making bags for powder for the cannons prior to the battle. When the battle began on April 12, Meade found himself in command of a gun crew. He was also still in charge of making powder bags, which were soon running short.[4] 

The capture of Castle Pinckney

   At one point, prior to the battle, Meade received a note that one member of his family, his mother, or maybe a sister, was ill. Meade received a furlough to visit the sick relative. Abner Doubleday later wrote that Meade’s absence to Virginia, was a “strategic move to force poor Meade into the ranks of the Confederacy. . . He had previously been overwhelmed with letters on the subject. He was already much troubled in mind; and some months after the bombardment of Fort Sumter the pressure of family ties induced him (very reluctantly as I heard) to join the Disunionists.”[5] However, Doubleday would later praise Meade, writing that while he had never been under fire, Meade “proved [himself] to be [a true] son of [his] Alma Mater at West Point.”[6]

   Meade accompanied Anderson and the others to New York following the surrender of Fort Sumter. When Virginia left the Union, Meade resigned his commission on May 1, 1861. He soon pitched his fate with the Confederate forces and was appointed major of artillery in the Provisional Army of the Confederate States. Meade was assigned as engineering officer to Magruder, then worked on the defenses in the Cape Fear area, with General Branch at New Bern, and served as engineer officer on the staff of James Longstreet about the time of the Seven Days campaign. Major Meade died of disease, probably typhoid, on July 31, 1862, and is buried at Blandford Church Cemetery in Petersburg, Virginia.[7]

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[1] Detzer, Allegiance, 63.

[2] Detzer, Allegiance, 114, 134, 135.

[3] Swanberg, First Blood, 148.

[4] Detzer, Allegiance, 167; Burton, The Siege of Charleston, 48.

[5] Doubleday quoted in Hendrickson, Sumter, 138.

[6] Swanberg, First Blood, 305.

[7] Krick, Staff Officer in Gray, 218.

Southern Lighthouses and the War

    While we view lighthouses as interesting pieces of history, they also served a vital role in commerce in the 19^th century. These lighthouses helped guide vessels in and out of ports and away from dangerous areas along the coast. Most commerce was transported by ships. Cotton grown in the South was loaded onto ships and moved to Northern ports, or ports in Europe, for the manufacture of cloth. At times, these finished products were then loaded back onto ships and shipped back to the South. Foodstuffs from foreign ports, iron products from foundries up North, coffee from South America—they were all shipped into Southern ports.

   Federal forts and armories are often mentioned in histories as being captured and surrendered to the Southern states as they withdrew from the Union. Lighthouses were also surrendered or captured. There were approximately 106 lights in the Southern states. Some of those were traditional tall lighthouses that we normally picture on the coast, while others were range lights, light ships, or beacons in rivers and harbors. For example, Fort Sumter, in Charleston, South Carolina, had a range light, completed in 1857. This was considered the front range light, while the steeple of St. Phillip’s Church was the rear light. Fort Sumter was pretty much a pile of rubble after the war ended, and the light was lost.[1]

Mobile Point (AL) Lighthouse (National Archives) 

    After various Southern states took control of the lights, and the North declared war, many of the lenses were removed from the lights and stored for safe keeping. Some lenses wound up in the interior of a state. Others were secreted away close by. The lens and machinery from the Cape Canaveral Lighthouse were buried in an orange grove nearby. The last thing Southern forces wanted to do was aid the Federals in their attempts to blockade Southern ports.[2]

   Many of these towers became observation posts for Confederates, such as the Morris Island Lighthouse in Charleston Harbor, the Sabine Pass Light (Louisiana), the Point Isabel Light (Texas), and the Jupiter Inlet Lighthouse (Florida). At the latter, Confederate forces not only observed from the darkened lighthouse, but used torches to signal waiting blockade runners when no Federal vessels were around.[3]

   Some of the towers were destroyed during the war. These include the Morris Island Lighthouse (Charleston); Bald Head Lighthouse (North Carolina); Mobile Point Lighthouse at Fort Morgan (Mobile); Sand Island Lighthouse (Mobile); and Hunting Island (Georgia), (but it’s unclear if the War or erosion destroyed the tower). Bruce Roberts writes that some of the towers that were made out of metal were salvaged by Confederate forces and melted for more important war-time needs. This apparently happened to the Bolivar Point Light near Galveston, Texas.[4]

Others were simply damaged. The Tybee Lighthouse (Georgia) had its lens removed and the top of the tower burnt by state forces. Likewise, the Bayou Bon Fouca Lighthouse was burned by Confederates. Confederate soldiers placed kegs of gunpowder inside the St. Marks Lighthouse (Florida), in an attempt to blow it up, but only damaged the tower. Likewise Confederates used the same method with the Matagorda Light (Texas). While unable to actually take the tower down, they did damage it so badly that it was dismantled in 1867.[5]

Egmont Key Lighthouse (FL) 

   Once the Federals reoccupied an area, they put the lighthouses back in working order. This is true with the lights on Amelia Island (Florida); Cape Henry (Virginia); Hatteras (North Carolina); Cape Lookout (North Carolina); Cape St. George Light (Florida)– (Confederates did hit this tower with a few artillery rounds); and the Skip Island Light (Mississippi – the Federals used the lens captured in a warehouse on Lake Ponchartrain).[6]

   There were, of course, lighthouses that never fell into Confederate hands, such as those around Key West (Florida).

   An interesting comparison study would be the number of ships that grounded out near some port because they had no lights to guide them in. We’ll save that for another post in the future. Another interesting study would be a claim by Mary Clifford. She writes that “Some lights during the Civil War had women keepers paid by the Confederate government.”[7]

  

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[1] https://www.lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?ID=1770

[2] Carr, Cape Canaveral, 19-21.

[3] Itkin, “Operations of the East Gulf Blockading Squadron in the Blockade of Florida,” 198.

[4] Roberts, Southern Lighthouses, 90.

[5] Jones, Gulf Coast Lighthouse, 43, 86.

[6] Jones, Gulf Coast Lighthouses,  63.

[7] Clifford, Women Who Kept the Lights, 35.

Chemical Warfare and the Howlett Line

   In the minds of many, the War of the 1860s was a stand-up fight. Early on, armies met each other on a field of battle, duking it out until one side quit the field. That system of warfare had existed for millennia. Later, the war moved into the trenches. However, it was still a traditional fight.

   On both sides of the conflict, people, usually citizens, often proposed chemical warfare to their respective governments as a means to bring the conflict to a speedy end. There were proposals to pack artillery shells with phosphorus and hydrogen cyanide, sulfuric acid, nitric acid, and hydrogen chloride. Stink bombs (or stinkpots) were frequently proposed as an effective, and non-lethal way of driving soldiers out of their fortifications.

   Probably the only such weapons developed and used successfully during the war were incendiary devices commonly known as “Greek Fire.” “Greek Fire” was nothing new. It was possibly being used by the Byzantine Empire in the mid-7^th century. They sprayed it on enemy vessels, setting them on fire.  “Greek Fire” is often described as “a fluid or solid substance that would ignite spontaneously (or upon being lit), burn on or under water, engage objects in flame, and resist being extinguished by conventional means.” There are of course many stories of “Greek Fire” being used against the civilian populations of Vicksburg, Mississippi and Charleston, South Carolina.[1] 

Fort Brady (Library of Congress) 

   There is at least one account of some form of “Greek Fire” being used against the defenders of Richmond and Petersburg, and even under the personal watch of Federal general U. S. Grant. On November 24, 1864, Grant, with fellow generals George C. Meade and Benjamin F. Butler, gathered at Fort Brady on the James River to observe a demonstration of liquid fire. The concoction was the scheme of Alfred Berney, a New Jersey citizen. Berney had been trying to persuade the Federal government to invest in his schemes. He had approached the Navy about equipping the USS Monitor with chemicals and a pump to spray fire on the CSS Virginia. While no contract for the pump was issued, the Navy agreed to supply some of their ships at Hampton Roads with the concoction. Some of these were used on Confederate positions at Yorktown on April 30, 1862, but the results were mixed. It was some of Berney’s shells that were fired into the city of Charleston later in the war.[2]

   In a test before Grant, Meade, and Butler arrived, writing from Fort Brady, Capt. H. H. Pierce, 1^st Connecticut Artillery, made the following report on November 19, 1864:

   “Birney was here to try a few shots at the house near the rebel battery that fires at Dutch Gap… distance 1,500 yards. Used two common shells to get the range. Struck the chimney the first time, and made a perceptible hole in the roof the second time. Then loaded with one of his shells, which went a trickle over, owing to the greater weight, and struck in the water without bursting. Tried another, which passed in at the front door, struck the chimney on the opposite side, burst, and completely filled the building with burning liquid. Just as the fire began to appear through the roof [we] sent another shell, which burst like the previous one and in an instant almost the whole house was wrapped in flames; the most beautiful site you ever saw…”[3]

   That was just a test. The real demonstration came a few days later. The New York Daily Herald reported that during a demonstration on November 24, “Five frame houses, distance near a mile, were successively fired and burned to the ground.” Also reported was the destruction of a magazine containing shells.[4]

   Did Confederate forces make any mention of the incendiary shells? That is hard to say, given the loss of Confederate records. The New York Daily Tribune article goes on to say that on November 26, Confederate artillery opened fire on the Federal position. The Confederates “poured the shell very lively for near two hours into Fort Brady.” Nothing really coincides with the account in the Official Records, although there is an account of an engagement on the morning of November 29.[5] The Confederate position was along the Howlett Line, and under the command of Maj. Gen. George Picket. Maybe more research can produce a Confederate account of the events.

   If you are interested in learning more about Chemical Weapons and the War, check out Guy R. Hasegawa’s Villainous Compounds: Chemical Weapons & the American Civil War (2015). It appears to be the only book on the subject.

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[1] Hasegawa, Villainous Compounds, 7.

[2] Hasegawa, Villainous Compounds, 17-18.

[3] Official Records, Vol. 42, 3:664-665.

[4] New York Daily Herald, December 1, 1864.

[5] Official Records Vol. 42, 3:1231.