Robert E. Lee versus the USS Monitor

    The USS Monitor and the CSS Virginia came upon the scene about the same time. They were innovative war machines, and their famous duel in Hampton Roads in March 1862 heralded a new mode of warfare. Their duel was the first meeting between ironclads, changing naval history. There was a great concern that the Monitor would sail up the James River and attack Richmond.

   On March 18, 1862, Gen. Robert E. Lee wrote to area commander Maj. Gen. John B. Magruder concerning a possible attack by the USS Monitor. How could Magruder defeat the seemingly undefeatable ironclad? Lee had an idea. “Should the Monitor appear before your batteries, it has occurred to me that by reserving your fire until she arrives near and discharging by word of command or simultaneously your heavy guns at her turret at the time when her gun was protruded for delivering fire, if the gun was struck it would be disabled, or if the turret was hit by a number of shot it would be deranged or capsized from its center.” (Official Records, Series I, Vol., 11, Part 3, page 385.)

   Magruder’s best opportunity to try Lee’s strategy would be if the USS Monitor steamed up the York River. The distance between the batteries at Yorktown and on Gloucester Point was only a third of a mile. Elsewhere, the distance was between one and a half and two miles, until the town of West Point was reached. Would Lee’s plan work? The idea of hitting the muzzle of one of the Dahlgren cannons is plausible. Such a shot might have damaged the gun in such a way that it could not be brought back into the turret for reloading, or it might have forced the gun off its carriage, creating carnage in the turret. But even at the short distance between Yorktown and Gloucester Point, hitting such a target as the muzzle of a cannon protruding from a turret just a few feet above the water line would be difficult, to say the least.

   The USS Monitor did steam up the James River in May 1862, but it was after the fortifications near Yorktown, where Magruder’s command was located, had been abandoned. The Monitor was unable to elevate its guns high enough to duel with the Confederate works at Drewry’s Bluff. The other ships in the Federal naval flotilla were damaged after more than three hours of battle. The ships dropped back down the James River to refit.

   Lee v. the Monitor… who knew.

Books on Richmond and the War.

Often, people ask me about books. And that’s ok. I’ve read a few over the past three decades. At times, it is really hard to answer those questions in a general sense. But, when it comes to more specific questions, like best book on a battle, or a certain topic, that can be easier to answer. Over the past year, I have read, or re-read, several volumes about Richmond, the Confederate capital. There are other volumes about the Confederate capital, but I find these the most helpful. (These are in order of date published.)

Rebel Richmond: Life and Death in the Confederate Capital (Stephen Ash, 2019) – The dust jacket states that Ashe “guides readers from the city’s alleys, homes, and shops to its churches, factories, and halls of power, uncovering the intimate daily drama of a city transformed and ultimately destroyed by war.” The various chapters examine housing, food, work, crime, and other aspects of the city during the war. I struggled somewhat with the chapter entitled “White Supremacy and Black Resistance.” That implies that only white people, most upper society white people, were racist. Everyone was racist in that period of time. Many people did not like the Irish, or the Catholic. In reading Jones’s famous A Rebel War Clerk’s Diary, he never really mentions the enslaved, but he sure detested the Jews. Ash gives some space to overlooked areas of war-time Richmond, such as the “Soldier’s Home” on Cary Street. Soldiers passing through the Capital and required to wait on connecting trains could stay at the Soldier’s Home, instead of having to wander the streets throughout the night, looking for a place to bed down. (51) Overall, Rebel Richmond is a good read.

The Confederate State of Richmond: A Biography of the Capital (Emory M. Thomas, 1971, 1998) This is probably the first book I ever read on the Confederate capital. The edition I now have is the second, with the new introduction. Emory writes in the introduction that as a boy, growing up in Richmond, the War in general and the Confederacy in particular, was a lot of “sad stories told principally by people in flowered dresses, floppy straw hats, and white gloves.” Later, Thomas admits that “the Confederate experience possessed genuine intellectual viability.” (vii) While Thomas should have admitted a debt of gratitude to those ladies in white gloves for saving multitudes of letters and diaries and oral traditions, I still like his book. He uses footnotes so it easy to track down sources (instead of flipping back and forth). Thomas broaches several important subjects, such as the relationship of weather to crop production, the meat panic in January 1864, and the CS Commissary borrowing food from the city to feed Lee’s army in March 1865. There are some who criticize Thomas, especially his biography of Lee. Overall, I still think The Confederate State of Richmond a good read and important contribution (probably the first scholarly) to the study of the Confederate capital.

Ashes of Glory: Richmond at War (Ernest B. Furgurson, 1996)--At almost 400 pages, Ashes of Glory is probably the most detailed history of the Confederate capital to date. Furgurson introduces us to a wide range of characters. Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, Mayor Joseph Mayo, Capt. Sally Tompkins, Rev. Moses Hoge, spy Elizabeth Van Lew, and a host of others make their appearances through the text. There are good descriptions of the relationship (or lack thereof) between Robert E. Lee and Lucius Northorp, of Northorp’s sacking, of the spy network, the escape of Federal prisoners from Libby Prison, the work of such industries as Tredegar Iron Works… Overall, it is a pretty comprehensive look at the Confederate capital. “In this work of great verisimilitude and potency, Furgurson resurrects a city in crisis and dramatically personalizes the conflict that was our nation’s coming-of-age,” the book’s jacket tells us.

There are, of course, many other volumes. Moore’s Complete Civil War Guide to Richmond (1978) contains a lot of useful information for those who like to explore the city. Kimball’s Starve or Fall: Richmond and its People, 1861-1865 (1976) is somewhat dated and probably replaced by Ash. Parker’s Richmond’s Civil War Prisons (1990). Manarin’s Richmond at War: The Minutes of the City Council, 1861-1865 (1966) is essential primary source reading. Burns’ Curiosities of the Confederate Capital: Untold Richmond Stories of the Spectacular, Tragic, and Bizarre (2013) is a fun read. There are two medical- related books: Calcutt’s Richmond’s Wartime Hospitals (2005) and Green’s Chimborazo: The Confederacy’s Largest Hospital (2004) are both important reads, as is Dew’s Ironmaker to the Confederacy: Joseph R. Anderson and the Tredegar Iron Works (1966).

Parker’s Richmond’s Civil War Prisons (1990) looks interesting, but this is one I have never read nor own, as is Casstevens’ George W. Alexander and Castle Thunder: A Confederate Prison and its Commandant (2004). There are, of course, other books that have been written over the years, but these three, Ash, Thomas, and Furgurson are my go-to books about the Confederate capital. (Or course, I might be remiss to not mention my own Capitals of the Confederacy [2015] that has two chapters on Richmond.) This list leaves out first-person accounts, like DeLeon, Jones, McGuire, Putnam, Pember, and Kean.

So, what are your favorite books on Richmond and the War?

It was Scott, not Grant, who won the war.

   The more deeply I read into Confederate history, the more convinced I am that it was Winfield Scott, not U.S. Grant, who actually “won” the War. Scott had a storied life. Born in Virginia in 1786; graduate of William & Mary, and then studied law; appointed to the U.S. Army in 1812; commander-in-chief in 1841; the acknowledged genius of the Mexican-American War; Whig nominee for president in 1852… (the list could go on). In the early days of the war, it was Scott who developed the Anaconda Plan.

Winfield Scot                            Robert E. Lee

   If you have spent any time delving into the 1860s, you’ve probably seen reference to the Anaconda Plan. We usually see it mentioned, nod our heads, and move on. However, after working on “Feeding the Army of Northern Virginia” for the past couple of years, I’ve come to the conclusion that Scott’s plan really should get more attention. Regarding the Anaconda Plan, Bruce Catton writes that Scott knew it would take time to build armies. “[T]herefore, by blockading the sea coast, seal off the inland borders as well, then drive down the Mississippi, constricting the vitality out of the Confederacy—and, at last, send in armies of invasion to break the Southern nation into bits,” the Confederacy could be beaten. (29-30) Of course, a lot of people didn’t listen to Scott. They wanted quick action – on to Richmond was the cry. We know that didn’t work out very well. And after four years of Federal armies losing hundreds of thousands of men, the blockade finally strangled the Confederacy. When Fort Fisher fell, closing the Cape Fear River and the port at Wilmington, the Confederate armies quickly succumbed.

   Now that’s not to say that Sherman’s operations in Georgia and the actions of Hunter and Sheridan in the Valley did not help contribute to the Confederate demise. They did, especially in regard to foodstuffs. But even before Sheridan moved down through the Shenandoah Valley, Lee’s army was dependent on food coming through the blockade, mostly through the port of Wilmington. That, and the illicit trade through Federal lines, is what really kept the Army of Northern Virginia going the last year of the war (That’s a whole ‘nother blog post). We could just as easily push this conversation back further. They were hungry after the first battle of Mannassas, and foodstuffs are what pushed Lee into Maryland in September 1862 and Pennsylvania in July 1863.

   There will be some who will say that old Hardy is just succumbing to the Lost Cause mythology: that the South was defeated not through military might, but because the men were cold and hungry. I have come to believe that the latter is more true than some will want to believe. As I have worked on “Feeding the Army of Northern Virginia,” I have largely stayed away from post war-war reminiscences. Instead, I have focused on diaries and letters, creating a real-time look at problems of foodstuffs, at least in the army in Virginia. Based upon the trends, I can see when the soldiers were hungry, when they were well fed (which seldom happened), and how it affected their moral.  And that is really a key point. A huge percentage of soldiers, at least in the ANV, once they get to a breaking point regarding food, leave. Many head home. Some wander around trying to find or steal food. Others head to the Federal lines, where food has been promised to those who desert. In the end, Lee’s army, which had plenty of munitions of war, simply ran out of men.

   But don’t take my word for it. Military historian John Keegan writes in The American Civil War that Scott’s plan was the “North’s fundamental strategy.” (321) Stephen Wise concludes the same in Lifeline of the Confederacy: “Defeat did not come from the lack of material: instead the Confederacy simply no long had the manpower to resist, and the nation collapsed.” (226)

   In the end, Scott’s military legacy is overshadowed by Grant and Sherman. Scott was an old man at the start of the war, retiring early on, and passing away in 1866. Had the Federal navy been able to blockade the Southern ports more quickly, then maybe the Confederacy might not have existed as long as it did. It’s just something to consider, another thought to ponder in this complex story .   

Confederate Wayside Hospitals

   There are many different types of Confederate hospitals. A regiment in camp early on in the war would set up a hospital in a tent or local building. (Later in the war, at least in the ANV, these regimental/brigade hospitals were combined into a division hospital, at least in the ANV). Going into a battle, a brigade would establish a hospital for wounded well behind the lines. Like a camp hospital, a series of tents or structures, or both, would be utilized. Once the wounded were well enough to be moved, they were transferred to a large city-wide hospital complex. After these were organized, the wounded would pass through a receiving hospital before being transferred to a general hospital. Any large city (and probably quite a few towns) connected to a railroad could have a general hospital. If a sick or wounded soldier could go home, he was given a furlough and sent in that direction. Hospitals sprang up across the South to serve these soldiers. They would give the men food, possibly a change of bandages, and a place to wait while waiting for a connecting or refueling train.

   To date, there has not been much published on Confederate Wayside Hospitals. In Glenna R. Schroeder-Lein’s The Encyclopedia of Civil War Medicine, we find a brief entry. Schroeder-Lein tells us that “Wayside hospitals were often initially developed and at least partially staffed by local women’s relief organizations…” In May 1863, the Confederate Congress passed a law directing the surgeon general to establish “way side” hospitals. Schroeder-Lein concludes that there were seventeen such hospitals in Virginia, with others in Georgia, South Carolina, Alabama, and Mississippi. (159) She probably dug that list out of an appendix in Cunningham’s Doctors in Gray. Cunningham does not say much about wayside hospitals. He does provide a list of hospitals, but surely that list is incomplete. There had to be more than two hospitals in Tennessee during the war, for example.

Marker for the Wayside Hospital in Columbia, SC. 

   My first real encounter with a Wayside Hospital came while I was working on Civil War Charlotte. There were three different railroads that converged in Charlotte. Two of those, the Charlotte and South Carolina Railroad, which connected Charlotte to Columbia, and the North Carolina Railroad, which connected Charlotte to Salisbury, was a major route connecting the Deep South with the Upper South, especially after the loss of the line through East Tennessee in September 1863.

   It is not clear when the ladies in Charlotte formed their wayside hospital. There is mention of the Hospital Association of Mecklenburg County in July 1861, but this looks to largely be concerned with a group of ladies who went to the Peninsula of Virginia to minister to the sick of the First North Carolina Volunteers. The first real mention comes in July 1862, following the Seven Days campaign, when Dr. R. K. Gregory was appointed “as surgeon of the Hospital at Charlotte, established by the citizens for the benefit of sick and wounded soldiers passing through or detained at this point.” (Charlotte Democrat July 15, 1862). In 1896, Miss Lily W. Long wrote an article published in the Charlotte Observer about this first hospital: “The first Hospital in Charlotte was established by the ladies in a large building used as the washhouse for the military institute, now the graded school. This building has since been removed. Here all arrangements were made for the care of passing soldiers. Every day two members of the hospital association went there with supplies of all necessary articles and gave their time and strengths to nursing and caring for our men. After a while the Confederate government took charge of the Wayside hospital, placed it under the care of the Medical department and used buildings of the Carolina Fair Association on what is now Middle Street, between Morehead and the railroad crossing, south….”

Part of the NC Military Institute in Charlotte served as a
Wayside Hospital.

   Richard Gregory, a Greensboro, North Carolina native and former US army doctor, was assigned as post doctor for both the General Hospital and Wayside Hospital in Charlotte. Gregory asked the ladies of Charlotte and the surrounding area to supply old sheets, pillow slips, counterpanes, and lint, along with "any delicacies, such as would gratify and be suitable for the sick and wounded" to be left in his office. It appears that women were active in the Wayside Hospital. At times, the Charlotte Daily Bulletin ran work assignments for the next few days. On November 26, Mrs. Sinclair and Mrs. Carson; Thursday, Mrs. C. C. Lee and Mrs. Capt. Lowe, and on Friday, Mrs. Overman and Miss Patsy Watson. On Monday, November 3, the duty fell to Mrs. Lucas and Mrs. Wilkes; Tuesday Mrs. C. Elma and Mrs. E. Britton; Thursday, Mrs. Coldiron and Mrs. John Howie; and, on Friday, Mrs. N. Johnston and Mrs. R. Surwell.

   Jumping across the state, we have the Wayside Hospital in Weldon. Walter Clark, in volume four of North Carolina Troops, tells us the Wayside Hospitals were established in Weldon, Goldsboro, Tarboro, Raleigh, Salisbury, and Charlotte in the summer of 1862, and replaced by General Hospitals in September 1862. I don’t believe this is accurate, as Wayside and General hospitals are still listed as separate entities through 1864. (624) I don’t see, in Cunningham’s list, evidence of Weldon ever having a General Hospital. Regardless, there are some interesting tidbits about the hospital in Weldon found in Cornelia Spencer Edmondston’s diary   (I will confess here that I am extracting these from Toalson’s No Soap, No Pay, Diarrhea, Dysentery, & Desertion.). In February 1864, Edmondston writes of purchasing 38 dozen eggs from another local lady for the hospital. She is paying $1.00 a dozen. Twenty-five dollars has been donated, while her family covers the remining $13. (29) On March 20, Edmondston wrote: “Mr Wilkinson, the Agent of the Hospital, has been here for supplies. His trip was almost unsuccessful, for besides some Potatoes which Mr E had bought for him, some Lard which we could ill spare from the plantation but felt forced to sell him, & some Peas which Mr E gave him squeezed from the seed peas & the few household things I could contribute (very few indeed) & some eggs, 27 doz, which we bought from the negroes, he went back as he came. No one else had anything to spare, so swept is our country by Gov. Agents and Commissaries.” (71)

   There is a lot to unpack in those two diary entries. People contributed money to support the Wayside Hospital in Weldon; items were purchased locally for the hospital; the hospital had a person who traveled around the area looking for supplies; and, government officers impressed a lot of the food in areas, making the local support of these hospitals difficult.

   This post is just an introduction. Was there a Confederate Wayside Hospital in your community? Please feel free to share and maybe we can compile a more complete history of this piece of Confederate history.

Wayside Hospitals, per Cunningham

Alabama

Demopolis          Surg. H. Hinckley

Eufaula                 Surg. P. D. L. Baker

Selma                    Surg. W. Curry

Talladega             Surg. G. S. Bryant

Florida

Madison              Asst. Surg. J. Cohen

Georgia

Fort Gaines         Surg. E. W. McCreery

Mississippi

Guntown             Surg. J. M. Hoyle

Liberty                  Surg. R. M. Luckett

North Carolina

Charlotte (No. 6)               Surg. J. W. Ashby

Goldsboro                           Dr. L. A. Stith

Greensboro (No. 2)         Surg. E.B. Holland

Salisbury (No. 3)               Surg. J. W. Hall

Tarboro (No. 7)                 Dr. J. H. Baker

Weldon (No. 1)                  Surg. H. H. Hunter           

Wilmington (No. 5)          Surg. J. C. Walker

South Carolina

Florence              Surg. T. A. Dargan

Greenville           Surg. G. S. Trezevant

Kingsville             Surg. J. A. Pleasants

Virginia

Burkesville          Dr. T. R. Blandy

Lynchburg           Surg. A. C. Smith

Petersburg         Surg. M. P. Scott

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 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.

---

[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…

Confederate Leadership in Flux

   The soldiers called it the Virginia Quick Step or the Tennessee Trots. It would be unlikely to find some Confederate soldier who did not suffer some complaint of dysentery or diarrhea throughout the war. At Chimbarazo Hospital in Richmond, there were 10,503 cases treated there throughout the war, or, one sixth of all admissions. For one out of ten, it was deadly.[i] What is the difference between dysentery and diarrhea?  Margaret Humphreys writes “Dysentery was diagnosed in cases with fever, bloody stools, and tenesmus, colonic and rectal cramping that caused a continuous urge to defecate. Absent the blood and cramping the case was categorized as diarrhea…”[ii]

What happens when the same maladies hit the ranks of the high command? How incapacitated were some of these generals? Finding detailed information about some of these generals is a hard task. Unless they wrote home of their conditions or were bad enough off to be relieved of command, we really don’t know. But there are a few cases. Brigadier General Lawrence O’Bryan Branch wrote home of suffering from dysentery from June through at least early August 1862. During the days leading up to the battle of Cedar Mountain, Branch was being hauled around in an ambulance. Only as his brigade was called upon to go and stabilize Jackson’s left did Branch drag himself out to take command. Bull Paxton, commanding the old Stonewall brigade, wrote home in January 1863 that he was unwell, and had been since August the proceeding year.[iii] E. Porter Alexander suffered through the summer and fall, and doctored himself with a mixture of chloroform, brandy peppermint, and laudanum. [iv]

Bull Paxton                                   L.O. Branch

Probably the two most interesting cases concern Robert E. Lee and Richard Ewell. Of course, these two men are not your average, run-of-the-mill soldiers. From June 1862 until the end of the war, Lee commanded the principal Confederate army in the east, while Ewell was one of his top lieutenants, taking over Jackson’s corps after the death of the latter in May 1863.

Lee’s first recorded bout with dysentery came at Gettysburg. Two different officers, including W. W. Blackford of Stuart’s staff, noted that Lee was ill. Combine this with whatever heart ailment Lee had during the campaign, and we have a very sick commander. The second round was worse. On May 23, 1864, during the Overland Campaign, Lee was ill once again with “bilious dysentery.” Charles Venable, writing in 1873, lamented the opportunity that slipped away: “in the midst of these operations on the North Anna, General Lee was taken sick and confined to his tent. As he lay prostrated by his sickness, he would often repeat: ‘We must strike them a blow—we must never let them pass us again—we must strike them a blow’”.[v] We know that Lee, prostate in tent, missed a grand opportunity to wreck a portion of Grant’s army.

Richard Ewell’s case actually cost him his command, sort of. By the time of the Overland Campaign, Ewell was not performing the way Lee wished. Ewell was reported sick on May 26, and while he reported personally to General Lee at the end of the month, Lee refused to reinstate Ewell to command. The Second Corps was now under Jubal Early. Ewell protested, even meeting with Jefferson Davis, but to no avail. Ewell never regained active field command.

There are probably many other cases of dysentery or diarrhea and Confederate generals. Mild cases were something seldom mentioned in letters or official reports. Given how one case in particular changed the course of the war, maybe the “bloody flux” should be given more consideration.    

---

[i] Wiley, Life of Johnny Reb, 252.

[ii] Humphrey, Marrow of Tragedy, 99.

[iii] Paxton, Letters, 72.

[iv] Welsh, Medical Histories of Confederate Generals, 4

[v] Venable, “The Campaign from the Wilderness to Petersburg,” 535.

Stonewall Jackson’s Lemons

   Have you ever been to Stonewall Jackson’s grave in Lexington, Virginia? Ever noticed all of the lemons near his headstone? Henry Kyd Douglas, an officer on Jackson’s staff, told us that lemons were Jackson’s favorite fruit, and could be seen during the battle of Gaines Mill sucking on one throughout the day. “Immediately a small piece was bitten out of it and slowly and unsparingly he began to extract its flavor and its juice. From that moment until darkness ended the battle, that lemon scarcely left his lips except to be used as a baton to emphasize an order..." Douglas wrote. (Douglas, I Rode with Stonewall, 103)  The Virginia Military Institute’s web page on Jackson states that there are two other accounts of Stonewall having a lemon on this day. That’s really not a lot to go on. Where did he get lemons from?

   There are few accounts, beyond Douglas, of Jackson enjoying lemons. Probably the best way to secure them was to capture them from the enemy. A. J. Emerson wrote an article that appeared in Confederate Veteran in 1912 about Jackson sucking on lemons during the Shenandoah Valley campaign in March-April 1862. When someone asked about how Jackson acquired lemons, the answer was “from his commissary.” “Our commissary hasn’t any lemons” was the response. “Old Jack got ‘em from his other commissary.” “What other commissary?” “Banks. Yes, Old Jack draws all our rations from Banks.” Of course, “Banks” is Federal General Nathaniel Banks. The writer believed that Jackson captured Banks’ commissary wagons every couple of days, supplying himself, and his men, with provisions. (58)

   Richard Taylor provides another post-war account in his Destruction and Reconstruction. Taylor, in 1862 near New Market, had his men in camp, and sought out Jackson. He found the general sitting on the top rail of a fence. “Just then my creoles started their band and a waltz. After a contemplative suck at a lemon, ‘Thoughtless fellows for serious work’ came forth [from Jackson]. I expressed a hope that the work would not be less well done because of the gayety. A return to the lemon gave me the opportunity to retire. Where Jackson got his lemons ‘no fellow could find out,’ but he was rarely without one.” (50)

   In 1906, an old Veteran wrote to Harper’s Weekly “I remember a little incident that occurred at Harper’s Ferry when Stonewall captured the place. He was receiving a report upon the number of prisoners taken, when a soldier pushed forward, a crate filled with lemons in his arms, and presented them to the General. Jackson’s face beamed. “My man,” he said, smilingly, if you only joined yesterday, and if you don’t do another thing hereafter, you’ve rendered mighty good service in this war.” (1690)

      Of course, lemons were brought through the blockade throughout the war. On January 1, a store in Raleigh, North Carolina, advertised having 50 cases of lemons for sale. (Raleigh Register January 1, 1862). The Confectionary Store in Staunton advertised lemons for sale in March of that year. (Staunton Spectator March 11, 1862) Even as late as December 1865, the stores in Wilmington, North Carolina, advertised lemons for sale (The Wilmington herald December 30, 1865)

   Getting lemons from the enemy was obviously a way to supply Jackson with the fruit. Heros von Borke wrote of Stuart’s capturing the smoldering ruins of the Federal depot at White Hall. Among the debris were cases of lemons. The Virginia Military Institute, on their Q&A page about Jackson, lists two other accounts, one from Colonel Raleigh Colston, and another from a cavalry trooper, maybe the trooper who even delivered the lemons from White Hall.

   When it comes time to separate fact from fiction, we really only have one war-time account of Jackson and his lemons. That would be during the battle of Gaines Mill. Maybe in time some other war-time accounts will surface.

Building a Civil War Medical Library

    When I wrote the chapter on brigade medical care for General Lee’s Immortals, I relied upon five  books (secondary sources) to provide the background for that chapter. Those five were Cunningham’s Doctors in Gray (1958); Humphrey’s Marrow of Tragedy (2013): Schroeder-Lein’s The Encyclopedia of Civil War Medicine (2008); Calcutt’s Richmond’s Wartime Hospitals (2005); and, Green’s Chimborazo: The Confederacy’s Largest Hospital (2004). That’s not to say there are not other texts that I have that were influential. There are others, like biographies on Kate Cummings, Dr. Mary Walker, and Doctors in Blue. But those five, along with the primary sources gleaned from the writings of members of the Branch-Lane brigade, allowed me to craft a really good chapter that has gotten some attention.

   In the upcoming Feeding the Army of Northern Virginia project, I set out to have a chapter on foodstuff connected to the hospitals that served Robert E. Lee’s army. As I did with the chapter on brigade medical care in General Lee’s Immortals, I want to push our understanding of this aspect of Confederate military history. So it is time to grow my library once again, both with primary sources and secondary literature.

   I started with Frank Freemon’s Microbes and Minie Balls: An Annotated Bibliography of Civil War Medicine (1993). This book is divided into two sections. The first covers articles and books written by people (mostly) connected to the medical department. Of course, since I write primarily Confederate history, I took note of several Confederate texts that bear further exploration. At the same time, there were several secondary texts that I would also like to examine. These include: Alfred Bollet “Scurvy, Spruce, and Starvation: Major Nutritional Deficiency Syndromes During the Civil War” Medical Times (November 1989); Frank Freemon  “Administration of the Medical Department of the Confederate States Army, 1861 to 1865.” Southern Medical Journal (1987); Harris Riley, Jr., “General Robert E. Lee: His Medical Profile.” Virginia Medical Monthly (1987); and John Stevens “Hostages to Hunger: Nutritional Night Blindness in Confederate Armies.” Tennessee Historical Quarterly (1989).

   Three other books I have recently added to my ever-growing library include Frank Freemon’s Gangrene and Glory: Medical Care during the American Civil War (1998); Ira Rutkow’s Bleeding Blue and Gray: Civil War Surgery and the Evolution of American Medicine (2005); and Shauna Devine’s Learning from the Wounded: The Civil War and the Rise of American Medical Science (2014). I’m not sure any of these will lead to information on my narrow topic, but, overall, I hope to gain an even greater understanding of medical practices during the war.

   Coming next, we’ll look at primary sources dealing with the Army of Northern Virginia and Confederate hospitals.

   Do you have a favorite medical resource? Care to share?

(PS. I also have Confederate Hospitals on the Move, Two Confederate Hospitals and Their Patients: Atlanta to Opelika, and Civil War Pharmacy.)

The Generals and their Farmyard Animals

   I sometimes wonder how many Confederate generals kept livestock close by during the war. We know that there were horses and mules, used by officers, artillery, and to pull wagons, but actual livestock?

Robert E. Lee

   The most famous of these stories would undoubtedly be Robert E. Lee and his chicken. This story first appears in A, K, Long’s Memoirs of Robert E. Lee (1886). Long served on Lee’s staff. According to Long, the headquarters staff (or maybe just Lee), had received a mess of chickens. Lee’s cook, Bryan lynch, “Discovered that she daily contributed an egg, spared her life.” The chicken :selected the general’s tent to make her daily deposit… Every day she would walk to and fro in front of his tent, and when all was quiet, find a place under his bed, and deposit her egg; then walk out with a gratified cackle.” The hen went with Lee all the way to Gettysburg and back. During the winter months of 1864, Lee “had a distinguished visitor to dine with him” and Bryan, Lee’s cook, “finding it extremely difficult to procure material for a dinner, very inhumanly killed the hen, unknown to any of the staff. At the dinner the general was very much surprised to see so fine a fowl; all enjoyed it, not dreaming of the great sacrifice made upon the altar of hospitality. When she was missed and inquiry made, Bryan had to acknowledge that he had killed her in order to provide something for the gentlemen’s dinner.” (241-242)

William N. Pendleton

      But there other stories as well of generals keeping livestock close at hand. Brig. Gen. William N. Pendleton was sent to inspect the artillery of the Army of Tennessee, near Dalton, Georgia, in the late winters months of 1864. He noted in a letter home that he had stayed at Johnston’s headquarters cottage. One morning, “After washing, etc., we shared breakfast with the general’s mess. Very good; real coffee, and butter made from the general’s own cow, toast, corn-bread, etc.” (315) Not only was there someone milking the cow, but for Johnston, churning butter as well.

   Probably the most famous, or interesting accounts of Generals and livestock come from Maj. Gen. William Mahone. According to Westwood A. Todd, of the 12^th Virginia Infantry, Mahone kept a flock of turkeys. “General Mahone, who throughout the war was not unmindful of creature comforts, had about Christmas time provided himself with several turkeys, which he was fattening in a pen just outside of his tent. Rash man that he was to leave those turkeys so exposed. When he stepped out of his tent Christmas morning with a view of selecting his roaster, his turkeys were all gone. Who stole Mahone's turkeys? was a favorite 'conundrum' in the Division the balance of the war."

William Mahone

   Moxley Sorrel, a member of Longstreet’s staff until the last few months of the war, recalled the Mahone “A cow was always by his quarters and laying hens cackled loud, besides many luxuries.” (277)

   So I wonder if other Confederate generals kept livestock penned near their personal quarters, and how that livestone was tended to while on campaign? Maybe time will tell.

He almost got away: Holcombe Legion and the night after South Mountain.

    Sometimes you just find accounts that make a person laugh out loud. As I was reading through an account by a member of Holcombe Legion (SC), I stumbled across one such account. William P. Dubose was adjutant of the infantry portion of Holcombe's Legion (he later served as chaplain). In September 1862, he had been ordered to take a small group of his soldiers and scout towards the battle field of the previous day at South Mountain, trying to ascertain if Federal troops are still around. Dubose has moved his men forward, and then leaves then while he scouts on ahead. He actually flanks a Federal line, coming up in their rear.

Private Jackon A. Davis of Co. E, Holcombe Legion (LOC)

   In the darkness, Dubose has not seen anything, when all of a sudden, he hears "Halt!"

   I stopped immediately, wondering whether it was the voice of the enemy or one of my own men in search of me. I could see one or two figures not more than twenty steps in front of me, but I could not distinguish the uniform. Robert Rutledge's cloak [which Dubose had borrowed] as a civilian's, with a c cape falling over the arms with slits in the side of the body for armholes. My arms were within the slits, holding the pistol [also borrowed]. I quietly cocked it and slowly moved over to the figures before me, which were between me and my own men. They made no movement as I approached and I hoped very strongly still that they were my men. As I approached to within a very few feet my immediate antagonist and myself, simultaneously recognized each other as enemies. He thought I was one of his own men. As he jerked up his gun, I was near enough to ward it off with one hand and with the other attempt to draw my pistol from without the cloak. In the necessary scuffle, the pistol being cocked, discharged itself prematurely. At once, thinking himself shot, with a load yell, the man dropped his gun and precipitated himself upon me. Instantly the woods were alive. My effort then was simply to get away. In the scuffle that ensued, I several times nearly did so, but my antagonist was a much larger and stronger man that I was, and I finally had to surrender to numbers."

Dubose was captured, and spent the next several weeks at Fort Delaware as a prisoner of war. This account was found in the Southern Historical Collection, University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill. Surprisingly, there appears to be no history of Holcombe Legion.