Dan Masters' Civil War Chronicles

A s the thundering sounds of the battles of South Mountain and Antietam echoed in the dim distance, Lieutenant Henry Ayres of the 5 th Wisconsin Infantry, lying sick at a convalescent camp in Baltimore, called it “slow torture. We felt like the leviathan of old that smelt the battle afar off and wished to be in it.”           " Convalescent I am informed means a wreck- the leavings of a body that fever, diarrhea, wounds, and army surgeons have seen fit to let remain," he continued. "Some 800 non-commissioned officers and privates with about 40 commissioned officers make up this camp. The men are from all parts of the army and of every branch of the service; cavalry, artillery, and infantry all mixed up together. The convalescents went under the name and style of the “Cripple Brigade.”           Lieutenant Ayres’ description of life at the Fort Henry convalescent camp first appeared in the October 2, 1862, edition...

A fter losing a third of his command in the short span of 15 minutes on the first day of Chickamauga, Major Charles M. Hammond of the 100th Illinois was eager that the homefolks got the story right.      " I noticed in your issue of September 23 rd  a slight account of the fight of Saturday afternoon the 19 th  and in relation to Davis’s division rescuing the 8 th  Indiana Battery and discovered a slight mistake," he commented to the editors of the Wilmington Independent . After describing how the brigade arrived on the field, he wrote "   At that moment, troops from Davis’s division came rushing through our lines and a battery from the same division, I think (though have not been able to ascertain positively) ran over us, killing one man and wounding several others. In the meantime, the Rebels were pouring in upon us a raking fire which was returned with interest. At this moment, General [Thomas J.] Wood rode up and ordered the 100 th  to charge,...

F ollowing the Federal victory at Mill Springs, Private William Ruby of the 10 th Indiana observed the mad scramble for souvenirs amongst his peers. He proudly reported securing one of the best prizes: a Confederate flag that belonged to a company in the 16 th Alabama. “We gave them such an ungodly scare in the fight that they left their wagons, tents, trunks, horses, saddles, clothes, guns, pistols, ammunition of all kinds, cannons and in fact everything imaginable,” he wrote to his father. “A person could not form the least idea of the scene which followed. There is hardly anyone but what had a relic or trophy to keep in remembrance of the ever-to-be remembered 19 th of January. I captured a splendid banner belonging to the Marion County, Alabama Guards. I will present it to old Tippecanoe County, together with another one captured by Johnny Mackessey of our company. I also got a flute worth about $30, a silver watch, a splendid pistol and case worth about $30. I have several ni...

A t the Battle of Stones River, Lieutenant Noah Webster Yoder could lay sole claim to being the premier bullet magnet of the Army of the Cumberland. The Ohioan no doubt must have felt snake bit at the battle as the 25-year-old former country doctor sustained no less than eight wounds in a manner of minutes when his 51 st Ohio vainly tried to stop Breckinridge’s attack on the afternoon of January 2, 1863.           Lieutenant Yoder’s story, copied from a family history of the Hostetler family, is given as follows: He educated himself, taught school, studied medicine and practiced till the war of 1861, when he entered the army as Lieutenant of Co. G, 51 st Ohio Volunteer Infantry. He engaged in many battles and skirmishes in Kentucky and Tennessee. At the battle of Stones River through some mistaken order of his superior officers his regiment was ordered to advance over the brow of the hill and hold the position at all hazards. The Rebel...

A fter gathering the bodies of his slain comrades, murdered at the hands of Bloody Bill Anderson and his band of guerillas outside the town of Centralia, Missouri in September 1864, one Iowa captain resolved to seek revenge for the deaths of his men.           “I arrived on the ground the morning after the massacre and received a detailed account of it from an eyewitness,” he wrote to a friend in Illinois. “I had a small detail to look after the murdered men of our own regiment, as it was known that seven of them had been on the train. I was not long in finding them, but in an awfully mangled condition. The butchers had thrown some of them across the track and compelled the engineer to run a construction train over them. There were two men from my own company among the slain and I found one of them with nine bullet holes in him and his throat cut. The other one had three bullets and his throat cut. Now talk of peace with such a race, will y...

O n Sunday night, April 13, 1862, Lieutenant Benjamin H. Ober of the 77 th Pennsylvania witnessed one of the saddest sights of his short military career: the arrival of the steamboat Minnehaha at Louisville, Kentucky carrying a boatload of wounded soldiers from the Shiloh battlefield. He climbed aboard eagerly seeking news of his comrades.           “I walked through the cabins and looked into every suffering face, fearing at every step to meet the gaze of a wounded comrade with whom I had been so long associated and with whom I enjoyed so many pleasures and endured so many hardships,” he wrote. “But there were no familiar faces there. It is impossible to describe the sufferings of many of the poor fellows. Some of them were writhing and twisting, rolling over on their hard couches and uttering piteous groans that made the heart ache. Others less severely wounded seemed cheerful and happy and very ready to communicate all they knew about ...