The Forlorn Hope at Vicksburg
“The forlorn hope.” The very words are chilling and evoke
a desperate and deadly military enterprise which has little or no chance of
success; a guaranteed ticket to the grave. On May 22, 1863 outside Vicksburg,
Mississippi, 150 volunteers from General Frank Blair’s division of William T.
Sherman’s 15th Army Corps signed up for just such a desperate
endeavor. The men were to carry logs, planks, and ladders. Their mission was to
approach Stockade Redan near the northeast corner of the Vicksburg fortifications
and bridge the ditch in front of the fort so that the onrushing Union infantry
behind them could reach the works. The end goal was worth the sacrifice: the
capture of Vicksburg was the primary aim of Grant’s army and here existed an
opportunity to seize the jewel prize of the campaign.
The Forlorn Hope at Vicksburg on May 22, 1863 |
Among
the 150 volunteers were two men from Co. I of the 30th Ohio
Volunteer Infantry: Corporals William Archinal and William Campbell. Archinal
went with the first detachment that carried logs; Campbell was in the second
detachment which carried timbers to place on top of the logs. The third detachment
carried the ladders to scale the walls of Stockade Redan.
The fate of the two men diverged on the
slopes of the fort: Archinal was carrying a log with another soldier when the
soldier was shot and dropped to the ground. The sudden fall of his comrade led
Archinal to fall and hit his head on a stone which knocked him out. When he awoke,
he was under intense crossfire and hugged the ground until nightfall. He tried
to crawl away, but the Confederates saw his movement and took him prisoner. Campbell,
however, survived the mission and made his way back safely to Union lines that
night as is recounted in his letter below.
Corporal William Campbell Co. I, 30th Ohio Volunteer Infantry |
Archinal’s account of the Forlorn Hope was
included in Beyer and Keydel’s Deeds of
Valor, but I think Campbell’s account is seeing print here for the first
time since publication in 1863. Both men were awarded the Medal of Honor in 1894 for their participation in this attack. Campbell’s letter was written two days after
the event and was published in the June 12, 1863 issue of the Tuscarawas Advocate from New
Philadelphia, Ohio. Archinal’s
account from Deeds of Valor follows Campbell’s
in this post.
In the field, rear of Vicksburg, Mississippi
May 24, 1863
On the
22nd we were ordered to make a charge on the Rebel fort which is about
60 yards from where we are now. Before starting a squad of 150 men was raised
whose duty it was to go in advance of the column and make a temporary bridge
across the ditch in front of the fort for the column to cross on. This squad
was called the storming party and was composed of volunteers, as they would not
ask anyone to go against his will. William Archinal and myself were the two who
went from my company.
At 10 a.m., the signal was given to start
forward. We picked up our timbers and went in on a run. When we reached the
ditch, a glance showed us that it was too wide for us to bridge, so we ran on
past the fort to a rifle pit about 40 yards in the rear of the fort. But when
we reached it, we found that the ditch was as wide as the one at the fort, which
was about 30 feet. So we were obliged to drop our timbers and get down in the
ditch for shelter. But here the Rebels had a crossfire on us from the fort, so
we ran along the ditch back to the fort, where we found shelter under its
walls. Here we went to work with our bayonets digging little steps in the wall
so we could climb up.
It was not until we started back to the
fort that we thought of looking back for the column that followed us to the
attack; we saw that they had not got more than halfway to the fort before the
road [now aptly called Graveyard Road] was blockaded with the dead and wounded
so that they could not advance, and were obliged to seek shelter in a deep
ravine at the side of the road. About one half of our storming party was also
killed and wounded, so it was impossible for us to go over; but as we were at
the fort and could not get away without running the same risk we did in getting
there, we determined to do the best we could until dark.
So after making a few steps in the wall
with our bayonets, we climbed up and planted the stars and stripes on the top
of the fort. [Private Howell G. Trogden of the 8th Missouri Infantry
carried the flag of his own regiment and planted them in the fort.] The Rebels
inside tried several times to take it down, but as fast as they showed their
heads above the inside of the wall, we shot them down, so they were obliged to
let it float. But it so happened that we had planted it near the mouth of a
cannon, and as they kept throwing grape and shot at our men, the flag was
riddled to pieces. But still we kept it up and at night brought the fragments
away.
May 22, 1863 assault on Stockade Redan; the 30th Ohio was part of Hugh Ewing's brigade which attacked right up the Graveyard Road. |
At 2 p.m., another brigade making a
charge, thinking that by having our brigade in the ravine to keep up a heavy
firing they could get through. But the result was the same as with us; they
were cut to pieces. We can throw stones from our rifle pits to the fort in
front of us. We are under cover of the hill which we have made pretty safe. The
Rebels are hemmed in on all sides and must sooner or later surrender.
From W.F. Beyer and O.F. Keydel’s Deeds of Valor:
When the storming party withdrew, they left behind
them William Archinal, who had been stunned by a fall and who was afterwards
captured by the enemy. Archinal and another man had been carrying a log between
them and had neared the ditch, when his comrade was shot. His sudden fall and
the consequent dropping of his end of the log threw Archinal to the ground,
where he struck his head against a stone and became unconscious. His adventure
is best told in his own words:
When
I came to my senses, I was lying on my face with the log across my body and
showers of bullets whistling through the air and dropping all around me. These
bullets I found, came from my own division and to save myself from being shot
by my own comrades., I wriggled from under the log and got it between me and
them. It was providential for me that I did so, for I could hear the bullets
striking the log in dozens. Sometime during the afternoon, one of our cannon
shells struck the log close to my head; the log bounded in the air and fell a
little way from me, but I crawled up to it again and hugged it close. The
firing continued incessantly all day until nightfall when it gradually
slackened and finally died away altogether. I thought I could make my way back
to my regiment, but as I was raising the butt of my gun which was slung on my
back, I attracted the attention of the enemy above me. Half a dozen rifles were
pointed at me and I was ordered to surrender, which I did, considering the discretion
the better of valor.
When
I was taken into the fort, a Rebel officer came up to me, slapped me on the
shoulder and said, ‘See here young man, weren’t you fellows all drunk when you
started this morning?’ I replied, ‘No sir.’ He said ‘Well they gave you some
whiskey before you started didn’t they?’ I answered ‘No sir, that plan is not
practiced in our army.’ He asked me ‘Didn’t you know it was certain death?’ I
replied, ‘Well, I don’t know I am still living.’ He said, “yes, you are living,
but I can assure you very few of your comrades are!’
I
was then placed in charge of a guard, taken to the city, and put into the yard
of the jail where I met some 50 or 60 of our men, taken at different points
during the day. The jail yard was enclosed by a high brick wall with large
sycamore trees growing inside. I was nearly dead from fatigue, so I immediately
crawled into one of the tents put up for our accommodation and was on the point
of dropping off to sleep when our mortar boats opened fire on the city. Of course,
there was no sleep for us that night.
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