Dan Masters' Civil War Chronicles

A fter months of captivity at Lynchburg and Belle Isle, Sergeant Samuel Wooldridge of the 29th Ohio wrote the following letter to his parents back home in Ohio. It had been four months since he had last been able to write them. The English-born sergeant was captured in the aftermath of the Battle of Port Republic on June 9, 1862, and endured three months as a prisoner of war.       " We were kept on a hill with no grass on it," was how he described Lynchburg. "We had no tents, two-thirds of us no blankets, only food enough to make us one meal a day and not very good at that.  After about a week, we were taken into the fairgrounds. There we had flour, beef, bacon, beans, rice, sugar, salt, and vinegar, about half a ration of each. But being closely confined, we did not get exercise enough to make us very hungry." Life at Belle Isle wasn't any better. " There we lived on half a loaf of bread and every third day a small piece of beef, half boiled and unsalted.

T he week after the Battle of Antietam, two Pennsylvanians, Ephraim B. McCrum and Henry C. Dern, both editors and proprietors of the Altoona Tribune , journeyed south into Maryland. Their intentions were to visit the camps of their local regiments, touch base with the boys, and to report back on their findings. “We were told by those who had preceded us that we obtained a sight of the tail end only,” they stated. “If that be so, we have no desire to see the whole animal.”           The pair first went to Hagerstown, and on Tuesday morning September 23, 1862, they secured a wagon and set out for Sharpsburg. “Nothing worthy of special attention attracted our attention until we ascended a hill about two miles this side of the battlefield,” they wrote. “Here our olfactory organs informed us very perceptibly that we were in the region of decaying animal matter. On every rise of ground thereafter we were greeted with the same stench, yet we could see no marks of the battle. Thus, we passed

I n the days following the defeat at Chancellorsville, the soldiers of the Third Division of the 11 th Corps were horrified to see their good names besmirched in the newspapers. “Every newspaper that fell into our hands told the world a frightful story of the unexampled misconduct of the 11 th Corps,” remembered Major General Carl Schurz, commanding the division. “How the ‘cowardly Dutchmen’ of that corps had thrown down their arms and fled at the first fire of the enemy, had led in the disgraceful flight without firing a shot, and how these cowardly ‘Dutch’ had overrun the whole battlefield and came near stampeding other brigades or divisions. I was thunderstruck.”           Another soldier who was “thunderstruck” was one of Schurz’s brigade commanders, Brigadier General Alexander Schimmelfennig. In this extraordinary letter to General Schurz, Schimmelfennig insisted that the truth be heard and justice obtained for his men. “The officers and men of this brigade of your division,

I n the bitter fighting near the Peach Orchard and Wheatfield at Gettysburg on July 2, 1863,  John Garden of the 62nd Pennsylvania recalled that at times the combat became hand to hand.       " Again that “yell” which was heard so often at Chancellorsville commenced and made us grasp our pieces with firmer grips.," Garden commented. “Attention,” and “forward” passed along the line and we advanced across the wheat field and formed behind a stone wall. We were hardly posted behind the wall before the word was passed that we were flanked on the right of our brigade which we soon found to be too true for the bullets commenced flying in among us from the right. We remained in our position until the order came “about face” when we walked out in good order, contending with the enemy both in front and rear, they having nearly surrounded us.  For a time, it was a hand-to-hand engagement, muskets were clubbed, and pistols and sabers were used in the scuffle. Our regiment lost one of it

I t’s easy to think that our ancestors during the Civil War rarely enjoyed an opportunity for fun, but Private Jonathan Kinsel’s description of how his regiment enjoyed their New Year’s holiday in coastal South Carolina shows otherwise. “Taking everything into consideration, we enjoyed quite a pleasant time,” he wrote. “The performance was entertaining and the ale, cider, cakes, and apples which our ever-thoughtful colonel purchased for the occasion were refreshing. The wheelbarrow race also caused great merriment. The competitors were blindfolded and placed directly in line with a certain point, the one coming nearest the goal being the victor. The fun consisted in their deviation at every imaginable angle from a straight line, trotting soberly along, each under the pleasing impression that he was making a straight line for the mark. Of course, the one farthest out of the way was greeted with peals of derisive laughter and encouraged to renewed diligence by assurances of success.”

A s Captain Frederick Garternicht’s company of the 84 th Illinois arrived on the outskirts of Murfreesboro on the evening of December 29, 1862, he witnessed the destruction of a brick home along the Nashville Pike near the Two-Mile Marker. Confederate engineers intended to destroy some outbuildings to clear lanes of fire for Confederate artillery, but the flames spread to the main residence which was soon engulfed. “In front of us were some buildings burning,” Garternicht recalled. “It began to get dark and we advanced towards them but were ordered to halt 200 paces distant. A fine brick building took fire just as we halted [the Cowan House] and it was a grand sight, but we all felt bad when a few buckets of water would have extinguished the flames. To stand within 200 paces of a nice, big building and see it burn down- see the flames progress from window to window until their fiery tongues enveloped the entire edifice in one common conflagration.” The resulting wreckage became an i

F or one Confederate soldier, the sheer intensity and violence of combat during the Battle of Iuka changed his opinion on the war.           “There was one continuous roar of small arms while grape and canister howled in fearful concert above our heads and through our ranks,” he commented in a letter to the Jackson Mississippian newspaper. “The troops against which we were contending were Western men, the battery manned by Ohio troops who fought bravely and well. I know this: that the events of that evening have considerably increased my appetite for peace and if the Yankees will not shoot us anymore, I shall be perfectly satisfied to let them alone.”           This letter, written by an unknown soldier serving in the 40th Mississippi, provides a frank and candid Confederate eyewitness view of Iuka and was included in Volume 5 of the Rebellion Record .

J ames Walker’s account of charging Missionary Ridge with the 31 st Ohio speaks volumes to the intensity of the hand-to-hand combat that took place as Turchin’s brigade crested over the Confederate works on November 25, 1863. “We climbed to the top of the works and looked down upon the Confederates formed in two lines, one kneeling in the trench with fixed bayonets and the other lying down behind them,” Walker stated. “With a yell, we jumped down into the trench on top of them and a hand-to-hand fight followed, with muskets, bayonets, and even fists. We had broken the Confederate line and as our men came up to support us, we faced right and left and kept widening the gap.  One of the Confederates who had thrown down his musket and held up his hands in token of surrender fired at us after we had passed and hit one of our boys on the knee. I turned on him with the butt of my gun but before I could strike, Sam Wright pushed me to one side and said, “Let me fix him.” Placing his musket

S ergeant Otis D. Smith of the 6 th Alabama, marching in the vanguard of the Army of Northern Virginia, observed the warm welcome the army received from Maryland residents when they entered the state in early September 1862.           “Everyone in high spirits at the thought of crossing the Potomac and freeing Maryland,” he commented. “The citizens began to flock in to see us. They could hardly realize our arrival but welcomed us most enthusiastically and assured us of a warm reception and any quantity of aid and comfort. During the day, people from a distance of 16 miles away visited us. All assured us Maryland was ripe for action.”           Private Smith, a Vermont native who moved south in the 1850s to teach with his namesake uncle, was working near Columbus, Georgia when the war began. “Always quiet in manner, unobstructive, and self-forgetful in the services of others,” his obituary read. “His purity of character, sanity of mind, cheerful disposition, and warm heart won the

T oday, we’re sitting down with Dave Powell, noted Civil War historian and author of the soon to be released The Atlanta Campaign Volume I: Dalton to Cassville, May 1-19, 1864, via Savas Beatie, the first in a five-part series covering this seminal campaign of the Civil War.       This new book, scheduled for release on July 6, 2024, is available for pre-order directly from Savas Beatie or through Amazon at the links below: Savas Beatie direct: The Atlanta Campaign Volume 1: Dalton to Cassville   (Preferred) Amazon: The Atlanta Campaign Volume 1: Dalton to Cassville (if you must support the Empire, please be sure to leave a review)  See more details here and add it to your wishlist: https://www.savasbeatie.com/the-atlanta-campaign-volume-1-dalton-to-cassville-may-1-19-1864/ Dave Powell's latest work The Atlanta Campaign Volume 1: Dalton to Cassville tips the scales at 624 pages and offers the most in-depth study to date of this crucial western theater campaign. "While Grant

G eneral Paul Semmes’ brigade was among the last to charge the Federal position at Malvern Hill on the night of July 1, 1862. One officer of the 10 th Georgia observed how as Semmes line swept forward, their ranks were increased by men from other brigades that had previously tried to charge the same position. “Scattered portions of other brigades which had been previously repulsed before the same guns in the same field saw our unbroken ranks and volunteered to join the fresh charge and asked a place in line,” he remarked. “We were joined by North Carolinians, Mississippians, and a company of Georgia Regulars commanded by young Benning. As these brave men swelled the charging column, their leaders inquired “what general is in command” and I forgot for once I was walking the path of death as I shouted the name of General Paul J. Semmes. I pointed to him as Semmes literally led his men, calling them to follow.” General Paul Semmes’ brigade, part of General Lafayette McLaws’ division

W hile most of the focus at Vicksburg was on Grant’s army that surrounded the city, a detachment of his army was given the delicate task of guarding the army’s rear from any offensive launched by General Joseph E. Johnston to break Grant’s siege. Among the troops tasked with this important (if unexciting) duty was the 46 th Ohio which took up a position upon Snyder’s Bluff near the Yazoo River in early June and patiently awaited Johnston’s arrival. “We are now on fighting ground and feel the importance of our position for if Johnston wishes to reach the rear of General Grant’s force at Vicksburg, he will likely try it through this way,” noted First Lieutenant Emanuel Giesy. “It would be poor generalship to leave a live general in so good a position to flank him and cut off his retreat. And should he, on the other hand, attack us, I think he will find General W.S. Smith at home ready to attend their call. In addition, General Sherman is not far off ready to cheer on the boys to greater

W riting to his father and fellow doctor Warham Cromwell back in Columbus, Georgia on June 29, 1862, while still on the march near Richmond, Virginia, Surgeon Benjamin M. Cromwell of the 3 rd Louisiana Battalion described the extreme fatigue wrought after four continuous days of surgical work during Lee’s Seven Days campaign.           “I say I am broken down as you will understand why when I tell you I have been up all day and very nearly all night for four days and nights attending to and operating on the wounded,” he wrote. “I suppose I must have given my personal attention to upwards of 80 wounded men, up to my elbows in blood at the time. My division is now in pursuit but I need a little rest.”           Surgeon Cromwell, born September 22, 1835, in New Orleans, graduated with honors from the University of Medicine in New York in 1857 and was practicing in Albany, Georgia when the war broke out. He saw extensive service in the Army of Northern Virginia, serving as surgeon in

T he Union left at Chickamauga appeared to be going up the spout on the morning of September 20, 1863. As Colonel John Beatty’s brigade was shattered by Breckinridge’s flanking attack, the storm of battle pushed south and struck the balance of the line held by the First Division of the 14 th Army Corps. Beatty’s retreat precipitated a similar retreat by the left of General John King’s Regulars. But an intrepid 23-year-old bugler in the 15 th U.S. was determined to rally the line.           William J. Carson, a Pennsylvania native who was living near Bellefontaine, Ohio when he joined the 15 th U.S. in September 1861, had grabbed a gun and was firing away when he saw the rout spreading down the line. “Try as they would, the officers were powerless to check the rout,” Carson recalled. “I threw down my gun, rushed out some 30 yards to the color bearer of the 18 th U.S. and said, “Let us rally these men or the whole left is gone.” The brave fellow stopped and waved his flag while I s

W e’ve known for many years that my wife’s family are descendants of George Saul who served in the 49 th Ohio during the Civil War. I’ve previously shared his remarkable story of being severely wounded at the Battle of Pickett’s Mill, a little-remembered engagement of the Atlanta campaign where his regiment lost half of the men it took into action. {see “ Inside the Crime of Pickett’s Mill: Voices of the 49 th Ohio .”} But until today, we had never visited his grave in Seneca County and it was frankly a visit long overdue.           George Saul was born March 7, 1845, in Liberty Township, Seneca County to George and Mary (McEwen) on the farm a few miles northwest of Tiffin, Ohio. As he became a teenager, George watched as cousin after cousin marched off to war, most of them with the storied 49 th Ohio which was raised in Tiffin and the surrounding area and was led for most of the war by William Harvey Gibson, a notable local politician and famed orator.   The 49 th Ohio was the

M ost of us Civil War buffs are familiar with the stories about how during the Maryland campaign in September 1862, soldiers of the Army of Northern Virginia sang the tune “Maryland, My Maryland” as they entered the state. The idea behind this was to show solidarity with the “oppressed” people of Maryland and that the arrival of Robert E. Lee’s army provided an opportunity for Maryland to throw off the yoke of Federal oppression and take her place in the ranks of the Confederacy. There was an interesting parallel to this sentiment in the western theater as well and at the same time. In late August 1862, an army under the command of General Edmund Kirby Smith marched into Kentucky and after quickly dispatching a small Federal army at the Battle of Richmond, Kentucky, set up camp in central Kentucky and opened the recruiting offices to accept Kentucky volunteers. The arrival of General Braxton Bragg’s army a few weeks later further cemented this golden opportunity for Kentuckians to jo

B y the evening of May 3, 1863, General U.S. Grant’s successful effort to cross the Mississippi River at Port Gibson meant that his forces needed supplies quickly, and the decision was made to run the gauntlet of Confederate guns at Vicksburg with a single tugboat, the George Sturgis , pulling two barges loaded to the gunwales with hay and other stores. A total of 35 volunteers were sought, and among those who joined the perilous expedition was Captain William H. Ward from Co. B of the 47 th Ohio Volunteer Infantry. “Previous expeditions had run the gauntlet of these batteries with more or less success, but always on the darkest of nights and convoyed by armor-clad gunboats,” reported Deeds of Valor . “On this occasion, a full moon and a clear sky made the night as light s day and there were no gunboats to shelter the barges from the enemy’s fire. There was only one little tug to tow the barges and any accident to her would wreck the whole expedition. This did not discourage the gal

"Moderate artillery practice every day but nothing exciting," was how Private John Reynolds of the 96th Ohio described an average day during the siege of Vicksburg. "Our sharpshooters keep popping it to them all the time and woe to the Rebel that sticks their head above the works for our boys are watching with eager eyes and daring them to show their gray backs."  T hree weeks into the siege of Vicksburg, matters had settled down to something approaching a routine in the Union lines surrounding the city. As described by Private John Reynolds of the 96 th Ohio, the “routine” consisted of long hours with a pick and shovel punctuated by the occasional dangers from Confederate bullets and shells flying over the works.           “Whilst writing, one of the 67 th Illinois boys was shot through the head by the Secesh sharpshooters while carrying the pickets’ breakfast to them,” recorded Reynolds. “The balls and shells fly thick and fast over our camp. We had hardly pitch

T oday, the little town of Nolensville, Tennessee is a bedroom community of the booming metropolis of Nashville. But during the Civil War, it was little more than a country crossroads all but forgotten by war. But in one afternoon in February 1863, an intrepid band of Federal soldiers fought off ten times their number of Confederate cavalry in a little remembered engagement that later resulted in eight of the men being awarded Medals of Honor.    Borrowing The History Guy Lance Geiger's favorite phrase, the little "affair" at Nolensville is history that deserves to be remembered...  By February 1863, Nolensville lay on the fringes of both the Army of the Cumberland and the Confederate Army of Tennessee. In the quiet months following Stones River, both armies scoured the area with foraging parties to secure the rich produce of middle Tennessee. Occasionally those foraging parties would blunder into one another and a sharp skirmish would ensue, and that is precisely what ha

C aptain George W. Merrill, leading Co. F of the 44 th Indiana, described his regiment’s role in the capture of Fort Donelson, Tennessee in February 1862. “Our regiment with the 11 th Indiana and 8 th Missouri were the last in the fight and the first into the fort after it surrendered,” he wrote. “My company had the honor of going into the fort at the head of the column, but you may believe it was rather ticklish for a regiment alone to march down where there were 10,000-12,000 Rebels yet under arms, guns loaded, and expect them to stack arms to us, but they did it like men and we rather appreciated their kindness for it looked as though it was possible that we had run into a hornet’s nest. Secesh got a severe blow here and they feel it the more coming so soon after the capture of Fort Henry.” Captain Merrill, a Toledo, Ohio native but resident of Waterloo, Indiana at the outbreak of the war, was commissioned captain of Co. F of the 44 th Indiana on September 20, 1861, and must