Dan Masters' Civil War Chronicles

A ccording to Captain George Hooper of the 6th Alabama, the hardest fighting for his regiment at Seven Pines came near sunset on May 31, 1862. His regiment, part of General Daniel Harvey Hill's division, assaulted General Silas Casey's Federal division along the Williamsburg Stage Road early in the afternoon and after driving Casey's men back over a mile, ran into stiffening Federal resistance. The tides turned and it cost the 6th Alabama dearly.     " Near night we were ordered to retreat, the enemy having pressed entirely around our right and in effecting this retreat the 6 th  Alabama lost most of her men," stated Captain Hooper in a letter published in the Columbus Daily Sun . "The men at first slow about it, not liking the name of the thing, and they fell in heaps. All of the captains were killed or wounded except three and most of the other officers were shot down which created great confusion as the men could not find their companies.  Of my company, o

W riting on the afternoon of May 31, 1862 while on picket on the outskirts of Richmond, Virginia, Joseph D. Bethune of the 2nd Georgia Infantry felt that events were building towards a climax in the fight for the Confederate capital. He could hear the guns marking the beginning of the Battle of Seven Pines, but "I  don’t think we will get into it just yet."     " Here we are, the whole army within five miles of Richmond waiting for the great fight which is daily expected," he wrote. "While I have been writing, the firing on our right has continued pretty heavy. A moment ago, a report came that the firing was caused by our men attacking a division of Federals who were hemmed in by the great rise in the Chickahominy River, it having rained all yesterday afternoon and night, thus cutting them off from reinforcements."        Joseph  Bethune rose to the rank of lieutenant by the end of the war. Afterwards, he took up the practice of law in Virginia before mo

P inned down by a torrent of Confederate fire at Pickett’s Mill, the 78 th Pennsylvania split into two wings and fought independently, one portion staying on the field after the rest of the brigade retreated. The combat was close, fierce, and deadly. “We reserved our fire until they came within 15 yards of our line and we again opened a deadly fire on their advancing columns and cut them down like grass,” one soldier recalled. “Some of them had as many as five bullets through them. We repulsed them and drove them back, the left wing of our regiment following them up, leaving the right of our regiment in its old position. We advanced about 30 yards to an old fence but there we had to stop and could advance no further, nor could we fall back so we had to lay under cover of the fence. We were under the fire of 500 muskets and they would have cut us to pieces if we had tried to fall back.” This account of Pickett’s Mill, penned by a soldier of the 78 th Pennsylvania who signed his na

A fter advancing into a pocket of Confederate fire at Pickett's Mill, Colonel Charles Manderson of the 19th Ohio quickly saw the hopeless position his regiment was in and decided to take decisive action. Salvation lay by moving forward, not by falling back as one of Manderson's men remembered.       " When Colonel Manderson saw that we lay under a heavy fire from the right and left and could not return it, he ordered the fence in our front to be carried out into the field and a breastwork made of the rails," he wrote. "An officer who is so well thought of as our colonel and upon whom depends the safety of the regiment need not give a command more than once, and so it was here that with gun in one hand and a rail in the other, the line advanced into the open field and put up the breastworks to lay behind. And it was here that the Rebels got some of our Lincoln pills."           J.B.’s riveting account of his regiment’s participation in the Battle of Pickett

A s we contemplate the meaning of Memorial Day in 2024, I’m drawn back to the reality of the origins of Memorial Day 160 summers ago during the Civil War.           The letter I quote below is hardly unique nor extraordinary; it is a simple statement from a soldier’s commanding officer to his homefolk explaining the sad fate of their soldier boy. This particular soldier, Corporal Warren H. Connell, served in Co. H of the 29 th Ohio Volunteer Infantry and lost his life during the regiment’s attack on Dug Gap, Georgia on May 8, 1864, in one of the opening efforts of the Atlanta campaign. Warren was not quite 30 years old when he was killed in action; the one haunting detail being that when his body was recovered Lieutenant Thomas Nash wrote that Warren’s mother’s photo was in a bosom pin that he wore upon the battlefield. As Warren marched into the maelstrom of battle, he carried this reminder of his mother’s love closest to his heart. And perhaps it reminded him of what he was figh

A mong the more dramatic incidents of the Battle of Resaca was the capture of four Napoleons of Captain Max van den Corput’s Cherokee Light Artillery on the evening of May 15, 1864. The battery occupied a lunette on the far right of the Confederate line, just in advance of the main line to take advantage of the ground to their front. That afternoon, the 20 th Corps advanced and in a hand-to-hand fight, drove van den Corput’s men from their guns. But the supporting Confederate infantry of General John Brown’s Tennessee brigade laid such a hot fire on the position that the Federals took to ground, leaving the four abandoned guns as highly tempting prizes. The 5 th Ohio Infantry of Colonel Charles Candy’s brigade of General John Geary’s Second Division of the 20 th Corps actually snuck up to the battery after nightfall, attached ropes to the carriages of two of the guns, and dragged them back into Union lines. The 33 rd New Jersey from General Adolphus Buschbeck’s brigade and 5 th

H aving survived the being in the second wave of the Federal assault on Marye's Heights at Fredericksburg, Private Joseph Spang of the 53 rd Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry vented his frustration and war-weariness in letters home to his family.  He could scarcely find words to describe the battle.      " I cannot tell you the truth of that awful fight," he wrote his parents. "The conflict was terrible – our regiment was the furthest in advance of any of our troops.  We sheltered ourselves behind some houses and were only 50 yards from the enemy’s rifle pits.  Our men were cut down like grass while the enemy could not be touched.  All we could see of them was their guns and sometimes a head.  The fight lasted all day – at dark we came back to town – our regiment stood three hours with fixed bayonets and not a man had a cartridge.  I expected every minute the enemy would charge on us but we stood there – no one came to relieve us."       During the Fredericksburg

W riting from their encampment in late August 1863 at Poe’s Tavern in modern-day Soddy-Daisy, Tennessee, two soldiers of the 41 st Ohio explained how the army had marched over the Cumberland Mountains and stood poised to take the city of Chattanooga. Besides reporting the army news, they also took some time to observe the local residents and made a few interesting observations. “The citizens all chew, smoke, and snuff after their own way, that is, with the snuff,” wrote one soldier who signed his name simply as Jay. “They have a little stick or brush and rub the snuff on their gums, and spit the juice in the most approved style, about equal to a genuine Yankee. One woman came in to buy some chewing tobacco for a birthday present for her little girl, all of five years old’ she proved her love for the weed by taking a chew and cramming the rest in her pocket.” Corporal Charles P. Bail noted their location was “within 18 miles of Chattanooga. What our next move we, of course, do not

S uffering from a pair of wounds sustained during the Battle of Perryville, Private David J. Ryan of the 21st Wisconsin held one man responsible for his calamity: his commanding officer General Don Carlos Buell.      " General Buell is responsible before God and man for the slaughter of our troops in the late battle," Ryan charged. "He was in full hearing of the cannonading of the fight all day long and never sent a man to reinforce us. Everyone of the 500 dead of Perryville should have marked on his headboard, “Murdered by General Buell!”       The 21 year old soldier, the youngest of five brothers, recounted his experiences of the battle to his parents back home in Appleton, Wisconsin. Ryan's father, Colonel Samuel Ryan, shared the letters with his son Francis A. Ryan, editor of the Appleton Motor newspaper who published them in his columns. 

T he echoes of Chickamauga still reverberated through the woods in Georgia when the Janesville Daily Gazette  in Wisconsin reported sad news from the front. "We regret to learn from telegraphic dispatches that Captain Lu H. Drury of the 3rd Wisconsin Battery and chief of artillery on Van Cleve's staff, has been dangerously wounded in the bowels by a sharpshooter." This type of news often was soon followed by an announcement that the soldier had died; abdominal wounds during the war so often proving fatal.       But despite all odds, Captain Drury survived and by mid-October, he had made his way back to Nashville, Tennessee where the army correspondent of the Cincinnati Gazette told the full story of his wounding at Lee & Gordon's Mills nearly a week before Chickamauga. Captain Lucius H. Drury of the 3rd Wisconsin Battery served as General Horatio P. Van Cleve's chief of artillery and chief of scouts during the Chickamauga campaign, he was nearly killed when a

D uring the Atlanta campaign, Captain Hubert Dilger and the six guns of his Battery I, 1st Ohio Light Artillery were nominally attached to the artillery battalion assigned to General Richard W. Johnson's First Division of the 14th Army Corps. I say nominally because Captain Dilger's reputation as an artillerist gave him essentially "carte blanche" to roam the battlefield at will and pitch in with his guns where he thought they would do the most good, a unique honor for any battery in Sherman's army.      Dilger's reputation for daring followed him from the Eastern theater where his heroism during the Battle of Chancellorsville [ see " A Few Rounds of Canister: Bowling with Dilger at Chancellorsville ."] was so marked as to eventually make him a Medal of Honor recipient. Likewise at Gettysburg, Dilger fought his guns with marked professionalism and gained a high reputation amongst his peers as a man who knew how to fight a battery. The following sprin

  I n 1901, William Saxton, formerly a captain in the 157th New York, penned a lengthy series of war reminiscences published by his local newspaper, the Edgar Post , in Edgar, Nebraska. Amongst his earliest articles, Captain Saxton explained in great detail how he joined the army, how his company was recruited, and how his regiment was formed.            One detail that I found particularly interesting (and something that I always wondered about) was the position of companies within a regimental line. As Captain Saxton explains, the company letters never changed (Company A was always Company A) but the position of the company within the regimental line changed constantly, affected by the seniority of the officers commanding each company.        " For instance, if the colonel is killed, the lieutenant colonel takes his place, the major takes the lieutenant colonel’s place, and the ranking captain takes the major’s place, and each of the other officers are advanced in rank one point

T he veterans of the 94th Ohio marked the 35th anniversary of the Battle of Perryville by holding their annual regimental reunion on October 8, 1897, in Dayton, Ohio. The significance of the date prompted a flood of memories from the Buckeyes about their first major engagement, and many of the memories centered around the death of Captain John Drury of Co. B.       Private George Crane recalled Captain Drury's discouragement with the poor food and hard life of a soldier. " The comrades will also remember what kind of food we had the morning we started out for Perryville," remembered Crane. "It was flour mixed with water and baked on flat Rebel stones out of the creek where we camped. The men were hungry and worn out with the hot afternoon’s march. Captain Drury was very much worked up over the matter and remarked, “If this is the manner in which the soldier is to be treated, I’m ready to be cashiered.”           " But a little afterwards we had piled our knapsac

T he Civil War was entering its fourth year when a batch of Southern Unionist recruits joined Lieutenant William J. Patterson's battery at Gallatin, Tennessee. The boyish lieutenant from Ohio, not yet 21 years of age, was "young enough to be brimful of boyish spirits, soldier enough to know the worth of strict discipline, dignified enough to command without danger of disobedience from any, and brave enough to fear nothing on earth or under the earth if duty pointed the way into danger," remembered one of those recruits Thomas Williamson.          " This Lieutenant Patterson had to teach us, and he did it by blending the play fellow and officer in a way that no one could have done so well as he," continued Williamson. "He went swimming with us or took off his coat with its shoulder straps and played ball with us and at such times he would say, “Now boys, I am Billy Patterson and we’ll have a good game together.” Then when the game was over, he would resume h

We Shall Conquer or Die: Partisan Warfare in 1862 Western Kentucky (Savas Beatie, 2024) is author Derrick Lindow's first published book and tackles a fascinating if seldom-discussed aspect of the war in the western theater.  We recently sat down with Derrick Lindow to discuss his new book We Shall Conquer or Die: Partisan Warfare in 1862 Western Kentucky published by Savas Beatie. Derrick works as an 8th grade history teacher in Owensboro, Kentucky where he lives with his wife and two children. In addition, Derrick is administrator of the Western Theater in the Civil War website and had ancestors that fought on both sides of the conflict.  Readers are encouraged to secure their copy of this exciting new title through the links below:  Hardcover 6" x 9", 240 pp, images, maps, $32.95 Savas Beatie  (strongly preferred) Amazon  (if you must support the Bezos empire make sure you leave a review!) 

I n one of the opening moves of the Atlanta campaign, the 29 th Ohio attacked the Confederate position atop Dug Gap on Sunday, May 8, 1864. “Our instructions were to make a strong demonstration and carry, if possible, the Rebel position,” one veteran later noted.           While advancing to the assault, the brass bands in our rear indiscreetly commenced playing national airs which attracted the attention of the Rebel commander who rapidly concentrated reinforcements in our front. The advance up the declivity was nearly as difficult as Lookout Mountain and more completely fortified. Its summit was steep, precipitous, and covered with scraggy rocks and immense boulders. The 29th Ohio lost roughly 100 casualties "demonstrating" against the Confederate position atop Dug Gap, including all three field officers with the regiment. "It was a terrible blow to the regiment," John Rupp later wrote. It was only the opening move in a campaign which would last the rest of the

T his past weekend during the Ohio Civil War Show at Mansfield, I purchased a special relic at a dealer’s table that took me back to the origins of this blog. It was a simple piece of silk, a 35 th reunion ribbon for the 11 th Connecticut Volunteers held September 17, 1898, in Hartford, Connecticut. The ribbon was striking in appearance, featuring Hartford’s Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Memorial. Every other ribbon in the binder was from local units such as the 49 th and 101 st Ohio from places like Tiffin, Norwalk, and Port Clinton, but there was this one 11 th Connecticut ribbon. What was that ribbon for a Connecticut regiment doing in Ohio amongst a collection of Buckeye ribbons? Well, I had a hunch, and it goes back to the origins of the blog. This recent find at the Ohio Civil War Show opened a host of memories for me going back to the original inspiration for the blog.  Way back on October 26, 2015, I took an early afternoon off work to visit Harrington Cemetery where an ances

I n what may have been the last letter that he wrote home, Lieutenant Colonel Leroy Crockett of the 72nd Ohio informed his "dearest Nellie" about his regiment's recent campaign in Mississippi, taking pride in " having gone farther into the Rebel state of Mississippi than any regiment in Grant's army or any other army."      " We have a pleasant camp, twenty miles from Vicksburg near the Black River stuck on top of a high hill, just wide enough for the camp and beautifully shaded by the magnolias of which there are three varieties, all very pretty," he continued. " We expect to rest here during the hot season and be ready for the full campaign.    The men as a general thing are in good health and spirits anxiously awaiting their turn to go home on furlough."       Colonel Crockett was among those anxiously awaiting his turn to visit Ohio. He had commanded the regiment throughout the Vicksburg campaign, but as the siege wore on, his own hea

                                                                              Five Days at Chancellorsville

 Five Days at Chancellorsville

                                                                                                                       Five Days at Chancellorsville