Taking Passage on the Hay Bale Line: Running the Gauntlet at Vicksburg

By 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 47th 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 gallant little band.”

Captain Ward provided the following account of this perilous expedition that in 1895 led to him being awarded the Medal of Honor.

          

The tug George Sturgis, pulling two barges past the defenses of Vicksburg on the night of May 3, 1863, was nearly in the clear when suddenly a heavy caliber Confederate shell slammed into its engineering spaces, causing a catastrophic explosion that doomed the vessel and the expedition. "The blazing coals fell in a shower over both barges, setting fire to the bales of hay in hundreds of places at once," recalled Captain William H. Ward of the 47th Ohio. "The tug went down like a plummet while the barges were also soon blazing wrecks, drifting with the eddying current of the river." 


    We cast off from Milliken’s Bend, Louisiana about 15 miles above Vicksburg at 10 p.m. The trip down the river was uneventful until 2 o’clock in the morning when a rocket sent up from one of the Confederate batteries warned the enemy of our approach and we were soon under a heavy fire. It was a wild ride we had from this time on.

          Battery after battery opened on us as we came within range until it seemed that the guns were being played upon like the keys of a piano, and to say that the rain of shot and shell was terrific but faintly describes the situation. The scene was indescribably grand and awe-inspiring as we steamed slowly past the city amid the roar of more than a hundred guns with their death-dealing missiles whistling and shrieking over and around us and exploding on board, while the patter of bullets from the infantry resembled a fall of hailstones. The barges were large and unwieldy and as we could make about 6 miles per hour at best, the enemy’s gunners were able to get our range accurately. The little tug seemed to bear a charmed life for we passed several times within a hundred yards of the heaviest batteries.

          We had now been under fire for three-quarters of an hour and had reached a point below the city where ten minutes meant safety. The steady ‘puff-puff’ of the little tug gave assurance that all was right and we were beginning to indulge in mental congratulations on the success of the expedition when a roar like the bursting of a volcano caused the barges to rock as if shaken by an earthquake and in an instant the air was filled with burning coals, flying timbers, and debris.

A plunging shot from a heavy gun stationed on an eminence far to the rear had struck the tug and penetrated to the furnaces where it exploded, blowing the boilers and machinery up through the deck and completely wrecking the vessel. The blazing coals fell in a shower over both barges, setting fire to the bales of hay in hundreds of places at once.

The enemy sent up a cheer upon witnessing our misfortune and for a few minutes seemingly redoubled their fire. The tug went down like a plummet, while the barges were also soon blazing wrecks, drifting with the eddying current of the river. No recourse remained but surrender and the waving of a handkerchief from a soldier’s bayonet caused the firing to cease. The flames compelled the survivors to seek safety by taking to the water and having no boats, we floated off on hales of hay and found them surprisingly buoyant. The wounded men were first cared for and then all took passage on the hay bale line.

Captain William H. Ward
Co. B, 47th O.V.I.
Medal of Honor

The enemy now hailed us from shore, ordering us to come in and surrender but on learning that we had no boats, they sent their own to our assistance, capturing all but one of the survivors. That one, Julius C. Conklin, was the only man in the party who could not swim. He managed, with the aid of a piece of wreckage, to reach the Louisiana shore unobserved by the enemy and rejoined his company a few days later.

When all had been rescued and assembled in the moonlight under guard of Confederate bayonets, the roll was called and just 16 men, less than half of our original number, were found to have survived. Some of the scalded men were piteous sights to behold, the flesh hanging in shreds from their faces and bodies, as they ran about in excruciating agony, praying that something be done to relieve their sufferings. Those, with the wounded, were speedily sent to the hospital where some of them died the next day.

It is not often, even in a soldier’s life, that one is compelled to face death in so many forms as beset our little party on that memorable night: shot and shell, fire, water, and a boiler explosion with its attendant horrors. Our captors treated us with marked consideration, affording every courtesy consistent with the rules of war and we were the recipients of much attention from soldiers and citizens who seemed to marvel at the temerity of our undertaking.

We were held prisoners in Vicksburg for two days when General Grant, having crossed the river and defeated the enemy at Grand Gulf, began to threaten the city from the rear. We were then paroled and hurriedly forwarded to Richmond, Virginia where, after an eventful journey through the Confederacy, we duly arrived and were assigned quarters in that famous Confederate hostelry, Libby Prison. Here we remained about six weeks before we were exchanged and we were only able to rejoin the regiment in the trenches before Vicksburg on the evening before the surrender, just in time to be in at the death.

Language fails to describe my feelings when with a few companions I entered the city the next morning immediately after the surrender on July 4th under circumstances in such marked contrast with my forced advent of a few days before. Now no hostile demonstrations of any kind greeted us. The great guns were still, the hostile flags furled, and Old Glory floated proudly from the public buildings while our late foes were quietly resting in their camps awaiting the pleasure of the victors.

 Captain William Henry Ward was born December 9, 1840, in Adrian, Michigan and at the outset of the war raised a company of men in his hometown that journeyed to Toledo where they joined the 47th Ohio Volunteer Infantry. Captain Ward mustered in at the rank of captain on June 15, 1861, and served with his regiment for three years, mustering out August 9, 1864. The 47th Ohio enjoyed a wide-ranging service which included time in the western Virginia mountains and with Grant’s army during the Vicksburg campaign. The regiment re-enlisted in 1864 (Ward did not) and served in Sherman’s army as part of the 15th Army Corps during the Atlanta campaign.

After his discharge from the service, Captain Ward returned home but the alure of the western prairie led to his removal to Kansas City where he died April 11, 1927, at the age of 86. He was presented with the Medal of Honor for his actions at Vicksburg on January 2, 1895, and is buried at Highland Park Cemetery in Kansas City, Kansas.

Source:

“An Awful Barge Ride Under Fire,” account of Captain William Henry Ward, Co. B, 47th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, from Walter F. Beyer and Oscar F. Keydel’s Deeds of Valor: How America’s Heroes Won the Medal of Honor. Detroit: The Perrien-Keydel Co., 1901, pgs. 176-178


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