A Moonlight Mercy Mission at Fort Donelson

On the night of February 14, 1862, Orderly Sergeant George Hull of the 13th Missouri was getting ready to sleep beside his company fire when a captain from the 2nd Iowa came into camp and made a “most touching appeal to us to aid him in the rescue of some of his wounded men, lying immediately under the enemy’s guns. I called for a dozen volunteers and our boys, although nearly used up by four days of hard work, promptly responded to the call.”

“It was a moonlit night and we could see the enemy’s pickets whilst almost half a mile off. We passed up the steep hill on which the 2nd Iowa had charged up to and over the enemy’s breastworks right into their midst. The hillside was covered with their dead and oh, how ghastly their pale faces looked as the moon shown upon them, but poor fellows, they were all dead. Those who were not able to crawl off had all bled to death. The scene I witnessed that night beneath the enemy’s entrenchments in the dim moonlight was awful. God grant I may never see another such,” Hull said.

The 13th Missouri was in action at Fort Donelson for two days but was only lightly engaged. That would not be the case two months later at Shiloh. His letter, written to his brother in Zanesville, Ohio, first saw publication in the March 1, 1862, edition of the Zanesville Daily Courier.

The charge of the 2nd Iowa at Fort Donelson was celebrated as one of the high points of the Battle of Fort Donelson but for George Hull, he didn't see the glory, just the bloody aftermath. "The scene I witnessed that night beneath the enemy's entrenchments in the dim moonlight was awful," he noted. 

Fort Donelson, Tennessee

February 21, 1862

Dear brother,

          Since leaving Smithland, I have written two short and hasty notes to the loved ones at home and simply because I have not had time. I will give you a brief sketch of events since we left Smithland. Whilst there, we received news that Fort Henry was attacked and the 13th Missouri was ordered off in haste to assist in the fight.

          We took passage on board the Illinois for that point and arrived immediately after the surrender of the fort. We laid at Fort Henry a few days, troops pouring in during the whole time and left for Fort Donelson on Wednesday night the 12th, distance 12 miles. We got within sight of Fort Donelson at 2 p.m. and drove in the enemy’s pickets and encamped for the night in front of the frowning batteries of the Rebel host.

          We were aroused next morning by the deafening boom of heavy artillery and immediately the quick, sharp rattle of small arms was added to the concert. Casting my eye over the field, I saw files of men bearing hearse-like couches, carrying off the wounded, covered with white muslin which looked like winding sheets. For a moment, a sickening sensation came over me and a weakness in my knees but it soon passed off and I can truly say I felt nothing like fear afterwards, even when the balls and grapeshot were rattling like hail around my head. An aide here rode up with orders for us to advance. As we wound slowly up the hill, ambulance after ambulance, filled with the dead and wounded, drove past us.

          We were formed in line of battle at the top of the hill and charged forward at the double quick, opening our ranks for the skirmishers to pass through and drove the enemy from the entrenchments. We then received orders to remain in our position until further orders. Remained there all that day and at night we slept on our arms. All next day and next night we lay guarding the same point as it was expected that the enemy would endeavor to break through there.

Regimental colors of the 13th Missouri Infantry

A little before dark, it commenced raining and we were without blankets or overcoats, having stripped ourselves in anticipation of a hard fight. After dark it grew colder and the rain turned to snow, the enemy in the meantime amusing us with an occasional shell or a volley of grape. The snow was soon several inches in depth and it grew colder and colder. Our clothes were frozen and covered with snow and as we were not permitted to build any fires, we were nearly frozen.

I had slept none for two nights and feeling awfully sleepy, I reconnoitered around and had the good fortune to find a hollow log with a snug cavity on the underside. I had the additional good luck of finding a Secesh overcoat within it. Apprising a comrade of my discovery, we crawled in together under the log and enjoyed a few hours of most welcome and refreshing sleep. When I awoke and looked out upon the scene, I could hardly realize for a short time whether I was awake or only dreaming as I saw the ghost-like figures passing and repassing in the pale moonlight with silent tread. Where these men or spirits?

Still suffering with the cold, I got up from my lair beneath the log and joined the ghost-like figures in white habiliments in their promenades. Stumbling over a mound of snow, I found it was one of our boys nearly frozen to death. With some difficulty, I succeeded in rousing him and forced him to walk with me until he was again reanimated. By pacing back and forth unceasingly, we kept ourselves from freezing until morning when we were ordered off on the right wing to support a battery which was regarded as a most dangerous position.



We held that post until noon when we were ordered to charge a battery of the enemy. Moving forward under a heavy fire of grape and shell, we were compelled to fall upon our faces every few moments to escape their shot. A comrade just behind me who did not fall quick enough was severely wounded. We got up in time to be present at the capture of the battery.

This was Saturday night. We were ordered to lay where we were all night but were permitted to build fires. My feet being wet, I had just taken off my shoes to warm and dry them when a captain from the 2nd Iowa came up and made a most touching appeal to us to aid him in the rescue of some of his wounded men, lying immediately under the enemy’s guns. I called for a dozen volunteers and our boys, although nearly used up by four days of hard work, promptly responded to the call.

It was a moonlit night and we could see the enemy’s pickets whilst almost half a mile off. We passed up the steep hill on which the 2nd Iowa had charged up to and over the enemy’s breastworks right into their midst. The hillside was covered with their dead and oh, how ghastly their pale faces looked as the moon shown upon them, but poor fellows, they were all dead. Those who were not able to crawl off had all bled to death. The scene I witnessed that night beneath the enemy’s entrenchments in the dim moonlight was awful. God grant I may never see another such.

On returning to camp, I was soon fast sleep notwithstanding the sight I had witnessed and those I expected to see the next day. Early the next morning we were ordered to take a battery. We charged up a hill where the night before we had been hotly assailed but not a shot was fired at us and when we reached the top of the hill, we received the welcome intelligence that the Rebels had surrendered. Our company rushed forward to plant our colors first (if possible) on the walls of the fort.

Now for the Secesh. Well, they were the oddest looking objects I ever saw, especially in their dress and accoutrements. They wore cotton clothes of all colors. Their overcoats were made of blankets with the pony-colored ends at the bottom. They wore butternut-colored pants and hats and caps of all kinds. We are now quartered in the log huts built by the Secesh and living on the fat of the land, ham, molasses, short cakes, etc.

The 13th Missouri would be renamed the 22nd Ohio in the summer of 1862, but Hull would leave the regiment after he received a commission as first lieutenant of Co. E of the 97th Ohio on July 24, 1862. He would serve with the Army of the Cumberland for the rest of the war, being promoted to captain in March 1863 before being wounded November 30, 1864, during the Battle of Franklin. The wound proved severe enough that Captain Hull was given a surgeon’s certificate of disability on March 29, 1865. Ironically, Captain Hull would move to St. Joseph, Missouri in 1867 and would live there for the rest of his life, passing away in 1920 at the age of 76.

Source:

Letter from Orderly Sergeant George Clarke Hull, Co. C, 13th Missouri Volunteer Infantry, Zanesville Daily Courier (Ohio), March 1, 1862, pg. 2

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