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.
Fort Donelson, TennesseeFebruary 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.
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| 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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