Rainy Post-Shiloh Days

As I sit in cooped up in my office on this dreary April day, I am reminded that 147 years ago tens of thousands of men were doing precisely the same. After the excitement of battle had faded, the survivors were given ample time to reflect on their experiences as movement ground to a halt. Maj. Ben Buckner of the 20th KY (U.S.) felt much the same as he wrote home to Helen.

Although I have written you two letters in the last days, I dont know how I can better spend an hour or so this gloomy rainy miserable evening than by writing to you again, feeling assured that you will receive any thing I may write with pleasure, however uninteresting it might be to others; and as you are so very good about writing as indeed you are about every thing else, I would have no excuse for not having written should by time during the next week be so occupied as to make it impossible to do so. But dearest though I may write you never so long a letter you must not expect any thing of interest. The battle with all its horror as well as points of interest you have learned all about long since, and we have no incident in camp worth relating. We are stuck fast in the mud, and as it rains here every day I dont know when we will move, as it would now be utterly impossible to drag our artillery over these horrid roads. The rebels are somewhere, I dont know where, though if they were only five miles distant I would not know it as the movements of the rebels and indeed of our own army are kept profound secrets from both officers and men. ...

You dont know how very much I want to see you. Do you know that the day of the battle, I thought of you again and again , that during the terrible scene that I thought not of mother & father or self only you. God bless you darling you are so good, true, and noble. ... Write me a long letter dear Helen, tell me every thing about you. ...

As ever yours

B.

Happy New Year: From the New South

A bit of a New Years celebration here at AoT. This is a poem I came across during my thesis research that I've always loved. It's from the Lexington Observer & Reporter, owned and edited by W.C.P. Breckinridge, Colonel of the 9th Ky. Cav (CS), and lately (by the time of this poem) passed off to Confederate sympathizer George S. Ranck. The paper was a leading spokesman for the Kentucky Democracy, a New South booster, eventually a New Departure paper following Henry Watterson's lead, and one of the best sources I have for news and (favorable) opinion about anti-black militia and Kuklux activity.

Notice the "cut down in the prime of life" and "whipped but defiant" South imagery. And, of course, the section towards the end about guarding the "annals and altars of state" from the "wolf" is, going into 1869, a commentary on Kentucky's position on the upcoming 15th Amendment debate.

ADDRESS OF THE CARRIERS OF THE
Lexington Observer & Reporter,
TO THEIR PATRONS,
The 1st of January, 1869.

PROLOGUE
Looking backward for the glory,
Of a gilded summer dawn,
Down a weary waste of whiteness,
Down a dreary winter lawn.

Looking backward, down the shadow
Of an iron beaten way,
Whence the armoured TIME came silent,
On the animate to-day.

Oh, it startles human reason;
Oh, it withers human pride,
Looking backward, ever backward,
On the living things that died.
...
ADDRESS
Tread lightly – tread softly – oh, merciful Time,
O’er the land of the sun, and the lemon and lime,

For leaves of the flowers so faded and strewn,
Were fair in the morning and fallen at noon.

Go back to the plane of your ice-hidden lakes –
Go back with your breath of the frost and the flakes,

Go northward, oh, season of winter and gloom,
From the emerald South and its odorous bloom.
...
Oh, better to die and be hidden away,
Than to live in the circle and sight of decay.

Our metals of life in their crucibles run,
When the pulses are red in the glow of the sun.

But come to the South with the ice of your heel,
And the channels are still and the currents congeal.

Go backward, oh, winter, go back to the lakes,
With your withering frost and your wandering flakes.
...
The bush is borne down, and the blossom is shed
And we gather to-day at the grave of the dead.

The course that is stark, and the body that’s cold,
Is a lick of the past to be lost in the mold;

And armies may go the sepulcher plain,
To laurel the bier of the body that’s slain,

But never again at the death of the years,
Will the heart of the Southron be lavish of tears,

Go seek in the far-reaching fields of his land,
For the shade of his column and capital grand;

Go look for the mosque of his worship and pride;
Go look for his brother go look for his bride;

Go look for all things he has cherished and loved,
The garden be haunted – the valley be roved,

And the desolate track, and the ravens that fly.
Will tell that the fount of the Southron is dry.

Time was, when a sentinel stood at the gate,
And guarded the annals and altars of state;

When the gleam of his eye and the glare of his blade
Kept the wolf in the covet afar and afraid;

When the good and the pure, and the noble and true,
Were all in the land that the sentinel knew –

Time was when the tyrant would blanch in the sight,
Of the column and arch of our temple of right,

When the marbles of state in their purity stood –
That our fathers had builded and hallowed in blood;

But time is long gone with the sands of the glass,
When honor was watchword, and virtue the pass.

Go banish the dust from your lexicons old
Ye people that glitter and seek to be gold;

Go back to the schools of your earlier days,
For their lessons of truth, and their patriot lays;

Go study the greatness, that tried in the fires,
Shone bright in the glory that covered your sires;

Go feel in the spell that encircles their graves
That tyrants and cowards are meaner than slaves.

Oh, men of the nation – oh, rulers and kings,
Do ye know that your riches and powers have wings?

Do ye know that the ashes ye scatter and spurn,
Must quicken in time, and arise from the urn?

Do you know that the gates where ye gather your tolls,
Are peopled with things that have pulses and souls?

Do ye dare from your source in the dust and the clods
To covet the robe and the thrones of the Gods?

Ye may look at the waves that go out on the sea,
And learn from the past, what your future will be;
...
But evening must come from the shadow at last
With a garment of gloom and a gathering blast.

Happy New Year from a still-defiant South!

Watching the Death of an Army

As Lee said, it's that time of year again for the destruction of the AoT. And in the case of the Battle of Nashville, we are lucky to have a photographic glimpse into the battle as it is going on in real time. Photographer George Bernard documented U.S. troops -- those not engaged, that is -- watching the battle from their positions in the outer works. The LoC has fantastic .tiff scans of these photographs here, but these are some zoom-in and crop jobs that give us some neat detail.

This guy has always screamed "Western Fed" to me. The nonchalant demeanor, the decidedly unmilitary bearing. Also not that tent/hut city sprawling back in the distance, and the regiment after regiment's worth of rifles stacked off in the distance.

More on those troop positions in the background of the first fellow. How good are these guys at putting up abatis by now?

And the part of the war that tends to be left out: logistics, wagons, horses, and the non-glamorous stuff.

They say that the army life is one of great boredom punctuated by times of great excitement. Obviously, for these fellows with a ringside seat, this battle certainly provides that break from the mundane along with the added bonus of not getting shot at.

...and observing is not for the soldiers alone. This civilian/military mixed group is standing perhaps 10-15 yds. behind the others.

"All Men of Decency Ought to Quit the Army"

In honor of finishing up my essay, "'All Men of Decency Ought to Quit the Army': Benjamin F. Buckner, Manhood, and Pro-Slavery Unionism in Kentucky," for The Register last night, I decided to post Ben's letter to Helen, his fiancee, from which I took my title. It also happens to be one of his most concise (but certainly not only) articulations of his opinions about the propriety of African Americans as soldiers and the actions of the Lincoln administration.

Bowling Green, Ky.
Feby. 1, 1863

My Dear Helen,

I received a very long and interesting letter from you yesterday evening, and as the mails have at last commenced coming with some regularity, I shall doubtless have the pleasure of hearing frequently and of writing to you as often. I cant tell you when I am coming home as that depends on Col Hansons stay. When he comes I am going home on leave for a while, and just as soon as we are paid off I am going to try General Wright with a resignation.
The papers come quite regularly and we are very much edified by reading the proceedings of the Congress upon the Negro Soldier bill. All men of decency ought to quit the army if that bill becomes a law.
What is to become of Kentucky it is impossible to tell. All is dark in her future. I am sick at heart with the prospect before us. We who are in the army feel that we have been grossly deceived by the President and the party in power and what to do is the question that disturbs us all. We are all opposed to secession, and believe that it is no remedy for any of the evils that beset us. At the same time, we are uncompromising in our opposition to the infamous and disgraceful measures originated by the President & his party. The fact [is] that the Army and the Country are brought into disrepute both at home and abroad by the adoption of measures totally unfit for the accomplishment of any useful purpose. ...
Col Hanson’s time is up in the 5 or 6 of this month. You must be sure and keep me posted up as to your whereabouts for I dont want to have to go all over the Country hunting you up like I did before. I am going to send this letter by Capt Williams of Mt. Sterling[.] He is on duty in the Provost Marshall’s office, and is going home to see his wife. I hope to get my resignation through Genl Wrights head quarters. We are in disputed jurisdiction Rosecrans and Wright both claim us and having tried Genl Rosecrans I intend to try the other.
I hope soon to see you at any rate and we can then arrange for the future.
Goodbye the train is whistling & I have no time to write further [at] this time.

Ever yours
BFB

Though he had first stated his intention to resign back in June of '62 because of preliminary anti-slavery measures, the threat of social contamination-by-association with blacks in the military was too much for him to bear. Standing in integrated ranks was no way to preserve the "decency," honor, community esteem, or whatever else you might call it that a young lawyer needed to successfully build a practice and win a sweetheart. Of course, even had he stayed in the army he would have likely never seen, associated with, or formed alongside African American soldiers. But the pollution to the institution of the army and the country were too great to risk personal miasma.

Interestingly, just like Gorgas in the (apparently firebrand of a) post from the other day, he seems to suggest that despite the radical step taken by the Republicans, the USCTs would still be "unfit for the accomplishment of any useful purpose" as soldiers. But numbers might disagree with Ben. 23,000 black Kentuckians did things like relieve white troops from garrison duty, allowing the Ben Buckner-less 20th KY to return to active service the field in the Summer of '63 and again in '64.

Confederate Veteran on "How The Confederacy Armed its Soldiers"

Thanks to Kaelin for alerting me to this interesting article about Confederate industry from Confederate Veteran XXX, no. 1 (1922).

I was teaching my classes the other day about reading material culture as a primary source. For instance: a sun-faded, hand-sewn, jeans Confederate jacket can speak to raw material shortages and the labor of women behind the lines; an Atlanta arsenal cartridge box containing rounds from the Selma arsenal with powder from the Augusta works can tell us why Billy Sherman was so determined to stop the flow of supplies from the Confederate industrial heartland. Interesting, then, that we see in the pages of CV "How the Southern Confederacy developed a great industry in the manufacture of firearms and munitions while handicapped by the demands of active warfare is brought out in this article from the Springfield (Mass.) Republican, published while the World War was raging."

What's fascinating to me is that the CV would even publish such a thing. It smacks of the pride of the New South Men who sought capital and industry to restore the region to prominence while retaining the more conservative social structures of the Old South: racial, gender, and class hierarchy. I've always been of the opinion that if Gaines Foster is correct about the UCV being an town/urban professional phenomenon then we would see a significant amount of overlap in those professing the New South Creed and the shapers of Confederate memory.

" We began in April, 1861," wrote Gen. Josiah Gorgas, chief of ordnance of the Confederate army, in a monograph to President Jefferson Davis, "without arsenal or laboratory, or powder mill of any capacity, and with no foundry or rolling mill except in Richmond; and before the close of 1863, or within a little over two years we supplied them. During the harassments of the war, while holding our own in the field defiantly and successfully against a powerful enemy, crippled by a depreciated currency; throttled by a blockade that deprived us of nearly all the means of getting material or workmen; obliged to send every able-bodied man to the field; unable to use slave labor, with which we were abundantly supplied, except in the most unskilled departments of production; hampered by want of transportation of even the commonest supplies of food; with no stock on hand even of such articles as copper, leather, iron, which we must have to build up our establishments—against all these obstacles, in spite of all these deficiencies, we persevered at home as determinedly as our troops did in the field against a more tangible opposition. ... Steam was put in at the Charleston arsenal. The Mount Vernon institution was moved to Selma, nearer the district where the hardest cast iron in America was being turned into gun bores. Ancient field pieces of 1812 were replaced by new cannon from the Tredegar iron works in Richmond. ... Lead at the rate of nearly 80,000 pounds a month came in from the mines near Wytheville, Va., to be smelted in the new government plant at Petersburg. Battle fields were combed for gunstocks, bores, and bullets, with excellent results.

Notice how Gorgas downplays the potential contribution of slaves, pointing to their presumed inferiority and incapacity for skilled work, and without batting an eye can later point to Tredegar's contributions to the CS war effort while not acknowledging the slave labor that enabled that installation's success. But despite the racial assumptions which are largely inescapable from any source written in the 1920s, this remains a fairly sound introduction to Confederate industry. The conclusion is what I really enjoyed.

The Confederacy fell not so much because it had not been able to make arms, as because all the places where the arms were made fell before the Union armies.

Indeed, Harper's Ferry, Nashville, and eventually Atlanta would all suffer that same fate. But let us also keep in mind William Freehling's contention that the Confederacy had already lost the industrial war when it did not bring the manufacturing and transportation might of Baltimore, Louisville, and St. Louis into its ranks in 1861.

Battle as the Recruit Saw It

Trying to give some consideration to the military side of things, I pulled this article from the CS veteran's magazine Southern Bivouac that sheds some light on the rank and file perspective of combat. It's got some fantastic observations on soldiers in battle and in camp. It sums up a good deal of what we have read about the pre-battle and battle experience from other sources and has some great observations.

"The Battle As The Recruit Saw It"

The camp-fires threw their flickering rays over the bronzed faces of the men as they sat grouped around, and the shadows of the forest trees were lengthened on the sward. A few soldiers were dreamingly thoughtful of distant homes where other log-heaps were tossing their fitful flames also over a thoughtful dreamers, thinking and dreaming of the absent boy in the far-off Tennessee camp; some of the men were smoking, others engaged in absorbing games of cards, with hilarious accompaniment of jest and laughter, but by far the greater number, thoughtless of the future, careless of the present, and altogether apathetic to a degree characteristic of the Southern soldier, were simply doing nothing.

A courier gallops into camp, making his way through the contending lights and shadows to regimental headquarters. As he passes inquiring faces are turned toward him, and the exclamation, "Something's up, boys," passes from fire to fire, and -- all settle again to their pastimes, but soon to be interrupted by an order to "cook five days' rations and be ready to move at once." The woodman of each mess is soon busy with his axe, the mess-cooks are busily arranging their culinary apparatus, that is, shaking the mud from their gum coats, on which the dough is to be kneaded; the general "utility man" trots off with all the canteens within reach to the nearest branch; all are busy as bees and as the waning camp-fires dart out their struggling lines of light over the darkening grove, the rations are cooked and haversacked, and all save the camp sentries are sleeping, as only tired soldiers can sleep. With the first streak of morning light the "long roll" rumbles, and drowsy, hurrying, half-clad men fall in; then by twos the regiment threads its way through the wood and is soon on the road to "we know not where," but to a prospective battle even now sending hither its promises in the firing of the distant pickets.

The sound becomes nearer, clearer, more rapid than before; the command is quick-timed, the skirmishing in front is more exciting, couriers are dashing hither and yon; wagon-masters are urging their teams rearward, ordnance officers forcing their wagons forward, cavalry with rattling sabers galloping alongside and past the infantry, leave a cloud of dust trailing behind them; artillery under whip and spur are coming up in a run to secure a commanding knoll, ambulances are seen in solemn procession in the rear, and we are filed in on the right of the road and fronted in battle line with other commands that have preceded us; muskets are loaded, the firing in front still continues, skirmishing becomes rapid, then a lull. Our arms are stacked and we are rested "in place" and soon loll around, assume a look of confidence and indifference we do not feel and endeavor by light jests to shake off the nervous tremens produced by the popping of guns on the picket-line. A courier gallops by, then another, a third follows, soon an "orderly" hurries toward us from headquarters, the firing becomes spirited and nearer, our skirmishers are in sight, falling slowly backward, contesting inch by inch. Attention! Every man in his place, the skirmishers are forced nearer, we are moved forward to their support; the long dark lines of the enemy are seen to advance to the support of their skirmishers; the cavalry by a sudden dash debouch to protect the flanks, and then a "boom," a crush in the timbers, a shell whirring just over our heads proclaim the opening of the ball. The rattle of musketry becomes continuous, and our artillery responds to the enemy's guns.

The enemy comes steadily toward us. "Steady, men," still nearer. "Steady," "Ready," "Aim," "Fire," and a line of lurid flame leaps from our guns; "Steady," "Load at will," "Fire," "Fire at will." -- Crash, rattle, boom, shout, shriek of shell and wounded men, the smoke rolls upward and onward, filling the space intervening between the opposing forces, we fire at the smoke, and thus the battle goes on.

A soldier falls, another is struck, poor Sam is borne to the rear and mortally wounded; the ranks close up. "Forward," others fall, and are carried back; still the den of conflict continues and our captain's cry rises above the tumult. "Steady, men," "Fix bayonets," "Steady," "Charge," and then the Confederate yell rises above all other sounds of the raging conflict, bearing encouragement to our sorely-pressed brothers, and sending with it a terror to our foes. We yet press on in the charge; the enemy momentarily gives way; then grape and canister sweep our thinned ranks, and we in turn are forced back, then "forward" again, and so throughout the day, advancing, now receding like a tidal wave, and so struggling until night closes the contest. Our lines are reformed to converge to the main road like the closing of a huge fan, and we soldiers of the line are revolving in mind the anomalous state of affairs on which a victorious army is in full retreat.

Southern Bivouac, Vol. I, pp. 112-114, 1882.

The article is anonymous, though its author was clearly an Army of Tennessee vet. And though it is not about any battle specifically, that very vagueness lends the observations an almost universal applicability. The Bivouac was frequented by any number of veterans of the western campaigns, including some prominent figures like Fred Joyce, John Jackman, and Sam Watkins. Still, it hits on some essentials of the Civil War combat experience that all those fellows would have been more than familiar with. Personally, I think the sound effects and use of vocabulary sounds like Watkins, but maybe I read too much of him. Best part, in my mind, is the discussion of the preparation for battle, the hurried packing and gathering of one's earthly life in preparation to go into battle and possibly lose it.

Neat stuff, no? Is it realistic? Does it contrast with the "modern" fighting that we see, in some of our other posts here?

Slow February In Bowling Green

As much as we normally focus on the exciting, fast-paced world of battles and heroics in the Civil War, we also have to remember that there were far more tedious and boring duties that kept both officers and men occupied during the war. Excerpt from the papers of Benjamin F. Buckner, a Kentucky lawyer turned Major of the 20th Ky Infantry. Expect to hear more about Ben in the coming months as I am writing a seminar paper on his politics and military service. More on that to follow, now we off to his report of February 1863 in Bowling Green, KY.

Bowling Green Ky Feby 7/63

My Dear Helen
I have been so busy for the last five or six day's that I have had not time to write Genl Mc--- has appointed me Provost Marshall of the town forces at this post and I have been engaged in the pleasant occupation of swearing secesh women to support the government, ferreting out thefts of government property, and convicting the fourth Kentucky Cavalry by the wholesale for drunkenness. It is quite laborious, but will soon be more pleasant. ...

I just enjoyed the idea of an entire regiment of cavalry getting tight "wholesale" on a pilfered stock of Kentucky's finest. Sometimes it takes fun bits like that to make a day grubbing in the archives a bit brighter.

Recollections of Slave Life in Murray County, Georgia

Thought I'd put out a link to the memoir of Levi Branham. An interesting view of Northwest Georgia life from the African American perspective. His story of the Ku Klux Klan and the White Caps provides a foil to my earlier post regarding racial violence in Northwest Georiga and Southeast Tennessee. http://docsouth.unc.edu/neh/branham/branham.html

And a quick jab at the Cavalry

Also as part of Cooper's letter he has this to say of the Cavalry, "they are generally a thieving and cowardly set of rogues with whom association is not all to be desired."

Braxton Bragg

Fellow AoT Blogger Chris Young passed this along to me yesterday, and thought I would share yet again another pro Bragg man. This time from a Louisianan, James Cooper of the 1st Louisiana Regulars. Cooper would write from Dalton on December 5th, 1863, "Genl Bragg took leave of us on the 2nd of this month a sad parting to us who have served with him during the whole war. We were attached to him personally, and regret his leaving because notwithstanding the abuse heaped upon him by the press of the country, we are satisfied that his course, though dictated by the patriotism that has characterized his whole career, will prove a serious blow to the country and our cause. We know the difficulties and embarrassments with which the bold hero has had to contend and the self sacrficing devotion with which he has struggled to overcome them; and yet, never turning aside to vindicate his course before a prejudiced people or to repel and expose the slanders of his enemies. Throughout the army I believe his loss severely felt and sincerely regretted."
So, add another one to the listing. The notion of the hatred of Bragg being so widespread is beginning to smell of conspiracy.

A Little More Fiber in the Diet.....

This post comes to you with a special thanks to Dr. Keith Bohannon.

William Coffin, 39th Iowa, to wife, [3 miles north of Kingston, Ga] May 20, 1864
“what dead and prisners [of the enemy] I have seen seem to be pretty wel clothed and their haversacks wel filled with corn bread and meat their tirds along the road looks like coon tirds in roastenyear time there is a goodeal of brand mixed in . . . “

So for any reenactors out there you might want to increase your fiber intake before your next event for a truely authentic experience.

General Thomas C. Hindman and Rep. Henry S. Foote

In July 1863, Major General Thomas Carmichael Hindman made his way across the Mississippi in order to take command of a Confederate division in Braxton Bragg's Army of Tennessee. Hindman had some serious allegations aimed at him prior to taking on his newly assigned duties as a division commander in Tennessee. One of his more famous critics was a member of the Confederate House of Representatives.

Hon. Henry S. Foote (MS) had a fairly interesting career in the United States Senate before entering the Confederate House in 1861. For example, he had once pulled a pistol on Senator Thomas Hart Benton during an altercation on the Senate floor over the compromise resolutions in 1850. Foote adamantly spoke out against President Jefferson Davis, General Braxton Bragg, and Confederate Secretary of State Judah P. Benjamin. In 1865, Foote noticing the end of the Confederacy was eminent, crossed into Union lines, made it to Canada, and sailed to London. After the Confederacy's collapse, Foote sailed back to the United States and moved to Washington, D.C., where he practiced law. President Rutherford B. Hayes appointed him as Superintendent of the New Orleans Mint in 1878. Foote died in Nashville, Tennessee, in 1880.

Thomas C. Hindman survived the war, only to be killed by an assassin's bullet on September 28, 1868. The motivation of the assassination was never determined, and he was buried in Helena, Arkansas.

Here is what the Hon. Henry S. Foote had to say about General Hindman in his book, Casket of Reminiscences (1874):

Perhaps the most cruel and atrocious conduct perpetrated by any of President Davis’ military servitors during the war was that practice by his especial favorite, General Hindman, in the State of Arkansas. I have formerly asserted, and my assertion has never yet been denied, nor can it be, that this person as his own formal report to the War Department evidenced, finding, as he said, that the very comprehensive provision of the conscription law were not quite comprehensive enough to suit his purposes, deliberately amplified them by proclamation; declared martial law throughout Arkansas and the northern portion of Texas, and demanded the services of all whom he had thus lawlessly embraced in his wide-sweeping conscription list. All who refused to obey his mandate, as he in terms confesses, were apprehended, subjected to trial by military court, appointed by Hindman himself; and when convicted, as a good many of them were, of an offense which he himself unblushingly acknowledges in this same official report was wholly unknown to the law of the land, he had them all executed; and going even beyond the example of the infernal Jeffreys himself in barbarity, he (as he also most ostentatiously declares, in the same report) took care to be personally present, that he might witness the dying agonies of his unfortunate victims. This man seized upon all the cotton and other property for which he had use, (as he boldly avows,) burned some, retained some, and appropriated a third portion to such purposes as he pleased. His cruelties were so enormous in Arkansas that it became unsafe that he should remain there longer, when he was brought across the Mississippi river under order of the Confederate War Department, made president of a court of inquiry for the trial of General Lovell, and, after having made such a report as was deemed to be necessary to the shielding of certain officials in Richmond from blame in connection with the capture of New Orleans, was immediately thereafter put in command of one of the largest divisions in the army of Tennessee, where he remained snug and comfortable until, running into collision with a more potential presidential favorite, the well-beloved Bragg, he was quietly relieved from command. I exposed all the enormity of this fiend in human form in open session of the Confederate Congress on more than one occasion, and took pains to have my exposition put in print, and yet I could not persuade Mr. Davis or Mr. Seddon to make the slightest notice of these outrageous enormities (395-396).

You Are No Brother Of Mine...

One aspect of the Civil War that is ingrained in our popular imagination is the tragic brother against brother aspect of the war, that men could be friends on the picket line and the next day they would try to kill each other. However, how true was this mindset? For some soldiers in the Army of Tennessee the notion of a brother's war was laughable. Captain Thomas J. Key of the Helena (AR) Artillery would note in his diary on August 5th, 1864;

"From Camp Sumter I received a letter from one of the Yankee prisoners whose name is Leroy L. Key, Sergeant in Company M, 16th Illinois Infantry, addressing me as his brother, He evidently has a brother with the same initials as mine, and his relatives are in the South, though he has betrayed all these and enlisted under the black banner of Abolitionism. He speaks of his mother and sister, and one, Lucy, of near Cahaba, Alabama. Leroy L. Key, you are no brother of mine, and if you were I would disown you; therefore I cannot correspond with you."

Leroy Key might have considered himself lucky to have been captured and not killed, On May 30th, 1864, the Macon Telegraph published a report from the Army of Tennessee, dated May 27th,

"Few prisoners were taken. Indeed, it is a subject of remark that the entire number taken since the first gun was fired in front of Dalton is surprisingly small. Truth is, the men are tired of taking them. They know the time of enlistment will soon expire, and the Yankee authorities would be slow to exchange for them veterans who are enlisted for the war, and are now smarting
under the indignities and cruelties which have been heaped upon them in prison, and chafing with impatience to be once again in the field. The intense hatred which we sometimes see expressed in the newspapers for Yankees is beginning to be felt by the entire army, rank and file, and they begin to feel that it is idle to take them prisoners and to divide rations with them."

Even though there were moments of charity, such as the truce that occured at Kennesaw Mountain, following the assault of June 27th, to remove the wounded and bury the dead, there were ugly moments. Captain B.J. Semmes noted, "Our men of Maney's Brigade, hearing their piteous cries for water, filled their canteens and advanced to give them water, and some were wounded by the enemy. One of my old brigade, Vaughns, was killed by a wounded Yankee officer whilst he was giving water to a wounded Yankee colonel, whereupon our men commenced firing upon their wounded and killed all in reach except those who crawled to our lines." Examples like this should make us reconsider exactly how civil combatants were to one another.

General Appearance Part 2

The following are descriptions from the letters of Liet. Col. Walter A. Roher of the 20th Mississippi Infantry, these were puplished in Civil War Times Illustrated in their July, 1979 issue;

Letter of Jan. 28th, 1864, describing General Leonidas Polk, "He wore a rather rusty looking uniform, made no attempt at display in dress...In person I think the Bishop is at least six feet in height, large portly, and as straight as an arrow, has the appearance of a man who enjoyed good living before the war and would have no objection to it now if he could get it, he has a good head, rather too round, covered with grey hair, a good face with a full beard, closely trimmed, a big mouth with a few dirty teeth in front, weighs about two hundred pounds..."
He describes Forrest as, "well mounted and wore a shiny black hat such as the Blockade runners bring through from Memphis and sell at $80-he had on a pretty good uniform except the hat, he must be at least six feet in height, his hair is long and almost white, he wears his whiskers only around his mouth and under his chin, shaving the sides of his face, his heard is black, I suppose he manages to get dye enough from Memphis to keep it so, he has a keen, gray eye, his forehead is high and expansive, his face is long, smooth and sallow, and tapers to the chin, his lips are thing and tightly compressed, he seldom smiles and is said never to laugh..."

General Appearance Part 1.

We have a standard image in our mind's eye of what Civil War Generals looked like, we see Lee in his fine dress uniform surrendering to the sloppily dressed US Grant, we see the hundreds of images of them with their double dressed frock coats and golden trimmings, but is that the reality? Just as today, there were dress uniforms and there were fatigue uniforms, and generals on either side were not exempt from not wishing to dispoil their finery. This is the first of several posts that will give descriptions of what a Army of Tennessee General looked like in the field.

From Sherman's March Through The South by Captain David Conyngham regarding the truce after the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain, June 27, 1864;

"I saw Pat Cleburne, with that tall, meagre frame, and that ugly scar across his lank, gloomy face, stand with a thoughtful air, looking on the work his division had done; for it was his troops that defended the line of works in the centre, and committed such fearful havoc on Newton's and Davis's divisions. He looked a fit type of lean Cassius...Cheatham looked rugged and healthy, though seemingly sad and despondent. He wore his fatigue dress-a blue flannel shirt, black neck-tie, gray homespun pantaloons, and slouched, black hat..."

With Feeling...

With regards to the feeling of Confederate soldiers on certain issues, the following is from the Personal Recollections of Sherman's Campaigns by Captain George Pepper, 80th Ohio Infantry;

"...a corporal of Company I, 60th Illinois, broke from the line, and under cover of projecting ledges, got up within twenty feet of a squad of rebels on the summit. Taking shelter from the sharpshooters, he called out:
'I say, rebs, don't you want to hear Old Abe's Amnesty Proclamation read!'
'Yes! yes!' was the unanimous cry, 'give us the ape's proclamation.'
'Attention!' commanded the corporal; and in a clear and resonant voice he read the Amnesty Proclamation to the rebels whose hands were raised to destroy the fabric of a Government established by our fathers. When he arrived at those passages of the Proclamation where the negro was referred to, he was interrupted by cries of 'none of your damned Abolitionism! Look out for rocks!' and down over his hiding-place decended a shower of stones and rocks. Having finished ther reading, the corporal asked:
'Well, rebs, how do you like the terms? Will you hear it again!'
'Not to-day, you bloody Yankee. Now crawl down in a hurry, and we won't fire,' was the response, and the daring corporal descended and rejoined his command..."

Doctor, Doctor...(Not for a weak stomach)

A while back I posted some medical cases from the Confederate States Medical And Surgical Journal. Here are a few more presented by Chief Surgeon Caryle Terry, Hindman's Division;

Case 1.- Marion Carlisle, second lieutenant company "G," 19th South Carolina; gun shot wound; right knee-joint implicated, and femur comminuted; amputation middle third of thigh. Stump attacked with erysipelas about the fifth week, which caused much delay; finally recovered and was sent to General Hospital No.16.

Case 13.- W.T. Kirby, private 50th Alabama; amputation middle third thigh; condition bad; stump did not do well; muscular and cutaneous tissues contracting very much, leaving bone protruding, which was again amputated, after which patent did very well, and was sent to General Hospital, October 13th.

Case 34.- J. Bishop, corporal company "D," 22d Alabama; ball passed through both hips, and bulbous portion urethra; bled profusely on the field; right femur fractured near its neck; suffered great pain for fifteen days; urine poured through wound, and repeated hemorrhages, from which he died October 8.

Case 49. W.B. Brown, corporal company "F," 24th Alabama; ball passes through abdomen; passed fecal matter from both orifices for fifteen days; finally both healed, and feces passed naturally; no peritoneal symptoms; sent to rear, in safe condition, October 31.

The Saga of Little Newt continues.

From Newton Davis' letter of Jan. 18th, 1863; "Little Newt is well. I heard him singing very joyiously a little while ago in camp. He takes every thing very easy & heroically. He wrote home for some more clothes by Hoodenpyle. He lost his knapsack and most of his clothes during the last fight. He very thoughtfully put on two full suits of everything that morning and consequently is not so bad off as a great many others. He has enough still to change, but one pair of his pants are nearly worn out."

Not Shaara's Longstreet

Well this doesnt fit into the Longstreet character from Killer Angels; Army before Richmond, June 17, 1862., "Soldiers: You have marched out to fight the battles of your country, and by those dates you must be rescyred from the shame of slavery. Your foes have declared their purpose of bringing you to beggery; and avarice, their natural characteristic, incites them to redoubled efforts for the conquest of the South, in order that they may seize her sunny fields and happy homes. Already has the hatred of one of their great leaders attempted to make the negro your equal by declairing his freedom. They care not for the blood of babes nor carnage of innocent women which servile insurrection thus stirred up may bring upon their heads. Worse than this, the North has sent forth another infamous chief, encouraging lust of his hirelings to the dishonor and violation of those Southern women who have so untireingly labored to clothe our soldiers in the field and nurse our sick and wounded. If ever men were called upon to defend the beloved daughters of their country, that now is our duty. Let such thoughts nerve you up to the most dreadful shock of battle; for were it certain death, death would be better than the fate that defeat would entail upon us all. But remember, though the fiery noise of battle is indeed most terrifying, and seems to threaten universal ruin, it is not so destructive as it seems, and few soldiers after all are slain. This the commanding generals desires particularly to impress upon the fresh and inexperienced troops who now constitute a part of this command. Let officers and men, even under the most formidable fire, preserve a quiet demeanor and self-possessed temper. Keep cool, obey orders, and aim low. Remember while you are doing this, and driving the enemy before you, your comrades may be relied on to support you on either side, and are in turn relying upon you...James Longstreet, Major-General, Commanding."

Little Newt Writes Or "I am tired of cooking and washing on myself."

Dear Reader, Here is another instalment of the Little Newt Chronicles, this one is the best though, one of his own letters that somehow made it into Col. Davis' collection. Woe be to Isaac or Mose.

Camp Near Shelbyville, Tenn.
Jan. 13th, 1863.

Dear Father and Mother;

I seat myself this evening to write you a few lines to let you that I am well. I am not so very well at the present, but I hope I will be well in a day or two. I was in the Battle of Murfreesboro, the grape and cannister shot and Bombs and musket balls fell around us thicker than hail I thought, but as my maker would have it. I never got touched any where with a ball. We was in line of battle 6 or 7 days in the rain and guns was continually firing and shells bursting over us. There was 8 of our company wounded, 1 killed, 1 missing, and our Regt was cut up rite badly. I was not over all of the battle field but the part I was on I think I saw about 5 dead yankees to 1 Southerner. Well Mother and Papa I have such a bad place to write and I am not so well I can't write much. I lost my knapsack again. I put on my grays pants you sent me and another gray coat and dress and 2 pair of draws and 2 shirts and I put the first pants you sent me and the last two shirts all in the wagon, put their knapsacks in the wagon and mine was last and a good many of the boys lost theirs. Bird Hoodenpyle has gone home on furlough and mother send me a coat and 1 shirt and papa sent me a negro by Hoodenpyle. Send Isaac or Mose I want one of them. I am tired of cooking and washing on myself.
Send me a little box of butter and a pound cake or two and unions. Hoodenpyle will not have much to bring and he will bring that for me, I will write again soon. You must write soon. I do want to hear from home so bad and have not received a letter from home since we came through Chattanooga, Tenn. Write soon. So Good-Bye.

N.N. Halbert.