RVANews

Civil War: A New Year’s Day “feast”

Phil Williams — Mon, 28 Dec 2015 20:00:39 +0000

Let's face it. It sucks to be away from family and friends during the holidays. Whether it's due to travel complications, your work schedule, or it's 1865 and you're stuck in a cold, miserable, muddy trench outside Petersburg surrounded by your fellow dirty soldiers--it's no fun. For both Union and Confederate soldiers alike, the holidays and thoughts of home just compounded what was already a pretty bleak situation.

'Tis Christmas. Yet how differently do we feel this damp morning, huddled around our camp-fires, from what we were wont to enjoy four years ago -- before fanaticism had driven us from our pleasant homes to battle for freedom's cause. However, we do not complain. Letter to the Editor, Richmond Dispatch • 1/2/1865

As the holidays neared, citizens of Richmond decided to band together to do something to help the Confederate troops. Their plan was to coordinate a large Christmas feast (which later turned into a New Years feast) for the soldiers in order to thank them for their months of hard work protecting the Confederate capital during the Petersburg siege. News of the charitable effort reached the Richmond newspapers, who quickly helped to promote it for several weeks in order to drive donations of food. Donations poured in from across the city. Word soon reached the soldiers, and the Confederate camps were abuzz over the impending feast. South Carolinian John Coleman wrote in his diary:

Christmas Day, and very very cold. Have been moving about some of late, but are again in our old quarters, We have had very unpleasant weather for several weeks. The rain had almost washed us away. The whole country around about here appears to be under water it is almost impossible to get about at all. All military movements will have to stop until the roads improve, It is said that Ladies of Richmond intend giving us a New Years dinner hope it may prove true would like right will to get something good to eat.

The feast would take place on January 2nd, 1865 since New Year's Day fell on a Sunday. In Richmond, the days leading up to the event was a flurry of cooking and preparation:

This is the last day in which to prepare for the dinner intended for the soldiers of General Lee's army on New-Year's day. The collection of cooked and uncooked fowls and meats, up to yesterday afternoon, at the Ballard House, was such as but few persons ever witnessed before, and yet, in the opinion of those in charge, a further supply will be needed. The Treasurer, Mr. John J. Wilson, calls for a continuance of contributions in money and provisions. Richmond Dispatch • 12/31/1864

That note about "a further supply would be needed" is a critical one. It's not clear if the organizers significantly underestimated the amount of food needed to feed an entire army, had trouble getting enough donations, or had some mismanagement from suppliers along the way, but the fact of the matter is that when it came time to distribute the feast to the soldiers, there was barely enough for a bite of food per soldier. Coleman wrote in his diary a few days later:

The long talked of Christmas dinner has come at last. Three turkeys, two ducks, one chicken and about ninety loves, for three hundred and fifty soldiers. Not a mouth full apiece where has it all gone too, where [did] it go? The commisser or quarter masters no doubt got. May the Lord have mercy on the poor soldiers.

There are many similar stories of discontent from the New Year's dinner in soldiers' diaries and letters home in January of 1865. It's hard to imagine how crushing this must have been for the soldiers, who had been subsisting on substandard rations and anticipating this event for weeks. A correspondent for the Dispatch wrote "The New Year's dinner has come and gone, or rather, gone, without coming" (City Under Siege • Mike Wright) If Confederate morale was struggling before this, they'd just found a new low point.

Richmonders were quick to try to distance themselves from the debacle, and the Richmond Enquirer was quick to backpedal from any involvement:

The manager of the Enquirer desires to state to his friends in the army that he had nothing to do with the distribution of the New Year's Dinner. Richmond Enquirer • 1/3/1865

Perhaps the failed New Year's dinner was a fitting start to 1865 for the Confederate capital. The Confederacy only had a few short months left to live, and each month would bring dwindling resources and ever-decreasing odds against a larger, more-powerful foe. Safe for the short term in the last remaining weeks of cold weather, things weren't going to hold much longer in Petersburg. On the other side of the trenches, General Ulysses S. Grant and his better-fed and better-equipped Union army anxiously awaited the opportunity to resume fighting and bring the Civil War to a decisive close.

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Richmond during the Civil War: Thanksgiving

Phil Williams — Thu, 26 Nov 2015 14:00:14 +0000

Originally published on November 21st, 2012.

In the next few days, most of you will be sitting down to a Thanksgiving meal with your families. We’ve all grown up hearing the story of Thanksgiving and are quite familiar with the story of the pilgrims and Native Americans sharing a big feast at Plymouth Rock. You might be surprised to hear there’s a little more to the story, and it involves years of letter writing from a woman named Sarah, a president named Abe, and events that transpired over 200 years after the first Thanksgiving feast.

After that first feast in 1621, the actual celebration of Thanksgiving was somewhat sporadic and inconsistent on a national level. George Washington declared a day of Thanksgiving in December 1777 after the defeat of the British at Saratoga and again in 1789. His successor John Adams declared days of Thanksgiving the following two years. However, later presidents, like Thomas Jefferson, didn’t continue the tradition.

It wasn’t until 1863, in the midst of the Civil War, that Thanksgiving became an official national holiday. In the midst of war, what drove Abraham Lincoln to declare a national holiday? It had a lot to do with a woman by the name of Sarah Josepha Hale. A writer and editor by trade, Hale was one of the first American novelists, but you might know her best by one of the poems she wrote, entitled “Mary’s Lamb”, better known today as “Mary Had A Little Lamb”! Crazy, right?

Anyway, I get the feeling that Sarah Hale was one of those stubborn people who, once they’ve got an idea in their head, don’t quit until they make it a reality. That’s exactly what transpired with Thanksgiving. Starting in 1846, Hale started a 17-year letter writing campaign to try to convince each president to proclaim Thanksgiving a national holiday. She wrote to five presidents in total with no success until 1863 when her letters and editorials finally compelled Lincoln to take action. He was presumably moved by her reasoning that the holiday would help to unify the war-torn country. Lincoln released a proclamation that fall declaring that the final Thursday in November would be the new national holiday:

...In the midst of a civil war of unequalled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle, or the ship; the axe had enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years, with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and voice by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens...

Interestingly, here in Richmond, Jefferson Davis also declared a “day of Thanksgiving” in the Confederacy a year earlier in September of 1862. However, this day was marked by fasting and reflection, not the traditional feasting we’ve come to know. In the years after the Civil War, the holiday designated by Lincoln became the national celebration we know it today.

So when you’re sitting around the Thanksgiving table this year and the conversation turns to politics or family drama, make sure you keep this anecdote handy so that you can change the subject and impress everyone with your Thanksgiving trivia knowledge. You can tell them it’s not just about pilgrims anymore! The reason we’re all gathered around the table is due in large part to the woman who wrote “Mary Had A Little Lamb”.

Civil War: Endings and beginnings

Phil Williams — Fri, 24 Apr 2015 13:00:50 +0000

It's here. The end of our four-year sesquicentennial project, which explored the Civil War's impact on Richmond in historical real-time. Recapture the magic from day one. And if you have a sec, drop @heyitsphil a line on Twitter (or leave a comment here) telling him how great you think he is! I mean, a four-year project, guys!

As dawn was breaking on the morning of April 26th, 1865, a dying John Wilkes Booth lay paralyzed on the front steps of the Garrett farm, located outside Port Royal, VA--a scant 50 miles northeast of Richmond. Just ten days after assassinating President Abraham Lincoln at Ford's Theater in an attempt to ignite a Confederate resurgence, Booth had become the focus of one of the largest manhunts in U.S. history, one that ended inside of a burning tobacco barn with a bullet through the neck that severed Booth's spine. As he lay dying, realizing that history wouldn't remember him as the hero he'd imagined himself to be, he muttered his last words, "Useless, useless."

Meanwhile, further north, a funeral train carrying the coffin of Abraham Lincoln traveled from Washington, D.C. to Lincoln's home state of Illinois for burial. Along the train route, huge crowds gathered to pay their last respects to the fallen president. In cities like Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York, the coffin was removed from the train and placed on a carriage for a funeral procession through the city, often ending with a public viewing of Lincoln's body lying in state. The Philadelphia Inquirer described a scene that was repeated at every stop along the train route:

Half a million of sorrow-stricken people were upon the streets to do honor to all that was left of the man whom they respected, revered and loved with an affection never before bestowed upon any other, save the Father of his Country. Universal grief was depicted on the faces of all. Hearts beat quick and fast with the throb of a sorrow which they had never experienced. Young and old alike bowed in solemn reverence before the draped chariot which bore the body of our deceased, assassinated president. The feeling was too deep for expression. The wet cheeks of the strong man, the tearful eyes of the maiden and the matron, the hush which pervaded the atmosphere and made it oppressive, the steady measured tread of the military and the civic procession, the mournful dirges of the bands, the dismal tolling of the bells and the boom of the minute guns, to more than it is possible for language to express.

On that same day in April, Confederate Gen. Joseph Johnston met with Union Gen. William T. Sherman at a farm called Bennett Place in Durham County, North Carolina and agreed upon surrender terms. The terms, which were the same offered Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee a few weeks earlier, led to the surrender of nearly 90,000 soldiers, the largest surrender of Confederate forces in the war. Now that both Lee and Johnston's armies were out of the fight, it would only be a few weeks before the remaining Confederate armies in the field laid down their arms as well.

Back in Washington, things were contentious to say the least. Lincoln, who had a good handle on the "Radical Republicans" within his own party, was replaced by his vice president, Democrat and southerner Andrew Johnson. As president, Johnson struggled to implement Lincoln's "with malice toward none" approach to reuniting the southern states with the Union. Republicans advocated for taking a harsher stance with the former Confederates and proposed laws that upended the aristocratic hierarchy of the south.

On the other side, Southern states quickly set in motion repressive laws that restricted the freedoms of its black population. State laws called "Black Codes" forbid interracial marriage and set the stage for the segregated south. We'll never know how Reconstruction would have been different if Lincoln had lived to see his vision of reconciliation come to fruition, but it's easy to imagine how his leadership and influence could have led to a better outcome. The decisions made during this fragile and tumultuous time after the end of the Civil War would echo for generations throughout our country--and still have impacts today.

— ∮∮∮ —

This is my last column for this four-year series documenting events in Richmond 150 years ago during the Civil War. I had no idea where this would lead when I started it, but it has been one hell of an interesting project and I'm so grateful that the fine folks of RVANews asked me to take it on. My hope is that I've helped bring an important part of this city's history to life--and showed how much Richmond was shaped by the events of the Civil War. I also hope that I made Richmond's history a little more accessible to people who don't think touring battlefields is necessarily a fun way to spend a weekend.

Like it or not, the Civil War built and shaped this city. And as long as there are still statues standing on Monument Avenue, we'll continue to be defined by it. Even now, despite so much progress, our city is still divided along racial lines. Debates over how we acknowledge our dark past as a center for the slave trade are on the front page of our newspapers. Protesters waving Confederate flags and signs still spend their Saturdays out in front of our state art museum. But we can make Richmond so much more than its history--even now, we are finding brand new ways to define ourselves. It's a really exciting time to be here.

I love this city--who knows what the next 150 years will bring?

Civil War: Surrender at Appomattox

Phil Williams — Thu, 09 Apr 2015 16:00:23 +0000

During the week leading up to April 9th, 1865, the fortunes of the Confederacy officially went from bad to worse to more or less finished.

During the overnight hours of April 2nd, Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee finally made the difficult but inevitable decision to abandon Petersburg and Richmond in order to save his army. By the morning of April 3rd, the Confederate siegeworks were completely abandoned and Lee's army was marching west through southern Virginia, with a plan to inevitably join up with Gen. Joseph E. Johnston's army in North Carolina. Spirits in the army were initially high-they were finally back on the march and away from the muddy trenches of Petersburg. But that only lasted about a day. Lee's first priority was to feed his evacuating army, but the rations he expected from Richmond never arrived. Foraging parties sent out to secure food from local farms came back largely empty-handed. These foraging efforts took the better part of a day and soon an even bigger problem emerged for the fleeing Confederate army.

The pursuing Union army had caught up to them.

For the next several days, Lee's army was harassed by Union forces. The attacks were devastating for the beleaguered Confederates and came from nearly all sides. Federal cavalry raced ahead to block potential routes of escape while infantry attacked the Confederate rear. As the Union attacks, lack of food, and exhaustion took their toll on the fleeing army, Grant began to exploit gaps between the marching Confederate forces, isolating and capturing thousands of soldiers in the process. Watching from a nearby vantage point during one such attack, Lee remarked "My God! Has the army been dissolved?"

After a few more days of trying to break free of Grant's grip, Lee's army had nothing left to give. Lee and Grant exchanged several letters, ultimately deciding to meet on April 9th at Appomattox Courthouse to discuss the terms of surrender for Lee's Army of Northern Virginia. The two men met in the parlor of a local home, Lee resplendent in his general's uniform complete with an ornate sword and Grant plainly-dressed in a private's uniform. It was there that Grant laid out the details of the surrender.

All Confederate soldiers in the Army of Northern Virginia, including Lee himself, were paroled and free to return home. Soldiers were required to surrender their rifles, but officers were allowed to keep sidearms and swords. In addition, Grant arranged to have rations sent immediately to feed the starving Confederate soldiers. This charitable approach to the surrendered Confederates, now seen by Grant as "reunited countrymen," reflected President Abraham Lincoln's desire for reunification with the Southern states and a peaceful end to the war. Had the Union taken a more hardline approach, they could have easily ordered Lee (and other Confederate officers) arrested or sentenced to death. Instead, Lee stayed in Appomattox Courthouse until the last of his soldiers had been paroled and then returned home to Richmond.

Lee entered into Richmond on April 15th, riding his horse Traveller across the James River on a Union-built pontoon bridge (all the original bridges had been destroyed by the evacuating Confederates). As he rode through the city, he surveyed the fire-damaged business district, making his way to his residence at 707 N. Franklin Street. As he passed, an impromptu crowd formed on the streets to cheer his return.

Lee acknowledged the crowd with a tip of his hat, but unlike Lincoln a few days earlier, made no remarks to the gathered audience.

In the days that followed, Lee remained reclusive in his home, wanting to shy away from any attention from the citizens of Richmond. One person, however, was granted a pretty remarkable exception. Famous Civil War photographer Matthew Brady had been in Richmond for several days taking photos of the destruction in the city and made a request of the Lee family to photograph the general in his home. Lee, who normally found posing for photographs "irksome", agreed to Brady's request. It must have taken some courage to recognize the historical significance of the occasion and some steeliness to put aside his post-surrender emotions. Brady took six photographs of Lee on Easter Sunday in his home. The photos, showing an aged and war-weary Lee, are some of the best-known ever taken of the general.

Unlike so many of the Richmond buildings/houses mentioned during this column's four years of existence, Lee's row house at 707 E. Franklin Street still stands, nestled between a parking lot and an office building, just a short walk from the state capitol. It's almost invisible unless you know what you're looking for.

— ∮∮∮ —

It seems a real shame that now that peace is finally becoming a real thing for Richmond, this column must come to an end. But end it must! Join Phil on Monday, April 27th for the FINAL INSTALLMENT of our sesquicentennial remembrance. Need to catch up? Read it allllllllll here.

Civil War: Lincoln arrives in Richmond

Phil Williams — Fri, 03 Apr 2015 13:00:12 +0000

On April 4th, 1865, two days after Richmond was abandoned by the Confederate government, parts of the city were still burning and smoldering. The fires, set by departing soldiers, left charred smoking rubble through much of what is now downtown. Union forces had arrived early on the morning of April 3rd and had spent most of the first 24 hours taking stock of the situation, putting out fires, and setting up headquarters in now-empty government buildings. Citizens of Richmond were still in a state of shock--responses to Richmond's capture ranged from Confederate loyalists hiding indoors with curtains drawn to expressions of jubilation from the formerly-enslaved black population, now free under Union authority. In this time of transition and uncertainty, just two days after the city fell, Richmond had a very unlikely visitor--President Abraham Lincoln.

Before we continue, I think it's important to pause and acknowledge how absolutely crazy this all sounds 150 years later. These days, if a president desires to go anywhere, he or she must first undergo an elaborate vetting and security process, crowd control, and secret service everywhere. Lincoln strolling into Richmond is the modern-day equivalent of President Barack Obama airdropping into Baghdad in 2011 on the day after the end of operations in the Iraq War and walking through the streets to check things out. NOT A GREAT IDEA, right? To be fair, even 150 years ago, there were some definite concerns about security. As Richmond and Petersburg fell to Union forces, Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton sent a telegram to Lincoln basically saying "Hey, don't do anything stupid, okay?" It read:

"I congratulate you and the nation on the glorious news in your telegram just read. Allow me respectfully to ask you to consider whether you ought to expose the nation to the consequences of any disaster to yourself in the pursuit of a treacherous and dangerous enemy like the rebel army. If it was a question concerning yourself only I should not presume to say a word. Commanding Generals are in the line of their duty in running such risks. But is the political head of nation in the same condition.
(More at Mr. Lincoln and Freedom)

Lincoln basically responded "Yeah, okay, I hear you but.." and telegrammed back: "It is certain now that Richmond is in our hands, and I think I will go there to-morrow. I will take care of myself."

Lincoln left the Union headquarters at City Point, Virginia and traveled up the James River by boat, arriving at the wharf at Rockett's Landing in the early afternoon. As Lincoln and his small entourage walked up toward the city, several newly-freed slaves recognized Lincoln and shouted out to him, expressing their gratitude and calling him "Father Abraham." Word spread like wildfire among the black population and soon a large crowd gathered to walk with Lincoln as he entered the city, singing hymns and shouting praises alongside him. Soon, the size of the crowd became oppressive and it was actually difficult for Lincoln and his contingent to push through and navigate their way to their destination--the White House of the Confederacy.

When the crowd appeared to reach its peak, Lincoln felt moved to speak. One of Lincoln's escorts, Admiral David D. Porter, recalled his words (likely with a dose of rose-colored embellishment) to the newly-emancipated:

My poor friends, you are free--free as air. You can cast off the name of slave and trample upon it; it will come to you no more. Liberty is your birthright. God gave it to you as he gave it to others, and it is a sin that you have been deprived of it for so many years. But you must try to deserve this priceless boon. Let the world see that you merit it, and are able to maintain it by your good works. Don't let your joy carry you into excesses. Learn the laws and obey them; obey God's commandments and thank him for giving you liberty, for to him you owe all things. There, now, let me pass on; I have but little time to spare. I want to see the capital, and must return at once to Washington to secure to you that liberty which you seem to prize so highly."
(More at Mr. Lincoln and Freedom)

Upon completion of his impromptu speech, Lincoln made his way up the hill to the former residence of Confederate President Jefferson Davis. Upon arriving, he settled in Davis's office, where he sat in his chair and seemed to quietly reflect on the changing fortunes of the war--it finally felt like it would all soon be over. Several of the soldiers accompanying him discovered a store of liquor, and congratulatory drinks were shared by all--except Lincoln, who contented himself with a glass of water. Lincoln had lunch and held a handful of meetings in the office, then set out to explore the house. An aide, Thomas Graves, shared a personal anecdote about Lincoln's explorations:

At length he asked me if the housekeeper was in the house. Upon learning that she had left he jumped up and said, with a boyish manner, 'Come, let's look at the house!' We went pretty much over it; I retailed all that the housekeeper had told me, and he seemed interested in everything. As we came down the staircase General Weitzel came, in breathless haste, and at once President Lincoln's face lost its boyish expression as he realized that duty must be resumed.
(More at Eyewitness to History)

After arranging for a carriage to transport them back to their boat, Lincoln left the Confederate White House and headed back to Rockett's Landing. The streets were thronged with additional well-wishers and cheering crowds, both black and white citizens alike. By 6:00 PM, Lincoln was back aboard his boat on the James River and on the way back to City Point. The walk through Richmond, while brief, had the desired impact. Lincoln arrived in the city not as a conquering hero or dictator, but as someone with open arms, seeking reconciliation and reunion.

In retrospect, the president's trip was more fraught with danger than anyone realized, but in ways that weren't really discovered until after the fact. The section of the James River that had to be navigated in order to arrive at Rockett's Landing was discovered later to be chock-full of explosive mines. Reports of possible snipers posted at windows in the city would later emerge. Not to mention the risk from the huge and unanticipated crowd that enveloped Lincoln during his walk through the city. Fortunately though, no harm befell the president that day--but death was still on his doorstep.

In ten days, Lincoln would be dead from an assassin's bullet.

— ∮∮∮ —

Did you miss Richmond's fall? Did you miss the rest of the Civil War series? Well, guess what! You're gonna miss it for real, because there are only two more left! Stay tuned!

Civil War: The Fall of Richmond

Phil Williams — Thu, 02 Apr 2015 16:00:45 +0000

It was the morning of April 2nd, 1865, and Confederate President Jefferson Davis sat alone in his usual pew at St. Paul's Episcopal Church. As Reverend Dr. Charles Minnigerode preached a sermon on the Last Supper, one of the church sextons handed Davis a note from the War Department. He remained seated for a moment as he read the contents of the note, then rose up and walked down the center aisle and out of the church. Several minutes later, as Minnigerode began communion, the sexton approached several other high-level Confederate officials, who quickly exited the church as well. A murmur swept across the congregation--something important was happening, and it likely wasn't good.

Davis's note was a telegram from Robert E. Lee at the front lines outside Petersburg. And it was actually the second telegram the Confederate President had received this morning. Just before attending church, he'd been handed a message from Lee that stated, "I see no prospect of doing more than holding our position here till night. I am not certain I can do that. I advise that all preparation be made for leaving Richmond tonight." For reasons unknown, Davis remained unbowed as he continued on to St. Paul's. It was the second telegram which drove him to action:

"I think it is absolutely necessary that we should abandon our position tonight. I have given all the necessary orders on the subject to the troops, and the operation, though difficult, I hope will be performed successfully. I have directed General Stevens to send an officer to Your Excellency to explain the routes to you by which the troops will be moved to Amelia Courthouse, and furnish you with a guide and any assistance that you may require for yourself."

After leaving St. Paul's, Davis rushed to the War Department offices on 9th Street and gave the order to evacuate the city by nightfall. For days now, the Confederate government had been planning for a possible evacuation of the city, prepping boxes of files and paperwork, arranging for transportation, and all the things one does when attempting to move an entire government to a new location in wartime. The Confederates intended to relocate the capital to the city of Danville, a southern Virginia city near the North Carolina border, and most importantly, along a critical railroad line from Richmond. Despite the days of preparation, the new deadline created chaos among the many clerks and officials preparing for immediate departure.

By afternoon, most of the populace had heard of the evacuation order and panic ensued in the streets. If the Confederate government was leaving Richmond, so too was the Confederate army that defended the city. The realization that they would soon be occupied by the enemy drove fear into the hearts of the white population. The city council, in an attempt to control the situation and minimize rioting, ordered the destruction of all whiskey and other hard liquors throughout the city. The plan backfired tremendously. The police raided warehouses and stores of hard liquor throughout the city, smashing the barrels and letting the liquor drain into the streets. It didn't take long for astute citizens looking to forget their misfortune to realize that a simple dip of a hat or hands into the gutter led to free whiskey for all courtesy of the Richmond city council.

By the time nightfall arrived, most of the government had now cleared out of the city en route to Danville. Jefferson Davis bid farewell to the White House of the Confederacy and, as if still hoping for news of a reversal of fortune from Lee, waited until 11:00 PM to board the presidential train. After midnight, the looting and lawlessness really began to increase as whiskey-fueled mobs broke into supply warehouses and smashed storefront windows. The people of Richmond had hit their breaking point--and the discovery of previously-hidden supplies of food and provisions (while the populace was starving) only served to enrage them more. There were still soldiers in Richmond, but they weren't equipped to stop the mob--in fact, they actually had orders to join in the destruction.

The commanding officer in charge of the city's defenses, Gen. Richard S. Ewell, had ordered soldiers to burn warehouses filled with tobacco in order to prevent them from getting into Union hands. In the middle of the night, they torched multiple warehouses in the business district. These warehouse fires, combined with smaller fires started by looters, soon spread out of control when wind picked up the flames. Soon, an entire third of Richmond was on fire. On the James River, soldiers packed their ironclad ships full with munitions and set them aflame as well. Huge explosions rocked the city and were felt even as far as Union picket lines outside the borders. One Union officer wrote: "The earth shook where we were and there flashed out a glare of light as of noonday, while the fragments of the vessel, pieces of timber and other stuff, fell among my pickets, who had not yet moved from the position where they had been posted for the night watch." One can only imagine citizens hiding in their homes, smelling the smoke, hearing drunken mobs, windows blasted out by massive explosions on the water--it must have sounded like Richmond was being destroyed by a massive Union force. Alas, it was just the Confederates tying up loose ends.

The final loose end, Mayo Bridge was the last remaining bridge south across the James River and the key to preventing Union forces from chasing after the fleeing Confederates. As dawn broke in the still-burning city, the order was given to destroy the bridge: "All over, good-bye, blow her to hell!" Even as one end of the bridge burned, a few straggler Confederate soldiers ran through the flames and across the structure mere moments before collapse. Without a minute to spare, soldiers in blue uniforms could be seen streaming into the city from Rockett's Landing as the bridge was engulfed in flame.

Union Gen. Godfrey Weitzel sent a telegram to Gen. Ulysses S. Grant that morning: "We took Richmond at 8:15 this morning. I captured many guns. The enemy left in great haste. The city is on fire in two places. Am making every effort to put it out. The people received us with enthusiastic expressions of joy." Weitzel was perhaps referring to Richmond's enslaved population, who now found themselves free, but given the horrors of the night before, surely the rest of Richmond's citizens felt a mix of sorrow and relief as Union soldiers rushed to help put out the fires throughout the city.

It was over. Richmond had fallen.

— ∮∮∮ —

April will be the final month of this Civil War series--much of the important stuff happened right here in Richmond! Check back often for the last few real-time installments of our four-year-long series (including one this very Monday!). Do you have catching up to do?

Civil War: A Breakthrough at Fort Stedman

Phil Williams — Wed, 25 Mar 2015 16:00:03 +0000

Take a moment and imagine what must have been going through Lee's head in March of 1865. Waiting just a few hundred yards away was a Union army more than twice the size of his own--and now that winter was finally over, they were itching for a fight. Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant had spent the first nine months of the siege trying to encircle Petersburg and cut off supply and escape routes from the city. But as Lee's situation grew less favorable and Grant further strengthened and supplied his army, it wasn't a question of if Grant was going to launch a full assault to break Lee's weakened defensive lines, but when. An attack was coming, and it was bound to happen in March. Lee, knowing he was working with a very small window of time, only had a handful of options. None of them looked good.

First, he could choose to surrender to Grant, something he wasn't ready to do yet. The second option was to abandon Petersburg (and thus Richmond) and meet up with forces in North Carolina to reinforce his weakened army. While it would mean saving his men, losing the Confederate capital would be a huge blow. The third choice was the riskiest and yet, the most natural for Lee. What if he could take the fight to Grant? Waiting for a Federal attack at Petersburg wasn't giving him any advantage, but if he could break through the siege lines and throw Grant off-kilter, he had a shot at regaining the advantage and potentially gain access to Grant's rich supply operation at City Point, Virginia.

In early March, Lee tasked Maj. Gen. John B. Gordon to develop a plan for a surprise offensive against Grant. Gordon spent several weeks analyzing potential weaknesses in the Union siegeworks and returned with a plan on March 23rd. The plan centered on an assault on Fort Stedman, a strategically-located Union fortification that was close to Union supply lines. Confederate soldiers would take the fort, using it to base an attack along the Union line, creating a sizeable gap through which the main Confederate assault would take place. From there, the rebels would proceed all the way to the Union supply depot at City Point.

After reviewing Gordon's plan, Lee put it into action almost immediately.

The attack began in the pre-dawn hours of March 25th. Under cover of darkness, Gordon sent sharpshooters across the "no man's land" between the lines. In order to confuse the sentinels posted at the fort, the sharpshooters impersonated Confederate deserters, a common sight during the overnight hours.

The guards didn't realize their mistake until the rebels were on top of them, and were quickly overtaken without shots fired--in fact, those first Confederates were ordered to attack with unloaded rifles because they couldn't risk an accidental misfire alerting the other Union soldiers. Once the guards were neutralized, many more Confederates crossed into the fort. Since most Union soldiers inside were asleep or caught unaware, Fort Stedman was quickly taken.

In the scuffle, some artillery shots were fired by a nearby battery, but that was soon overrun by rebels as well. Gordon had taken the fort so quickly that they still had 45 minutes until sunrise. Thanks to some cut telegraph wires, the Union command were unaware of the attack until much later.

The Union general in charge of that section of the line (and Fort Stedman), Gen. Napoleon B. McLaughlen, was awoken by the noise of the attack, quickly dressed himself, and rode out to nearby Fort Haskell. He was informed that Confederates had overtaken a nearby battery, and he ordered an artillery attack on it. Unaware of the scale of the assault, McLaughlen headed directly to Fort Stedman to assess the situation there.

Upon arriving, he saw soldiers, who he assumed to be Union picketers returning to the fort, coming over the breastworks. McLaughlen shouted orders, which they quickly obeyed. He was soon dismayed to discover that the soldiers he'd been ordering around in the dark were actually Confederates. Just as quickly, the rebels realized his identity as well, and McLaughlen was quickly captured and forced to surrender the fort to Gordon.

Maj. Gen. Gordon knew time was of the essence--troops were sent left and right along the Union lines to capture whatever batteries and forts they could, while Confederate artillerists worked to turn captured Union artillery guns in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Confederate infantry streamed into the gap that was opened by the surprise attack. Things could not have been going better for Gordon, who would later write that the attack had "exceeded my most sanguine expectations."

As morning light broke, however, things started to turn in the other direction.

It wasn't long before Gordon began receiving reports of heavy Union resistance from the Confederate troops he'd sent out to capture additional forts. Soon after, a punishing artillery fire from nearby forts started to rain down on Fort Stedman. In addition, word reached him that the reinforcements he had been counting on to strengthen the main assault had been delayed.

Now with the aid of sunlight, a more formal Union counterattack began to form. The Union confusion and panic that Gordon had counted on now evaporated with the night's darkness. It became clear that the Confederates would not be able to hold the fort for much longer. Gordon ordered a full evacuation back across the no man's land to Confederate lines. As they ran back across the open ground between the lines, they were subject to blistering musket fire from the Union soldiers, who could now pick them off easily in the daylight. A Union observer wrote:

My mind sickens at the memory of it--a real tragedy in war--for the victims had ceased fighting, and were now struggling between imprisonment and death or home.¹

Four hours after it was taken, Fort Stedman was safely back in Union hands. The offensive had failed, and Lee, who had lost over 4,000 soldiers in the assault, knew his position at Petersburg was no longer tenable. In a week, Grant would launch a Union offensive that would break the Confederate lines and end the Petersburg siege, creating a rapid series of events that would lead to the fall of Richmond, the surrender of Lee, and the end of the Confederacy.

The long bloody war was finally coming to an end.

— ∮∮∮ —

Trudeau, Noah Andre. The Last Citadel: Petersburg, Virginia, June 1864 - April 1865. pg. 354 ↩

Civil War: Lincoln’s Inauguration 2.0

Phil Williams — Wed, 04 Mar 2015 11:00:21 +0000

As a person who likes story arcs that tie up nicely in neat little bows, I find something deeply satisfying about Abraham Lincoln's second inaugural address, which took place 150 years ago on March 4th, 1865. Lincoln's first inauguration had been exactly four years prior, as the United States was on the verge of war, in the midst of trying to find a political solution during those weeks leading up to the first shots fired at Fort Sumter. Lincoln was a new untested president about to face something no president had faced before him. Now, four years later, that same war was finally winding down, and Lincoln was set to address the nation yet again, only weeks away from a reunited Union. You can only imagine what he was feeling after those long four years, so close to realizing his goal.

The two inaugural addresses feel very different in tone. In 1861, Lincoln was attempting a firm stand in opposition to secession while at the same time trying to appease southern concerns about slavery's footing. In 1865, Lincoln's address was much shorter--just 703 words--and felt much more like a sermon than a political speech. Having just recently passed the 13th amendment abolishing slavery, Lincoln focused primarily on the end of slavery as an institution and providing assurance to the southern states that he would welcome them back to the Union. With multiple biblical quotes and references to God, Lincoln made the case that divine authority was the driving force behind ending slavery and reunifying the broken nation. It ended with perhaps one of his most famous lines:

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

Beautiful, right? It gets better. Journalist Noah Brooks described the response:

A roar of applause shook the air, and, again and again repeated, finally died away on the outer fringe of the throng, like a sweeping wave upon the shore. Just at that moment the sun, which had been obscured all day, burst forth in its unclouded meridian splendor, and flooded the spectacle with glory and with light.

Here in the modern day, we have a tendency to idolize Lincoln as president, to almost think of him as divine. With glowing reviews like that (and a helping hand from mother nature, who literally made him seem larger than life), it's no wonder that we do.

Not everyone in the audience was moved by Lincoln's words. Just a few yards away from Lincoln stood an actor and southern sympathizer by the name of John Wilkes Booth. As he watched the president's speech from a nearby balcony, Booth, with the help of several co-conspirators, was orchestrating a plot to assassinate Lincoln in a last-ditch effort to save the Confederacy. In fact, several photos taken during the inauguration show both the president and his soon-to-be assassin. The next time the two would be in such close proximity would be 41 days later at Ford's Theatre, and the end of that production would not result in applause.

April will be the final month of this Civil War series--and a lot of the important action of that last month occurred right here in Richmond, so we'll be doing four stories next month and posting them as close to real-time as we can, so be sure to stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion of our four-year-long series!

Civil War: Battle of Hatcher’s Run

Phil Williams — Mon, 16 Feb 2015 11:00:14 +0000

CONFIDENTIAL
TO MAJ. GEN. G. G. MEADE FROM U. S. GRANT:
I WOULD LIKE TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE PRESENT GOOD WEATHER TO DESTROY OR CAPTURE AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE OF THE ENEMY'S WAGON TRAIN, WHICH IT IS UNDERSTOOD IS BEING USED IN CONNECTION WITH THE WELDON RAILROAD, TO PARTIALLY SUPPLY THE TROOPS ABOUT PETERSBURG. YOU MAY GET THE CAVALRY READY TO DO THIS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. . . .Trudeau, Noah Andre. The Last Citadel

In February 1865, Union General Ulysses S. Grant was anxious to finally bring the siege of Petersburg to an abrupt close. After months of cold winter weather that forced a cessation of hostilities, Grant was eager to resume fighting. So when a brief window of warmth opened up in early February, Grant took action.

His target was the Boydton Plank Road and the Weldon Railroad. Together, they were the last two supply lines into Petersburg. Ever since the beginning of the siege, Grant had targeted Confederate supply lines with moderate success, but these last two had evaded him, allowing the Confederates to survive the winter of '64-'65 with access (albeit limited) to food, supplies, and reinforcements from the southwest.

Grant's order was met with some initial pushback from Gen. George Meade, who felt that the effort wouldn't gain a significant enough result. Stinging a bit from a recent report issued about the Battle of the Crater the previous summer and subsequent scrutiny in Northern newspapers, Meade was reluctant to make any moves that didn't result in decisive success for the Union. However, Grant urged him to press on regardless. Meade sent out a cavalry division under Gen. David Gregg and infantry from the V and II Corps on February 5th.

Confederate General Robert E. Lee caught wind of the Union movement and sent divisions under Gen. Henry Heth and Gen. John Gordon to meet the Federal advance. The two forces met at Hatcher's Run, which consisted largely of wooded terrain, and battled back and forth with little progress made by either side. The Confederate force, roughly half the size of the Union force, had an easier job--they simply had to block the Union progress toward Grant's objectives, and they were largely successful. After two days of fighting, harsh winter weather quickly returned in the form of overnight snow and hail, which eventually caused the Union to withdraw.

The attack, Grant's seventh offensive during the siege of Petersburg, came to an uneventful close on February 7th. And yet, despite not achieving their ultimate objective, they were still able to extend their siege lines by several more miles. This meant the Confederates were forced to defend more territory and thin their weakened lines even further. In small but effective increments, the Union chokehold at Petersburg was growing stronger.

Meanwhile, as Grant tried to end the conflict with military strength outside Petersburg, there were others in both Richmond and Washington who were trying to find a possible diplomatic end to the Civil War. Stay tuned to learn more about those efforts later this month.

Civil War: One Last Chance for Peace

Phil Williams — Fri, 06 Feb 2015 11:00:34 +0000

In the early weeks of 1865, Confederate leaders in Richmond surely must have been taking inventory of their increasingly bleak situation. A growing Federal force led by Gen. Ulysses S. Grant had Richmond and Petersburg in a vice grip - a siege that threatened to break the back of the Confederacy. Meanwhile, to the south, Gen. William T. Sherman had just completed his "March to the Sea", a campaign of devastation across Georgia that led to the capture of Atlanta and Savannah.

If there was ever a time to test the waters for a peaceful end to the war, this was it. A successful military solution seemed farther and farther out of reach for the flailing Confederacy.

Surprisingly, the first overtures to discussing peace came from within the Union. A discussion between New York Tribune editor Horace Greeley and Union Maj. General Francis P. Blair led to a request to President Abraham Lincoln to attempt a peace conference. The two offered to send Blair, a well-known conservative Republican, to Richmond for an informal (and secret) meeting with Confederate President Jefferson Davis. Blair would act as an intermediary between the two presidents, testing the waters for a possible meeting to discuss an end to the war. Lincoln, anxious to end the war, granted Blair permission to cross enemy lines and meet with Davis in Richmond. The first meeting took place in Richmond on January 12th.

After the meeting, Blair returned to Washington with a note from Davis offering to send Confederate delegates to discuss a way to "secure peace to the two countries." After meeting with Lincoln on the 18th to convey Davis' offer, he was sent back to Richmond with a letter from Lincoln that read "I have constantly been, am now, and shall continue ready to receive any agent whom he, or any other influential person now resisting the national authority, may informally send to me, with the view of securing peace to the people of our one common country." It's important to note Lincoln's wording in his response. Even in pursuing peace with Davis, he was not willing to let his acknowledgement of the Confederacy go uncorrected.

Davis selected three delegates to represent the Confederacy: Vice President Alexander Stephens, Assistant-Secretary of War John A. Campbell, and Confederate senator R.M.T. Hunter. In late January, the three men left Richmond and headed to General Grant's headquarters at City Point, Virginia. Upon their arrival, Gen. Grant, who had largely been left out of the negotiation process, provided them with lodging on one of the more comfortable passenger steamships in the harbor. For several days, the delegates awaited for the federal representatives to arrive. During that time, Grant played the role of gracious host, but intentionally kept his distance, later writing in his memoirs:

I saw them quite frequently, though I have no recollection of having had any conversation whatever with them on the subject of their mission. It was something I had nothing to do with, and I therefore did not wish to express any views on the subject. For my own part I never had admitted, and never was ready to admit, that they were the representatives of a government. There had been too great a waste of blood and treasure to concede anything of the kind. As long as they remained there, however, our relations were pleasant and I found them all very agreeable gentlemen.

After a few days, Stephens, Campbell, and Hunter left City Point and headed to Hampton Roads, where they boarded the steamship River Queen. Instead of meeting with delegates from the Union, they were greeted by none other than Abraham Lincoln himself, who was joined by Secretary of State William H. Seward. The men exchanged pleasantries (Lincoln and Stephens were actually acquaintances in their pre-war political careers) and got down to the business of negotiation.

The meeting lasted about four hours, and the topics ranged from armistice to the question of slavery and reconstruction. The Confederate delegates were under instruction from Davis not to consider any offers for peace that didn't include recognition of the Confederacy as a separate country. Lincoln, on the other hand, was unwilling to consider any scenarios that didn't involve the southern states returning into the fold of the Union. Rock, meet hard place.

Just days before, Lincoln had signed the 13th amendment of the Constitution, abolishing slavery. Lincoln expressed his desire for the South to follow suit, but discussed the idea of possibly compensating southern slaveowners who freed their slaves. Seward went so far as to suggest that, if southern states returned to the Union, perhaps they could successfully overturn the 13th Amendment altogether.

Admittedly, this was a bit of a record-needle-scratch "Wait, what?!" thing for me. Lincoln and Seward had both just worked so hard behind the scenes to get the 13th amendment passed through Congress, I have to believe this was mostly just posturing from Seward. But then again, I wasn't in the room, and no one was taking notes at the time.

Ultimately, the Confederacy was playing poker with a pretty weak hand. It was clear to both parties that a military victory for the Union was within reach, so the only motive Lincoln had for compromise was the desire to end the war sooner. In the end, he wasn't willing to compromise on his core beliefs - peace could not be achieved until the Southern states agreed to return to the Union and abolish slavery. Without these things, there would be no deal. The Confederate delegates were unwilling (and unauthorized) to agree, so they returned to Richmond empty-handed.

While a few more minor diplomatic efforts (mostly the exchange of letters) took place in the final months of the war, Lincoln and Davis remained committed to their beliefs and a negotiated peaceful end to the war remained out of reach. The Civil War would soon come to a close, but only with the destruction of the Confederacy and months of more bloodshed on both sides.

Civil War: The winter of desertion

Phil Williams — Mon, 19 Jan 2015 11:00:11 +0000

For today's column, I thought it would be good to pause and remind everyone where we are. It's January of 1865 and the siege of Petersburg, which started in July of 1864, is now in its seventh month, with the two armies more or less staring at each other across deeply-dug trench lines. On the Union side, a war machine the likes of which the nation has never seen is steadily resupplying, reinforcing, and strengthening the army of Gen. Ulysses S. Grant. On the Confederate side, Gen. Robert E. Lee has been stuck in a defensive position he never wanted to be in, with a smaller army, supply and ration shortages, and a steadily decreasing number of escape/resupply routes.

To top it all off, it's fucking winter. And it's been pretty cold and miserable.

So, imagine for a moment that you are a Confederate soldier on the front lines. Your rations have been reduced significantly for a few months, you haven't been paid in awhile, and news from back home and camp rumors all suggest that the Confederacy is in trouble. Unless you are particularly honorable and duty-bound, you might entertain the thought of finding a way to get the hell out of Petersburg and back to your home. And, in the winter of 1864-1865, in record numbers, that's what a lot of soldiers did.

The issue of desertion was so prevalent that winter that Robert E. Lee regularly addressed it with the War Department back in Richmond:

I have the honor to call your attention to the alarming frequency of desertions from this army. I have endeavored to ascertain the causes, and I think that the insufficiency of food, and non-payment of the troops, have most to do with the dissatisfaction. There is suffering for want of food. The ration is too small for men who have to undergo so much exposure and labor.

Over the next several weeks, Lee would remain focused on trying to address the issue of desertion within his army. In addition to trying to secure more food and supplies for his soldiers, he also entertained some outside the box ideas. He wrote to Jefferson Davis to suggest a 30-day grace period for all deserters to return to their units without punishment, in an attempt to repair some of the damage that had been done.

In the first few months of 1865, thousands of rebel soldiers crossed the picket lines to desert, either to return home or surrender to Federal troops (often in hopes of better rations as a prisoner). Some reports indicated as many as one hundred Confederates deserted per day. On the Union breastworks, soldiers built a wooden arch entryway facing the Confederate lines. The arch was lit each night with lanterns to reveal a message written upon it: "While the lamp holds out to burn, the vilest rebel may return." (Publications of the Mississippi Historical Society, Vol. 7) This simple invitation to cross the lines, a bit of psychological warfare, had its desired effect.

Now that we've painted a pretty dire picture of the Confederate army's situation, it may surprise you to hear that the Union army had a desertion problem as well. While not as significant in number as the Confederates, thousands of Union soldiers also crossed the lines to escape duty in the army. While Confederate desertions were driven by hunger and demoralization, it appears Union desertions were more a result of the many fresh recruits brought in to reinforce the Union army during the last year of the war. Many of these soldiers were not battle-tested whatsoever, joining the army for the large cash payment upon signing up and then quickly deciding army life was not to their liking. While Lee and the Confederate government were weighing the idea of a lenient approach to woo back deserted soldiers, the Union army was decidedly more strict in this matter. Hangings and shootings of Union deserters were a regular occurrence during the winter. "We are treated to a hanging exhibition every Friday," wrote a soldier, "and the men have grown to enjoy the spectacle. We lose all human feelings towards such dastards and traitors." (Trudeau, Noah Andre. The Last Citadel. pg. 295)

So, we've got a demoralized Confederate army hemorrhaging soldiers, unable to supply and feed itself, and a war that is about to resume hostilities in the spring. It kinda feels like the wheels are about to come off the Confederacy, right? Adding to that is the fact that Lee is about to get hit with another blow when, thinking there was still several more weeks left of quiet winter, a surprise period of warmer weather in February gives Grant a window in which to launch his first attack of 1865.

The last few months of the war are upon us--and it only gets crazier from here! Stay tuned.

Civil War: The winter drags on

Phil Williams — Wed, 10 Dec 2014 11:00:31 +0000

As 1864 drew to a close, the Union and Confederate armies at Petersburg were both in their winter camps awaiting the inevitable arrival of spring and a return to major fighting. On the Union side, a vast supply operation based in City Point kept soldiers fed, clothed, and equipped for the winter months. For the Confederate soldiers and citizens of Petersburg on the other side of the siege lines, things had grown more difficult. For the past several months, Union General Ulysses S. Grant had attempted to cut off Petersburg from its few remaining supply lines. Despite their best efforts, a few still remained open, but the squeeze play had its desired effect of limiting travel (and thus, supplies) in and out of the city. Beyond Petersburg, Union General William T. Sherman waged a campaign of devastation across the fertile farmland of the South, causing food shortages that rippled throughout the entire Confederacy--but particularly in the besieged city and its neighbor, Richmond.

In the city itself, citizens were subject to massive price hikes on food and shortages on heating supplies. The problem was exacerbated by a steady stream of returning refugees into the city, who had evacuated the city during hostilities, but came back during the quieter winter months. Not ones to let a food shortage stop a good time, socialites in Petersburg and Richmond hosted "starvation parties" to distract from their woes. These parties were similar to the grand galas and dances held before the war, but without the benefit of food being served. Soldiers also intermingled in the social scene of Petersburg, attending starvation parties and finding other opportunities to distract them from life in camp. The winter of 1864 saw a number of somewhat hasty marriages between soldiers and the ladies of Petersburg. R.P. Scarborough wrote:

A great many of the soldiers are marrying around and in Petersburg, some for life, some for the war and some for one winter only." Trudeau, Noah Andre • _The Last Citadel_

It's hard to get an exact read on how Confederate soldiers fared during the winter of 1864. It was clear that the lack of supplies and food had an impact, but the effects seemed to vary depending on what unit you belonged to, and perhaps, the resourcefulness of your company's quartermaster. In letters home, some soldiers reported having plenty to eat--including some who supplemented their rations with packages sent from home or food purchased in Petersburg. Other units reported a significant lack of food and suffering during the winter, telling stories of severely reduced rations and going several days without meat. The most common experience, it seems, was somewhere in the middle:

Before Christmas the official daily ration in the Army of Northern Virginia consisted of one point of beef or one-third pound of bacon, one pound of flour or meal, sixteen ounces of rice, and small quantities of vinegar, salt, and soap. Those troops on front line duty in the trenches received a bonus allotment of coffee and sugar. "'Tis true," observed an officer in the 27th North Carolina, "the rations we get are sometimes not such as a man with a good appetite could wish for, still we make out with them, and never really suffer for food." Greene, A. Wilson • The Final Battles of the Petersburg Campaign

As the holidays approached, reports of the general lack of food and supplies for the soldiers on the front lines reached the public in Richmond, and a handful of citizens resolved to do something about it. They planned a grand gesture to show their gratitude for the soldiers and to help in whatever way they could. We'll be telling the story of that gesture, and its impact on the soldiers, in just a few weeks.

Civil War: Winter quarters

Phil Williams — Tue, 02 Dec 2014 11:00:31 +0000

By December of 1864, soldiers outside Richmond and Petersburg started to settle into the routines of winter camp life. Despite a few efforts in early December by Union General Ulysses S. Grant to attack Confederate railroad supply lines into Petersburg, the cold weather, sleet, and snow forced both sides to lay low. It was a chance to rest up, regroup, and make plans for spring. For many soldiers, it was a chance to show off their structural engineering skills.

As the cold weather set in and it was clear they weren't moving anywhere for a while, soldiers set about building their winter quarters. Working with the limited resources around them and without a lot of organization or oversight on behalf of leadership, it was a bit of a hodgepodge effort. Similar to your neighborhood during the holidays, you have some folks who toss up a few decorations and then a few who really go all out. Perhaps the winters quarters of 1864 could have inspired their own "tacky cabin tour":

"I wish you could ride around & see how this great army of N. Va. is housing itself in its various departments for winter," surgeon John Claiborne wrote to his wife in mid-October. "Here you may see a hut - such as nobody but a soldier ever conceived of - and there a tent of smallest dimensions with a chimney & door - and there a fellow - absolutely burrowing under the ground - and such contrivances for cooking and keeping dry & warm!" Trudeau, Noah Andre • _The Last Citadel_

The ingenuity of the soldiers in trying to add a little comfort to life in the trenches knew no bounds. Many soldiers wrote home bragging of the winter shelters they built, like Private William L. Phillips of the 5th Wisconsin, who wrote:

We have just finished a house 7 by 10 we packed the timber 1/2 mile on our shoulders it was heavy green pich pine a small piece of it is a load for any man... it is made of haves of pine logs about 8 inches through it is layed 5 feet high then covered with tent cloth the gable ends are closed up with boards the fire place and the door occupyse one end and the bunk acrost the other the bunk is made by driving 4 croches into the ground about 2 feet high then a cross peaces and little poles layed on these we covered with pine bows about 6 inches thick then covered with dry leaves this makes a captol bed right before the bed there is a low bench we can sit by the fire and lean our backs against the bed when we eat we spread a rubber cloth on the bed and turn right around on our seat and stick our feet under the bed and eat our hard tack and sow belly or beaf and drink our coffee contented as kittens. Greene, Wilson • _The Final Battles of the Petersburg Campaign_

Winter quarters were largely the same on both sides, although often the Confederates had less material to work with. Initially, many soldiers dug underground shelters to simultaneously protect them from both winter weather and potential Union artillery fire, but as the winter went on, more cabins similar to the Union style sprung up.

After several years of fighting, both armies had learned a thing or two about properly building a winter camp, so strict rules on hygiene were followed and large trenches were dug for the purposes of waste disposal. Sickness in camp continued to be an issue, but one that was better managed as the war dragged on.

With a lot of time on their hands and boredom setting in, soldiers entertained themselves in the usual ways. On one hand, gambling, drinking, and seeking the company of women (often of ill repute) were as popular as ever. On the other, the winter of 1864 saw a resurgence of religious activity among the soldiers with several informal chapels springing up among the winter quarters on both sides. Of course, drilling and marching still occurred on a regular basis to keep men fresh for fighting. Pickets were also constantly maintained to keep a watchful eye on enemy movements. Time spent on picket duty during those cold months could be pretty miserable--long nights with no fires to keep warm, always under the threat of a sniper's bullet or mortar shell--something you definitely wanted to avoid if you could.

Picket duty did sometimes result in unusual activity involving the enemy. Occasionally, pickets on both sides formed an informal, temporary truce during which trades were made, banter was exchanged, and men bonded over their shared circumstances. Often as simple as agreeing to a cease fire during daylight hours, other times the encounters bordered on the ridiculous, given the circumstances:

Private Henry Houghton of the 3rd Vermont crossed between the lines to harvest firewood and encountered a Confederate on a similar mission. The enemies agreed to cut down the same tree together, the Rebel and Houghton hacking on opposite portions of the trunk. "After it fell I chopped down one side of the log and he the other, then we split it and he had one half and I the other, then we swapped hats and went back to camp and I am quite sure I wore that hat until just before the last review in Washington," remembered Houghton. Greene, Wilson • _The Final Battles of the Petersburg Campaign_

Stories about encounters like this during the long siege at Petersburg (of which there are many) really highlight the shared humanity of the soldiers who fought in the war.

We'll continue to tell the story of life in the winter camps over the next several weeks--everything from food shortages, desertions, to hearing about how the citizens of Petersburg fared during the siege. And as the winter weather subsides in 1865, we'll learn about Grant's attempts to jump start the spring offensive and Lee's last ditch efforts to break through the siege.

The last five months of the war are upon us and there are plenty of stories left to tell!

Civil War: Hospital rats

Phil Williams — Mon, 24 Nov 2014 11:00:03 +0000

It's been a little over a year since we last checked in on Camp Winder, the hospital camp for Confederate soldiers located near modern-day Byrd Park. When I first wrote about it, the initial reviews during its first year of operation were decidedly poor. Reports of unsanitary conditions and mistreatment of patients plagued the hospital. But, as time passed and resources were better allocated, things steadily started to improve at Camp Winder. In the summer of 1864, the Richmond Enquirer wrote articles praising the conditions at the camp:

The hospital has been recently re-modeled and repaired. The improvements add greatly to its convenience. It is healthily located, and supplied by wells with clear, cold, pleasant water. - Has a register, bath house, library, and a bakery at which the whole of the bread for the hospital is baked. Richmond Enquirer, June 16th, 1864

Despite all these improvements, the hospital had a rat problem. Not actual rats, but what the local newspapers referred to as "Hospital Rats"--men of low character, trouble-makers, using their convalescence at Camp Winder as an opportunity to commit crimes and cause disorder in Richmond. They're the kind of people for whom the modern phrase "this is why we can't have nice things" was probably invented. In September, a handful of them staged a robbery on Main Street:

GARROTTING CASE. - On Sunday night, between eight and nine o'clock, as Mr. Thos. H. Hewett, orderly sergeant of the Blues, was coming into the city from Mr. Thos. Ruskell's, he was attacked near the Old Fair Grounds, at the head of Main street, by three soldiers, and robbed of what money they had, badly beaten and shot through the arm. It is feared that he will loose his arm from the wound, the bone being badly shattered. When the robbers first attacked him one of them threw a blanket over his head and pulled it tight around his neck. Mr. Hewett being an athletic man and one not inclined to submit kindly to this sort of treatment, made desperate fight and the robbers found it necessary to their safety to disable him. The robbers are believed to be "hospital rats" from Camp Winder, fellows who have been malingering and lying up snugly since the war. Richmond Sentinel, September 27th, 1864

In November of 1864, an effort was made to remove the hospital rats altogether. Rumors had circulated that patients had formed a gambling ring on the hospital property, playing various dice and card games. Detectives were brought in to root them out:

HOSPITAL RATS. - It having been communicated to Major Carrington that a number of the patients of Camp Winder Hospital daily spent a great part of their time in the old field, near the Reservoir, gambling, the Major, on yesterday, sent out detectives Fitchett and Woodward to look after the parties. The detectives caught and arrested fourteen men gambling in the old field, some having sweat cloths, chuck-a-luck cloths, and faro cloths spread upon the sward, and the others betting at them. Considerable amounts of money were staked. The parties were taken into custody and brought into the city, and by the Provost Marshal were sent to the Castle Thunder Hospital.11/29/1864

When the Richmond Sentinel covered the same story, they described the scene, saying "when caught, they were in full blast, gambling in the old field near the reservoir. It is said they are in the habit of staying out there four, five, and six hours together, on the coldest days." That is some serious gambling commitment, guys.

I wasn't able to find any more articles about ne'er-do-wells at Camp Winder after those arrests in late November, but who knows if Camp Winder ever fully got rid of its rat problem. For anyone familiar with the notorious Castle Thunder, it's a guarantee that those who were transferred faced much less promising prospects there.

Civil War: A high-stakes election

Phil Williams — Fri, 07 Nov 2014 11:00:04 +0000

One of the benefits of looking back on the Civil War 150 years after the fact, is that we can see with 20/20 hindsight all those critical moments--decisions made in the fog of war, battles that could have gone one way or another--that had a pendulum-swinging effect on the war. November 8th was certainly one of those moments. On November 8th, 1864, Abraham Lincoln was re-elected for a second term as president to finish out the war he had started.

In the months leading up to the election, Lincoln had several reasons to doubt he would win. The last president to be re-elected was Andrew Jackson in 1832, the stalemate in the trenches outside Petersburg was entering its fifth month, and a general war fatigue had set in among the population. At the outset of the election, Lincoln barely had a consensus within his own party, with several of his fellow Republicans trying to push a less moderate nominee while still others called for impeachment. His Democrat opponent was a blast from the past: General George B. McClellan, former head of the Army of the Potomac, whom Lincoln removed from office after his over-cautiousness cost them victory during the Peninsula Campaign of 1862. McClellan was willing to negotiate a peace with the Confederacy to end the war and railed against Lincoln on many issues, particularly emancipation.

Confederate soldiers in the trenches of Petersburg waited for the outcome of the election with much anticipation. To them, four more years of Lincoln ensured four more years of war. McClellan represented a chance for peace and many wrote home encouraged by his chances. A private stationed outside Petersburg wrote back to his sister in North Carolina:

I heare a heap of talk heare about the army mistress [armistice] not to fight no more for a surten length of time. I hope they will have and army mistress [armistice], and it is hope they will come to some conclusion for an honorable peace. I am tired of this war. Power, J. Tracy. _Lee's Miserables_

Others were not so optimistic, despite what they'd heard about McClellan and the Democratic platform as the "Peace Party." One South Carolina soldier remarked that "the only peace party upon whom we can rely for any good to ourselves are our Armies in the field."

Meanwhile, back in Washington, Lincoln himself doubted his chances just as much as anyone. He remarked to a fellow Republican, "You think I don't know I am going to be beaten, but I do, and unless some great change takes place, beaten badly." He even wrote a memorandum, outlining his thoughts on what should happen if he were to lose the office, and sealed it--to be opened in November.

Don't let Lincoln's pessimism fool you, though. Despite his doubts and fears, he was making every effort to shore up his support and increase his chances for victory. He even created a process to ensure that soldiers on the field of battle (some of his most ardent supporters) could vote, despite being far from home. Lincoln launched the first major effort to instate absentee balloting in 1864. While it was seen as a somewhat controversial move at the time, it's now seen as a vital part of our electoral process.

If you follow politics today, pundits often talk about an "October surprise"--that unforeseen event that happens just prior to an election that can drastically shift the fortunes of the candidates. For Lincoln, his "October surprise" came a month early in the form of a telegram from General William Tecumseh Sherman. "Atlanta is ours, and fairly won." Sherman's infamous "march to the sea", had succeeded in toppling one of the Confederacy's biggest cities. The fall of Atlanta, seen by the public as a major turning point, shifted support back to Lincoln, who was now fighting a "winnable" war again.

And, as it would turn out, Lincoln's efforts to get out the vote to Union soldiers on the field played a huge role as well. When all the absentee ballots were counted on November 8th, 78% of Union soldiers who voted placed their vote for Lincoln. He ended up winning the popular vote by 55%--a margin of only 400,000 votes. Lincoln now had the mandate to finish the war on his terms: only through unconditional Confederate surrender and without compromising on emancipation.

It doesn't take much to imagine the negative impact of a McClellan presidency in 1864. Our country as we know it today could have been completely different. A peace agreement surely would have extended the existence of the Confederacy and continued the practice of slavery for years to come, possibly even leading to the repeal of the Emancipation Proclamation. So when I say that November 8th, 1864 was one of those pendulum-swinging critical moments of the war, you can see why.

In the memorandum he composed and sealed in the event that he did not win reelection, Lincoln wrote that he would attempt to pour as many resources as he could into the war effort in the few months after the election. If he was forced to leave the office, he would make every attempt to finish the war before McClellan's inauguration. In the end, he came remarkably close, with the final days of the war taking place only a month after the inauguration.

Fortunately, with his presidential victory secured, he was able to pursue the final months of the war without having to worry about the actions of his successor.

Civil War: A tightening grip on Richmond

Phil Williams — Wed, 08 Oct 2014 10:00:19 +0000

Civil War: A Tightening Grip on RichmondBy October of 1864, the siege of Petersburg was into its fourth month. During the summer, the Union army had focused on cutting off Petersburg (and thus Richmond) from key Confederate supply lines located west of the city. But by October, a handful of roads and railroad lines still delivered supplies and reinforcements to the Confederate defenders manning the trenches. Union General Ulysses S. Grant had made some progress by summer's end, but had yet to cut off the city completely, which he knew could bring the war to a quick close.

One reason for the Union's slow progress that summer was the quick movement of troops in Confederate General Robert E. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia. Every time an assault was imminent, Lee concentrated his meager troops to counter the Union blow. In September, Grant had a plan to deliver a one-two punch to Lee's forces. He would send troops under Gen. Benjamin Butler along the far right flank to coordinate a surprise attack north across the James River, threatening Richmond. Then, once Lee reallocated his troops to fortify his Richmond defenses, he would send another assault against the far left flank to the west of Petersburg. By attacking the Petersburg and Richmond defenses simultaneously, he felt he had the best chance to dislodge the Confederates and take both cities. If either one fell, it would be simple to take the other.

The first assault started at dawn on September 29th. Union forces under Butler attacked at a place called New Market Heights and later at Fort Harrison. As with any attack on a fortified position, losses were heavy, especially among United States Colored Troop (U.S.C.T.) units, who played a pivotal role in the charge that day. Northern newspapers were quick to praise them for their courage:

"The behavior of the negro troops...was of the most gallant character," William H. Merriam of the Herald affirmed. "Who dare say, after this, that negroes will not fight?" the Times's Winser asked his readers. "To-day their praises have been on every tongue, and too much cannot be said in appreciation of their courage." Trudeau, Noah Andre.The Last Citadel. pg. 208

The U.S.C.T. was finally getting a chance to show their mettle in the last year of the war. As the fighting continued, Union soldiers took control of the poorly-defended Fort Harrison. From there they continued both north and south of the fort in an attempt to capture more of the rebel defensive lines, but were repulsed by Confederates who rallied to the defense. Satisfied with taking the fort, and realizing the strategic benefit of its location, Union forces dug in there and began fortifying it for their benefit. The following day, Confederate forces, commanded by Lee himself, attempted to take Fort Harrison back, but were unsuccessful. The fort would remain in Union hands for the remainder of the war.¹

Meanwhile, just as Lee was counterattacking at Fort Harrison, things were heating up on the far left flank west of Petersburg. Just as Grant expected, Lee had pulled several reserves from the defensive lines there to help shore up the fight outside of Richmond. Still, there were rebels to contend with, specifically at a defensive point known as Fort Archer, where the two armies clashed. Herald correspondent L.A. Hendrick was an eyewitness to the charge:

"The order being given to charge, the skirmish battle lines soon advanced across the open ground. The charging column pressed steadily, earnestly, persistently forward... 'A commission to him who first mounts the parapet of that redoubt,' shouted Col. Welch of the Sixteenth Michigan, to his men. He was the first to mount the parapet, where he waved his sword. In an instant a rebel bullet penetrated his brain, and he lay dead..." Trudeau, Noah Andre. The Last Citadel. pg. 213

Soon after, the Confederates fell back, yielding the fort to the Federals. Over the course of the next several days, the Union forces continued to try to push their flank further to threaten critical supply routes, but were repulsed by a renewed presence of Confederate reinforcements. On both flanks, Confederates simply dug into new positions, pushed back a little further, but still unbroken. If Grant thought he could deliver the crushing blow before winter, he was surely disappointed. The fighting around Petersburg and Richmond in 1864 continued to be a battle of incremental gains and losses--a "monumental" victory would remain elusive for quite some time.

As a side note, for those interested, Fort Harrison is one of the best-preserved Civil War sites near Richmond and well worth a visit. It's located yards away from Hadad's Lake, most recently known as the home of the Gwar-BQ. An afternoon spent listening to GWAR and exploring old Civil War forts--what could be more Richmond? ↩

Civil War: Lee’s Miserables

Phil Williams — Tue, 23 Sep 2014 10:00:37 +0000

Civil war? What does that mean? Is there any foreign war? Isn't every war fought between men, between brothers? Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

Unless you've been living under a rock, or have an extreme hatred for musicals, you've probably heard of Les Misérables. Recently turned into an Academy Award-winning film starring Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe, and a Broadway staple for decades, Les Misérables was first a critically-acclaimed French novel by author Victor Hugo. It's a story of redemption and struggle, a story about a paroled convict named Jean Valjean who tries to escape his past and turn his life around--all set against the backdrop of political unrest and rebellion.

I grew up with Les Misérables. My parents took me to see the musical when I was 12, and I have fond memories of my brother and I building our own barricade made out of chairs and couch cushions in our living room. I'm always fascinated when my personal fandoms collide, so I was amazed to read about the impact that the book had on the American Civil War.

Les Misérables was released and translated for American audiences in 1862, and the book was a huge hit worldwide. It was basically the 1860s equivalent of the Harry Potter series--not exactly critically-acclaimed, but loved by the public. The novel had a particularly strong impact within the Confederacy, who identified with the themes of rebellion and suffering for a cause. West & Johnston, a Richmond publisher, printed the book for Confederate audiences in the capital and throughout the South. Despite serious shortages of paper and ink, they managed to print the book in a serialized form, splitting it into pamphlets that they released separately from their office on Main Street. The pamphlets featured "inferior ink, bad type, and worse paper,"¹ but the public was happy to pay to find out what happened next in the story.

It's important to note that the version West & Johnston printed was significantly censored for Confederate audiences. Hugo, a known abolitionist, made several political statements and commented on the evils of slavery throughout the book. These portions of the story were written off by the publisher as "rather rambling dissertations on political and other matters of a purely local character"[^1] and were removed in the Confederate version. Union audiences read the full uncensored version, political commentary included.

It wasn't just the citizens of the Confederacy who were moved by the story of Jean Valjean--the story also resonated with soldiers. John Esten Cooke, one of J.E.B. Stuart's aides, said:

Gaunt figures in their tattered jackets bending over the dingy pamphlets - 'Fantine,' or 'Cosette,' or 'Marius,' or 'St. Denis,' and the woes of 'Jean Valjean," the old galley-slave, found an echo in the hearts of these brave soldiers, immersed in the trenches and fettered by duty to their muskets or their cannon.

Despite their love for the novel, the Southern soldiers had a bit of trouble pronouncing the French title. Referring to the story instead as "Lee's Miserables", they soon took the name for themselves after their commander Gen. Robert E. Lee. "Lee's Miserables" felt like an accurate reflection of the Army of Northern Virginia as they trudged through the muddy trenches of Petersburg with scant food or equipment. As the summer of 1864 came to a close, soon the cold winter weather in the trenches would make "Lee's Miserables" an even more accurate nickname.

Burns, Brian. Curiosities of the Confederate Capital, pg. 93. ↩

Civil War: The Great Beefsteak Raid

Phil Williams — Tue, 16 Sep 2014 10:00:25 +0000

It was September 1864 and the Confederate army defending Petersburg was perilously low on food.

Compared to the bustling Union army supply operation at City Point, the Confederate army, under General Robert E. Lee, was running out of ways to get rations, supplies, and reinforcements to Petersburg. Since the siege of Petersburg began in June, Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant had spent the summer steadily encroaching further west around the southern side of the city, in order to cut off the few remaining supply routes and railroads Lee still had access to. In August, the Federals captured a portion of the Weldon railroad line to North Carolina, leaving only the Southside railroad line to Lynchburg available to Lee.

Even while being choked off from the west and facing a vastly larger force to the east, the Confederates found ways to go on the offensive. On September 5th, 1864, a Confederate scout returned from a reconnaissance mission to survey Union defenses to the east of Petersburg. The scout, George D. Shadburn, believed he had found a vulnerability and reported it the head of Lee's cavalry, Gen. Wade Hampton. Shadburn told Hampton about a herd of 3,000 cattle that were being kept at a placed called Coggin's Point, just a few miles away from the Union base at City Point. The farm was poorly-defended by less than 150 soldiers and presented a prime opportunity, but it was 100 miles deep into Union territory--a risky move at best.

Lee had placed Hampton in command of the Cavalry Corps after the death of the infamous Gen. J.E.B. Stuart at the Battle of Yellow Tavern. After being on the job for a few months, Hampton may have been looking for a chance to replicate his predecessor's success at making cavalry raids deep in Union territory.¹ He jumped at the opportunity.

On the morning of September 14th, Hampton embarked on his raid with 4,000 soldiers. They traveled around the south side of Petersburg for two days undetected, stopping only to repair a bridge on the Blackwater River in order to reach Coggin's Point. The bridge, which had previously been destroyed by Union forces, made for an unexpected route for their surprise raid. At midnight on the 15th, Hampton found himself only 10 miles away from his destination and still unseen by Union forces. He split his force into three distinct parts. Two parts would cut off any potential reinforcements from the east or the west, and the third part would head straight for the cattle. At 5:00 AM on September 16th, the raid commenced and despite the Federals best attempt to hold them off, the Confederates parted with 2,486 cattle and 304 Yankee prisoners.

Of course, stealing the cattle was one thing - getting them back across enemy lines was another. Fortunately for the Confederates, the few run-ins they had with Union troops on the way back did little to impede their progress. On September 17th, Hampton arrived back behind Confederate lines with the herd. Surprisingly, he only lost 18 cows along the way and only 10 of his soldiers were killed in the surprise raid. Grant, who was in the Shenandoah Valley at the time of the attack, was clearly frustrated by the cattle theft. When a visitor to his headquarters asked him when he thought they'd be able to end the siege of Petersburg and drive Lee into surrender, he replied "Never, if our armies continue to supply him with beef cattle."

Despite the success of the raid, the Confederacy was ill-equipped for their new prize. Having no grain to feed the cattle and no real way to preserve meat, they were forced to slaughter the entire herd. For days, the rebel army at Petersburg enjoyed abundant feasts of steak, taunting the Union soldiers across the trench lines, thanking them for their generosity and inviting them over for dinner. It's safe to say that the entire Confederate line at Petersburg probably smelled like one big cookout.

A few days later, all the meat had been eaten or spoiled and the Confederates returned to their previous state of famine in short order. For many, the Beefsteak Raid provided them with the last good meal they'd have until the end of the war.

Photo by: Box Brownie Brian

While Hampton may not have reached the fame of J.E.B. Stuart, it's this author's opinion that he did have an awesome beard that rivaled Stuart's. ↩

Civil War: Sabotage at City Point

Phil Williams — Mon, 18 Aug 2014 10:00:44 +0000

It's hard to get a sense of the scale of effort that went into the Union siege of Petersburg in 1864--at least until you learn that Gen. Ulysses S. Grant built an entire city just to support his siege efforts. Before Grant arrived, City Point (present-day Hopewell) was a quiet village at the intersection of the James and Appomattox rivers, and by the summer of 1864 it was a bustling harbor run by the Union army.

In addition to hundreds of ships transporting troops, supplies, and food, City Point featured a huge bakery that produced 100,000 bread rations per day. At any given time, City Point had enough food for 9,000,000 meals. By the time August rolled around, Union engineers had built railroad lines from City Point to the front lines at Petersburg and shipped 275 railroad cars via boat from Washington to operate between the two.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the trenches sat Robert E. Lee's Confederate Army of Northern Virginia, stuck between Grant and the Confederate capital and strapped for both resources and reinforcements. When you compare the resources of the two opposing armies, it's crazy to think the Petersburg siege lasted as long as it did. Given the resources at Grant's disposal, victory at Petersburg was less an "if" and more a "when." It made perfect sense for City Point to also serve as Grant's headquarters during the Petersburg siege. He could closely monitor logistics and activity while keeping easy lines of communication both to the front lines and Washington. Abraham Lincoln even made two trips during the war to meet with Grant at City Point and review the operations there.

So it was only a matter of time before the Confederates would try to put a stop to the operations in City Point. However, with Lee's army stuck firmly in the Petersburg trenches and with ironclads protecting City Point from the water, more "creative" approaches were required. In the summer of 1864, the Confederate Secret Service launched a plot to attack City Point.

Captain John Maxwell, a member of the Confederate Secret Service, left Richmond and met up with a local guide named R.K. Dillard. The two men snuck past Union pickets and talked their way past Union guards and, after a few days, successfully made their way into City Point. Maxwell carried a box containing 12 pounds of gunpowder and a timer built from parts of a clock--a 19th-century time bomb. Coincidentally, just a little over a week earlier, the Union army had used a bomb of its own to destroy Confederate earthworks at the Battle of the Crater outside Petersburg. This bombing plot, while it took place shortly after the battle, was well underway before that attack occurred and was not done in retaliation.

Maxwell's time bomb wasn't big enough to cause major damage on its own, so he needed to place it effectively. He chose a supply barge docked at the wharf located near several ammunition stores. He handed the box to an unknowing Union sentry and promptly retreated to a safe vantage point. An hour later, a huge explosion obliterated the barge and most of the wharf, sending debris and the bodies of soldiers flying into the air. 58 people were killed in the blast and another 126 were wounded. Gen. Grant and his aide Horace Porter were near the scene of the explosion. Horace later recalled "...there rained down upon the party a terrific shower of shells, bullets, boards, and fragments of timber. The general was surrounded by splinters and various kinds of ammunition, but fortunately was not touched by any of the missiles." Even from their "safe" vantage point, Maxwell would later report that his local guide Dillard was permanently deafened by the blast.

In the immediate aftermath, Grant, unaware that the explosion was part of a Confederate plot, quickly sent a telegram north to Washington:

Five minutes ago an ordnance boat exploded, carrying lumber, grape, canister, and all kinds of shot over this point. Every part of the yard used as my headquarters is filled with splinters and fragments of shell. I do not know yet what the casualties are beyond my own headquarters. Colonel Babcock is slightly wounded in hand and 1 mounted orderly is killed and 2 or 3 wounded and several horses killed. The damage at the wharf must be considerable in both life and property. As soon as the smoke clears away I will ascertain and telegraph you.

The damage, while considerable, could not put a stop to the Union war machine at City Point. Just nine days after the devastating explosion, the wharf was fully repaired and shipping resumed as normal. City Point would remain Grant's headquarters until the end of the war and the Confederates would not attack or disrupt operations there again.

The South's headless hero-terrorist; Style Weekly

Civil War: J. M. Daniel’s last duel

Phil Williams — Wed, 13 Aug 2014 10:00:16 +0000

So it's August of 1864, and you're probably thinking:

"Phil, it's pretty late in the Civil War, you've been doing this column for a while, and surely we've run out of interesting characters from Richmond's Civil War history, right?"

WRONG!

Today I'm going to tell you about one of the baddest badasses of Richmond. No, he wasn't a Confederate general or an officer in one of Richmond's POW prisons. He was a newspaper editor named John Moncure Daniel. Before becoming the editor of the Richmond Examiner at the start of the Civil War, Daniel had a career as both a librarian and a diplomat serving under President James Buchanan. Sounding more badass by the minute, right? OK OK, I'll get to the good stuff.

During the war, Daniel was famous for being a firebrand with a printing press. He was a man of very strong opinions and made them known throughout the city of Richmond in the Examiner. He was particularly critical of the administration of Confederate President Jefferson Davis and took bold stances against him when it wasn't politically popular to do so. His fearless editorial opinions made him well-liked by the public-at-large, but for those with whom he disagreed, he was pretty much hated. Daniel wouldn't shy away from conflict off the newspaper page either, so when someone made their displeasure known...it tended to escalate quickly.

Over the course of his life, Daniel fought in nine duels, several of them stemming from opinions he expressed in the Examiner. He was once challenged to a duel by a young poet by the name of Edgar Allen Poe:

In 1848, Poe was again in Richmond. Hearing that Daniel had made disparaging remarks about him and his close friendship with Sarah Whitman, Poe sent Daniel a challenge, and, apparently primed with alcohol, went to the Examiner office to demand satisfaction. Poe walked into Daniel's office and found him sitting with two pistols on his desk. The editor asked the poet to sit down. Daniel said that he did not care to have the matter get to the police, that they could settle the dispute between them then and there. The newspaper premises were roomy enough, and the pistols were ready. Poe is reported to have suddenly grown sober...the two agreed that they should resolve their differences. Bridges, Peter; Pen of Fire: John Moncure Daniel

After deciding not to proceed with the duel, the two joined friends at a nearby tavern where Poe recited some poetry. The men went on to have an interesting friendship, where Daniel did much to promote Poe's genius as a poet, but also didn't shy away from criticizing his work either. At one point, he even offered him a job at the Examiner.

Daniel's final duel took place in August of 1864. How he had managed to not get shot in the previous eight duels is a bit of an impressive mystery to me, but in this last one, he was a little less lucky. That summer, the Examiner wrote a piece of gossip about an unnamed high-level official in the Confederate Treasury using (and subsequently losing) ill-gotten government funds in one of the many gambling halls in Richmond. The treasurer, a man named Edward C. Elmore, assumed the article referred to him and wrote a letter to Daniel demanding an apology. After a few back and forth letters, a seemingly inevitable challenge for a duel came from Elmore and Daniel accepted.

The duel took place at dawn on August 16th and the Richmond Whig reported the story:

The chivalry, as well as non-combatants, for the first time for many a day, were thrown into an excitement this morning by a rumor that a hostile meeting had taken place between John M. Daniel, Esq., of the Richmond Examiner, and E. C. Elmore, Confederate States Treasurer. The current report is that the meeting took place at 5 1/2 o'clock this morning, on Dill's farm, two miles north of the city.
Mr. H. Rives Pollard, of the Examiner, acted as the friend of Mr. Daniel, and Lieut. Thomas Taylor, of S. C., as the friend of Mr. Elmore. The weapons used, it is said, were the ordinary smooth-bore duelling pistols; the distance ten paces. Only two shots were exchanged, Mr. Daniel being wounded at the second fire in the flesh part of the right leg, a few inches above the ankle. His wound, though not dangerous, is said to be very painful. Richmond Whig, 8/17/1864

So, while Daniel finally did end up getting shot in a duel, he managed to dodge death one last time and escape with just a minor flesh wound. Daniel must have expected a more deadly outcome because he had updated his last will and testament just a few days before the duel. To be fair to Daniel, however, the odds were stacked against him. During a brief stint as a Confederate soldier at Gaines' Mill in 1862, he was shot and wounded in his right arm and could no longer lift a pistol with it. He fired with his left hand during the duel with Elmore and missed his shot.

Daniel spent some time recovering after his final duel, but was back on his feet and managing the Examiner in a few months. As things began to appear more dire for the Confederacy and the siege of Petersburg continued, he kept up his editorial onslaught of the Davis administration. In April 1865, Daniel fell ill with pneumonia and passed away in his home just three days before Richmond fell into Union hands. There was some speculation that his recent wounding made him more susceptible to illness, but there's no way to know for sure.

While he held strong opinions on the Confederacy, he held out hope until the end that they would succeed in winning the war. His death spared him one more insult: the fires that swept out of control through the city in the wake of the Confederate evacuation did not spare the Examiner. Daniel's offices, and all the printing equipment, were destroyed. The Examiner and J.M. Daniel were no more, followed shortly after by the Confederacy itself.

Civil War: Battle of the Crater

Phil Williams — Wed, 30 Jul 2014 10:00:15 +0000

The first major event since the start of the siege of Petersburg, which began in mid-June 1864, started with a bang.

In the early morning hours of July 30th, 1864, a massive explosion rocked the main Confederate trenches outside Petersburg. The blast sent soldiers, horses, artillery, and more hurtling through the air. Over 250 soldiers died in the blast, which opened up a sizeable gap in the Confederate defenses. This was the opportunity Gen. Ulysses S. Grant's Union army had been waiting for. As the smoke cleared, Union soldiers rushed forward to take advantage of the new vulnerability in the Confederate lines.

Some might recognize what happened next as the opening scene of the 2003 film Cold Mountain, but first, it's important to explain what led up to the explosion.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t7OQIn7Yuvc

Prior to the pre-dawn chaos of July 30th, Union soldiers from Pennsylvania had labored for weeks to dig a tunnel over 500-feet long leading directly underneath the Confederate earthworks. The men, who had worked in coal mines prior to the war, had devised a plan to end the stalemate between the two armies at Petersburg.

The plan almost seems comically simple in retrospect--"let's build a tunnel, load it up with explosives, and blow it up!"--but the actual work was anything but simple. The engineering feat, which included a system for circulating fresh air for tunnel workers, was truly impressive considering that most of the tools being used in the process were improvised. Not only was it complex from an engineering standpoint, but it was also incredibly dangerous. Beyond the risk of tunnel collapse or a mishap with the explosive powder, the Union also risked discovery by the Confederates. In fact, Confederates began to suspect the Union plot after the faint sounds of digging could be heard under the earth. Two attempts at digging a "counter mine" were abandoned after the Confederates failed to locate any tunnels.

When the tunnel was finally completed, Union Gen. Ambrose Burnside, who commanded that section of the Union line, set about preparing for the assault that would follow the explosion. He chose a fresh division of black soldiers from the United States Colored Troops (USCT) to lead the assault, prepared them for the aftermath of the explosion, and specifically trained them for the task ahead.

Concerned about the political fallout from possible heavy losses of black soldiers in the assault, Gen. George Meade instructed Burnside to give the responsibility of leading the charge to a division of white troops just the day before the explosion was to take place. Burnside drew straws for which new division would lead the attack.

On the morning of July 30th, in the minutes after the explosion, the Union plan began to unravel. The awestruck and untrained leading division didn't begin the assault for a full ten minutes after the explosion. Once they reached the massive crater, instead of going around either side like the USCT soldiers had been trained to do, they ran headlong into the crater. Wave after wave of soldiers followed into the crater, only to get stuck in what became a traffic jam of charging Union troops.

Confederate sharpshooters quickly realized the situation unfolding and began shooting into what was later described as a "turkey shoot." Soon after, artillery was brought in to fire down at the Union soldiers in the crater. The brilliant engineering work and strategy that went into the surprise attack quickly devolved into a mess. Confederates soon regrouped and closed the window of opportunity created by the newly-formed crater. Union troops began to withdrawal in the early afternoon hours after being unable to recover from the slaughter.

In a few short hours, Grant's best chance to end the siege of Petersburg had come to an end. After the war, Grant would later refer to the attack as "the saddest affair I have witnessed in this war" and speculated that had the original plan to let the trained USCT soldiers lead the assault, it may had been more successful, potentially bringing the war to an earlier close.

The siege of Petersburg would continue another long nine months.

Civil War: A house of maudlin revelry

Phil Williams — Tue, 01 Jul 2014 10:00:43 +0000

Richmond during the Civil War wasn't exactly the most pristine and innocent place in the world. Ever since it was designated the capital of the Confederacy, Richmond was a place of turmoil. The city's population grew to nearly four times its original size during the course of the war, with huge populations of transient soldiers coming and going at any given time. It was a place of commerce, the seat of power of the Confederate government, and--if you were trying to get into some kind of trouble--a great place to find illegal substances, gambling, prostitution, deserters, and criminals.

They weren't really hard to find either. Due to bribery and a constant state of chaos, the local government couldn't really do much to stop the illicit behavior. As soon as they shut down one house of gambling, two more would pop up--and so it would continue for the remainder of the war.

This also held true for houses of "ill repute," of which there were dozens during the war and at least six within a three-block radius of the capitol building. Prostitution in Richmond was pretty well documented during the war in newspaper articles and census records. Some of these houses were classy affairs, geared towards figures in government and men of wealth and status. Others, well...not so much.

In July of 1864, a house off Franklin St. made its way into the Richmond Sentinel:

It appeared that this was the most disorderly house in town. The women, during the day, exposed their persons in the windows, and halloed at, threw at and spit upon all passers by. But when the sun went down arrived the time for the exercise of their most disagreeable practices. They got drunk and made night hideous with their maudlin revelry, which was varied by fights and shrieks and cries of murder. This sport was kept up throughout the greater part of every night, and persons living on Franklin street, a square off, could not sleep for the wild hurly-burly 7/1/1864

Sounds like a few VCU house parties I attended in my early 20's.

Obviously, this kind of behavior was frowned upon by the neighbors who petitioned the police to come and do something about it. And so, they raided the house and arrested all the inhabitants:

Fourteen white women, of different ages, whose names we omit as of no earthly interest to our readers, were charged with keeping a house of ill-fame to the great annoyance of the people of their neighborhood. The women occupy the house on Wall street, near Franklin, known as Ruskell's stable. It is a large new brick house, containing at least a dozen rooms, which are rented out separately.
Some how, probably from the lower part being once used as a livery stable, it has always been tenanted either by persons of the lowest character or of the most destitute description. More thieves and burglars have had their local habitation in it and been captured under its roof than in any other house of its age in the city. Several times all its tenants have been committed to jail as disorderly characters, but they either soon got at liberty and returned to it, like the sow to the more, or it was filled by persons of equally bad character.
Recently its inmates having become particularly disagreeable to the neighbors, complaint was made to the Mayor, who issued a warrant for the arrest of every person found in it. The warrant was executed by the police at a late hour Wednesday night, when the police found there fourteen women and three men. Ten of the women were under thirty and were of the vilest character, the dirtiest person and the most brazen face. - The other four were between forty-five and sixty and it was clear that only extreme poverty had driven them into such disreputable associations. Richmond Sentinel, 7/1/1864

With stories like this, it's no wonder that Richmond was called "a second Sodom" by soldiers and newspapers alike during the Civil War. However, as long as there were both soldiers and citizens willing to pay, houses like these would continue to exist--even after the fall of Richmond into Union hands in 1865.

Civil War: The Siege of Petersburg begins

Phil Williams — Mon, 16 Jun 2014 10:00:52 +0000

After the botched assault at Cold Harbor in early June 1864, Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant, situated just north of the city of Richmond, decided to change tactics. His enemy, Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia, was planted firmly between him and Richmond. Grant still believed in a war of attrition, but needed to force Lee's hand to either get him out of the protection of Richmond or into an open field of battle.

In a secret move undetected by Lee, Grant moved his army eastward along the James River. Once out of range of Confederate reconnaissance, Union army engineers built the largest pontoon bridge of the Civil War on June 14th. At 700 yards in length, it spanned the entire river, requiring the aid of several ships to keep it in place against the fast-moving current. It took about half a day to build and three days to move Grant's forces, supply wagons, and artillery across the James River. Grant was now on the south side of the river and Lee was still unaware.

Grant's target on the south side of the river was the city of Petersburg. Petersburg, a much smaller city than Richmond, held the key to supplying the Confederate capital. Five railroad lines converged in Petersburg and access to the Appomattox River made it the ultimate supply hub for Richmond. Without Petersburg, Richmond would be totally cut off and there'd be no way for Lee to defend the city and not put his army at risk. Fortunately for the Confederates, they knew the strategic importance of Petersburg early on in the war and had built significant fortifications around the city in 1862. Built under the command of Captain Charles Dimmock, the "Dimmock Line" was ten miles of fortified earthworks connecting 55 artillery batteries--most of which were built by slave labor. In order to take Petersburg, Grant would have to break through those lines.

The Dimmock Line was defended by Confederate Gen. Henry Wise, who was governor of Virginia before the start of the war. Because so many men had been sent to reinforce Lee's army north of Richmond, only 2,200 rebels were left to hold the line. Spread thin against a much-larger Union force, there was little they could do to hold them off; even the strongest fortifications need soldiers to defend them. On June 15th, the Union vanguard led by Gen. William F. Smith (among the first to cross the James River pontoon bridge) attacked the Dimmock Line. The attack, delayed on account of waiting for reinforcements to arrive, didn't get started until 7:00 PM that evening. Union forces quickly overtook several batteries and attacked down the existing trench lines, easily dislodging the Confederate defenders. By nightfall, several batteries were in Union hands. Smith was unsure if the attack had been a fluke or if the rest of the Dimmock Line was this poorly defended. Without the benefit of daylight, he was hesitant to proceed any further and decided that the attack would resume in the morning.

Had they pressed further, Union forces could have easily overwhelmed the remaining Confederate defenses and taken Petersburg that night, likely bringing the war to a quick close that summer of 1864. Grant, whose boldness had characterized the entire Overland Campaign thus far, was not yet on the scene, so the typical Union "caution first" mentality was firmly in place. On June 16th, the Union army resumed attacks on the Petersburg defenses, but found that reinforcements had arrived. Lee was moving his army south to defend the city. In addition, the rebels had already begun to dig new earthworks several yards away from the fortifications that the Union had overtaken. For four days, Union forces continued to attack the defensive positions with no meaningful results.

The Confederate and Union soldiers at Petersburg didn't know it yet, but they were about to embark on a ten-month staring contest from their respective trenches. The siege of Petersburg had begun: a muddy mess of miserable trench warfare with the highest stakes imaginable. Richmond's (and the Confederacy's) future would be determined by what happened here.

Settle in, readers. We'll be reporting live from the trenches for a while. Fortunately for us, there are plenty more stories to tell.

Civil War: Cold Harbor

Phil Williams — Tue, 03 Jun 2014 10:00:40 +0000

Yesterday morning, our city was awakened by the roar of battle, which began with the dawn, between Lee and Grant's armies. The cannonade was very heavy, and the rattle of the musketry was also distinctly heard from the hills around the city. Richmond Sentinel, 6/4/1864

June of 1864 brought the Civil War once again right to Richmond's doorstep, where it would stay for the remainder of the war. Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant's "Overland Campaign" had steadily brought the fight closer to the capital city. The central strategy behind Grant's campaign was "war by attrition," a concerted effort to wear down Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia through continuous fighting. Where previous Union generals had fallen back or retreated to Washington after major battles, Grant pressed onward. The map of troop movements over the summer of 1864 shows a clear pattern of attempted flanking movements. After each battle, the Union army headed southeast, in an attempt to cut off Lee's army from the supply lines of Richmond. Each time, the rebels quickly moved to check Grant's advances--but at the start of June, Lee found himself a dozen miles north of Richmond with less and less room to maneuver. Keeping Grant in check had come at a price as well. While some reinforcements had arrived at the end of May, Lee's army was still much smaller than Grant's continually-reinforced Union army.

After fighting at Totopotomoy Creek in late May, Grant ordered the Union cavalry under Gen. Philip Sheridan south to capture a strategic crossroads at a place called Old Cold Harbor on May 31st. There, they encountered Confederate cavalry led by Gen. Fitzhugh Lee. After a brief skirmish at the crossroads, the Confederates fell back about half a mile south. Anticipating more fighting to come, the rebels started digging entrenchments there. The next morning, Confederate forces made an attempt to retake the crossroads, but were pushed back. Grant was encouraged by this development and planned to center his next major assault there, breaking through Confederate lines and finally come between Lee and Richmond. After a day of fighting back and forth, the crossroads remained under Union control, but they were still unable to dislodge the Confederate force to the south. Additional Union forces under Gen. Winfield Hancock were set to arrive overnight for a planned assault in the morning, but the night march had left his soldiers exhausted and unable to go into battle. Grant planned to delay his assault until 5:00 PM which stretched into an even further delay of 5:00 AM the morning of June 3rd. These delays would spell disaster for the Federal troops.

While Hancock's men were resting up, Lee's army was busy digging in. Lee, known early in the war as the "King of Spades" for all the defensive earthworks he oversaw built in and around Richmond, coordinated the building of more significant entrenchments south of the crossroads. In the day it took Grant to coordinate the assault, Lee had built a series of fortified trenches set at angles to allow for deadly enfilading fire on the impending Union assault. To add to Lee's good fortune, very little Federal reconnaissance had taken place that day, so the Union command was largely unaware of how extensive the new Confederate defenses were.

They would find out the next morning.

The June 3rd assault was scheduled to begin at 4:30 AM. Grant felt that a massive, well-coordinated frontal attack with his superior numbers could overwhelm and break the Confederate army. Union troops formed in a solid line of men across the entire front and began the attack. The uneven swampy ground quickly turned the coordinated line into an uneven, broken one as a sea of blue charged across the field. Once they reached the range of the Confederate rifles, it barely mattered. In the first thirty minutes of the assault, an estimated 7,000 Union soldiers were killed or wounded. Entire columns of Union soldiers were mowed down by rifle and artillery fire. It was a bloodbath from the first minutes, and it would continue for several more hours until Grant finally called off the assault at 12:00 PM.

Later that night, Grant remarked "I regret this assault more than any one I have ever ordered. I regarded it as a stern necessity and believed it would bring compensating results; but, as it has proved, no advantages have been gained sufficient to justify the heavy losses suffered." Northern newspapers would be unforgiving--referring to Grant, whom they praised earlier for his relentlessness against Lee, as a butcher.

Unable to move forward or retreat, many Union soldiers pinned down on the battlefield began digging in themselves. They made improvised shovels out of bayonets and cups, shielding their efforts from Confederate sharpshooters with the bodies of their fallen comrades. These improvised trenches, often only yards away from the Confederate trenches, would serve as the Union trench lines for the next several days of fighting. No one under Grant's command had the stomach to make another attempted assault, so they settled into several days of trench warfare. Without knowing it, the soldiers on both sides were getting a sneak preview of the type of warfare that awaited them further south outside Petersburg. Sporadic sharpshooter and artillery fire made life in the trenches deadly in addition to miserable.

The fate of the Union wounded was much worse. After the failed assault, thousands of wounded Union soldiers lay on the battlefield waiting for help that never arrived. Perhaps not wanting to show weakness after such a devastating defeat, Grant refused to request a flag of truce to retrieve the wounded from the battlefield. It wasn't until several days later that a two-hour break in the fighting was formally requested. By that time, there were no wounded left to recover, only blackened corpses decomposing in the hot summer sun.

The Battle of Cold Harbor would be Lee's final victory during the Civil War and Grant's biggest misstep. On June 12th, Grant withdrew across the James River and headed south to Petersburg, which would be where the two armies would face off for the rest of the war. Stay tuned for the story of the siege of Petersburg later this month.

Civil War: The fight for Northside

Phil Williams — Mon, 12 May 2014 10:28:30 +0000

After an intense fight at the Battle of the Wilderness, Union General Ulysses S. Grant headed south toward Richmond in an attempt to wedge his army between Confederate General Robert E. Lee and the capital city, cutting off his supply lines. Anticipating this move, Lee quickly headed southeast and positioned himself at a place called Spotsylvania Court House. There, the Union and Confederate armies would collide repeatedly for two weeks.

While this battle dragged on, another smaller cavalry force, led by Union Gen. Philip Sheridan headed south to find Confederate Gen. J.E.B. Stuart and engage him in battle--something Sheridan had been itching to do for some time.

In the Union army, cavalry was typically used to screen troop movements and perform reconnaissance, but Sheridan longed to take his cavalry out on independent missions. He believed that, if given the chance, he could eliminate J.E.B. Stuart and threaten Richmond without being encumbered by the rest of the army. When he proposed this action, Meade initially rejected it, but Grant basically said, "OK, let's see what you can do."

So Sheridan set out south to find Stuart on May 9th with 10,000 troops. He made no effort to disguise his movements, attacking a supply depot and railroad lines along the way, so it was only a matter of time before Stuart's cavalry showed up to intercept him on his way south. That fateful meeting would take place on May 11th at a place called Yellow Tavern. Today, that spot is located just north of the city near Virginia Center Commons Mall. Stuart and Sheridan battled it out for the afternoon, but Sheridan's cavalry force outnumbered Stuart's nearly two to one, and reinforcements were too far away to reach the Confederates in time.

In order to shore up his lines, Stuart rode along the front and encouraged his men to push forward. As they drove back a Union assault, a retreating Union sharpshooter named John Huff took an opportunity to fire at Stuart with his pistol, hitting him with a mortal bullet wound in the side. When one of his aides reached him, he said quietly "I'm afraid they've killed me." As Stuart was pulled off the field, Gen. Fitzhugh Lee (Robert E. Lee's nephew) took command of the Confederates and fought off Sheridan for another hour before they were forced to retreat.

With Stuart out of commission and his army in retreat, Sheridan pushed on south down a road called Brook Turnpike (better known today as Brook Road). On May 12th, he easily passed through Richmond's outer-most defenses which were unmanned at the time and found himself at the modern day intersection of Brook Road and Azalea Avenue. The defenses he saw ahead of him were fully manned, and he was soon attacked from the rear by elements of Stuart's cavalry led by Col. James B. Gordon. A fight quickly ensued and Sheridan made the decision to escape to safety rather than continue forward to Richmond. He headed east to cross the Chickahominy River and joined up with a force commanded by Gen. Benjamin Butler.

While Richmond's inner defenses to the north are gone today and replaced by residential streets, there's a plaque marking their original location just south of the intersection of Brook and Laburnum. Remnants of Richmond's outer defenses can still be seen in a rather unexpected place: the Martin's grocery store parking lot just off of Brook Road.

Meanwhile, back in Richmond, J.E.B. Stuart lay dying in the house of his brother-in-law, Dr. Charles Brewer. The house was located on W. Grace Street between Madison and Jefferson Streets, right near where the police station stands today. Throughout the day of May 12th he saw numerous visitors at the Brewer house including President Jefferson Davis. But most of all, he longed to see his wife Flora who was away in the countryside and hastily summoned to the house. Stuart's final hours were documented in the Southern Historical Society Papers:

During the evening he asked Dr. Brewer how long he thought he could live, and whether it was possible for him to survive through the night. The Doctor, knowing he did not desire to be buoyed by false hopes, told him frankly that death, that last enemy, was rapidly approaching. The General nodded and said, "I am resigned if it be God's will; but I would like to see my wife. But God's will be done." Several times he roused up and asked if she had come.
To the Doctor, who sat holding his wrist and counting the fleeting, weakening pulse, he remarked, "Doctor, I suppose I am going fast now. It will soon be over. But God's will be done. I hope I have fulfilled my destiny to my country and my duty to God."
At half past seven o'clock it was evident to the physicians that death was setting its clammy seal upon the brave, open brow of the General, and told him so; asked if he had any last messages to give. The General, with a mind perfectly clear and possessed, then made dispositions of his staff and personal effects. To Mrs. General R.E. Lee he directed that his golden spurs be given as a dying memento of his love and esteem of her husband. To his staff officers he gave his horses. So particular was he in small things, even in the dying hour, that he emphatically exhibited and illustrated the ruling passion strong in death. To one of his staff, who was a heavy built man, he said, "You had better take the larger horse; he will carry you better." Other mementoes he disposed of in a similar manner. To his young son he left his glorious sword.
His worldly matters closed, the eternal interest of his soul engaged his mind. Turning to the Rev. Mr. Peterkin, of the Episcopal Church, and of which he was an exemplary member, he asked him to sing the hymn commencing --
"Rock of ages cleft for me, Let me hide myself in thee," he joining in with all the voice his strength would permit. He then joined in prayer with the ministers. To the Doctor he again said, "I am going fast now; I am resigned; God's will done."
Thus died General J.E.B. Stuart.

Sadly, his wife Flora arrived a few hours too late to say goodbye to her fallen husband while he was still alive. She would wear black in mourning for the remainder of her life and would never remarried. When news of his death reached Lee in Spotsylvania, he remarked "I can scarcely think of him without weeping." Stuart's funeral, held the following day on May 13th, was a quiet affair without music or marching soldiers to accompany the casket on its path to Hollywood Cemetery. With Richmond still in danger from Sheridan's cavalry, the City Battalion was unable to spare any soldiers. For the flamboyant and larger-than-life cavalry commander, it seems an ill-fitting end for someone who would have appreciated the pomp and circumstance of a grand state funeral.

These days, Stuart can be found watching over Monument Avenue along with the other Confederate generals Robert E. Lee and "Stonewall" Jackson. If you're interested in a slightly lesser-known monument to Stuart, head north on Brook Road just after it intersects with I-295 and you'll see signs leading you to a monument at the spot where he was mortally wounded. Tucked away in a quiet residential street, the monument stands nearly forgotten aside from the occasional trinkets and flags left by past visitors.

Civil War: The Battle of the Wilderness

Phil Williams — Mon, 05 May 2014 10:00:35 +0000

Ever since I was a kid sitting in the backseat on trips to my grandparents' house outside of Fredericksburg, I've had a fascination with the Battle of the Wilderness. I remember seeing signs for the "Battle of the Wilderness" and thinking that, unlike most Civil War battlefields named after towns or nearby landmarks, this battle sounded epic and menacing. As I got older and learned more about what actually happened there, I can safely report that it wasn't just childhood imagination. The Battle of the Wilderness, while largely a stalemate between the Union and Confederate armies, was a brutal, intense fight that served as the opening salvo in the campaign that ultimately ended the war.

The battle took place the first week of May, 1864. It was the first engagement of Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant's "Overland Campaign"--his attempt to eradicate Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee's army once and for all. Rather than focus on seizing Richmond like so many of his predecessors, Grant put his attention solely on Lee's forces. The only way to beat the Confederacy, he surmised, was to crush its armies. The Battle of the Wilderness marked the first time that Grant and Lee met on the battlefield--a face-off that would continue until the war ended in 1865.

So why was it called the Battle of the Wilderness? Large portions of the fighting occurred in a dense forested area near Spotsylvania, resulting in poor visibility and confusion throughout the battle on both sides. Add the thick smoke of artillery and musket fire into the mix and it's amazing a battle took place there at all. One soldier described it as a "weird, uncanny contest--a battle of invisibles with invisibles."

The battle wasn't entirely fought in the woods. One place where the fighting was most heated on the first day was Saunder's Field. As Federals and Confederates engaged in combat, both forces made use of a small gully that ran through the field as a place to take cover from the musket fire. At one point in the fighting, a Union and Confederate soldier both found themselves taking cover in the same section of the gully. Once they noticed each other, they exchanged some not-so-friendly words, and what followed was one of the most interesting stories I've heard while studying the Civil War. John Worsham, author of One of Jackson's Foot Cavalry, described the scene as both men climbed out of the gully:

"...They decided that they would go into the road and have a regular fist and skull fight, the best man to have the other as his prisoner. While both sides were firing, the two men came into the road about midway between the lines of battle, and in full view of both sides around the field. They surely created a commotion, because both sides ceased firing! When the two men took off their coats and commenced to fight with their fists, a yell went up along each line, and men rushed to the edge of the opening for a better view! The 'Johnny' soon had the 'Yank' down; the Yank surrendered, and both quietly rolled into the gully. Here they remained until nightfall, when the 'Johnny' brought the Yankee into our line. In the meantime, the disappearance of the two men into the gully was the signal for the resumption of firing. Such is war!"

Fighting quickly resumed and continued until nightfall. Shortly before dusk, a brush fire started amidst the gunfire and the hand-to-hand combat. Many who were wounded on Saunder's Field were unable to escape the flames and the haunting sound of wounded soldiers screaming in agony filled the air as night fell. Pinned down by rifle fire, their fellow soldiers couldn't rescue them from the flames and were forced to listen to them die. There were a handful of other fires throughout the battle that imperiled hundreds of wounded soldiers who fell during the fighting--both Confederate and Union alike. One soldier recalled, "I saw many wounded soldiers in the Wilderness who hung on to their rifles, and whose intention was clearly stamped on their pallid faces. I saw one man, both of whose legs were broken, lying on the ground with his cocked rifle by his side and his ramrod in his hand, and his eyes set on the front. I knew he meant to kill himself in case of fire--knew it is surely as though I could read his thoughts."

The next day of the battle began early with a pre-dawn Union assault. Lee had hoped General James Longstreet would arrive in the night to reinforce his battle-weary troops. When the assaults began that morning, it was only a matter of time before the Confederate line would crumble. They were nearly in full retreat when around 7:00 AM, Longstreet's troops could be seen over the horizon from the rear. The vanguard of Longstreet's troops was led by a brigade of Texans. Lee, in his excitement at their arrival, galloped up to the Texas brigade and urged them onward, with every intention of leading their charge on the Union troops. The Texans quickly grew concerned over their commander's exposure to enemy fire and urged him to go back shouting, "Lee to the rear!" and "Go back, General, go back!" Lee quickly came to his senses and headed out of harm's way. The Texans fought valiantly and restabilized the crumbled Confederate line but at the cost of nearly two-thirds of their men. They were right to have discouraged Lee from joining them on the charge.

The battle raged on for the rest of May 6th and 7th and ended in a stalemate. Grant, frustrated by the lack of progress in the battle, felt that it had revealed some significant flaws within his command, and he longed to fight on more open ground without the logistical challenges brought on by the dense woodland. When discussing their next move, one of Grant's generals speculated on what Lee might do. Grant harshly replied, "I am heartily tired of hearing what Lee is going to do. Some of you always seem to think he is suddenly going to turn a double somersault, and land on our rear and on both our flanks at the same time. Go back to your command, and try to think what we are going to do ourselves, instead of what Lee is going to do." For years, Lee had sparred with various Union generals--all of whom shared the common trait of over-analyzing the enemy's intentions, waiting to attack, and retreating to a defensive position after large battles. For the first time, Lee was facing an opponent who would part ways from his predecessors.

Rather than retreating, Grant simply started to march his Army of the Potomac south toward Richmond. If Lee wanted to get back to Richmond, he'd have to fight Grant to get there.

Civil War: Dr. Mary Edwards Walker

Phil Williams — Mon, 21 Apr 2014 11:19:00 +0000

We've spent a lot of time here talking about Richmond's infamous prisons and some of their "guests" over the years. Of all the stories of notable people who passed through Richmond's prison system during the war, the story of Dr. Mary Edwards Walker is one of the most interesting. One of the early pioneers of the women's rights movement, Walker created quite a stir when she arrived in the city and was sent to Castle Thunder. Oddly enough, it was because of what she was wearing:

FEMALE YANKEE SURGEON. - The female Yankee surgeon recently captured in front of Gen. Johnston's lines was received in this city yesterday. She is about thirty years old and quite ugly, but has an intelligent appearance and a pleasant voice. She was dressed in male costume - black pants, fitting tight, a jacket and short talma of black or dark blue cloth, but wore a dark straw Gipsy hat, that might be construed as announcing her sex. She gave her name as Dr. Mary E. Walker, of the Union army, and said she was a regular alopathic physician. She said also that she had been improperly taken prisoner, as at the time of her capture she was on neutral ground. As she passed through the streets in charge of a detective, her unique appearance attracted unusual attention, and an immense crowd of negroes and idlers formed for her a volunteer escort to Castle Thunder. Richmond Whig, 4/22/1864

In the 1860s, the idea of a woman dressed in men's clothing was about as shocking as a woman claiming herself to be a Yankee surgeon--and the Richmond press ridiculed her for both. The world just wasn't ready for Walker, who in my humble opinion, was a total badass.

Walker was born in 1832 in upstate New York to abolitionist parents who encouraged her to pursue an education and raised her to believe that women were equals to men. She graduated from a medical college (where she was the only woman in her class) and began a private practice in New York.

Throughout her life, Walker was a proponent of women's "dress reform." She believed that the large hoop dresses and other restrictive clothing that women were expected to wear held them back from living a more meaningful life. In addition to proudly wearing trousers and other men's clothing, Walker also involved herself in women's suffrage and other women's rights issues.

When the Civil War broke out, Walker headed to Washington D.C. to enlist as a surgeon. When she was denied a commission as a medical officer due to her gender, she volunteered instead as a nurse. After serving in a volunteer capacity for two years, she was finally appointed as an assistant surgeon to the Army of the Cumberland in Tennessee. She wore a modified officer's uniform with a pistol on each hip during her service. She served on the front lines, treating soldiers on both sides, sometimes using her role as a surgeon to collect information about the enemy.

After crossing enemy lines to treat patients, Walker was captured and brought to Richmond. She served four months in Castle Thunder prison until she was released in a prisoner exchange ("man for man" as she would later say when describing the ordeal) with Confederate soldiers. Upon her release, she continued her service until the end of the war. After the war, she was recognized for her service by President Andrew Johnson, who awarded her the Congressional Medal of Honor.

In 1917, just two years before her death, the rules for earning a Medal of Honor were changed to only allow for recipients who were actively engaged in combat with the enemy. The government revoked her status, but she refused to give up the medal, wearing it proudly for the remainder of her life. In 1977, President Jimmy Carter restored her medal status posthumously and she stands to this day as the only woman to achieve the honor.

Civil War: The dangerous business of life in Richmond

Phil Williams — Mon, 07 Apr 2014 11:24:00 +0000

Hello and welcome to April 1864! Exactly one year until the end of the Civil War--but don't worry, we're just getting to the good part. Richmond, and her southern neighbor Petersburg, play a pretty central role to the final year of the war, so we'll have lots to cover.

When I set out to write this article, I'd planned to document the accidental death of a prominent figure in Richmond, but as I dug into various articles from April 1864, I found a surprising number of stories of gruesome accidents and incidents, so I thought I'd share them here. I don't think Richmond was particularly more dangerous this month than any other, but I think collectively these stories help tell the story of a city in wartime.

Our first tragic story took place roughly where The National Theater stands right now and involves an attempted train hopping gone wrong:

HORRIBLE ACCIDENT. - On Saturday evening, about one o'clock, while some empty cars on the Fredericksburg railroad were being backed down the track on Broad street, between 6th and 7th street, a youth named Joseph Rowe, fifteen years of age, attempted to jump on the foremost car by catching hold of the coupling iron. The coupling iron slipping aside as he laid his weight upon it, he was thrown across the track, when the wheels of the car passed directly across his neck, cleaving his head from the body. Death was, of course, instantaneous. The boy was the son of a poor widow of Fredericksburg, who had been adopted by Mr. Thos. Jones, of that place, but at present residing here. A handsome coffin was provided and the body was decently interred at the expense of the Fredericksburg Railroad Company. This is not by many the first accident we have had to record as happening on the railroad on Broad street, nor will it be the last, unless some action is taken in the matter by the City Council. The railroad company do all they can, but are unable to prevent crowds of boys from riding and playing about their trains. Richmond Whig, 3/28/1864

Our next incident also involves railroad tracks, but was far from an accident. A hospital patient from Chimborazo Hospital (located in Church Hill) was so determined to not return to the front lines, that he took matters into his own hands:

Anxious to Leave the Army. - At five o'clock Sunday evening as the up train on the York River Railroad was passing in rear of Chimborazo Hospital, a soldier, believed to be from the Hospital, deliberately laid his left hand upon the track and allowed the driving wheels of the engine to pass over his fingers. The only motive we have heard attributed to the man is an overwhelming desire to avoid further military service. Richmond Dispatch, 4/5/1864

We don't want to give the railroad all the credit for April's mayhem--we have a population of armed Confederate soldiers and prison guards to help contribute their fair share. Incidents of death or wounding by firearms, both intentional and accidental found their way to the pages of Richmond's newspapers quite often:

Yankee Officers Shot. - While the prison guard at the Libby were drawn up in front of that building, on Tuesday morning, loading their guns, the piece of private Charles Webber, of the 18th Virginia battalion, accidentally exploded, whilst he was in the act of capping it, and the bullet passed in at one of the prison windows, wounding Lt. James Kelly, of the 100th Ohio, and killing Lt. G. D. Forsyth, of the same regiment. That the shooting was purely accidental was established by the testimony of a number of witnesses, among whom were several Yankee officers.Richmond Sentinel, 4/14/1864

Richmond's most notable (and tragic) accident of April 1864 resulted in the death of 5-year-old Joseph Davis, son of Confederate President Jefferson Davis:

Melancholy Accident - A Child of President Davis Killed by a Fall. - Saturday evening the Presidential mansion in this city was the scene of a most melancholy occurrence. At 5 o'clock that evening one of the servants discovered President Davis's third child, a little boy five years old, named Joseph, lying in an insensible condition on the ground, in view of the back porch, with blood oozing from his mouth and nose and one of his thighs broken. The child had evidently fallen over the railing of the porch, a distance of, perhaps, twenty feet. None of the President's family being in the house at the time, the ladies of the neighborhood were called in and medical aid sent for. Every effort was made to revive the little sufferer but without success. - The child continued to sink, and expired at a few moments before seven o'clock, having lived about two hours after the discovery of the accident. How long after the accident before it was discovered is not known. Richmond Sentinel, 5/2/1864

Jefferson Davis was no stranger to tragedy. He lost his first wife to malaria only three months after they were married. Of the six children he had with second wife Varina, only two daughters would live to adulthood. Joseph, however, was the only son he lost during the war. Union President Abraham Lincoln also lost his son William during the war, who passed away from illness in February 1862.

Even on the home front, away from battle, war continued to take its toll on Richmond.

Civil War: The Dahlgren Affair

Phil Williams — Mon, 24 Mar 2014 11:50:13 +0000

Earlier this month, we learned about the botched raid on Richmond led by two Union officers, General Hugh Judson Kilpatrick and Colonel Ulric Dahlgren. Their plan to assault the Confederate capital and free Union prisoners-of-war on Belle Isle was abandoned after a few days and resulted in Dahlgren's death at the hand of Richmond's home guard. As I hinted in my last column, the story didn't end with Kilpatrick's retreat and Dahlgren's death. It gets quite a bit more interesting and is a topic of controversy even today. Conspiracy theorists, take note.

After Dahlgren was shot and killed by the Richmond home guard, a 13-year-old boy named William Littlepage discovered his body and searched his pockets for valuables. He found some documents that he then shared with his teacher Edward Halbach. Halbach, an officer in Richmond's home guard, quickly realized what he had on his hands and promptly sent it up the chain of command until ultimately the documents reached the hands of President Jefferson Davis himself.

The documents contained detailed orders on how the raid and rescue operation was to be executed. However, amidst the other details, there was a section that would shock the Confederate government and reverberate through the entire Southern press. It read:

As we approach the city the party must take great care that they do not get ahead of the other party on the south side, and must conceal themselves and watch our movements. We will try and secure the bridge to the city, 1 mile below Belle Isle, and release the prisoners at the same time. If we do not succeed they must then dash down, and we will try and carry the bridge from each side. When necessary, the men must be filed through the woods and along the river bank. The bridges once secured, and the prisoners loose and over the river, the bridges will be secured and the city destroyed. The men must keep together and well in hand, and once in the city it must be destroyed and Jeff Davis and cabinet killed.

At the time, an order like this was not only considered outside the bounds of warfare, but an act of barbarism and terrorism. Once word spread of the discovered orders, it was met with outrage throughout the Confederacy. Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee quickly dispatched a message to Union Gen. George Meade to inquire as to whether the orders were issued from a higher power or from Dahlgren himself. If it was Dahlgren, it could be written off as one overzealous man's mistake, but if the orders came from the War Department, or worse, President Lincoln himself (as many believed), it would have changed the tone of the war entirely. Then there's a third possibility: that the orders were forged by the Confederate government or sympathizers to drum up Southern outrage and aid their war effort.

Unfortunately, despite many scholars throwing around their opinions on the issue, we just don't know for sure. Meade put Kilpatrick in charge of the investigation, who ultimately blamed Dahlgren, which was easy because the dead man is always easy to blame. Many, however, think Kilpatrick himself gave the orders. For many years after the incident, Dahlgren's father publicly defended his son, questioning the authenticity of the papers and calling out what he thought was a misspelling of Dahlgren's name in the photographs of the document that were made.

So, the best way for us to get to the bottom of the mystery is to take a look at the original document that was filed away in the Confederate War Department after the incident. Well, in April 1865, when (spoiler alert) the Union army took control of Richmond, a multitude of documents including the Dahlgren papers were sent north to Washington D.C. for safekeeping. Secretary of War Edwin Stanton specifically requested the Dahlgren papers be brought to him from the collection of Confederate documents...and then it disappeared from the historic record. It's unknown if the documents made it to Stanton or if he lost them himself. Many speculate that Dahlgren's orders ended up in Stanton's fireplace to avoid any further scrutiny. So, we'll never really know how much Stanton or Lincoln knew about Dahlgren's mission, but it certainly feels like a bit of a cover up took place.

One of the great ironies of this incident, regardless of whether Lincoln was aware of the orders or approved them, is that they ultimately opened the door for the Confederate Secret Service to put plans into motion to kidnap him as a retaliatory measure. One of those Confederate conspirators was none other than the actor John Wilkes Booth, who would eventually go on to assassinate Lincoln in April 1865. I tend to have a hard time believing in stories that wrap up in a neat little historical bow like this one, with one assassination attempt begetting another. I'm sure the truth is a lot more complicated, but because it is lost to history, we're left to put the pieces together ourselves--something conspiracy theorists get a real kick out of.

Whether it was a conspiracy to assassinate Jeff Davis and his cabinet or the misguided plan of an over-enthusiastic young colonel, it was another event in Richmond that changed the course of the war.

Civil War: The Dahlgren-Kirkpatrick Raid

Phil Williams — Mon, 03 Mar 2014 12:40:24 +0000

It all began at a party in late February, where two Union officers met for the first time. Union General Hugh Judson Kilpatrick was known for both his daring and recklessness in battle, earning him the nickname "Kill Cavalry," due to his willingness to put his men in harm's way. Colonel Ulric Dahlgren was young, only 22-years-old, but battle-tested. In the Battle of Gettysburg, Dahlgren had been wounded and lost his right leg, and now walked with a wooden leg. At the party, Kilpatrick told Dahlgren of his plans to attack the Confederate capital.

Unlike previous Union attempts on Richmond, Kilpatrick's plan called for a quick surgical strike instead of a grand assault on the city. Using the element of surprise, Kilpatrick would send nearly 4,000 cavalry troops to free Union prisoners of war on Belle Isle and damage critical Confederate infrastructure. Dahlgren, the son of a well-known rear admiral in the Union navy, was eager to prove himself and signed on to participate in the raid. Kilpatrick would split his cavalry force, sending 3,500 to attack Richmond from the north, while Dahlgren would lead a small cavalry force of about 500 in a wide sweeping motion around to attack from the less-defended southern side of the city.

Both men were very confident in their plan, although admittedly neither had planned for a way to arm, feed, or transport the Union prisoners once they'd been freed. Nonetheless, Kilpatrick made sizable bets with superior officers regarding the success of the mission. Dahlgren boasted to his father in a letter, "...there is a grand raid to be made, and I am to have a very important command. If successful, it will be the grandest thing on record; and if it fails, many of us will 'go up.'"

The plan was set in motion after nightfall on February 28th. The following afternoon, Kilpatrick's forces arrived in Beaver Dam, VA and began tearing up rail lines and burning buildings as they continued south down the Brook Turnpike (today's Brook Road). They arrived at the outer defenses of Richmond on the morning of March 1st, and a pitched battle began against Richmond's home guard. Kilpatrick's troops set up a line of battle on Taylor's Farm, located near today's Westbrook Road in Bellevue. After several hours of fighting, Kilpatrick was nervous--where was Dahlgren? He hadn't heard any word from him and he began to get the sense that he was in this fight alone. Dahlgren had not yet entered the city from the south.

So where was Dahlgren? That story gets a bit more complicated.

Dahlgren's first few days were similar to Kilpatrick's: burning buildings, destroying railroad lines, and heading towards Richmond. As he neared Richmond, he stopped at the plantation homes of two important government officials, Confederate Secretary of War Alexander Seddon and former Virginia governor Henry Wise. Seddon was away in Richmond at the time, but Wise was home at the time of Dahlgren's arrival and escaped on horseback undetected. Wise was able to make it to Richmond and warn the government about Dahlgren's approach from the west.

Dahlgren still had yet to cross the James River, a critical part of his surprise attack. He used a local guide, a freed slave named Martin Robinson, to help him find a point where his cavalry could ford the river. Robinson led them to a point in the river near today's River Road just a few miles before you reach Goochland County. However, the river levels were higher than usual and it was not possible to cross. Frustrated and angry, Dahlgren suspected Robinson misled them intentionally and dispatched him in an unexpectedly brutal way, hanging him from a tree with the reins of his own horse. Now without a guide to cross the river, Dahlgren decided to proceed along the north bank of the river toward Richmond instead. This, along with Wise's advance warning, would be his undoing.

Back on the north side of the city, Kilpatrick was still engaged with Confederate forces along the city's outer defenses on Brook Road. He feared the arrival of more reinforcements and with no word from Dahlgren, he decided to call off the attack and fall back to safer ground on the peninsula. Now Dahlgren, with a force of less than 500 cavalrymen, was truly alone.

The next day, Confederate forces headed out from Richmond to intercept Dahlgren's raiders. Meeting strong resistance, Dahlgren quickly realized the futility of the attack and tried to find his way north and out of harm's way. Harm, unfortunately found him, in the form of an ambush where he was killed by cavalry from the 9th Virginia. Many of the soldiers under his command were captured, imprisoned in the very place they were sent to liberate.

Kilpatrick's early withdrawal ensured he would live to fight another day. He would head south to join Sherman on his infamous "march to the sea" campaign. When questioned about the reckless nature of "Kill Cavalry" Kilpatrick, Sherman replied "I know that Kilpatrick is a hell of a damned fool, but I want just that sort of man to command my cavalry on this expedition."

The story doesn't end there, however. In the aftermath of Dahlgren's death, a document was found on his person that shocked the Confederacy and revealed a conspiracy that is still debated about today. We'll talk more about this document in the next column.

RVANews

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