Southern Storm: Sherman's March to the Sea

by Noah Andre Trudeau

  Close at hand was the 137th New York. “We entered the city just at break of day,” wrote Charles Engle of the regiment. “We found the streets filled with men women children and negroes. All seamed pleasd to see us.” After dispatching detachments to various trouble spots, Brigadier General Geary assembled as much of Barnum’s brigade as remained at City Hall, where, reported one officer, “he took formal possession of the city, complimenting our brave brigade and its courteous and thorough commander in a fine speech, and soon after Col. H. A. Barnum addressed the brigade in a neat and appropriate speech.” It was a colorful affair, for waving over the heads of those assembled, their folds flapping in the strong southwest breeze, was “every flag of the brigade,” recalled another New Yorker.

  Rear Admiral Dahlgren returned from a conversation with the bridge crew of the Harvest Moon to let Major General Sherman know that the weather was such that the pilot did not feel confident trying to cross the sandbar into Ossabaw Sound. It would be much safer, he argued, to turn into the coast sooner at Tybee Roads, there to follow an inland passage taking them south. Dahlgren had concurred, so that was the decision. It would be a less dangerous journey, but also a slower one. Sherman expressed no anxiety.

  Behind Barnum’s brigade came the rest of Brigadier General Geary’s division. “We passed through the city amid the shouts and cheers of the colored people and not a few of the white citizens of both sexes, welcomed us by waving white handkerchiefs and many seemed much pleased to see the old Stars and Stripes again,” commented an Ohio man in the First Brigade. The Federal arrival was announced in dramatic fashion in the Elizabeth Basinger household, when her black maid burst into the room. “Oh, Miss! Oh, Miss Lizzie!” she said, her words in a tumble, “de Yankees is come, dey is as tick as bees, dey is so many on horses and de horse’s tails is stannin out right straight, you just come look out de winder.”

  Watching from the window of her father’s home off Lafayette Square was twenty-four-year-old Fanny Cohen, who chose this day to begin keeping a journal. The one flag-raising by the Yankee troops that she observed left her underwhelmed. In her opinion, the response of the Federals to their banner was “three very orderly and unimpulsive cheers.”

  Among those who fled Savannah with Hardee’s garrison were the editors of the town’s two newspapers: the Savannah Republican, and the Savannah Morning News. The Republican’s editor had the foresight to anticipate the circumstances, so the December 21 sheet contained his bittersweet editorial, which read in part: “By the fortunes of war we pass today under the authority of the Federal military forces. The evacuation of Savannah by the Confederate army, which took place last night, left the gates to the city open…. It behooves all to keep within their homes until Gen. Sherman shall have organized a provost system and such police as will insure safety in persons as well as property.”

  A ten-man squad from the 29th Ohio made its way out along the river to the eastern edge of the city, where they took possession of Fort Jackson, still smoking from fires set by the departing Rebel garrison. The Ohio boys, said one, raised “the old flag on that fort once more.” Behind them several hundred more Federals were coming to complete the job. Peering across to the South Carolina shore, the soldiers could observe the hulking menace of the CSS Savannah. Once the ironclad’s captain observed the U.S. flag flying, he ordered several rounds fired. Ironically, this was the only time in the entire war that Fort Jackson came under direct attack.

  The Rebel warship was observed from downtown Savannah by Major J. A. Reynolds, chief of the Twentieth Corps artillery, who wasn’t averse to picking a fight with the iron-sided vessel. Reynolds ordered forward Captain Thomas S. Sloan’s Battery E, Pennsylvania Light Artillery, which, he reported, “took position on the lower end of Bay street and opened fire on her.” When the Savannah tried to return the favor, its gunners found they couldn’t sufficiently elevate their cannon to reach the nuisance. Major Reynolds was certain that Sloan’s battery scored some hits, though the Savannah’s commander did not report any.

  As word of Savannah’s evacuation raced along the Union lines, soldiers from the other three corps found excuses to come into town. A Wisconsin man in the Seventeenth Corps admitted that he and his comrades “tried to behave ourselves, but the poultry, flour, molasses &c that lay in our way caused us to take considerable…. A woman, laughingly pointing to our plunder, exclaimed ‘You have more to eat than we.’”

  Iowans from the Fifteenth Corps passed through one of the sections yet to be visited by provost guards. An infantryman noted that “the white women and negroes and our soldiers seemed intent on cleaning the stores of everything but the officers are doing their best to stop it.” Pennsylvania troops of the Fourteenth Corps found a more secure area of town. “The people of Savannah seemed to be satisfied with this change of military rulers,” said Captain William S. McCaskey. “They seem to like ‘the Yankees’ reasonably well; fed most of our boys during our short visit; giving them their dinners with a cheering welcome. They are not so blind as not to know the advantages to be gained under the shadow of the old flag.”

  For hour after hour, the Harvest Moon picked its way along the scramble of creeks, small rivers, and twisting streams through swamps that were collectively termed “the inland passage.” It didn’t seem that things could get any worse, but they did late in the afternoon when, as Rear Admiral Dahlgren noted, “the channel was so narrow and winding that the Harvest Moon stuck fast.” They were in Romney Marsh, maybe four miles from Ossabaw Sound and the Ogeechee River. This close to the end of his journey, Sherman at last expressed his impatience, so the decision was made to use the admiral’s barge to continue the trip.

  In the decade or so before the war began, John W. Geary amassed a strong résumé in civil administration, serving as San Francisco’s first mayor and later as governor of the Kansas Territory. It wasn’t random chance that placed his division with the most direct access to the city. No sooner had Geary reported his presence in Savannah than Major General Slocum put him in charge of maintaining order. “My eventful career is still upon its everlasting whirl,” Geary bragged to his wife in a letter in which he referred to himself as “Commandante of the City.”

  Orders issued today began the process of governance. Savannah was divided into five subdistricts, with units assigned to each. Patrols were established to “protect all peaceable persons and public and private property, quell all disturbances, arresting all disorderly persons and turning them over to the…provost guard…. Every officer of the command is enjoined to put forth the most strenuous efforts to establish and maintain perfect order and subordination.”

  This wasn’t always achieved. A squad of Indiana infantry came upon civilians scrapping among themselves over loot from a sacked warehouse. “I saw some fights between the women, and the air became sulphurous from the curses,” said an amused Hoosier. “Our soldiers stood in groups taking in the scene. When a fight occurred among the Amazons, they would cheer and encourage the weaker ones, and despite the roughness of the scene would get some enjoyment out of it.”

  It was growing dark before Rear Admiral Dahlgren’s barge, whose soggy passengers included Major General Sherman, nosed out of Romney Marsh into Ossabaw Sound. Not long afterward a steamer was sighted, signaled, then drew alongside. It was the army tug Red Legs, whose crew bubbled with the amazing news that Savannah had been evacuated by the Confederates and was now occupied by Federal troops. A message they were carrying from Sherman’s aide Dayton confirmed matters.

  HEADQUARTERS MILITARY DIVISION OF THE MISSISSIPPI

  In the Field, December 21, 1864—9 a.m.

  DEAR GENERAL: I have sent you two dispatches via Fort McAllister in hopes of reaching you. General Slocum reports enemy gone from his front and he had got eight guns—this report at 4 a.m. He is also gone from this front and General Howard reports [his division commander] Leggett near the city, and no enemy. General Woods also got six guns. General Slocum is moving and General Howard the same a
nd I have no doubt both are in Savannah now. I will ride with General Howard, at his request, and leave our camp until the matter is more definite and you make orders.

  I am, general, &c.,

  L. M. DAYTON

  Aide-de-Camp

  There was no more time to be lost. Transferring to the Red Legs, Sherman ordered it to take him to Cheves’ Rice Mill.

  This was another stressful day for Colonel Carmen, with his men holding on to their small patch of South Carolina real estate. Early this morning he observed a detail from the 58th Indiana setting up a pontoon bridge linking his beachhead to Argyle Island. Instead of reinforcements, Carmen received orders to pull his brigade back to the Georgia mainland. The withdrawal was fraught with difficulties. The wind was high and the tides treacherous, slowing everything to a crawl. Then, rather than standing back to watch them go, the Rebels who had kept Carmen’s little foray pinned in place began pressing his lines. “A great danger soon threatened us,” declared a New Yorker, “for we were only a mile from the pike upon which the whole Rebel army were marching out.” For a time matters appeared so grim that the Union officer was mentally prepared to count his casualties in the hundreds, but after sunset the enemy’s efforts ceased. It was nearing midnight when, as Carmen recollected, “the last man crossed safely to Argyle Island and my campaign in [the] So[uth] Car[olina] Rice Swamps ended.”

  Time had run out for the CSS Savannah. Unable to sortie because no one could clear a path through “friendly” minefields, the warship had been granted a short reprieve from destruction on the night of December 20 solely to prevent the Federals from quickly repairing the floating bridge. As long as a Rebel force held Screven’s Ferry at the head of the Union Causeway, the ironclad’s crew had an escape route. Not long after sunset, the Savannah’s captain was told that the soldiers guarding Screven’s would be withdrawn at 8:00 P.M. Thirty minutes before that time, the captain followed his crew in a boat carrying them to shore. Then the Screven’s Ferry wharf was fired, taking with it the little steamer Firefly, which was lashed alongside. Behind them, in the bowels of the warship, sparks sputtered as a slow fuse burned toward carefully stacked charges. At 11:30 P.M. flame and gunpowder met. “It lit the heavens for miles,” said one refugee sailor. “We could see to pick up a pin where we were and the noise was awful.” A Union soldier across the river thought “it made a fearful and tremendous explosion.”

  THURSDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1864

  Major General Sherman’s headquarters party reached Fort McAllister before midnight, but had to stew until the ebb tide had sufficiently diminished to allow the tug Red Legs to continue to Cheves’ Rice Mill. Someone had the presence of mind to use the signal tower near the fort to inform the mill station that Sherman was on his way, so horses were waiting when the General landed at 2:30 A.M. A slow ride in the dark brought everyone to headquarters, where breakfast was served while tents were struck and baggage packed. Finally, at 7:00 A.M., Major General Sherman mounted to lead the way into Savannah.

  While significant steps had been taken to preserve order in the city there was still room for improvement. An Illinois soldier taking a stroll this morning observed others getting into “grocery cellars where there was molasses, lard &c and the poor whites and Negroes were helping themselves as well, grabbing and dipping in pails, getting the molasses and lard over each other. It was grand fun. In one place…they got it on the floor almost ankle deep.” “The boys got plenty of tobacco,” added an Illinoisan. “The citizens went for plunder as hard if not worse than the soldiers.” “The rebels left everything in the stores,” exclaimed an officer, “and, of course, the boys rigged themselves out.”

  In other instances there was a more formal interaction between North and South. “Took dinner with a secesh family,” scribbled a New York diarist. “Had a good dinner and a warm argument.” A Connecticut man found other civilians not interested in arguing, merely proclaiming that they were “heartily sick of the war.” When Frances Thomas Howard answered a knock on the door of her family’s home, she found a Yankee officer on her steps preparing to requisition the place for Colonel Barnum’s headquarters.

  “There are eight children here, all under five years of age,” protested Mrs. Howard’s companion. “I don’t think you would find a stay in this house very pleasant.”

  The staff officer threw up his hands. “Good God!” he exclaimed. “Eight under five! I’ll go anywhere else!”

  The women directed him to a vacant house across the street. As he departed, they smiled at their little joke. Yes, there were eight little children in the house—four white and four black.

  Sherman reached Savannah at 9:00 A.M., according to Major Hitchcock’s watch. Entering from the south, the General’s party turned onto tree-lined Bull Street, which they followed to the river. At Bay Street they went inside the U.S. Customs House, whose roof offered a panoramic view of the captured city. “The navy-yard, and the wreck of the iron-clad ram Savannah were still smouldering, but all else looked quiet enough,” observed Sherman.

  The General had served in the area as a young army officer, so he knew the best places to stay. The party rode directly to the Pulaski House, where Sherman was soon holding court in the same building that Confederate president Jefferson Davis once occupied. Hitchcock quickly lost count of the number of people who craved an audience with their conqueror. There was a brother of Lieutenant General Hardee, the town’s mayor, and other citizens of importance. Most intriguing was Mr. Charles Green, a banker and British citizen who offered his spacious, well-furnished house for Sherman’s headquarters. (Green later stated that he made the offer to spare a Georgia citizen indignity, though the Pulaski House manager seemed willing enough to provide the General with space. Less charitable wags viewed Green’s gesture as an effort to win a favorable opinion regarding his seized cotton holdings.) At first Sherman was reluctant to accept the proposal, but he was easily persuaded. The Green mansion—richly appointed with expensive furniture, pricey art, and exotic plants—would serve as the General’s command post throughout his stay in Savannah.

  It wasn’t long before Savannah’s white residents began to experience changes in the order of their society. Mrs. Caro Lamar had always been suspicious of William, one of her house servants. This day, she wrote, “as I feared and expected, William proved to be a traitor.” Mrs. Lamar’s husband had been engaged in the risky but lucrative business of bringing commodities through the blockade; as one of the perks of the work, he had amassed a sizable store of liquors and wines. Barely four hours after William vanished, the first Yankees appeared at her door, polite but insistent, and they knew where to look. This party was followed by another, and before sunset much of the Lamars’ liquid capital (along with a quantity of food) was confiscated. This night, Mrs. Lamar “felt so awfully weak, and peculiarly that I dreaded sickness and evil consequences.” She would survive.

  “You can form no conception of the utter demoralization of the servants,” declared another Savannah resident, Mrs. G. W. Anderson. “Many families are left without a single one, & in every household several have taken leaves…. All the petted servants of all the Owens have left for ‘freedom.’…All the country negroes are crowding into the city, & must plunder for a living. With such a population we have much to dread if left without proper police regulations.”

  Viewed through the other side of the lens, sentiments were quite different. “When the morning light of the 22d of December, 1864, broke in upon us, the streets of our city were thronged in every part with the victorious army of liberty;” declared a black Baptist preacher, “every tramp, look, command, and military movement told us they had come for our deliverance, and were able to secure it to us, and the cry went around the city from house to house among our race of people, ‘Glory be to God, we are free!’”

  Squads of Yankee troops continued to secure the Savannah area, occupying defensive works and locking down caches of munitions. A detail from the 58th Indiana Pontoniers was handed the task
of repairing Hardee’s floating bridge linking Savannah to Hutchinson Island. Most of the sections had survived, though some had been lost, while others were drifting loose. Much of it now lay snagged against the cityside bank, held there by the current. The existing segments were reattached, and long ropes were strung preparatory to swinging it back into place. One of the engineers noted approvingly that it had been constructed with docks on either end, “so the rising and falling of the tide does not lengthen or shorten the bridge.”

  “The amount of property left behind is enormous,” crowed a Connecticut soldier, “especially cotton[,] also RR machinery[,] cars[,] engines &c[;] so fast they left all & fled[,] even the guns in the forts were so poorly spiked out boys pulled them out with their fingers.” A correspondent on the scene reported that the “depots of the Savannah and Gulf Railroad, and of the Georgia Central Railroad were captured, with all their furniture etc. intact. Thirteen locomotives, in good order, and one hundred and ninety-three cars of various description were taken.” A final accounting would add 167 artillery pieces captured and 38,500 cotton bales to the tally. The latter would prove an embarrassment to Lieutenant General Hardee, who was taken to task for allowing so much to fall into enemy hands. Hardee argued, none too convincingly, that most of it was in small batches, privately held, so to have torched it would have destroyed many residences.

  Miss Frances Thomas Howard stared out her window at a ragged line of Confederate prisoners being held under guard opposite her house. “They looked tired and hungry, and we determined to feed them,” she said. Food was gathered, but how to carry it past the Yankee guards without having it hijacked? Approaches to several senior officers were rebuffed, until she at last decided to target the man commanding the guard detail. To his pleased amazement, Miss Howard and two of her female companions invited him to dinner, where they made him comfortable.