In the South, where the situation was more tenuous, some blacks did not see any need to fight as long as they were winning their freedom without doing so,2 but many in this region did enlist. Some plantation owners lost nearly all their enslaved field workers. When Admiral David D. Porter visited a plantation twenty miles above Vicksburg, Mississippi, late in 1864, for example, he found only one black out of a former population of nearly four hundred. “Uncle Moses,” with whom he had conversed on a previous visit many months earlier, informed him that all the young “bucks” had gone to join the army or enlist on board “Mr. Linkum’s gunboats.”3 George Washington Albright asserted that “like many other slaves, my father ran away from his plantation in Texas and joined the Union forces.”4 And Julius Jones recalled, “when the war came on, I must have been fourteen years old. All the men on the place run off and joined the Northern army.”5
Moreover, March Wilson, of Sapelo Island, Georgia, walked several miles north to Port Royal Island, South Carolina, to enlist in the Union army on December 2, 1862. He became a member that day of the South Carolina Volunteers, the first Union regiment composed of former slaves.6 Wilson was certainly only one of many blacks from his area to enlist at the earliest opportunity. Indeed, black recruitment efforts were so successful that by the end of the war more than 186,000 had enrolled in the Union army. Ninety-three thousand came from the seceded states and 40,000 from the Border slave states, with the other 53,000 from the free states.7 Among these black soldiers were several who had emigrated to Canada and then returned to the United States to fight on the Union side during the war.8 Perhaps the total figure was even higher because some contemporaries insisted that many mulattoes, the offspring of black and white unions, served in white regiments without being designated as blacks.9
Black troops were organized into regiments of light and heavy artillery, cavalry, infantry, and engineers. To distinguish them from white soldiers, they were called “United States Colored Troops.” They were usually led by white officers with the aid of some black noncommissioned officers. Since most whites in the Union army were opposed to having blacks in the service, it was difficult at first to secure white officers for black outfits. Nevertheless, among those who distinguished themselves as fine leaders were Colonel Robert Gould Shaw of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Regiment and General N. P. Banks of the First and Third Louisiana Native Guards.10 Thomas Wentworth Higginson, colonel of the First South Carolina Volunteers, spoke proudly about the ability of his men. After a successful raid in Florida in 1863, he stated with passion, “Nobody knows anything about these men who has not seen them in battle. There is a fierce energy about them.”11 By the end of the war, black men had fought courageously in so many engagements that it was no longer difficult to solicit whites to command them.
PRIVATES AND NONCOMMISSIONED OFFICERS AT FORT STEVENS, WASHINGTON, DC.
Library of Congress
A few blacks held commissions in the Union army. Two regiments of General Benjamin Butler’s Corps d’Afrique were staffed entirely by black officers; among them were Major F. E. Dumas and Captain P. B. S. Pinchback. Captain H. Ford Douglass and First Lieutenant W. D. Matthews led an independent battery at Lawrence, Kansas. Major Martin R. Delany and Captain O. S. B. Wall were officers in the 104th Regiment. Among the commissioned officers were black chaplains, including Henry M. Turner, William Hunter, James Underdue, Williams Waring, Samuel Harrison, William Jackson, and John R. Bowles, and black surgeons, including Alexander T. Augusta of the Seventh Regiment, and John V. DeGrasse of the Thirty-fifth. Other black surgeons who served but were not commissioned included Charles B. Purvis, Alpheus Tucker, John Rapier, William Ellis, Anderson Abbott, and William Powell.12
BLACK SOLDIERS CONFRONT WHITE RACISM
The fact that such a small number of blacks held commissions in the Union army greatly upset many black soldiers, who regarded this as a blatant example of racial injustice. They reasoned that only the color of their skin was the deciding factor, as they knew deserving competent blacks who would make outstanding officers. Many black soldiers, therefore, were quick to launch protests in writing regarding the army’s failure to commission blacks as officers in significant numbers. An anonymous soldier in the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Infantry wrote about the outstanding performance of a black doctor in saving the life of a captain in his regiment. So many people were impressed that there was a petition circulated in support of his promotion. In fact, all the officers signed the petition except three, and even they admitted that “he was a smart man and understood medicine.” Nonetheless, in their opinion, “he was a negro and they did not want a negro doctor, neither did they want negro officers.” As a consequence of this prejudice among his officers, the colonel felt compelled to destroy the document.13 In a letter filled with hurt and disappointment, an anonymous soldier in the Fiftv-fifth Massachusetts Infantry asked, “If we have men in our own regiment who are capable of being officers, why not let them be promoted the same as other soldiers?” He was sickened by the army’s tendency to take sergeants from white regiments and make them captains or lieutenants, and then place them in charge of blacks.14 A sergeant in the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Infantry wrote, “We want black commissioned officers; and only because we want men we can understand and who can understand us. We want men whose hearts are truly loyal to the rights of man.” He deemed it necessary to have ample black representation in case of courts-martial, where many blacks would undoubtedly end up. Speaking for many black soldiers, he explained: “We want to demonstrate our ability to rule, as we have demonstrated our willingness to obey.” And, zeroing in on the racism of white officers in his regiment, the sergeant concluded, “Can they have confidence in officers who read the Boston Courier and talk about ‘Niggers’?”15
An unidentified Black Union soldier. Courtesy of N.C. Division of Archives and History
Notwithstanding all these grievances, black soldiers did not lose perspective. Even with the white racism and discrimination that they had to endure, most were quick to point out, “we prefer the Union rather than the rebel government, and will sustain the Union if the United States will give us our rights.” Furthermore, they maintained, “we will calmly submit to white officers, though some of them are not as well acquainted with military matters as our orderly sergeants.” 16 In other words, they would carry out their duties in a disciplined and dignified way despite their concerns. Although the tenor of most of their letters was forceful, they were also respectful, with one man concluding, “I hope sir, that you will urge this matter, as I am well aware that you are on our side, and always have done for us all in your power to help our race.”17
Black soldiers were on target in their thinking that if more black men were commissioned as officers, a more harmonious atmosphere would ensure in the army, and the end result would be equal justice for all. In most cases, however, not only were they unable to increase substantially the number of black commissioned officers, but the intense racism of many white officers also drove some of the few commissioned officers from the army. For example, Robert H. Isabelle, a lieutenant in the Second Louisiana Native Guards, one of only three black regiments led by men of color, resigned from the army. The reason was racism: “I joined the United States Army—with the sole object of laboring for the good of our country,” he wrote, “but after five or six months experience I am convinced that the same prejudice still exist[s] and prevents that cordial harmony among officers which is indispensable for the success of the army.”18 Unfortunately, Isabelle’s resignation was soon followed by those of other black officers.
The fervent racism that forced Isabelle and others out of military service took various forms. Black soldiers were often served barely adequate food that had earlier been rejected by white troops and then sent to them. Benjamin Williams, a young private in the Thirty-second U.S. Colored Infantry, claimed that the rations served to them were “moldy and musty and full of worms, and not fit for a dog to eat.” When the men returned to
camp for dinner, “there is nothing to eat but rotten hard tack and flat coffee without sugar in it.”19 In addition, racism sometimes took the form of derogatory language. Such was the case involving a white officer in the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Infantry, who called one of the regiment’s soldiers a “nigger.” As expected the black solider was offended and threatened to retaliate. The white officer then hid on a nearby ship. Just when it appeared that a group of black soldiers would force the white man off the ship and beat him, Colonel Fox, the commanding officer, arrived on the scene. The colonel assured the men that justice would be done and then ordered the officer to “come out and give a reason why he should call a soldier a nigger.” When he failed to respond satisfactorily, Colonel Fox “ordered him under arrest, and sent him, accompanied by at least two files of good brave colored soldiers, to report to the Provost guard.”20
Cases of racism involving poor food and the use of derogatory language paled in comparison to the random violence wreaked upon black soldiers by white officers. Many of these officers, once enlisted men in white regiments, occupied the very positions of leadership that several blacks continued to argue rightfully belonged to competent members of their race. A private in the Forty-third U.S. Colored Infantry, for example, wrote a letter condemning their actions: “Our officers must stop beating their men across the head and back with their swords.” And, he warned, if they do not, “I fear there will be trouble with some of us. There are men in this regiment who were born free, and have been brought up as well as any officer in the 43d, and will not stand being punched with swords and driven around like a dog.”21 The most notorious case of mistreatment involved Lieutenant Colonel Augustus W. Benedict of the Seventy-sixth U.S. Colored Infantry, whose conduct could be ruthless. Benedict tied an alleged guilty soldier with his arms and legs spread apart to stakes driven into the ground and smeared molasses on his face, hands, and feet to attract insects. The man was left there for an entire day, and the entire process was repeated the next day. On two other occasions, Benedict struck one soldier and severely whipped two drummer boys. He was ultimately court-martialed and dismissed from the service.
In another case, authorities were forced to press charges against a lieutenant who abused his troops, usually for trifling reasons. During his short tenure, the lieutenant had tied up four soldiers for prolonged periods of time, one of them for complaining to the regimental commander that he had no rations. He clubbed a private with his revolver three times and punched him once; he also struck another man during battalion drill. In addition, in the Thirty-second U.S. Colored Infantry, abuse occurred so often that one of its black soldiers threatened to eliminate the officers in his company: “I know that some of us have left our homes, only to be abused and knocked about; but one consolation is left us, we have their own clubs that they gave us, to break their own heads with; and, in short, they are making a trap to enslave themselves in.”22 Retaliation was a common response to white violence, as black soldiers often refused to accept injustices without a fight.
There was no theater of operations during the Civil War in which blacks did not see action. They fought in 449 engagements, thirty-nine of which were major battles. They were at the siege of Savannah in Georgia, at Vicksburg in Mississippi, at Olustee in Florida, and at Milliken’s Bend in Louisiana. They fought in Arkansas, Kentucky, Tennessee, and North Carolina, and when General Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Court House they were there too. Decatur Dorsey was awarded a Congressional Medal for gallantry while acting as color-sergeant of the Thirty-ninth U.S. Colored Troops at Petersburg, Virginia, on July 30, 1864. Private James Gardner of the Thirty-sixth was awarded a medal for rushing in advance of his brigade to shoot a Confederate officer who was leading his men into action. Four men of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Infantry earned the Gillmore Medal for gallantry displayed in the assault on Fort Wagner in South Carolina in which their commanding officer, Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, a trusted and respected friend of black soldiers, was killed.23 When the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts was called upon to raise $1,000 to help erect a monument in his honor, they readily agreed, but they were opposed to the proposed site at the foot of Fort Wagner, facing Fort Sumter. Many members of the regiment thought that this location was inappropriate: “even when peace reigns supreme, it may be desecrated by unfriendly hands.” And “why place a monument where most of those who want to view it would have to make a long pilgrimage in order to do so?” The regiment “would rather see it raised on old Massachusetts soil. The first to say a black was a man, let her have the first monument raised by black men’s money, upon her good old rocks.”24 The tribute to Colonel Shaw and the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts stands today in Boston.
Blacks served gallantly also in the Union navy. When the navy adopted a black enlistment policy as early as September 20, 1861, because of a manpower deficit, blacks, barred from service in the Union army, rushed to enlist. Of the 118,044 enlistments in the navy, 30,000 were blacks and most of them were freedmen from Massachusetts. Blacks were kept in the lowest ranks, where they were discriminated against and segregated by their commanders. None became petty officers, yet four black sailors won the Navy Medal of Honor. Joachim Pease, cited by his superior officer as having shown the utmost in courage and fortitude, is probably the best known of the four. He was the leader of the number one gun on the Kearsarge as well as one of the fifteen blacks on board this warship when it met the most famous Confederate raider, the Alabama, and engaged it in battle. Although Robert Smalls, a slave from Charleston, South Carolina, was not awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, his escape with the Confederate Planter was perhaps the most dramatic incident involving a black at sea during the Civil War. Smalls waited until the vessel’s officers were asleep on shore; then he and a crew of seven slaves loaded their wives and children on board and on the morning of May 13, 1862, piloted the Planter safely to Union lines. For his actions, Smalls was awarded an appointment in the Union navy. He went on to become one of the Reconstruction era’s most prominent politicians.
FURNEY BRYANT, A FORMER SLAVE WHO ARRIVED IN NEW BERN, NORTH CAROLINA, AS A REFUGEE IN RAGS AND LATER BECAME A SOLDIER IN THE BLACK FIRST NORTH CAROLINA REGIMENT.
Courtesy of the North Carolina Division of Archives and History
John Lawson, a black from Pennsylvania, also distinguished himself in combat. He served on board the USS Hartford, whose job it was to take control of Mobile Bay on August 5, 1864. It was of paramount importance to the Union to knock out Mobile Bay because it was the last Confederate port on the Gulf of Mexico. There, blockade runners shipped out cotton and brought in cannon, ammunition, medicine, and other supplies needed by the rebels. Fort Morgan had to be taken out because its guns allowed the Confederate port to continue to function. As the guns of the Hartford fired on Fort Morgan on that somber August day, the fort’s guns answered. Many of its shells found their mark, killing several sailors and severely wounding others who were tended by the surgeons below deck. One shell hit where Lawson and five other men were loading and firing. Lawson was badly injured, but refused to go below. He quickly resumed firing. Shortly thereafter, other shells began to land on target, blowing off men’s arms, legs, and heads. Nevertheless, Lawson stayed at his post until the fleet had passed the fort and the minefield, sunk most of the rebel gunboats, and captured the ironclad Tennessee. The great battle ended by ten o’clock, and Lawson could now have his wounds dressed. The captain of the Hartford commended him for his bravery in action, and Lawson ultimately received the Congressional Medal of Honor.25
At first, black soldiers did not receive the same pay as white soldiers of equal rank. According to the Enlistment Act of July 17, 1862, whites with the rank of private would be paid thirteen dollars per month salary and $3.50 for clothing; blacks of the same rank would be paid seven dollars and three dollars.26 If Union officials thought that blacks would accept this discrimination without complaining, they were mistaken; black soldiers and their white officers protest
ed vigorously. “We have come out like men and we expected to be treated as men but we have bin treated more like dogs then men,” one black soldier complained to Secretary of War Edwin Stanton.27 The Fifty-fourth Massachusetts boldly displayed its opposition by serving a year without pay rather than accept discriminatory wages.28 When Colonel Littlefield suggested to the regiment that they accept ten dollars per month now, with the promise of the additional three dollars per month later, not one man accepted his offer. A little irritated by their behavior, Littlefield insinuated that if they turned the money down, then they “might not receive any money till after the convening of Congress.” To this threat, members of the Fifty-fourth replied “that we had been over five months waiting, and we would wait till the Government could frame some special law, for the payment of part of its troops.”29 The regiment marched into battle in Florida in 1864 singing, “Three cheers for Massachusetts and seven dollars a month.”30
The refusal of black troops to accept unequal pay placed a heavy strain on their wives and children. Over and over again, black soldiers poured out their concern for family members because the government refused to pay them the same as white soldiers. A soldier in the Sixth U.S. Colored Troops cried out, “it almost tempts me to desert and run a chance of getting shot, when I read her [his wife’s] letters, hoping that I would come to her relief. But what am I to do?”31 He noted, “it is the case all through the regiment. Men having families at home, and they looking to them for support, and they not being able to send them one penny.”32 Another soldier in the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts lamented that “although we have been in the service, ten months we have not received one cent of pay, and many of our families are suffering for the aid we must render them if we could only get our hardearned and just dues.”33 Still another member of the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts recalled an emotional scene involving a comrade’s anguish over his inability to support his wife: “I have seen a letter from a wife in Illinois to her husband, stating that she had been sick for six months, and begging him to send her the sum of fifty cents.” The soldier then asked, “Was it any wonder that the tears rolled in floods from that stout-hearted man’s eyes?”34
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