Climbing Up to Glory

by Wilbert L. Jenkins

  A report by a provost marshal vividly describes the horrendous conditions under which recruits and recruiters labored. As they left a recruitment center, a mob of young men followed seventeen black men who had just been furnished with passes to return home, along with notes to their owners asking that they be permitted to enlist, and “seized them and whipped them most unmercifully with cowhides” before they could reach their houses. One black man trying to enlist was seized by a mob and was “tied to a tree and subjected to the most unmerciful beating.” Another black man was captured, badly whipped, and confined in jail as a runaway. Some others were not so fortunate and lost their lives attempting to enlist. When white Union officials tried to intervene and prevent the continual occurrence of these atrocities, they, too, were either beaten or threatened. A deputy provost marshal was subjected to a terrible beating with gun butts and chased from his home. A special agent who enlisted slaves “was caught, stripped, tied to a tree and cow-hided” by local whites. Moreover, when the provost marshal arrested a group of young whites for abusing some potential black enlistees, a mob threatened to lynch him, and shortly thereafter, local whites even tried to kill him.102

  As expected, since family was dear to the hearts of most black enlistees, slaveholders often sought retaliation against members who were left behind to dissuade other blacks from enlisting in the future. They were subjected to arduous workloads, whippings, evictions, and sales. Martha Glover of Missouri, whose husband had enlisted in the Union army, wrote in despair to her husband about her sufferings at the hands of her owner: “I have had nothing but trouble since you left. They abuse me because you went and say they will not take care of our children and do nothing but quarrel with me all the time and beat me scandalously the day before yesterday.”103 Another wife of a black enlistee was evicted along with her children by her master. Hiram Cornell contacted Union officials to inform them of her horrendous circumstances. Traveling with her youngest child who was two years old, she had left her two older children at home. She was trying to find some work, as her master had told her never to return because “he could not and would not support the women.”104 News of this mistreatment had a negative effect on the morale of black troops, who constantly worried about the physical and emotional well-being of their families. They complained bitterly to Union officials. Martin Patterson of Company H, Second Missouri Volunteers, maintained that his wife was compelled “to do out door work—such as chop wood, husk corn and that one of his children has been suffered to freeze, and has since died.”105 And William Brooks of the same company noted that his family were “required to do the same work that he used to do, such as chopping wood, splitting rails & c.”106

  It is not surprising that the efforts of slaveholders and their supporters to stop black men from enlisting, by penalizing the families of those who did, had a terrible impact on the lives of enslaved women and children. With about 50 percent or more of the adult black male population in military service, it was extremely difficult for most black families to survive. Forced eviction further complicated the problem. In addition, the more strenuous work contributed to more health problems, and a reduction in medical care by their owners certainly did not help. As a result, black women and their children were often homeless, hungry, and vulnerable to various diseases and, in some cases, to the lure of prostitution. Many became no more than beggars.

  Why did black men leave them in this predicament? Was it because they did not realize what would happen if they left home and enlisted? Much of the correspondence suggests that black men and women were well aware of what could happen, and in the end the decision to enlist was often made by both husband and wife. For the man to become a member of a liberation force that would help eradicate the institution of slavery was of paramount importance. 107 However, these men had left a region dominated by an intense support of slavery along with ardent racist beliefs, and they certainly worried about the well-being of family members who remained behind.

  In spite of the huge obstacles placed before them, black men continued to enlist in the Union forces in staggering numbers. No wonder that Henry M. Turner, a Union recruiter and chaplain, could write that his recruiting effort in Smithville, North Carolina, late in the war “goes on finely.” He added that “we have enlisted several hale, stalwart-looking fellows, whom we think will fill their places nicely. One man wants his gun now, so he can get to killing right off.”108 And in the closing days of the war, blacks in Charleston, South Carolina, responded overwhelmingly to the recruitment efforts of Martin Delany, a black major in the Union army. When General Lee surrendered to General Grant at Appomattox Court House on April 9,1865, formally ending the war, many of the new recruits clung to the hope that their camp would continue training them to do battle.109 Indeed, this undying belief that they had to do their own part in order for liberation to be truly theirs sustained them through many trials and tribulations. But black soldiers could not have endured without the support of their women, who provided their men with emotional and moral support and took care of their families to the best of their ability while they were away fighting. Not only were black women behind their soldier-husbands, but so also were entire black communities. The mere sight of black soldiers inspired pride in most blacks; and, as historian Reginald Hildebrand notes, “Black soldiers brought liberty and they were the first dramatic symbols of the empowerment of a people who had once been slaves.”110

  Notwithstanding the commitment of most blacks to the Union cause and the high regard held for black soldiers throughout their communities, some men did not voluntarily enlist. Many were kidnapped by Union officials and forced into military action by the army of liberation. Others were utilized as laborers. According to Nelson Dorsey, who served in the Federal army for eight months, “They came out to our place one October and picked me up and made a soldier out of me.”111 Noah Rogers was returning to Mississippi with mules from Arkansas when he “was captured by Yankee soldiers, and placed in the Union army where he served until the surrender.”112 And Noah Perry recalled that “the Yankees come along and took all the able-bodied Colored men to the army.”113 Federal officials became so hungry for manpower that they sometimes kidnapped those blacks who earlier had been sympathetic to the Confederate cause, some having even seen combat. For example, Nathan Best described his own situation: “One day a soldier fighting for the South and the next a soldier, but firing cannon for the North!” He further boasted, “Yassuh, I‘se the one what fought on both sides, but I neber fought for de Yankees till dey captured me and put me in a corral and said, ‘Nigger, you fought for de South, now you can fight for de North.’ ”114 Echoing similar sentiments, Henry Henderson asserted: “I use to be a fighting man and a strong Southern soldier, until the Yank’s captured me and made me fight with them.”115 In another example, William Baltimore served as a servant for the Confederacy until 1863, “when he was captured by the Yankees who took him to Little Rock, where he was sworn in as a Union soldier.”116 Free blacks were just as much a target of Union recruiters as were slaves. Edmond Bradley, a free mulatto, was seized by Federal officials in New Orleans. “De Yankees pick me up dere,” he explained, “an’ say I have to jine de Army, an’ if I don’ jine, den dey will conscript me anyways. So I jine under Capt. Walker, Company H, 96th Louisiana Colored Regiment.”117

  Unfortunately, as the Union commitment to black troops increased, the black family again suffered the consequences. And, sadly, although most of the recruiting parties consisted of black soldiers, these squads still could have total disregard for the families of the men whom they took off the streets and out of the fields and forced into the army at bayonet point. Regrettably, it was common practice to refuse the men even the time to notify their families. As was the case with black men voluntarily enlisting, their kidnapping sometimes led to either the disruption or destruction of established households. A letter of Jane Wallis of York County, Virginia, whose husband was seized by a recruiting squad, underscores this point. S
he made it clear to Federal officials that her husband was taken against his will. But, most important, she explained, “he is verry delicate, and in bad health, in the Bargin, and I am not healthy myself, but if they, keep him, they leave me, and 3 children, to get along, the best we can, and one of them is now verry sick.”118

  In addition, John Banks, a black man who was forced to enlist in the Union army, vividly described his ordeal in a statement in early January 1864. As Banks was cutting wood on December 2, 1863, a few miles from his house, he was confronted by an armed group of ten black soldiers who asked him to enlist. Banks informed them that he could not afford to enlist and leave his family to fend for themselves. The men responded by telling Banks to go to Newport News to see their commanding officer, Captain Montgomery. Banks did so and pleaded with the captain to either release him or at least allow him the courtesy of going home a few minutes to see his family. However, Montgomery replied that he “had orders” to take all colored men and make them enlist. The following day Banks was escorted to Craney Island, where he heard horror stories about what happened to those blacks who refused to enlist. Some had to “tote” cannon balls, and others were confined to the guardhouse with only hard bread and water. But, even before his arrival there, a soldier in Newport News had threatened to shoot Banks and another black, George Marrow, if they did not join the army. As a consequence, Banks yielded. When his enlistment papers were made out, he “did not dare to remonstrate but accepted the five dollars bounty and my uniform and clothing and performed the duty of a soldier.”119 Banks was forced to leave behind a wife and mother who depended on his support.

  Not only did the army need soldiers, but they also needed laborers. When volunteers could not be found, Federal authorities seldom hesitated to seize black men and assign them to labor far from their homes. Impressment, therefore, also had a catastrophic impact on black families since it separated men from their wives, children, and other kin. Moreover, it subverted the economic foundation on which a stable family life rested. In some cases, even when the necessary laborers were found, Federal officials refused to pay them wages. This was an underhanded and unscrupulous practice. A group of black laborers in coastal North Carolina working on Federal fortifications was thus victimized and sent to Virginia on a similar assignment. Forty-five of these laborers petitioned the commander of Union forces in Tidewater Virginia and North Carolina to address a number of their concerns. First, they implored him to make sure that their families were provided for. In their view, they had honestly earned money that the government had withheld from them which could be used to support their families. Believing adamantly in the Union cause, the petitioners seemed hurt and humiliated by their treatment by superintendents of contrabands. They exclaimed: “Had we been asked to go to Dutch gap a large number would have gone without causeing the suffering that has been caused.” Furthermore, they added, “we are willing to go where our labour is wanted and we are ready at any time to do all we can for the government at any place and feel it our duty to help the government all we can.”120

  Black soldiers may have had problems with the mistreatment of their families by white Southerners, but they fully understood this retaliation for enlisting in Union forces. However, when Federal authorities treated their wives and children with little regard for their well-being, as in the case of evicting several hundred of them from Camp Nelson, Kentucky, and refusing to let wives visit them at camp, black soldiers were angry. How could the very government that they were fighting and dying for be racist and insensitive? Most responded to the despicable actions of the U.S. government by either writing letters to military authorities or giving sworn affidavits outlining the behavior of white military personnel. Unlike in the Confederacy-occupied South where the enlistment of black soldiers entailed separation from their families, in Union-occupied parts of the Confederacy, parents, wives, and children often lived in contraband camps near the soldiers’ quarters. As a consequence, they enjoyed a measure of security. Nevertheless, Federal commanders still sometimes refused sanctuary to the soldiers’ families and at times would even expel them from army encampments.

  Joseph Miller, a Union soldier, has provided a heart-wrenching account of his family, who for a time lived in Camp Nelson, Kentucky, until they were evicted. Since his master stated that if Miller enlisted, he would no longer sustain his wife and children, Miller brought them along when he first went to Camp Nelson to enlist in October 1864. The couple had four children who ranged in age from four to ten. The lieutenant in command at that time granted permission for his family to stay at the camp, where they remained until November 22 when a mounted guard informed his wife that she and her children would have to vacate the premises the next morning. They had no place to go, and the seven-year-old boy was very sick. Although Miller pleaded with the guard on the next day to let them remain, it was to no avail. The guard told Miller’s family that if they did not get into his wagon, he would shoot them all. Miller’s wife and children were taken away. A few hours later, Miller went in search of them and found his wife and children six miles from camp in an old meetinghouse belonging to blacks. Unfortunately, by this time, his son was dead. Miller wanted to spend the night with his family but doing so would have compromised his military obligations. Thus, he went back to camp that night but returned the next morning to bury his child.121

  The family of John Burnside, a Union soldier in Company K, 124th U.S. Colored Troops Infantry, was also evicted from Camp Nelson in November 1864. Like Miller, Burnside had brought his family along to protect them from a vindictive master who had already threatened them for giving aid to Union forces. Moreover, like most soldiers, black and white, Burnside wanted his wife nearby for moral support, and his daughter was ill. Just five days after Miller’s family was evicted, an armed guard forced Burnside’s wife and daughter into a wagon and drove them seven miles from camp to a wooded area of land owned by a Mr. Simpson. With a degree of despair, Burnside wrote, “while they were in the wood [sic] it rained hard and my family were exposed to the storm.”122 Fortunately, the efforts of soldiers such as Joseph Miller and John Burnside, who wrote affidavits detailing the expulsion of several hundred family members from Camp Nelson, were not futile. The Northern press published many of the affidavits, which became a public relations disaster for the Union army. This publicity, in addition to protests through military channels, resulted in the establishment at Camp Nelson of a “refugee home” for black soldiers’ families.123

  It should come as no surprise to learn that efforts were also made to prevent black women from visiting their men at many army camps, and these measures were employed at the same time that wives of enlisted white soldiers were allowed visitation privileges. George Buck Hanon, a black Union soldier in northern Alabama, wrote a moving letter to the commander of the military division complaining about these injustices. Hanon reached deep into his heart: “a colard man think jest as much of his wife as a white man dus of his if he is black they keep us hemd up here in side the guarde line and if your wife comes they hav to stand out side and he in side and talk across they lines that is as near as they can come.” But for white soldiers, Hanon notes, “evver offiscer here that has a wife is got her here in camps and one mans wif feel jest as near to him as anurther.”124 Echoing the same sentiments, an anonymous Kentucky Union soldier wrote about visitation: “When our wives comes to the camp and see us they are not allowed to come in camp and we are not allowed to go and See them they are drumed of[f] and the officers Says go you damned bitches.” With frustration and anguish the soldier continued, “you know that it is to much they are treated So by these officer they ought to be a friend to us and them to.”125

  White Federal officials may not have respected the wives of black soldiers or valued black family life, but black soldiers from the North and South certainly did. In fact, two of the top priorities of many black soldiers upon getting settled in camp were to inform their loved ones of the events that had transpired in their lives si
nce leaving home and, of course, to find out about the physical and financial status of family members. In order to do so, illiterate blacks had to have someone write letters for them. Humphrey, for example, a former Kentucky slave stationed at Camp Nelson, found a friend to write home for him on a weekly basis. In many of the letters, Humphrey depicted army life as superior to slavery. A high proportion of those writing letters at Camp Nelson for black soldiers were white ministers. In fact, one army chaplain wrote 150 letters to soldiers’ families in a single month, and troops crowded around John G. Fee each evening with requests. It is estimated by Sanitary Commission authorities that its representatives at Camp Nelson wrote five thousand letters for black soldiers. As expected, literate blacks were also besieged by requests for letter writing. Elijah P. Marrs was known as “that little fellow from Shelby County” who could write. When off duty, he could be found “surrounded by a number of men, each waiting his turn to have a letter written home.”126

  Sometimes they were frustrated in their efforts to obtain letters from the homefront. The following letter of John Posey of the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Infantry illustrates the disappointment felt by many black soldiers over the lack of letters from home. With sorrow, Posey wrote: “You all appear to be dead, and whether you be [so] or no, I can not tell. If you are not dead you are very careless about either friends or relations, and for writing you do not give a damn whether you all write or not.” Furthermore, “though I might write often, which I do every two or three days, and sometimes every [day], and to get [a letter] once a month—I care not [for] it.” Posey concluded, “I think it is the height of contempt.”127 An anonymous soldier in the Fifty-fifth Massachusetts Infantry lashed out at family members: “I give you to know that a letter from home is quite consoling to a soldier that can not get the news of the day. As for Uncle James I have not received the scratch of a pen, though I honored him with two [letters], and Aunt Sarah [says she] wrote three, but I never got one of them.”128