Late that night, under a white flag of truce, Colonel Wilder crossed the Confederate lines. Wilder asked for a conference with Major General Buckner, a Confederate known to him “not only [as] a professional soldier but [as] an honest gentleman.” In Buckner’s tent Wilder, who had been an unassuming Indiana businessman until the outbreak of the war, was frank. He was not a military man at all. Yet he wanted to do the right thing. Was it his duty, under the rules of the game, to surrender his badly outnumbered forces or to fight it out?
Buckner was straightforward and to the point. As he later explained, he “would not have deceived that man under those circumstances for anything.” The Union soldiers were hemmed in by six times their own number. The Rebels had enough artillery in line to demolish Wilder’s position in a few hours. But, on the other hand, Buckner advised, Wilder should fight it out if he thought the federal cause would be helped by the sacrifice of every man. Finally, Buckner took Wilder to see Major General Bragg.
Bragg was curt. Like Buckner, he too would not tell the Union commander what course to follow. But he did want Wilder to make an educated decision. Together the Confederate major general and the Yankee colonel went to inspect the Southern artillery placements. From there Bragg allowed Wilder to begin counting the number of cannon pointed toward the Union fort. Wilder did not need to count them all to realize that his position was hopeless.
Later that day he surrendered.
SOURCE: Bruce Catton, Terrible Swift Sword (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1963), p. 411.
JEFFERSON DAVIS ASSAULTED
“The president was returning with Mrs. Davis from one of the customary festivities on a flag of truce boat that had come up the James; walking the street in the night, unattended by his staff, he had to pass the front of Libby prison, where a sentinel paced, and, according to his orders, forced passengers from the sidewalk to the middle of the street. As the president, with his wife on his arm, approached him he ordered him off the pavement. ‘I am the president,’ replied Mr. Davis; ‘allow us to pass.’ ‘None of your gammon,’ replied the soldier, bringing his musket to his shoulder; ‘if you don’t get into the street I’ll blow the top of your head off.’ ‘But I am Jefferson Davis, man; I am your president—no more of your insolence,’ and the president pressed forward. He was rudely thrust back and in a moment had drawn a sword or dagger concealed in his cane and was about to rush on the insolent sentinel when Mrs. Davis flung herself between the strange combatants and by her screams aroused the officer of the guard. Explanations were made and the president went safely home. But, instead of the traditional reward to the faithful sentry that has usually graced such romantic adventures, came an order the next day to degrade the soldier and give him a taste of bread and water for his unwitting insult to the commander-in-chief of the Confederate armies.”
SOURCE: Edward A. Pollard, Life of Jefferson Davis (Philadelphia: National, 1869), pp. 155–56.
MONITOR NEVER BEAT MERRIMAC
Despite what nearly everyone believes, there never was a naval battle between two ships named the Monitor and the Merrimac. On March 9, 1862, there did occur a famous sea battle between two ironclads at Hampton Roads, Virginia; the Northern ship was indeed the celebrated Monitor. But the Southern ship was known as the Virginia, not the Merrimac. Before 1862 the vessel was a wooden steam frigate belonging to the Union and was called the Merrimac. But Confederates had seized the ship, after it had been sunk by United States sailors evacuating the Norfolk naval yard, and rechristened it the Virginia. The old name continued to be used, however; by Southerners perhaps because it went well with Monitor; by Northerners for the same reason and because they probably did not believe the Confederates had any more right to rename a Union ship than they had to secede.
SOURCE: David Donald and James Randall, The Civil War and Reconstruction, 2d ed., rev. (Boston: Little, Brown, 1969), pp. 439–44.
THE PRUDENT GENERAL
“[Confederate General Albert Sidney] Johnston’s deliberateness is illustrated by his remark to a precipitate friend who was about to run across the street in front of a carriage driving rapidly, ‘There is more room behind that carriage than in front of it.’”
SOURCE: Charles Shriner, ed., Wit, Wisdom, and Foibles of the Great (New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1918), p. 312.
RECRUITS AT EASE
A group of North Carolina recruits on picket duty near Manassas one evening in 1863 found themselves in one of the less conflict-ridden areas of the Civil War. With not a Yankee within twenty miles, the only thing they had to worry about was an inspection scheduled the next day. One of the new recruits was dismantling his gun to clean and shine it for the upcoming inspection when suddenly General Barham rode up.
“What are you doing there?” asked the general.
“Oh, I am only a kind of a sentinel. Who are you anyhow?”
“Oh, I am only a kind of a brigadier general.”
“Hold on,” exclaimed the startled recruit, “wait until I get this darned old gun together and I will give you a kind of a present arms.”
SOURCE: Melville D. Landon, Eli Perkins: Thirty Years of Wit (New York: Cassell, 1891), p. 264.
THE MAN WHO GAVE US THE WORD SIDEBURNS: CIVIL WAR GENERAL AMBROSE BURNSIDE
(Leslie’s Illustrated, October 1, 1881, p. 69.)
WHEN THE MEDAL OF HONOR COULD BE HAD CHEAPLY
In the spring of 1863 the North seemed to be losing the Civil War. All that year victory after victory had gone to the Confederacy. The situation would change shortly with the successes at Gettysburg. But in May few had real confidence in the ability of the Union to win the war.
The seriousness of the North’s position was dramatically illustrated by an extreme offer Secretary of War Edwin Stanton was forced to make to the 27th Maine Regiment. A week before Gettysburg the members of the 27th were scheduled to leave the army. But Stanton needed them to help defend the capital. Despairing that the men would not reenlist, Stanton, with the approval of Lincoln, promised that the government would award the Medal of Honor to any member of the regiment who reenlisted. Shortly thereafter, simply for reenlisting, 864 members of the 27th Maine Regiment received the prestigious medal.
In 1917 a committee called the Adverse Action Medal of Honor Board took up the cases of the 864 members of the 27th. After some consideration, the board decided that not one of the Maine soldiers should have received the famous award. The board argued that reenlisting in the army was not action “above and beyond the call of duty.” And with that the board disqualified every single medal.
SOURCE: American Heritage, October-November, 1978, p. 112.
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN AMERICANS AND ENGLISHMEN
Henry Ward Beecher, the famous preacher-Republican-abolitionist, traveled to England during the Civil War in an attempt to rally British sympathy for the Northern cause. In Manchester, England, he talked for an hour in front of a howling mob of Rebel supporters until he finally got their attention. He was again interrupted by one irate Englishman who assailed the lengthy war. “Why didn’t you whip the Confederates in sixty days, as you said you would?”
“Because,” snapped Beecher, “we found we had Americans to fight instead of Englishmen.”
SOURCE: Thomas Masson, ed., Little Masterpieces of American Wit and Humor (New York: Doubleday, Page, 1904), II, 32.
HE PROMISED NOT TO SWEAR
“One Sabbath, Rev. Dr. Nelson, of the First Presbyterian Church, was preaching earnestly upon the necessity of a pure life, exhorting the men [in Colonel Clinton Fisk’s regiment] to beware of the vices incident to the camp, and especially warning them against profanity. The Doctor related the incident of the Commodore who, whenever recruits reported to his vessel for duty, was in the habit of entering into an agreement with them that he should do all the swearing for that vessel: and appealed to the thousand Missouri soldiers in Colonel Fisk’s regiment to enter into a solemn covenant that day with the Colonel that he should do all the swearing for the Thirty-third Missouri. T
he regiment rose to their feet as one man and entered into the covenant. It was a grand spectacle.
“For several months no swearing was heard in the regiment. Col. Fisk became a Brigadier, and followed Price into Arkansas. But one evening [in February 1863] as he sat in front of his headquarters at Helena, he heard someone down in the bottom-lands near the river, swearing in the most approved Flanders style. On taking observation he discovered that the swearer was a teamster from his own headquarters, a member of his covenanting regiment, and a confidential old friend. He was hauling a heavy load of forage from the depôt to camp; his six mules had become rebellious with their overload, had run the wagon against a stump and snapped off the pole. The teamster opened his great batteries of wrath and profanity against the mules, the wagon, the Arkansas mud, the Rebels, and Jeff Davis. In the course of an hour afterwards, as the teamster was passing headquarters, the General called to him and said, ‘John, did I not hear some one swearing most terribly an hour ago down on the bottom?’
“‘I think you did, General.’
“‘Do you know who it was?’
“‘Yes, sir; it was me, General.’
“‘Do you not remember the covenant entered into at Benton Barracks, St. Louis, with Rev. Dr. Nelson, that I should do all the swearing for our old regiment?’
“‘To be sure I do, General,’ said John; ‘but then you were not there to do it, and it had to be done right off!’”
SOURCE: Edward P. Smith, Incidents of the United States Christian Commission (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1869), pp. 88–89.
THE MAN HOOKERS WERE NAMED AFTER: BRIGADIER GENERAL JOE HOOKER
(Harper’s Weekly, June 5, 1862, p. 421.)
The word “hooker” goes back before the Civil War, to the time the Dutch seaport Hook became famous for its streetwalkers. But not until the War between the States did the term become popular. At that time prostitutes south of Washington, D.C.’s Constitution Avenue began being referred to as Hooker’s Division—in honor of Joe Hooker, the Union’s preeminent paramour.
SOURCE: William Morris and Mary Morris, Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins (New York: Harper & Row, 1971), p. 290.
LINCOLN’S DOUBTS ABOUT ABUTMENTS ON THE SOUTHERN SIDE
One of Lincoln’s stories:
“I once knew a good, sound churchman, whom we’ll call Brown, who was on a committee to erect a bridge over a very dangerous and rapid river. Architect after architect failed, and at last Brown said he had a friend named Jones, who had built several bridges, and could build this. ‘Let’s have him in,’ said the committee. In came Jones. ‘Can you build this bridge, sir?’ ‘Yes,’ replied Jones; ‘I could build a bridge to the infernal regions, if necessary.’ The sober committee were horrified; but when Jones retired, Brown thought it but fair to defend his friend. ‘I know Jones so well,’ said he, ‘and he is so honest a man, and so good an architect, that, if he states soberly and positively that he can build a bridge to Hades—why, I believe it. But I have my doubts about the abutment on the infernal side.’ So [Lincoln added], when politicians said they could harmonize the Northern and Southern wings of the Democracy, why, I believed them. But I had my doubts about the abutment on the Southern side.”
SOURCE: Frank Moore, ed., The Civil War in Song and Story (New York: Collier, 1889), p. 32.
THADDEUS STEVENS’S HOT STOVE
“During the American Civil War Thaddeus Stevens warned Lincoln that Simon Cameron was not trustworthy as head of the War Department. ‘You don’t mean to say you think Cameron would steal?’ asked Lincoln. ‘No,’ was the reply, ‘I don’t think he’d steal a red-hot stove.’ Amused by this, Lincoln repeated it to Cameron, who insisted that Stevens should retract. Going to see Lincoln at the White House, Stevens said, ‘Why did you tell Cameron what I said?’—‘I thought it was a good joke: I never thought it would make him mad.’ ‘Well, he is mad and made me promise to retract. So I will. I believe I told you he would not steal a red-hot stove. I now take that back.’”
SOURCE: Daniel George, ed., A Book of Anecdotes (n.p.: Hulton Press, 1957), p. 308.
LINCOLN KEEPS PETITIONERS WAITING
“In the purlieus of the Capitol at Washington, the story goes that, after the death of Chief Justice [Roger] Taney, and before the appointment of Mr. [Salmon] Chase in his stead, a committee of citizens from the Philadelphia Union League, with a distinguished journalist at their head as chairman, proceeded to Washington, for the purpose of laying before the President the reason why, in their opinion, Mr. Chase should be appointed to the vacancy on the bench. They took with them a memorial addressed to the President, which was read to him by one of the committee. After listening to the memorial, the President said to them, in a very deliberate manner: ‘Will you do me the favor to leave that paper with me? I want it in order that, if I appoint Mr. Chase, I may show the friends of the other persons for whom the office is solicited, by how powerful an influence, and by what strong personal recommendations, the claims of Mr. Chase were supported.’
“The committee listened with great satisfaction, and were about to depart, thinking that Mr. Chase was sure of the appointment, when they perceived that Mr. Lincoln had not finished what he intended to say. ‘And I want the paper, also,’ continued he, after a pause, ‘in order that, if I should appoint any other person, I may show his friends how powerful an influence, and what strong recommendations, I was obliged to disregard in appointing him.’ The committee departed as wise as they came.”
SOURCE: Frank Moore, ed., The Civil War in Song and Story (New York: Collier, 1889), p. 440.
TARRED AND FEATHERED
When Lincoln was asked how he liked being president, he said: “You have heard the story, haven’t you, about the man who was tarred and feathered and carried out of town on a rail? A man in the crowd asked him how he liked it. His reply was that if it was not for the honor of the thing, he would rather walk.”
SOURCE: Bill Adler, Presidential Wit (New York: Trident Press, 1966), pp. 62–63.
SOUTHERN GUNS MARKED FOR THE NORTH
“General [Philip Henry] Sheridan [a Northerner] bagged two-thirds of his enemy’s force and most of the enemy’s artillery. In the previous summer . . . , as General Early kept losing gun after gun, great efforts were made to re-supply his losses by sending up fresh guns from Richmond. Upon one of these guns some wag of a Confederate soldier had chalked, ‘General Sheridan, care of General Early.’”
SOURCE: Charles Shriner, ed., Wit, Wisdom, and Foibles of the Great (New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1918), p. 566.
CONFEDERATES LEARN HOW TO USE MAGGOTS
At the Union camp in Chattanooga there were scores of wounded Federal soldiers and Confederate prisoners, but a dearth of medical supplies. Especially scarce were chloroform and lint, which were used to keep maggots out of open wounds. Of course, the chloroform was made available only to Union doctors; Confederate doctors were given nothing. Inevitably, the soldiers in gray became infested with maggots.
But a strange thing happened. Johnny Reb healed faster than Billy Yank. Even the rooms where the Southerners were housed smelled fresher and seemed healthier than the Yankee sickrooms.
Unwittingly, the Southern doctors had stumbled onto a great discovery: maggots can be useful in stopping the growth of bacteria and in keeping open wounds clean. A French surgeon had learned this in the Napoleonic Wars, but his finding had been ignored. History repeated itself at Chattanooga; Union doctors, disbelieving the obvious, continued to treat patients with chloroform.
SOURCE: Rudolph Marx, Health of the Presidents (New York: Putnam, 1960), p. 225.
SHOOTING MAKES ’EM MADDER
A reminiscence of the Civil War by Mississippi Congressman John Allen:
“Upon one occasion [a Confederate cavalry colonel] was leading his regiment in one of the most gallant retreats ever engaged in. The Yankees were riding close behind and pressing the boys everywhere. There were some indiscreet men in his command who would turn around and fire at them occa
sionally. With hat off, from the head of his regiment he turned and looked back and gave this command:
“‘Boys, stop that shooting; it just makes ’em madder.’”
SOURCE: U.S. Congress, Congressional Record (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1873–), XXV, 1495.
FIRST WITH ALMOST THE MOST IN WAR
The number-one rule in war is “You have to get there first with the most,” and the man who first verbalized it was Confederate General Nathan B. Forrest. But, as the Yankees learned, Forrest had a corollary to his rule. When one simply cannot be first with the most, improvise.
In late September 1864 the Confederate armies were almost uniformly in retreat. General Forrest, however, was leading his troops northward along the railroad from Decatur, Alabama, toward Nashville, Tennessee. Time was the most crucial factor in his attack. To disrupt Union operations elsewhere, Forrest would have to strike with speed into Tennessee.
The strongest Union post between the two cities was at Athens, Alabama. On the night of September 23, Forrest surrounded this Fort and at seven o’clock the next morning began his attack. But the general was apprehensive. A Union relief column, Confederate intelligence had reported, was already traveling south from Nashville. The Union post at Athens was well manned and well fortified. Forrest would be able to take it only with a great sacrifice of time and men. But the Confederate general had a plan.
After the Union commander, Colonel Wallace Campbell, had rejected a demand for immediate and unconditional surrender, Forrest proposed a personal meeting between the two leaders to prevent further needless bloodshed. Campbell agreed and left his fort to meet Forrest. The Confederate general then accompanied his guest on an inspection of the Rebel troops. Together, they traversed the encircled fort, counting Confederate men and artillery. Each time the visitors left a particular detachment, however, the Rebel soldiers, according to Forrest’s prearranged orders, would pack up and move to another position, artillery and all. Pretty soon, Forrest and Campbell would arrive at the new encampment and continue to tally the number of Rebel soldiers and guns. By the time he returned to his fort, Colonel Campbell had visited over eight thousand Southern troops, both cavalry and infantry. All were supplied with ample artillery. Unaware of the advancing relief column, Campbell rode back to his command and exclaimed, “The jig is up; pull down the flag.”
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