Within a matter of hours news of John Brown’s attack on Harper’s Ferry had gotten out to neighboring towns via telegraph and word of mouth. While attending a ball in Winchester, George Kurtz of the Continental Morgan Guard was made aware of Brown’s raid. Kurtz and Captain Hugh Low gathered their militiamen, departed the celebration, and headed for the train station.
Members of the Continental Morgan Guard militia unit hurried to the corner of Market and Water Street and boarded the passenger cars belonging to the Winchester and Potomac Railroad. Nobody recorded which locomotive was tasked for the journey. Each of the engines had names though including Ancient, Pocohontas, Farmer, President, Virginia, and Potomac. One of these was quickly pressed into service. The chief engineer, Thomas Robinson Sharp, would pilot the train on its thirty-two-mile journey to Harpers Ferry.
Norris 4-4-0 locomotive like the Ancient, Virginia and Potomac locomotive.
Once at Harper’s Ferry the company disembarked from the train and headed for the armory. They quickly surrounded the firehouse where John Brown was holed up. One member of the unit wrote, “we were in a skirmish line with our guns at port, our thumb on the hammer, and finger on the trigger”. They would remain in the town serving as backup to Robert E. Lee and his team of marines who were tasked with the job of securing the firehouse. The marines would punch a hole in the door of the structure, enter the building, and capture Brown and his band of insurrectionists. The squad of militiamen would remain in the area to until after the trial and execution of Brown and his accomplices to ensure nobody would conduct an operation to free the conspirators.
The Continental Morgan Guard, or Company A 31st Virginia Militia, had begun organizing on June 22, 1855, in Winchester, Virginia. The unit adopted uniforms resembling the pattern of the Continental Army. “The coats were made of blue wool with buff casimire trim. They wore white doe skin breeches, black top boots, buff casimire waist coats, and black tri-corner hats. The hats were trimmed with the brass numbers 1776 on them, a powder horn device made of brass on a leather cockade, and a flowing white swan plume. They also wore white ruffled shirts and white gloves to complete the outfit.”
Continental Guard and Soldier in Regular Dress.
Each member was required to secure for himself a uniform within sixty days of his election to the company. “It was an expensive outfit, costing more than some could afford. Much effort was expended in helping the volunteers with expenses, however. On April 3rd, 1857, for example, “the ladies of Winchester held a fair for the benefit of the ‘CMG’. The proceeds were enough to uniform fifteen new members who couldn’t pay for the cost of the uniforms otherwise.”
On April 18, 1861, just six days after the firing on Fort Sumter, the “Continental Morgan Guards” enlisted in the Confederate Army. “On June 4th, they would become the oldest company assigned to the 5th Virginia Infantry CSA as Company K with 133 officers and men.
The 5th Infantry Regiment would be commanded by 59-year-old Colonel Kenton Harper. Harper had worn many hats including “newspaper editor, soldier, Indian agent, plantation owner, banker and politician.” He was also an officer of the Virginia militia which was then the U.S. Army during the Mexican War. Eight days after having been given command of the 5th Virginia he helped General William H Harman lead a force of 2,400 men to seize the U.S. Army arsenal located at Harper’s Ferry. Four thousand muskets and thousands of tools were taken and sent to Tredegar Iron Works in Richmond to aid the war effort.
As far as the makeup of the regiment eight companies of the 5th Virginia Infantry would come from Augusta County and two from Frederick. On April 27, 1861, the 2nd, 4th, 5th, 27th, and 33rd Virginia infantry regiments, along with the Rockbridge Artillery Battery, were combined into what was to be called “Virginia’s First Brigade” and placed under the command of Brigadier General Thomas J. Jackson. During the war, the members would serve under Generals Thomas Jackson, Richard Garnett, John Winder, Elisha Paxton, John Walker, and William Terry.
Four companies from the regiment, including Company K, saw their first action at the Battle of Hoke’s Run, also known as the Battle of Falling Waters or Hainesville, which took place on July 2, 1861, in Berkeley County. The fighting was more a skirmish than a battle. Losses were light with the regiment suffering a total of eight casualties. Company K had just one of its members wounded.
In mid-July the 1st Brigade was ordered to join the main confederate army at Manassas. Outsmarting and outmaneuvering their Union adversary, General Robert Patterson, the unit departed from Winchester on July 18, marching thirty miles to Piedmont. Following breakfast, the soldiers were loaded onto railway cars belonging to the Manassas Gap Railroad for the thirty-four-mile train ride to Manassas. Disembarking at the junction the brigade marched to the battlefield and went into camp near Blackburn’s and Mitchell’s Ford, occupying the Confederate right flank along Bull Run.
Map of Bull Run Battlefield showing the 5th Virginia on the right of Jackson’s Line.
As the fighting began to heat up on the Confederate left flank on July 21, the 5th Virginia was sent to the right to reinforce Longstreet while the rest of the brigade marched two miles to the left of the line. When it became clear that the action at the fords was a feint, the 5th trooped to Henry House Hill and fell in on the brigade’s right flank. Jackson’s “instructions were to wait, fire, and charge the enemy as they appeared over the crest, about fifty yards in front.”
Soldiers from Generals Bee and Evans’ Brigades were eventually forced to retreat from their advanced position. As they did so General Barnard Bee’s big moment came as he attempted to halt the retreat of his own soldiers. One story says Bee questioned Colonel Kenton Harper of the 5th Virginia asking: “What troops are these?” Harper replied, “Fifth Virginia Regiment, Jackson’s Brigade.” Bee turned and shouted to his men: “Rally men, rally! Look! These Virginians stand like a stone wall.” In doing so he gave the Brigade and Jackson their famous moniker.
About 2 p.m. Griffin’s and Ricketts’ Batteries were sent to an exposed position on the right of the Union line. A duel ensued between these guns and those belonging to General Jackson. The 33rd regiment advanced toward the guns and released a volley that devastated the union gunners. Jackson presently ordered a charge with the bayonet. “Yelling like furies” the 5th Regiment joined the rest of the brigade charging toward the enemy.
When the charge was ordered on the Union artillery in their front every company in the 5th Virginia claimed to be the first to reach the guns. Undoubtedly the members of Company K were mixed in with the crowd. The assault marked the climax of the Battle of Bull Run. The regiment suffered moderate casualties in the fighting. Of the 570 members of the regiment on the field that day there were 39 casualties. Eleven were killed and twenty-eight were injured. Company K suffered just four wounded.
Accounts from the battle tell us there were grey and blue uniforms worn by both adversaries during the battle. Both sides had contingents that sported colorful Zouave uniforms. “Many of their units donned all-gray outfits; many other poorer companies wore civilian clothes. Brigadier Generals Thomas Jackson and Barnard Bee, for example, dressed in their U.S. Regular Army dark blue uniforms.” “The thick black smoke made it extremely difficult for the commanders to identify the enemy. Rather than identify the gray clad regiments, officers ordered their men to fire.” “Friendly fire thus killed or wounded many Soldiers,” maybe even Brigadier General Bee.
What we do know from records left behind, the members of Company K were dressed in their unique Revolutionary War garb during this their first major battle. We cannot be certain, however, if the tradition carried on throughout the war. What we do know is the company would fight with Jackson in his famous Valley Campaign at Kernstown, 1st Winchester, and Port Republic. They would participate in all the campaigns of the Army of Northern Virginia throughout the war. The company would surrender fewer than a dozen of the 92 men left in the regiment at Appomattox Court House. Regardless of how they were clothed, members of Company K gave their all for the cause in which they believed.
5th Virginia Infantry. H. E. Howard, Inc. Lynchburg, Va. 1988.
In the previous two parts of this series, we chronicled the case of a lost Hoosier horseman and the murder/execution of John F. Haines and Samuel Beyler. This latter event is an example of the internecine war that the American Civil War was noted for. Two men, in their sixties, being killed for no other reason than an affinity for the Union, was a reprehensible but common occurrence. Just as common were the injustices perpetuated by Unionists upon supporters of the Confederacy. It is easy to forget, however, that there are survivors from each of these atrocities and they had to continue to live after the events. So it was for the families of Haines and Beyler.
Post Killings
For Harriett Haines, devastated by the death of her husband, her sorrow was alleviated somewhat by the arrival of her son Ellis, from California. We don’t know if Ellis returned because of the long exile from home, the war, or some other reason. We do know that Ellis returned to Milford just days after the family learned of his father’s death.
Ellis realized that staying in Milford would be dangerous for him. As a known Unionist of military age, he could be arrested and suffer the same fate as his father or conscripted into the Confederate army. Though painful for him and his family, after just a few days at home, he left for Winchester.
Just weeks before, a Luray native, John Sailor, had been in town as a member of Company K, 10th Virginia Infantry. A veteran of a year in the army, he was part of Jackson’s army. A fellow member of Company K was Thornton Beyler, the eldest son of Samuel Beyler. The day after the deaths of Thornton’s father and John Haines, May 23rd, Sailor was reported to have “deserted to the cavalry.” This was a common occurrence, especially when a young man could get a horse and horse equipment.
Sailor was a married man and worked as a wagoner before the war. He was prosperous enough to own a slave boy, age 10 in 1860. Having fought at First Manassas and McDowell, the visit to his home may well have afforded him the opportunity to outfit himself and head out to join the cavalry.
It is also likely that he knew John Haines, given his occupation. As a wagoner, essentially a hauler of goods for other people, it is possible that he would have hauled items to or from Haines’ mill. Regardless, the date of his desertion will gain more significance later in our narrative.
So three young men, tied together by locale and events beyond their control continued on with their lives in the chaos of war.
Ellis Haines was seething with anger and yearned to avenge his father’s death. Knowing the roads, pathways, and people of the Page and Shenandoah Valleys were vital skills needed by both sides. The knowledge that he was the son of a Unionist who had been killed while in Confederate hands made it easy to believe that his sentiments were with the Union. Just days after leaving Milford, he was hired as a scout for the Union cavalry at Front Royal. “Scout” was a generic term for guide, scout, or spy. Oftentimes they wore Confederate gray and passed themselves off as members of the confederate army or as partisans.
Moving quickly into his role, in late June, 1862, he received a flesh wound to his calf around Front Royal. For the following months, he served as a scout for General William Averell’s Union cavalry division. In June, 1863, while reporting to the commander at Winchester, General Robert Milroy, he was badly wounded in the hip and groin in a skirmish near the town.
Union Scout
Apparently, Haines success and notoriety as a scout was well known by Confederates in the area. While recuperating from his wounds in Winchester’s Taylor Hotel, a Confederate named Overall (perhaps a former neighbor from Milford) unsuccessfully offered a man $500 to unlock Haines’ room door so that Overall could kill him.
For Thornton Beyler, his war continued after learning of his father’s death on his brief visit home in May, 1862. By the middle of 1863 he had fought at Port Republic and Cross Keys, marched across Virginia and fought in the Seven Day’s battles, Cedar Mountain, 2nd Bull Run, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, and Gettysburg. So far, he had escaped injury and stood resolutely in the ranks, perhaps to make amends for the Unionist feelings of his father.
John Sailor, the young man who deserted the day after the killing of Haines and Beyler, may have had good reason to take off. There is no record of which cavalry unit Sailor joined, or whether he joined. He was heard to say that he had left Confederate service because his unit had been disbanded. In all likelihood, he may have joined any number of “partisan” groups that roamed the Valley. Regardless, his disappearance may have been for a far more sinister reason.
Months later, at a holiday party at Landon Racy’s home in Frederick County, Sailor bragged about being a part of the group that had killed Haines and Beyler. He also boasted of taking part in the murder of captured Union “Jessie” scouts. Word got back to General Milroy in Winchester and a squad was sent out to arrest Sailor before he left the area. He was captured and imprisoned in Winchester, there to await trial.
On February 5, 1863, a military commission was sworn in and the trial of John Sailor began. Over the next two weeks, the commission heard testimony from four individuals. Philip Byers gave the only testimony that pointed to Sailor being a killer in Luray. The following is Byers’ trial transcript.
(Q) Were you ever acquainted with John F. Haines and Samuel Bealer?
(A) I was intimately acquainted with John Haines, but I was not with Bealer.
(Q) Where did Haines reside?
(A) In or about Milford in Page or Warren County.
(Q) Is he living or dead now?
(A) I heard he was dead.
(Q) From whom did you hear that Haines is dead?
(A) I heard it through different sources. Sailor told me so.
(Q) Did he tell you how he came to his death?
(A) Sailor said we took him out and killed him (Haines) and also Bealer.
(Q) Did he state for what cause(A) He said they were Union men?
(Q) Did he state why Bealer was killed?
(A) I (was) speaking of both, Sailor said they were Union men.
(Q) Where was this conversation had?
(A) It took place just after holidays at the house of Landon Racy’s in Frederick County.
Byers also spoke of the murder of 8 Union scouts.
“He (Sailor) said that 8 Federal scouts had been captured and he said we took them out and shot them and I think he said they were shot before Jackson came up. He said the scouts plead (pleaded) for mercy. I asked him how he could shoot men who begged for mercy. He said I or we ( I’m not sure which) shot them like dogs and I believe he said like damned dogs. ”
When queried as to the identity of the scouts, the witness reply, “They were Jessie scouts.”
In further testimony by Byers, it was intimated that Sailor had been involved with the party host’s wife.
(Q) Are you acquainted with Sailor’s character as a quiet and peaceable Citizen and, if so, is it good or bad/
(A) So far as my own knowledge is concerned I have seen nothing amiss except his being too intimate with Landon Racy’s wife which I know and warned him of and he still persisted and she went off with him. I understand through some of Sailor’s wife’s friends that Sailor is inattentive to his family.
This provoked the only questions from Sailor during the entire trial.
(Q) (Asked by the Defendant) Did you ever know of Racy’s wife leaving Racy before?
(A) She did leave him before.
(Q) (asked by Defendant) State whether she left on my account that time?
(A) She left before I knew Sailor was in the neighborhood.
(Q) (asked by Defendant) Did you hear she left to meet Kline?
(A) I did not.
(Q) (asked by Defendant) Was Kline and Mrs. Racy intimate?
(A) I heard so. I do not know.
(Q) (asked by Defendant) Did Kline stop at your house pass himself off as Orndorff?
(A) He did.
(Q) (asked by Defendant) Have you any proof I killed those scouts?
(A) I have no proof except what you told me.
(Q) (asked by Defendant) Do you remember that I told you that the Louisianans took and killed Haines and Bealer?
(A) I do not. I remember that you told me that the Louisianans killed Clen(?) at the fort.
The commission adjourned and delivered their verdict on February 22.
“The undersigned detailed by your order to act as a Military Commission to examine into, and report upon the case John W. Sailor late of Page County, was charged with the murder of John F. Haines and Samuel Bealer, late citizens of Page County Va.; and eight members of the Corps of the United States army denominated Scouts. Beg leave to report, that they assembled in Winchester according to your order and after being duly sworn in presence of said Sailor and no objections being made by him to any Member of Said Commission, they proceeded to hear Such evidence as could be procured (a copy of which evidence is herewith returned) and upon a careful Consideration thereof do find that Said Haines and Bealer came to their death by violence at the hands of Said Sailor and his confederates unknown to this commission. And that the only reason thereof was their attachment to the Constitution and the government of the United States, that they were murdered sometime in the summer of 1862 in the county of Page and State of Virginia. We further find that Said Sailor aided by others unknown to this Commission did sometime in the summer of 1862 while they were prisoners of war, kill and murder eight soldiers in the Service of the United States, belonging to that Corps denominated Jessie Scouts this being done in the county of Page or Frederick Va. They further find That Said Sailor was prior to December25th, 1862 in service of the rebel army.
Therefore the said court finding John Sailor alias John W. Sailor, guilty of aiding and assisting in the crime of murder of the said John F. Haines, Samuel Bealer, and the said Scouts as he stands charged, do sentence him, the Said Sailor to suffer Death by hanging at such time and place as may be directed by the President of the United States.”
Of interest is the location of the Jessie scout murders. Page and Frederick counties are not contiguous. This lack of specificity is striking, given the severity of the charges. It could have been written “the murders were committed somewhere within a 25-30 mile radius of Front Royal at an unknown time by the defendant and other unknown individuals.” Yet, he was found guilty of these murders.
As stated in the last sentence, the final arbitrator of the sentence was the President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln was well known to find all kinds of reasons to commute death sentences, particularly in military law cases. However, this was more than sleeping on duty or harming oneself to avoid service. Sailor was found guilty of participating in the murder of 10 men, two of them civilians well past military age.
When the Judge Advocate General of the United States Army, Joseph Holt, met with Lincoln, he was troubled by the scanty evidence and various legal improprieties exhibited in the trial transcript. Having been appointed in September, 1862 Holt felt that any sentence of death had to held to high legal standard. Lincoln, of a similar mind, agreed with Holt. On March 16, Holt issued this remarkable ruling:
“This record is regarded as fatally defective. It does not appear that the general order convening the commission was read to the prisoner or in his hearing or that he had an opportunity to object to any members of the commission nor does it appear that the charge against him was in writing or that he had in advance of the examination of the witnesses any knowledge of the offense for which he was to be tried; Nor is it shown that the prisoner was allowed to plead to the charge against him, as recited in the General Order convening the Commission. In a proceeding involving Life, such irregularities are wholly inexcusable and make the execution of the death sentence legally impossible.”
Holt
Judge Adv Genl
Report approved.
Lincoln
Sailor had escaped a death sentence. It is highly likely, however, that he realized he was a marked man, for within two months he had enlisted in the UNION army. Why would he join his enemy and the prosecutor of his murder sentence? Was it a condition of his release? Given his history, why didn’t he desert from the Union army at his first opportunity? We may never know the answers to these questions.
We do know that Thornton joined the 3rd West Virginia Mounted Infantry which was later designated the 6th West Virginia Cavalry. He was quickly identified as having scout potential and assigned to the Union Second Cavalry Division, commanded by Brigadier General William Averell.
So, by mid-1863, the sons of Haines and Beyler were enlisted and fighting for their respective causes. John Sailor, the convicted murderer of their fathers, was free and fighting for the Union after starting the war as a Confederate soldier. Ellis Haines was serving in a similar capacity as Sailor and Beyler continued in the ranks of the 10th Virginia Infantry. As 1864 began, these three lives changed, once again.
End of War
Ellis Haines had become an accomplished scout. Serving with Milroy and the Union forces in the lower Shenandoah Valley, he transferred to Averell’s cavalry command. Remarkably, quartermaster records indicate that Haines and Sailor were paid by the same quartermaster in West Virginia for a short time. It is unknown if either knew of the connection between them.
In June, his unlucky month, Ellis Haines received his third wound of the war while scouting in Abb’s Valley, West Virginia. A minie ball shattered both right forearm bones. Haines’ wound ended his active military service. He was discharged from his duties in November, 1864 and paid $400 upon separation. However, he was briefly re-enrolled and served at Army of the Shenandoah headquarters from April through June, 1865.
John Sailor continued to serve the Union cause and appears to have been effective. Payroll records show Sailor being paid as a scout throughout 1863 and 1864. When the war ended, the 6th West Virginia Cavalry was ordered to Kansas for duty on the western frontier until their three year enlistment ended. Sailor, since he was on detached duty, did not make the trip to Kansas but was mustered out in Washington D.C. in 1866.
Thornton Beyler’s Confederate service came to an end at Spotsylvania Courthouse on May, 1864 where he was captured in the terrible fighting around the infamous “Mule Shoe” salient. Within days, he had been transferred to Point Lookout, Maryland, a prison camp on the very tip of Maryland’s Eastern Shore where the Chesapeake Bay meets the Atlantic Ocean. A godforsaken piece of land, Beyler decided to accept an alternative to harsh life in prison.
It was fortuitous for Beyler that the United States Army was recruiting from Confederate prisoners for the 1st United States Volunteers. In total, six regiments were raised and sent to the western frontier to protect families and United States interests. The 1st U. S. Volunteers’ first duty, however, was along the North Carolina coast where they did face their former comrades on the battlefield. General Ulysses Grant never did fully trust the former prisoners of war fighting their former friends. When the cries for protection on the western frontier became incessant, he gladly sent the U.S. Volunteers west.
Beyler would march west with the 1st United States Volunteers as a “Galvanized Yankee” – a term to describe Confederates in gray putting on the Yankee blue. Thornton served in Minnesota and Kansas before muster out in November, 1865 as a sergeant.
Post War
Harriett Haines, our heroine in part one, left Milford and, for a time lived in Washington DC. In the 1870’s she filed a claim Southern Claims Commission, a government entity charged with re-imbursing “Southern Loyalists” for damages incurred during the war. Ironically, the wife of a murdered Unionist and mother of a Union scout was denied payment. In her later years, Harriett lived with her son Ellis near Winchester. In her final years, she moved to Woodstock with her daughter, Harriett, the young chronicler of her father’s death back in 1862. She died there in 1882 and is buried in the Reformed Cemetery in Woodstock.
Ellis Haines had been badly injured during his time as a scout. His arm was so badly damaged as to make the limb nearly useless. His wound from 1863 in the hip and groin caused him constant pain. Despite this, Ellis married in November, 1865 and was named Jailer of the Frederick County jail.
Looking for something more substantial for support, he turned to the national government in hopes of employment. In 1867, he applied for the superintendency of the National Cemetery being established in Winchester. His recommendations were impressive, coming from Generals Robert Milroy, William Averell and Alfred Torbert. Citizens of the community chimed in with their support, but to no avail. Haines was denied the post on a technicality. The letter rejecting his application stated that he did not meet the criteria of being a former enlisted or commissioned officer in the Union army. Ellis’ service had always been as a civilian. For a time, he later engaged in the harness making business.
Ellis also looked for support from another source. As early as 1867, Haines was pursuing a pension from the United States government. A Congressional act provided him $8 a month which was increased to $14 in 1871. He settled down, got married and raised six children. He died in 1909.
Mt. Olive United Methodist Church Hayfield, Va.
Thornton Beyler served quietly on the frontier and withstood the severe winters of Minnesota and the constant threat of Indian attack. When he came back from his service as a Galvanized Yankee he decided a fresh start was needed. Perhaps he was concerned about his reception back in Luray after serving in the Union Army. He eventually settled in Wirt County, West Virginia, got married and raised 11 children while farming. He died there in 1902 at the age of 61.
Beulah Humble Presbyterian Church Elizabeth, WV
John Sailor found civilian life boring and enlisted in the 5th U.S. Cavalry in 1867. He served in the Army on the western frontier for a number of years before returning to Winchester around 1881 and marrying a local woman. Interestingly, there is no record of a divorce from his first wife. During his last years, he drove a bus for the Taylor Hotel and was known as quite a storyteller from his time out West. John died in 1906 and was buried in the National Cemetery in Winchester.
Winchester National Cemetery, Winchester, Va.
It seems plausible that Ellis Haines and John Sailor would have known of each other as Winchester was not a large city at that time. I can’t help but wonder if they bumped into each other, perhaps swapping stories from their times as scouts. Did Ellis know of the charges and conviction of John Sailor? Were either or both members of the GAR?
Finally, there still remains the ultimate questions. Who really killed John F. Haines and Samuel Beyler on May 22, 1862 in Luray? Was it ordered? By whom? Were the killings committed by local vigilantes? The quest for the truth continues.
As we come to the end of part 3, I hope you enjoyed this journey through little known events of the Civil War in the Page Valley and some of the individuals whose lives were so impacted by this tragic era of American history. My thanks to Peter Dalton for allowing me to tell the story. It is a story that I will continue to research and, Peter allowing, will update you with any new information about the protagonists in Page County War in a future blog posting.
Sources for part 3 include obituaries of the individuals, Court Martial records, Quartermaster records, and individual service records in the National Archives, contemporary newspapers, and family histories. If you wish to know the source of a particular piece of information contained in any of the three parts, contact me at jagoecker@yahoo.com for the source. Likewise, if you have information about this tragedy, feel free to contact me.
Jim Goecker is the author of “Hoosier Spies and Horse Marines: A History of the 3rd Indiana Cavalry, East Wing,” available from McFarland Publishing or your online book source.
In the first installment of this series, I told of a Hoosier cavalryman lost in the Page Valley. For twenty-four hours William Watlington wandered about encountering guerilla bands, Mosby’s men, and the kindness of a rare Unionist woman who provided him vital help in eluding guerillas. His savior was a middle aged woman, Harrett Haines, who Watlington eulogized in his 1925 edition of his memoirs. Twelve years prior in 1913, he had visited Milford in the Page Valley in hopes of finding and thanking Harriett for her help 50 years ago. To his sorrow, he learned that Mrs. Haines had died in 1882.
There the story could have ended until research about Harriett revealed much more. The story of how Harriett Haines came to be in Milford and her Unionist views reveals a more sordid history. One has to go back to the fall of 1860 and the election of Abraham Lincoln to understand Harriett’s motives.
Harriett Haines was born to a Pennsylvania Quaker family as Harriett Frye. She married John F. Haines and moved to the tiny burg of Milford, Virginia (present day Overall). This small cluster of houses was located in the Page Valley on the border between Warren County and Page County. There, the family grew and prospered. Census records of 1850 show Haines with real estate valued at over $1,500 and a growing family – Ellis, William, Harriett, and Daniel. Also living with them was Phoebe Fadeley, a teenage free black girl.
By 1860, the Haines were running a mill in Milford. The eldest son, Ellis, age 20, had left home with a cousin for California. William, 17, Harriett, 15, Daniel 13 were still at home helping with the mill. Phoebe, now 25, still lived with them along with her two children, Andrew, 3, and Bird, 3 months.
We know little of John Haines’ involvement in the political fever in the years before secession. We know that he had started life as a Quaker but had converted to Methodism. The fact that a young freed black woman lived with the family as early as 1850 may speak to John and Harriett’s Quaker upbringing.
The presidential election of 1860 featured several candidates from the splintered Democratic Party and the new Republican Party. Lincoln was seen in the South as a radical candidate. County election returns of 1860 for Warren and Page counties showed little interest in the upstart political party or its candidate. Not one vote was cast for Lincoln in either county.
Yet, John F. Haines had seen something in the Republican platform and Abraham Lincoln for, in February, 1861, he departed Milford for Washington D.C. and the inauguration of Lincoln. Meanwhile, several southern states had formed the new Confederate States of America. As Haines traveled north to Washington, delegates were convening in Richmond to consider the question of joining the breakaway states.
Upon arrival in the capital, Haines was now over a hundred miles from home in an increasingly volatile political environment. Back in Page County, word had spread about where Haines had gone and for what purpose. His family became targets of local secessionists who warned them that John had better not return home. If he did, they were told, the elder Haines would pay for his support of the Union and Lincoln.
Harriett was able to get word to John not to return due to the threats. As John waited in Washington, Virginia was exploring its options. On April 4, the convention in Richmond held its first vote on secession and it was defeated. The delegates from Warren, Page, and neighboring Shenandoah counties voted for secession – the only Valley county delegates to do so. Two weeks later, after the attack on Fort Sumter, everything had changed. Lincoln called for volunteers to put down the rebellion – just the type of radical behavior the delegates in Virginia feared. On April 17, a second vote for secession was held and passed. Virginia was leaving the Union. All around the Valley, men rallied to the secession cause and military units began to form. In Luray, Company K of the 10th Virginia Infantry was mustered in early June.
For what was hoped to be a short time, John F. Haines continued to live in Washington, hoping to be able to return home. Instead, the war grew more violent and widespread with no end in sight. Over 16 months after leaving home, however, the opportunity to return seemed eminent.
Union troops had had success in the western theater of war. McClellan and the Army of the Potomac had advanced up the Peninsula to within a few miles of Richmond. In the Valley, “Stonewall” Jackson was stopped at First Kernstown in March of 1862 and retreated south. Union troops were following him and Haines took the chance to return home after an absence of over a year. Moving to the Valley (probably Winchester) he learned that a Union column would be marching up the Page Valley. Haines attached himself to the Union division commanded by Brigadier General James Shields in hopes of reaching home.
Brigadier General James Shields
On May 10, 1862, John was finally reunited with his family in Milford. One can only imagine their elation after being separated for nearly 16 months. Likewise, it is difficult to imagine the shock when, four days later, Shields and his men came marching back north and down the Valley.
This abrupt change in fortune was precipitated by Shields’ division being ordered to Fredericksburg. Shields stopped for a couple of hours to visit with Haines on the return march and encouraged him to go back north with the Union forces. The general knew that if Haines stayed in Milford, it would be hard for him. Haines thanked the general but stated that he would stay one more night as he had a cold. This decision would prove to be fatal.
Secessionist retribution came swiftly. His daughter would later write in a letter to a relative:
“…when Gen. Shields’ Division moved down this Valley, father thought he would leave with them; but thought he would stay till morning, as it was raining all day and he did not feel well, and all of Shields’s force had not got to Front Royal before eighteen of the rebels rode up here, arrested father, and guarded him all night. They would not let any of us go out of the house. Next morning they took him to Luray…”
The arresting group was also described in another source as “Louisiana Tigers”. Confederate General Richard Ewell’s command, in Luray at this time, did indeed, include the famed Louisiana Tigers. Another source says that the group was commanded by a Lieutenant Cox. Separately, about the same time, Samuel Beyler of Oak Hill was arrested and taken to Luray.
Little is known of Beyler. What we do know of him pre-war includes his surprise election as a local official in January, 1860. A report in an Alexandria newspaper stated “…Captain Beyler is an Old Line Whig and a man of fine talents. There were three strong Democrats running against him…(He) got a majority over all his competitors combined. The excitement was very great, he being the first Whig as was ever elected in this district.”
This “man of fine talents” seemed different than the one described in the divorce proceedings from his wife. Within the record posted the same month as his election, she alleged Beyler had beaten her, threatened to kill her, and imposed psychological and verbal abuse. The divorce decree indicated that Beyler’s wife was the owner of their land as a gift from her father. The land, as was customary for the times, were held in trust and was administered by a trustee. Samuel found himself with little to show for their 25+ years of marriage.
Beyler’s son, Thornton, had enlisted in Company K, 10th Virginia Infantry in June 1861, indicating that not all of his family were northern sympathizers. It is unknown if Thornton was a secessionist or swept up in the fervor of war and the pressured to join his friends. He did, however serve faithfully in the ranks having fought at First Manassas and in the Valley with Jackson. Among Thornton’s company mates was local wagoner John Sailor (an important figure in Part 3). Thornton and his comrades of the 10th Virginia Infantry had a homecoming in Luray in mid-May.
After defeating the Union army of John Sigel at McDowell on May 8, Jackson consolidated his forces around Luray and New Market. The connecting New Market Gap allowed him the option of moving north through the Page Valley or the Shenandoah Valley.
In the meantime, Union General Nathaniel Banks’ army was inching its way south from Winchester. Learning that Banks was as far south as Strasburg, Jackson saw an opportunity to defeat Banks. Jackson intended to march down the Page Valley – out of sight of Banks – rout a small Union force at Front Royal, race north to the Valley Turnpike, cut Banks off from Winchester, and bag the entire Union army. Jackson’s men started south flowing through the Gap to consolidate the army.
The short distance from Milford and Jackson’s first target of Front Royal was barely 10 miles. That Haines would be detained made military sense. He had arrived back home after 16 months in enemy territory in the company of an invading army. He was known to have sympathy for the enemy. Given his local knowledge, it is probable that Haines had given Shields information about the geography and roads of the area. Having someone like Haines along one’s invasion route was dangerous. Being detained by the military made sense.
There was no known application of civil law. No charges were filed, there was no trial, the men saw no judge – at least there is no record. Ultimately it appears that Haines and Beyler were held for military expediency. Though their ages – Beyler was 64 while Haines was 62 – made it unlikely for them to pose a threat individually, their knowledge and previous actions required them to be sequestered for the immediate future.
On the morning of May 22, barely 24 hours after Shields’ departure from Luray, Jackson began his march to Front Royal. Left behind were the two civilians in the Luray jail. No longer needed for military purposes, the prisoners would have reverted to civilian control. By that evening, no Confederate troops remained in Luray.
Colonel Turner Ashby
What happened next is confusing and includes several different versions of events. Some family members believed that the order of execution had come from Colonel Turner Ashby. In letters to relatives, reprinted in the Baltimore American and Sunbury (PA) Gazette, Haines’ daughter stated:
“…and by order of Col. Ashby, three of his men took father and another man out in the night and shot them, never burying them until Shield’s Division came up again…”
“…Jackson’s army passed down this valley and Col. Ashby ordered him (Haines) to be shot, and another Union man; and they took them out after night and shot them – did not even bury them…”
The Philadelphia Inquirer reported a different version of events based on an interview with one of John Haines’ sons:
“The General (Shields) has information that, at a meeting of several citizens of Luray, the question was discussed what should be done with these men, and a vote taken to put them to death. One of the men, who demanded the key of the jailor and was concerned in the murder, is named Gibbons. (Gibbons was the father of the colonel of the locally raised 10th Virginia who had been killed at McDowell.) He formerly lived neighbor to Haynes…”
As to who did the killings, again, there are varying stories. As mentioned above, one story was that the elder Gibbons was behind the murders. Another account written by Lt. Colonel Franklin Sawyer of the 8th Ohio Volunteer Infantry appeared in the Fremont (OH) Intelligencer and described the killings in detail:
“They were taken out of the jail at midnight under pretense of being sent to Richmond, marched about two miles into the woods, and there told that they were to be shot. They were in charge of five citizens of Luray, one of whom was a Baptist preacher. Haynes asked for permission to pray and did so. His prayer was so affecting that the hearts of two of the murderers failed, and one of them seeing this, stepped up and shot Haynes while on his knees, and another one immediately shot Beeler. The bodies were left unburied until our army went up there. Our chaplain, Dr. Freeman, visited Mrs. Haynes yesterday, and tells me that she has not left her bed since the murder of her husband was learned by her.”
Lt. Colonel Franklin Sawyer
Other post war accounts pointed to other individuals. Who did the execution/murder? Were they ordered by military authority? Was there a civil trial condemning them to death? Was it vigilantism? There is no conclusive answer. What is known is that John F. Haines, age 62, and Samuel Beyler, age 64, on the night of May 22, were taken out of the jail, marched out of town southwest about a mile to the “Boneyard Woods” and shot. Their bodies were left where they fell, unburied, to be ravished by nature. It was not until the return of General Shields’ division over two weeks later on June 7 that the families learned the fate of Haines and Beyler.
Shields – livid about the killings – momentarily considered burning Luray down in retaliation before being dissuaded. Having just visited the Haines family on the way to Luray and learning of John’s arrest, he had promised to release the elder Haines when he reached Luray. Now, he wrote a personal message of condolences to the family and dispatched the quartermaster of the 1st Rhode Island Cavalry to inform the family and deliver the note.
The remains were retrieved and given proper burial, though it is not certain where. It is certainly possible that they were buried at the execution site, given the probable condition of the corpses. There is a stone simply marked “S.B.” – which might be Samule Beyler – that stands in a small family cemetery near Oak Hill. There is no record of any stone in Page County for John Haines. If buried by the family, it is probable he was buried near the family home in Milford. The truth is, nobody knows.
While we do not know about the Beyler family, we know that the Haines family was devastated. Harriett – William Watlington’s future savior – was prostrated by grief. Again, we return to the Haines’ daughter, 15 year old Hariett for the raw details of her mother’s grief. In a letter to a relative, Harriett reported:
“…My poor mother is lying very low. It has almost killed her. She was insensible for more than an hour and half the other day. Gen. Shields has been very kind to us. He sent a doctor fifteen miles to see mother. The doctor thought she was somewhat better. All the soldiers have been very kind to us. It was very hard for me to give up my dear father; I hope God will support us in this great affliction, and enable me to bear up under it, for the sake of mother; and that God will spare her to get well again, as she is my only hope. From you cousin, Harriett”
The story of the killings was reported widely in the northern press as far away as Cleveland, Ohio, Louisville, Kentucky, and Boston Massachusetts. Several Union soldiers remarked on them in letters home or in post-war reminiscences.
So what happened in Luray in May, 1862? That it was unusual for this time is, unfortunately, not true. There are other killings based solely on Union fealty recounted in these same letters and newspaper articles. What makes this one stand out is the breadth of coverage and the intimate details of its impact on the families – the Haines, in particular.
In the third and final part of our series, we will follow the impact of the killings on the Haines and Beyler families as well as the convicted murderer/executioner who received a presidential pardon. How the killings effected their lives and the intersections of their paths are a microstudy of the complicated history of war and post-war in the Page Valley.
The Haines family ordeal was well documented in a number of contemporary newspaper reports after the return of Shields’ division. Other sources consulted include census records, family histories, Page County court records and election results, the Official Records of the Rebellion, and histories of the Civil War in the Valley.
Valley Civil War history is almost always about the Shenandoah Valley and its vital Valley Turnpike. Whenever the parallel, smaller Page Valley is mentioned, it is seen as a sideshow to what was happening in the more well-known, larger Shenandoah. Jackson’s Valley campaign in spring of 1862, when he marched from Luray to Front Royal in 1862, is one of the few Page Valley only operations that garners much attention. The Page Valley however, on the south side of the Massanutten Mountain, has its own rich Civil War history.
William Watlington
William Watlington found his own unique history within the Page Valley. His story highlights the unique terrain and dangers that inhabited the region. But first, some context.
September, 1864 was an eventful time in the lower valley. The battle of Third Winchester had seen the Union army of Philip Sheridan throw Jubal Early’s Confederates out of Winchester in panic and confusion. Early’s men scampered south to the impressive heights of Fisher’s Hill just south of Strasburg. Sheridan had been frustrated by his Third Division of cavalry’s inability to get around the Confederate right flank and block the Valley Turnpike at Third Winchester. Brigadier General James Wilson’s division was the smallest of Sheridan’s three cavalry divisions and a lackluster attempt to turn the Confederate flank had foiled Sheridan’s plan to bag Early’s entire army.
Sheridan, however, saw another opportunity to “put the cork in the bottle” once again as he approached Fisher’s Hill. He ordered his Chief of Cavalry, Major General Alfred Torbert, to send horsemen down the Page Valley to Luray. From there, Torbert was to ride through the New Market Gap and block Early from proceeding further south at New Market.
Wilson’s division led the way and by September 20 they were skirmishing with Williams Carter Wickham’s small Confederate cavalry brigade just north of Front Royal. The next day, Wickham’s force stymied the Union advance at Gooney Creek, about six miles south of Front Royal. Torbert and the 1st Division caught up with Wilson and the plan was to resume the advance and breakthrough Wickham’s roadblock at Gooney Creek and race towards Luray.
Except Wickham wasn’t there on the morning of September 22. The Confederate cavalry had retreated a few miles further south to the small village of Milford (present day Overall). Here the valley narrowed considerably, and the Confederate position was formidable. After a few attempts to flank the Confederate position, Torbert called an end to fighting and retreated about four miles north of Milford. The next morning, the Union horsemen continued their retrograde movement, crossing the North Fork of the Shenandoah River, seven miles from Strasburg around noon. Torbert decided to report to Sheridan about this turn of events.
The 3rd Indiana Cavalry was a veteran unit that had been re-organized into two companies upon the completion of its three years of service. The two companies consisted of men who had reenlisted as well as recruits who had not yet served their three years of service. Too small for combat assignment, the companies had been assigned as the escort for Third Division commander James Wilson. Oftentimes, the escort was ordered to carry orders and messages between commands. Three men from the escort were assigned the duty of carrying the report, William Watlington, Robert Gray, and a man named Ward.
A recruit who joined the regiment in October, 1863, Watlington had also been under enlistment back in July when John Morgan made his raid through Indiana. Armed with a sixteen shot Henry carbine while members of the regiment in Virginia were armed with single shot Gallagers and Sharps, he had been part of a home guard unit that protected Madison, Indiana during Morgan’s Raid. Now a veteran of a year of service, Watlington would undergo a harrowing adventure in the Page Valley.
Initially, all went well. Leaving the column, the three men moved quickly to Strasburg where they were told of the battle of Fisher’s Hill and that Sheridan had moved up the Valley to Woodstock. Watlington recalled, “With a smooth pike now before us we pushed forward at a more lively gait. At no time since leaving the command had we come down to a walk.” This rapid pace had taken its toll on their mounts and Watlington and Robert Gray finally stopped at Fisher’s Hill to rest their horses while Ward rode ahead with the message. After resting their mounts, Watlington and his companion rode back to Strasburg where they bivouacked with a group of infantry and four members of their cavalry division.
Having been given no orders beyond the delivery of the message, the six cavalrymen decided to return to their division. Assuming that the command would be conveniently located where they had left it the day before, the squad moved out on the morning of September 24. Reaching the banks of the North Fork around noon, they were startled to find that the command was not there.
In between their leaving on the mission and their return, Torbert had learned of the victory at Fisher’s Hill and realized that it was vitally important for him to get to New Market as quickly as possible. On the morning of the 24, he reversed the command and headed south again, this time encountering no opposition at the ford as his horsemen raced south towards Luray and the New Market Gap.
This change of events put the little band of Union cavalrymen in a fix. They were alone in an area notorious for Mosby’s men and guerilla bands. Both groups were known to trail advancing Union columns to scoop up stragglers. For Mosby, the captures provided military information and sowed fear in the Union ranks. His captives were typically sent up the chain of command and to Confederate prisoner camps. For the guerillas, they provided booty and oftentimes death as they held no firm allegiance to any course other than their own. Prisoners only slowed them down.
The men decided that, if the Union troops had moved out that morning, they should be able to overtake the command in ten to fifteen miles. They were not sanguine about their chances, however; “With this hope in view we pushed forward at a rapid gait, but not without some misgivings as to our success,” admitted Watlington.
As they neared the crossing of the south fork of the Shenandoah River, they rode to a nearby cabin and asked the “Virginia Widow” living there as to when the cavalry had crossed. Being told by the woman that the command had crossed the night before, the men now realized that their comrades had to be at least 20 miles up the Luray Valley to Luray itself.
Realizing their danger, they once again held a short council of war. No one wanted to be captured by Mosby’s men and sent to a prisoner camp. Nor did anyone relish an encounter with any of the guerilla gangs that resided on the mountainsides of the Blue Ridge. Examining and priming their revolvers, they unslung their carbines and moved them to a more ready position across their saddles. Resolutely, they moved out.
They had traveled but a few hundred yards before turning at a sharp bend in the road and saw two men in Confederate uniforms. They duo made a short run for some bushes along the road. In the meantime, seeing that the men appeared unarmed and outnumbering them, the cavalrymen shouted for them to halt, which they did. Riding up to the pair, the Union men questioned their captives. The men claimed to be deserters from Early’s army and were returning to their homes down the valley. Not wanting to be burdened with prisoners, the cavalrymen wished them well and sent them on their way.
About a ½ mile further on, the small band came upon a camp site, recently used by their command. As was often the case, horses unable to continue had been released and replaced by captured horses. Watlington’s own mount was struggling to keep up and he observed one of the abandoned mounts that looked in better shape than his own. After examining the horse, he quickly transferred his saddle and equipment. The men moved out once again.
Two miles later they struck the Front Royal and Luray Pike. Almost simultaneously, Watlington’s mount revealed why he had been abandoned. “The horse I had taken up was one that had been abandoned because of a weakness in his back and loins, and his sudden breakdown in the road was the same effect as if his back had been broken.” Watlington, not wanting to be a burden to his companions, told them to move on and he would make do.
Now afoot in dangerous territory, Watlington hid his saddle and other horse equipment in a sink hole near the road, keeping only his revolver and carbine. As he completed his task, he was startled by the sound of several carbine and revolver shots. Running up the mountainside, he crept back towards the Pike to the origin of the shots and found nothing. He guessed that his friends had encountered a band of Confederates and either ran them off or been captured. Coming back out on the Pike, an eerie quiet prevailed. Now even more alarmed, Watlington moved slowly up the Pike.
Rounding another of the innumerable curves on the road, he spotted someone on horseback approaching him. Realizing there was only one, he fought the urge to dart into the bushes and moved toward the individual. The person was in fact a 10- or 12-year-old boy who was returning home from the mill with a peck of corn meal. The boy reluctantly dismounted when ordered and Watlington, once more mounted on “an old Yaller horse”, rode up the Pike much relieved to be mounted once again. He reasoned it shouldn’t take a great deal of time for him to overtake his comrades.
Having ridden about ¼ of a mile, Watlington was shocked to see a small group of men standing in the road about a half mile off. Some wore Union blue and all seemed to be in an intense discussion. The conversation was so intense that the group did not see Watlington on his steed. Reasoning it was better to leave the Pike, he dismounted and headed up the mountain, away from the river. In front of him was an open field that ran along the Pike for 150 yards and leading up to a road that trailed up into the Blue Ridge Mountains. Beyond the field, only trees could be seen. If he could reach the tree line, his plan was to cross the mountain road, continue south and strike the Pike later near Milford.
His plan worked well as he crossed the open field furtively, darting from one small bush to another until he was into the woods. Once he entered the forest, his adrenalin pushed him deeper into the trees until he became so disoriented he didn’t know which direction he was traveling. After some time wandering around, he espied a clearing ahead with a small house located several hundred yards downslope. Beyond the clearing he could see a mountain range. Scattered across the mountain side were several wisps of blue smoke indicating a cabin or guerilla camp. He also saw a road to his left that passed along the edge of the woods and within a few yards of the cabin.
Watlington was so confused that he decided to risk approaching the cabin in hopes of determining the way to Milford. He decided the best approach was the direct approach and boldly climbed a fence and approached the cabin across the open clearing. As he approached the cabin, he observed a “very old man” sitting on the porch. In the adjoining room he could also see an old woman. Reaching the cabin, he asked for water. A younger woman stepped out of the entry way and showed him a bucket of water. After slaking his thirst, he asked the woman the way to Milford and the most direct way there. In reply, the woman said it was about 4 miles in the opposite way from Watlington’s most recent path. He had been traveling north instead of south.
Thanking the woman, he headed back across the clearing. He had gone but 100 yards when he heard several voices behind him. Turning, he saw several heads over the top of the fence headed his way. In a moment or two, he would be in plain view of the men.
Realizing it was too late to run, he frantically looked for any kind of cover. A few feet away was a small cedar tree. With only seconds to spare, he dropped behind the bush and tried to make himself as small as possible.
The group continued down the road and were absorbed in conversation. Passing only a few yards from his scant hiding place, Watlington slowly moved around the bush to keep it between himself and the group. As they passed, he realized that they were the same men who had forced him to give up his horse to escape their notice earlier. As the men disappeared from view, Watlington jumped up and ran the 100 yards to the woods, bounded across the fence, and crashed into the trees running for some distance before he dared to stop and rest. As he regained his strength, he assessed his situation and location.
He reckoned that he was 2-3 miles from the Pike on the Blue Ridge Mountain side. Walking south, he struck a road that seemed to lead in the right direction and was able to reach the Pike. Surmising he was only about a mile from Milford, he marched south. Arriving in the village about an hour before sundown, he headed to the first house he saw hoping for a drink of water.
As he approached the back of the house and before he could request a drink, a middle-aged woman met him and asked fearfully if he was a Union soldier. When Watlington responded in the affirmative, she responded, “For God’s sake, hide yourself as quickly as possible.” She hurriedly informed him that a guerilla gang was camped nearby. Of the worst kind, they attacked the rear of the Union columns to rob and murder “having no use for prisoners and consequently never took any.” More alarmingly, a party of them had been in Milford only a short time before and threatened all kinds of vengeance on Union soldiers.
Watlington was struck by her manner and was surprised to find someone so concerned for a lost Union soldier in such a dangerous area. The woman was so distraught and urgent in her warnings that he believed in her desire to keep him from harm. He felt he had no choice but to place his life in her hands.
After a quick drink of water, he asked the woman the best place to hide until dark. Pointing towards the river, the woman showed him a path down to the shore. Finding an old tree on the riverbank so undermined by the river that its roots were exposed, he crawled under and remained there until dark.
In his hideaway, Watlington had time to truly assess his situation. Because of all of his detours and misdirected marching, he figured he had only made 5 miles that day. Being mounted, the column would have made at least 10 miles. The only way to catch up was to travel that night. He resolved to continue his walk south as soon as it was fully dark. Deciding to march as lightly as possible, he left his carbine in his hiding place and ventured out to the Pike.
Hiking quickly, he moved rapidly for about 2 miles before the events of the day, lack of food, and adrenaline subsidence forced him to slow his pace. As he passed cabins along the road side, any that showed light from within were passed as quietly as possible so as to not arouse the occupants.
Around midnight, he reached a fork in the road. In the dimly lit road, he got down on his hands and knees and felt the ground for horse tracks. Both paths had had horse traffic but he determined that the right fork seemed to have been traveled by a larger body of cavalry. Trusting his instincts, he took the right fork.
In less than a ¼ mile he reached a small cluster of buildings. Warily approaching the little hamlet, he entered. With a few different roads and paths leading out of the town, he briefly became disoriented and felt he was going in circles. Backtracking to the fork, he chose the left fork and continued on his way. As he traveled throughout the night, an occasional campfire could be seen up on the mountainside indicating a guerilla camp. He was tiring quickly and had to make frequent stops to rest but would not lie down for fear of falling asleep. The continued flare of campfires along the mountainside served to spur him on even as he staggered south.
By dawn, his drowsiness had abetted somewhat and he began to pick up the pace. Suddenly, he was electrified to hear the familiar “saddle up” bugle call of the Union cavalry. “I assure you I made good use of my time and ‘let no grass grow under my feet’ while I was making for the command a mile beyond.” Running hard, he reached the Union camp. Watlington was safe.
This wild adventure had many twists and turns. The five other Union cavalrymen Watlington had left with from Strasburg had indeed been captured shortly after his horse broke down. Fortunately for them, it had been Mosby’s men who captured them and were sent to prison camps. Thomas Gray, the other 3rd Indiana Cavalry member, was sent to Richmond to sit out the rest of the war as a prisoner of war.
As William Watlington aged, this experience in the Page Valley was never far from his mind. Having kept a journal throughout his service, Watlington wrote and re-wrote his war memoirs over the next 60 years. Several versions of his memoirs were developed during this time, but these September 1864 events never wavered in their details. Those 24 hours alone in the Page Valley left an indelible mark on his memory. What particularly stuck out for him was the woman in Milford who had risked her life to help him.
Though not a veteran of Gettysburg, Watlington accompanied other 3rd Indiana Cavalry comrades to the 50th anniversary of the great battle. Upon the conclusion of those events, he – like many veterans – visited other sites from their military service. One he most wanted to visit was Milford. His hope was to find the woman who had shown him such kindness as to warn him away and directing him to a place to hide.
When he reached Milford, he found the woman’s house consisted of nothing more than the foundation. Fortunately, a neighbor directed him to Mary E. Larrick, a granddaughter of the woman. From her, he was able to finally learn the woman’s name: Harriett Haines. He also found out that she had left the area after the war and moved to Woodstock in the Shenandoah Valley. She died there in 1881.
At the age of 83, the 24 hours lost in the Page Valley had grown to almost mythical proportions. Mrs. Haines had become his savior in his time of need. He regretted never having been able to thank her for her help. Watlington, in April, 1925, 61 years after the event, penned this tribute to Harriett Haines.
“In this reminiscence of the occurrence herein recorded I – no doubt – was saved from being captured, and I ever afterward felt thankful to Mrs. Haines for her kindness in my behalf, on that 24th day of Sep 1864. Many times I have regretted that I never had the privilege of meeting her afterward, and expressing to her my gratitude and thankfulness for what she did for me that day…In Mrs. Haines we find a woman with the most noble traits of character – strong in her convictions of right, and as she saw the right, she had the courage and conviction of upholding it – under whatever conditions she might be surrounded.”
In my research for my history of the 3rd Indiana Cavalry, I found Watlington’s story compelling. In a 1923 typewritten version of his memoirs, he devotes 12 pages to those 24 hours in Page Valley. Later, I began to research Harriett Haines. What I found was a much bigger and more complex picture of life as a Page Valley Unionist. In future installments, I will tell the story of an execution, a Lincoln pardon, scouts and spies, and Galvanized Yankees – all connected to Harriett Haines and her family.
Copies of William Watlington’s various versions of his journal can be found at the Indiana State Archives and the Indiana Historical Society.
Jim Goecker is the author of “Hoosier Spies and Horse Marines: A History of the 3rd Indiana Cavalry, East Wing,” available from McFarland Publishing or your online book source.
It can be very difficult to relate to the men and women of the Civil War era. More than one hundred and sixty years have passed. Despite the extraordinarily different circumstances in which they found themselves, we can connect with our forebears in traditions such as the celebration of Christmas. By the mid-19th century, most of today’s familiar Christmas trimmings including Christmas carols, gift giving, and tree decoration were already in place. Charles Dickens had published “A Christmas Carol” in 1843 and the Civil War saw the first introduction to the modern image of a stout Santa Claus through the drawings of Thomas Nast.
19th Century Thomas Nast rendering of Santa.
The Christmas atmosphere in Winchester would have changed dramatically when General William “Grumble” Jones withdrew his troops from the town on December 13, 1862, creating the prospect of a Yankee occupation. Eleven days later, on December 23, General Robert Milroy began occupying the town, arriving there himself on January 1, 1863, Emancipation Day. Milroy believed occupation of Winchester was crucial to the defense of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad.
William “Grumble” Jones
The grand feast that had been prepared at the Hunter McGuire home in 1861 marked one of the last of its kind in Winchester for several years. Christmas 1861 would be the last plentiful war-era Christmas for the town during the Civil War. General and Mrs. Stonewall Jackson had spent Christmas that year at church and the McGuire home. They likely attended services at Kent Street Presbyterian Church and dined on a sumptuous meal. Christmas 1862 would be celebrated very differently in the struggle for civilian survival and the need to look after the casualties recovering in the town’s homes and hospitals.
Unionist Julia Chase made a note in her diary on December 24, for example, that some “4000 troops” had arrived in Winchester. The actual number was probably closer to 3,000 men. Chase noted many of the Union sympathizers had been given immediate privileges not offered to pro-Confederate citizens. She noted many had “left for Maryland in order to get groceries.” With the arrival of the Yankees circumstance would favor these people.
General Robert Milroy’s subordinate, General Gustave P. Cluseret, was placed in charge of these early arrivals. Cluseret was a former French soldier and politician who in 1860 had participated in the establishment of the De Flotte Legion, a French Corps to assist in the fight for Italian unification. He would sail for the U. S. in 1861, as a soldier of fortune, and would serve under Generals Fremont, McClellan, and Milroy.
As early as December 22nd Julia Chase sensed the “secessionists seemed uneasy this morning. It is said the Federals took possession of Strasburg this morning.” There was no indication if they were advancing on Winchester, but their pickets were reported at Middletown. It was understood that they had intercepted the mail and nobody knew what other havoc they had caused.
Laura Lee’s diary seemed to confirm the rumors. Union troops were first detected in Winchester on the 23rd. As the Union Army began to arrive many were surprised by the town’s circumstance. Captain James Stevenson noted the town’s “dreadful condition.” The town’s residents “have scarcely any food and being almost without means, and destitute of fuel for fire to cook their food.”
Regardless of the conditions in the village, General Milroy sent an order ahead ordering the town must supply his men with “2000 rations.” Winchester resident and diarist Mary Greenhow Lee believed Union troops were going to “subsist on the inhabitants; we have not been molested yet, but I expect the rascals any moment.” She noted: “How different is this Christmas than the last, when our friend Col. Baylor’s joyous laugh rang through the house, as he helped us dress the rooms with evergreens for the gay party the next evening.”
Confederate sympathizer and diarist Laura Lee noted: “These wretched, horrible Yankees are here again. This morning while we were at breakfast some hundreds of cavalry came in. They have opened a Provost office and put out pickets, and tomorrow Milroy’s whole command will be here.”
Mary Greenhow Lee, on the day before Christmas, tried not to panic and did the things the rest of the community was doing. She sent “supplies to different ladies to have made up for the hospital – making arrangements for Christmas at home – then we dressed the parlour with evergreens…”
Cornelia Peake McDonald “determined not to let the Yankees interfere with me, except by force.” That was exactly what Yankee troops had in mind. She reported hungry troops tried to steal her turkey which “had been dressed and hung on a low branch of a tree for cooking on the morrow.” She demanded the return of her property. When the soldier declined stating she “had no right to it being ‘secesh’ as he expressed it, and that it was confiscated to the United States.” Mrs. Lee responded by saying: “Very well, go on to the camp with it, and I will go with you to the commanding officer.” The soldier quickly changed his mind and returned the turkey.
No sooner had this emergency been resolved, another one quickly developed for Mrs. McDonald. “The cavalry who came in first, behaved very well, for Yankees, but the infantry behave worse each day; they are Western Virginia and Pennsylvanians.” Cornelia, while trying to protect her wooden fence, found them attempting to rob her kitchen. “A regiment of infantry had showed up and were tearing down a fence and removing the boarding on a carriage house to obtain firewood. A number of soldiers had entered the kitchen and were looting it of food. One man even pulled a hot pan of rusks (hard biscuits) out of stove and in the process of capturing it burned his hands rather badly. The chaos continued for some time until an officer happened along and put a stop to it”.
The Christmas of 1862 dawned “cold and gloomy.” The residents were confined to their homes and were not allowed to leave town unless they had a pass. You needed a permit to buy from a sutler. To do this they had to take an oath of loyalty to the Union. It was said “innovative mothers searched their attics for discarded dolls to mend as well as other toys ‘to cheat the little ones into believing that Santa Clause had come as usual.’”
On Christmas morning the residents awoke to the firing of guns. Some Yankees began to search the residents’ homes for guns and “their quota of meat.” “A group of soldiers surrounded Mrs. McDonald’s house.” They threatened to enter her house and destroy her furniture if they were not provided with breakfast. “She soon found them coming through windows and carrying off provisions.”
Laura Lee was undaunted when it came to celebrating the holiday. An effort was made “at preparing for Christmas today, in the way of a few cakes and pies, and a little jelly.” She also “dressed the parlor very prettily with evergreens and have continued to be reasonably cheerful notwithstanding the adverse circumstances of our town being full of Yankees.”
Cornelia McDonald found herself “too restless to enjoy or even to realize it was Christmas. Just as we were sitting down to dinner, we heard the reports of cannon. We hurried from the table and found the troops all hastily marching off.” They all expected there was going to be a skirmish. The family “could eat no more dinner…so it was carefully put away till we could enjoy it.”
Mary Greenhow Lee wrote: “Much to my sorrow, I have to stay at home this morning in place of going to church, where it would have recalled old associations to hear Christmas music; anything that carries me back to hours, unconnected war, refreshes me & does me good. I had to stay because the Yankees were searching the houses on this street & I did not like to run the risk of their coming in my absence.”
The day after Christmas would not be any better. Union soldiers would break out windows in the McDonald home in order to get food. They even demanded she evacuate her home in order to create a hospital. Laura Lee stated, “the wretches have settled themselves here and are tyrannizing over us in a shameful manner.” Unionist Julia Chase was overjoyed at the presence of the army and the fact they “intended to hold Winchester for some time.”
A pre-war Southern Christmas dinner might consist of “baked ham, turkey, oysters and winter vegetables from the root cellar: squash, cabbage, potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots and apples. Preserves, pickles, relishes, breads, pies and puddings would also be added to the table.” With the coming of civil war and the occupation of Winchester, however, the fare for the Christmas celebration would be significantly modified.
“Christmas during the Civil War served both as an escape from and a reminder of the awful conflict rending the country in two. Soldiers looked forward to a day of rest and relative relaxation, but had their moods tempered by the thought of separation from their loved ones. At home, families did their best to celebrate the holiday, but wondered when the vacant chair would again be filled.”
On the Confederate home front, Sallie Brock Putnam of Richmond echoed what the residents of Winchester felt. “Never before had so sad a Christmas dawned upon us… We had neither the heart nor inclination to make the week merry with joyousness when such a sad calamity hovered over us.”
Take heart from the lessons of history. Rejoice in our circumstance and in our lives and though we may have lost friends, relatives, or have family members who are ill and forced to be away from home, rejoice that we are not at war like the people of Winchester on that Christmas day so long ago.
We wish you, one and all, a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. God bless!
Pete and Cyndi Dalton
AUTHORS NOTE: This is my first blog entry in nine months. I have been recovering from brain fog introduced by chemotherapy and radiation. On the plus side I can charge my cell phone without a electrical adapter. On the negative side I am having to reprogram my brain. The good news is we will have a guest blog written by James Goecker, author of Hoosier Spies and Horse Marines: A History of the Third Indiana Cavalry, East Wing. I think you will find his entry every bit the caliber of his new book.
Mahon, Michael. Winchester Divided. The Civil War Diaries of Julia Chase and Laura Lee. Stackpole Books. Mechanicsburg, Va. 2002.
McDonald, Cornelia Peake. A Woman’s Civil War; A Diary with Reminsicences of the War, from March1862. Gramercy Books; New York, New York. 1992.
Phipps, Sheila R. Genteel Rebel: The Life of Mary Greenhow Lee. Louisiana State University Press. Baton Rouge, La. 2004.
Straader, Eloise C. The Civil War Journal of Mary Greenhow Lee. Winchester County Historical Society. Winchester, Va. 2011.
The 12th Georgia Volunteer Infantry Regiment was raised in the spring of 1861 but did not complete its organization until it reached Richmond in June of the same year. Sent to western Virginia it participated in operations there, becoming part of Brigadier General Edward Johnson’s command. Major Willis Hawkins commanded the unit. The regiment fought with Johnson at Greenbriah River and the Battle of Allegheny Mountain. By the beginning of May, though, Johnson’s small army had retreated to Fairview, a few miles west of the rail station at Staunton.
Meanwhile, General Thomas Stonewall Jackson’s Confederate troops had spent the first few days of May slogging through the mud on their way to Port Republic while General Richard Ewell’s division was slipping over the Blue Ridge Mountains through Swift Run Gap to take Jackson’s place at Conrad’s Store. Jackson would cross the Blue Ridge at Brown’s Gap on his way to Meacham River Station on the Virginia Central Railroad. Stonewall would spend May 4, riding horseback to Staunton, while his troops followed by train or on foot. He would setup his headquarters at the Virginia Hotel in town.
With the army reinforced by three thousand troops from General Edward Allegheny Johnson’s Army of the Northwest, Jackson’s legion would number some nine thousand men. From his camp at West View Johnson’s soldiers were staged to act as the army’s vanguard in the coming campaign. Johnson’s men were very familiar with the terrain, having spent the winter retreating through and defending it.
Jackson’s men were up early on May 7th marching to the northwest along the Parkersburg Turnpike. A short time after their departure they ran into a contingent of General Robert Milroy’s small Union Army. Milroy’s force numbered some two thousand men. Sensing he was outnumbered, Milroy concluded he would retreat to the town of McDowell, on the West side of Bull Pasture Mountain. He quickly sent an urgent message to Federal forces at Franklin pleading for reinforcements.
About 10 a.m. on May 8th, General Robert Schenck arrived at McDowell with supports, increasing the number of Union troops to about six thousand. As Schenck was senior to Milroy, he assumed overall command of the Federal force. The Union commander established his headquarters in town at the Hull House and deployed his artillery, consisting of eighteen guns, onto Cemetery Hill. Next, he positioned his infantry in line, about eight hundred yards in width, south along Bull Pasture River. Schenck placed one regiment, the 2nd West Virginia, on Hull’s Hill, east of the river, overlooking the Parkersburg Pike. Three companies of cavalry covered the left flank along the road on the north side of the village.
Meanwhile, on the top of Sitlington’s Hill, which overlooked the town of McDowell, Jackson had begun to assemble Edward Johnson’s troops along the crest. Not expecting to fight a battle so late in the day, Stonewall ordered Johnson to position his troops along the heights and then began to make plans to launch a flank attack the following morning.
Schenk and Milroy had a different idea on how the coming battle would unfold. Milroy got permission from his superior to mount an attack on Sitlington’s Hill before the Confederates could position their artillery on the crest. Milroy assembled some twenty-three hundred troops along the river at the base of the hill and ordered his men forward (upwards).
As Milroy’s men assaulted Sitlington’s Hill they began to exchange fire with troops commanded by General Johnson. The fighting became intense. Jedediah Hotchkiss, Jackson’s mapmaker, recorded that “from 4:30 to 8:30 the firing was terrific.” Union troops discharged their rifled muskets into the rebel troops situated on the high ground. The rebels shielded their position with smoothbore muskets accurate out to about one hundred yards.
During the May 8, 1862, Battle of McDowell, the 12th Georgia took position on the left center of the Confederate line. Here they occupied a ridge spur that required the regiment to form line in the shape of an inverted V. The position was exposed to enemy fire from three sides and was the primary reason why the Georgians suffered significant casualties.
Around 4 p.m. in the afternoon a line troops made up of the 32nd and 82nd Ohio, along with the 3rd Virginia, advanced up the hill toward the Confederate center and right. A short time later Colonel Nathaniel McLean stepped forward with one thousand men from the 75th, and 25th Ohio, under Colonel W. P. Richardson, crossed Bullpasture River aiming toward the Confederate left. The 12th Georgia was squarely in their path.
Map made by Jedediah Hotchkiss for the May 8th, 1862, Battle of McDowell. The furthest advance of the 12th Georgia Infantry is shown on the map.
The 12th Georgia, with their .69 caliber muskets, sparred with their adversary, the 75th Ohio, which was equipped rifles. “The 82nd and 32nd Ohio regiments exchanged charges and countercharges with the 23rd Virginia near the Confederate center, the 44th Virginia parried repeated thrusts by the 25th Ohio, and the 12th Georgia clashed with McLean’s 75th Ohio in a desperate fight that would continue intermittently throughout the afternoon.” Colonel McLean recalled being “compelled to make the attack which was entirely destitute of protection, either with trees or rocks, and so steep that the men were at times compelled to march either to one side or the other in order to make the assault.”
Major Hawkins and General Johnson “had thrown the 12th Georgia forward of the main line to a ‘large hilly old field’ on a spur of Sitlington’s Hill. Wheeling by company into line of battle, the 12th opened and took fire simultaneously.” More than an hour after the firing began “a minie bullet pierced the head of Orderly Sergeant Asa Sherwood.” He was the regiment’s first fatality. Captain Rogers noted “it was trying to a captain’s heart to see his brave men shot down all around him… I still had to suffer the fall of my friend and officer Lt. W. A. Massey. For two hours he had been in the thickest of the fight, cheering the men by deed and words.” “He had just given a cheer to Jeff Davis, when he fell by my side, shot through the side.”
“As evening fell, the Georgians found themselves silhouetted against a clear sky to the east, making them fine targets. Finally, as losses mounted, the 12th’s officers ordered their men to pull back to a less exposed position; the men refused, and the next day, one member of the regiment explained ‘we did not come all the way to Virginia to run before Yankees.’”
Casualties in the brief fight were significant. Union forces lost thirty-four killed, two hundred and twenty wounded, and five missing. Confederate losses were much greater with one hundred and sixteen killed, and some three hundred wounded. Four were missing. It was one of the few instances in the war where the attackers experienced significantly fewer casualties than the defenders. In the 12th Georgia their bravery cost them dearly. Entering the battle with 540 men, the 12th saw 52 killed and 123 wounded, a loss of nearly 35%. This amounted to some 42% of overall Confederate casualties.
Marker for the Unknown Soldiers at McDowell, Virginia
Across the street from the Presbyterian Church in McDowell lies a modest sized graveyard. Many of the stones belong to members of the Sitlington family upon whose property the battle had been fought. Here Union and Confederate troops lie buried together in a common grave. The size of the lot is small, maybe four hundred square feet, so there are certainly not hundreds of soldiers buried there, but there could be a dozen or more. Maybe it is just those men who were pronounced as missing or those killed on a battlefield so far from home. Nevertheless, this spot serves as the tomb of the unknown soldier. The identities of the men buried here are nameless. Chances are good, since nearly half of the Confederate losses were from the 12th Georgia, there may be a Georgia boy or two interred there.
After the battle, the small village of McDowell was inundated with dead and wounded. Among those who helped bury the dead and care for the injured were the VMI Cadets who had been dispatched to assist Jackson. As Stonewall began his retreat to the Shenandoah Valley, though, many of the wounded were transported with them. One of the stops in their withdrawal was Stribling Springs Resort. The facility, which was already being employed as a hospital, was quickly assigned a new batch of patients, including members of the 12th Georgia.
There had already been several 12th Georgia patients who had resided at Stribling Springs, prior to the Battle of McDowell. We know Private Houston Todd of Company D died there from measles on May 8, 1862, the very day the Battle of McDowell was being fought. He is buried in the Confederate Cemetery at Lynchburg. At least four other members of that company, including Privates Dennis Moody, Alexander Norwood, Jonas Pancer, and Bennett Duke, had expired there either prior to the Battle of McDowell or sometime shortly thereafter. One, Dennis Moody, would perish there in February of 1863. At least one unidentified member of that regiment, however, during the course of the war, would be interred on the Stribling Springs property. His presence would have been completely forgotten, though, if not for the determination of one woman.
In the summer of 1870 Mary Ashley Townshend, and her husband Gideon, visited Stribling Springs Resort for some rest, relaxation, and for the “taking of the waters.” The Stribling’s property was rich in alum, chalybeate and sulphur springs. “For centuries, Native Americans, early European explorers, and visitors from around the world have flocked to natural hot springs to bathe in the healing waters. ‘Taking the waters’ through a soak or a sip, was believed to cure almost any ailment.”
Ed Beyers painting of Stribling Springs 1858
On one of Mary’s walks around the estate, she had come across a half wooden marker which was rotted almost to the ground. Mary noted: “I raised it with a reverent hand, from dust its words to clear, but time had blotted all but these–“A Georgia Volunteer!” It was evident one soldier of Georgia’s 12th Regiment, one who had been mortally wounded at McDowell, or on some other battlefield, had been buried there on the estate. His grave had no stone, just a wooden marker that bore the words, “A Georgia Volunteer.” This happenstance would prove the inspiration for Mary to put pen to verse.
Mary Ashley Townshend
Mary Ashley Van Voorhis (Townshend) was born on September 24, 1832, in Lyons, New York. She married Gideon Townhend of New Orleans, and she began to write for publication about 1856 using numerous pennames. These included Mary Ashley, Crab Crossbones, Michael O’Quillo, Henry Rip, and “Xariffa.” Mary was both a poet and a writer, and had “published a series of humorous papers that appeared in the New Orleans Delta and were widely copied by the southern and western press.”
Townsend was best known and widely praised for her poetry. “It reflects her wide diversity of interests; much of it is of a moral or religious nature.” She was asked to write poems for many special occasions, which she did. Her most popular poem was “Creed,” first published in 1868, and reprinted many times. It is included in Xariffa’s Poems published in 1870. In the summer of 1870, however, Mary visited Stribling Springs Resort and having unearthed the vanishing grave of a Georgian soldier, she would be inspired to write a poem. She would memorialize the unknown Confederate soldier in her rhyme, “A Georgia Volunteer.” “The poem was later included in John Wayland’s work, ‘Stonewall Jackson’s Way,’ in which he tells the story behind the poem.” It has also been adapted into song format by a group known as the Rebelaires.
Augusta Springs, as it was first named, was the brainchild of Erasmus Stribling (1784-1858), one of Staunton’s prominent citizens. Stribling was a successful attorney and had served as the town’s mayor on two ocasions. In 1817 Stribling decided to capitalize on the public’s widespread belief in the healthful benefits of “taking the waters” by building a resort on his property.
Although Stribling’s original acreage consisted of 460 acres, only 12 of them served as the core of the resort. “He built an inn and surrounded it with cottages, pavilions, bath houses and even a casino, all thoughtfully placed within a manicured lawn. Stribling’s wife, Matilda, was instrumental in helping him develop and manage the property.”
The resort quickly became one of Virginia’s leading destinations, known not only for its waters but for its amusements including “theatrical productions, and its high-quality food and drink.” “People from all over the country and Europe descended upon the springs, often staying for months at a time, especially in the days when travel was difficult. The springs were served by a line of stagecoaches three times a week. Visitors in 1858 could expect to pay $2 a day for a stay of less than a week, $10 for a week’s stay and $30 for a month of four weeks. Special rates were available for an entire season.”
When the Civil War erupted, the springs continued to operate, although on a much different footing. Ten days after the May 8, 1862, Battle of McDowell, a portion of “Stonewall” Jackson’s army bivouacked there. Jackson is said to have slept in one of the cottages. A preserved letter written by Private Lancelot Minor Blackford, a member of the Rockbridge Artillery, dated May 18, 1862, was written from the springs to his mother and serves as proof of the army’s visit. Jackson’s headquarters was said to be in a house near the inn, “a structure that still stands to this day.”
After the war the inn fell into disrepair as the fortunes of the springs diminished. Kinney was forced to sell the property in 1878. In the early 1980s, “a treasure trove of artifacts from Jackson’s encampment was discovered on the grounds. They included musket balls that had been chewed by human teeth and surgical tools – grim remnants of field surgeries on wounded Confederate soldiers.”
Remaining buildings at Stribling Springs once occupied by Stonewall Jackson and his staff in May of 1862.
My wife and I visited the site in November of 2022. The dwellings are located near the hamlet of Tunnel Hollow in Augusta County near the intersection of routes 730 and 738. The two remaining buildings appear to be in good shape. The mineral spring itself has a gazebo like structure which protects the waters from falling leaves, limbs, and the elements. As far as the location of the grave of the Georgia Volunteer, I am afraid attempting to pinpoint that site would have required permission from of the property owners. That may be a project for one of our readers.
NOTE: A medical issue has arisen in my life and I am afraid this may be my last publication for some period of time. Hopefully the issue is resolved quickly and we will be back communicating with you once again. Best regards to you all and thanks very much for your readership and your support. Pete
The Protective Structure for the fount at Stribling Springs.
Brigadier General William Taliaferro commanded some 1,800 Confederates inside the fort with units from South Carolina, North Carolina, and Georgia. Union artillery from shore batteries, and cannons from Rear Admiral John Dahlgren’s fleet had pounded the Confederate stronghold for hours in preparation for the assault. Notwithstanding the intensity of the shelling, only a small number of defenders had been neutralized during the “nine-thousand shell bombardment.”
Attacking the fort, however, meant advancing up a narrow strip of land so slender only one regiment could attack at a time. The topography would prevent Union forces from effectively employing their superior numbers. The approach also lacked cover, making any attacking force an easy target for the guardians. In addition to the defender’s rifles, the fortress also had artillery positioned to repel a ground attack and added weapons support was available from nearby battlements.
More than five thousand Union Army soldiers began marching toward Battery Wagner in the early morning hours of July 18, 1863. The effort was spearheaded by a black regiment, the 54th Massachusetts, and supported by the 6th Connecticut, 9th Maine, 3rd New Hampshire, 48th New York, and 76th Pennsylvania. Putnam’s and Stevenson’s Brigades were to provide additional support if needed.
The 54th approached the fort in the late afternoon and stayed out of range for a night assault. When the time came Robert Gould Shaw led his men into battle, shouting “Forward, Fifty-Fourth, forward!” “The 54th crossed the moat and scaled the muddy hill of the outer wall. With the cessation of the naval bombardment the largely intact Confederate garrison left their bomb-proofs and resumed their positions on the walls. In the face of heavy fire, the 54th hesitated. Shaw mounted a parapet and urged his men forward but was shot through the chest three times.” “Witness testimony of the unit’s Color Sergeant noted that his death occurred early in the battle, and he fell on the outside of the fort.”
Assault on Fort Wagner (Kurz and Allison 1890)
A reporter with the Salem Register wrote… “the men moved steadily amid a buzz and whirl of shell and solid shot, until within some three hundred yards of the fort. We could notice the ominous silence that preceded the storm; for a moment Wagner, Sumter, and Johnson were silent – then bang – zip zip – thud – crack went the most terrific discharges of musketry, grape, canister, solid shot, and every description of ammunition into our ranks, over our ranks, and through our ranks.”
Upon reaching the top, Confederate soldiers engaged the defenders in hand-to-hand combat. “In these climatic moments, the 54th suffered roughly 42% casualties. Of the 600 men engaged, 270 were killed, wounded, or captured during the engagement. Col. Shaw was killed, along with 29 of his men; 24 more later died of wounds, 15 were captured, 52 were missing in action and never accounted for, and 149 were wounded.” Fighting continued for several hours but Union troops were only briefly able to enter Fort Wagner itself. In the early hours of July 19, Federal troops withdrew, and the fierce mêlée was over.
Heroics exhibited by Shaw and his black troops were of course the subject of a 1989 movie called Glory. The movie would receive four academy awards including Best Supporting Actor for Denzel Washington. The battle for Fort Wagner, however, was not Shaw’s first fight. Robert had initially volunteered as a member of the 7th New York Militia and had rushed off to Washington to aid in the defense of the city. On May 28, 1861, however, he was commissioned as a second lieutenant in Company H of the 2nd Massachusetts’s Infantry. Over the next year and a half, Shaw would fight with his fellow Massachusetts soldiers at the Battles of 1st Winchester, Cedar Mountain, and Antietam. He would serve both as a line officer in the field and as a staff officer for General George H Gordon.
Robert Gould Shaw
In late February 1862 Union troops moved into the Shenandoah Valley for the first time. On the morning of March 12, General Nathaniel Banks’ army forced Confederate soldiers under the command of General Stonewall Jackson out of Winchester. Local diarist Cornelia McDonald noted that she “tried to be calm and quiet, but could not, and so got up and went outside the door. Sure enough that music could not be mistaken, it was the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ that was played.” The Yankees had taken the town and barely a shot had been fired.
Coincidentally, Winchester native Cornelia McDonald, lived next door to the James Mason residence known locally as Selma. Early one March morning she observed “a U.S flag streaming over Mr. Mason’s house. Found out it was occupied as headquarters by a Massachusetts regiment.” The unit identified was the 2nd Massachusetts Infantry and Robert Gould Shaw would have bivouacked nearby with his men.
Period Sketch of the Mason Family Home at Selma
The Mason residence would have been an interesting choice of headquarters for the regiment. The home owner, James Murray Mason, had served in the United States Senate during the period leading up to the Civil War and had pushed his states’ rights agenda of separation. His authorship of the Second Fugitive Slave Law, however, would be the regulation for which he would be most remembered by northern soldiers and for which he would suffer a great deal of retribution. With the coming of the war James’ was delegated as the South’s diplomat to Europe and would be famously involved in what would be known as the Trent Affair. Within a year Mason’s home, Selma, would be completely destroyed by occupying Union Soldiers.
It is certain Robert Gould Shaw would have known Mason’s story. As Shaw’s early writings make almost no mention of slavery or abolition, it is certain his exposure to the institution would have been negligible. Still, while traveling in Europe in 1851 he had read Uncle Tom’s Cabin which had sculpted his opinion on the subject. By the time he joined the war effort in 1861, however, he had not had any significant contact with the institution.
While in Winchester, though, the custom of slavery would have been on display all around him. On Sunday March 23, while Shaw’s regiment and division was in process of being shifted east to join with General McDowell, their progress was delayed by a damaged bridge. It was, perhaps, on this expedition through Snicker’s Gap that Robert Gould Shaw may have had his most noteworthy interaction with enslaved people.
On the same day the Battle of Kernstown was being fought Robert Gould Shaw and his regiment were at Snickersville (now Bluemont) waiting for a bridge to be repaired. Shaw and about a dozen others chose to listen to an outdoor oration which he claimed, “was a real sermon.” While they were “lying in the sun on the side of a hill… 4 or 5 negros who had come up in their Sunday clothes to see the soldiers passed along. Among them was a white man with two curly headed boys – all these as handsome people as you would find.” One of Shaw’s’ friends pointed out: “That’s a white slave so we called to him & asked what his trade was.” “Nothing sir, said he “but working in the field under another man.” “There he stood in front of us & talked for two hours, as eloquently as any educated man I know.”
Winchester’s Courthouse.
Following the First Battle of Kernstown the 2nd Massachusetts was recalled to Winchester. Shaw wrote home noting the 2nd Massachusetts surgeons, Dr. Francis Leland and Lincoln Stone, both close friends, “went immediately to work and the medical director says, did more good than all the Ohio and Pennsylvania surgeons together.” Shaw recorded in a letter to his mother: “I went to the Court-house where Dr Leland was, and out of about 40, there were very few who were not seriously wounded. In the entry there were about 20 dead men laid out, with the capes of their overcoats folded over their faces. We looked at many faces to see if there might not by chance be some college-acquaintance among them. It was strange to see the dead & wounded Ohio men & Virginians lying there side by side.” This was Shaw’s first exposure to the tragic aftermath of combat.
Within days Banks’ Army marched in pursuit of Stonewall Jackson’s legion. They trooped through Strasburg, New Market, and on as far as Harrisonburg. Here they remained until May 5, when Banks became convinced Jackson was heading south to oppose McClellan’s drive on Richmond. Banks immediately began a retrograde movement to Strasburg, arriving there on May 13. He would remain there for the next nine days.
Robert Morris Copeland
While based in Strasburg Major Robert Morris Copeland, General Banks aide-de-camp, was tasked with traveling to Washington to lobby the war department to send reinforcements to the Shenandoah Valley. Copeland had a proposal of his own in mind, though, and petitioned Captain James Savage, and Lieutenant Robert Shaw to accompany him. They were so moved by his enthusiasm to raise a black regiment they decided to journey with him to make their case.
Copeland used his position with General Banks to get leave for Savage and Shaw. The threesome trekked to Washington DC to lay out their plan with Secretary of War Edward Stanton. According to Shaw “the Secretary of war wouldn’t allow it to be done.” Their scheme was quickly rejected and, equally significant, they were only able to influence the war department to send four companies (A, D, H, and K) from the 10th Maine Infantry to Winchester as reinforcements.
“Copeland’s views on abolition and his advocacy of raising black regiments played a role in irritating his superiors and the matter raises questions as to the possible biased treatment of abolitionist officers by their superiors and peers who disagreed with their views. Copeland would eventually be dismissed from the army for his advocacy.” Shaw, once inspired though, would persist in the quest.
Shaw arrived back in Winchester on May 24 and rejoined his regiment as it retreated from Strasburg in the face of the advance of Stonewall Jackson’s sixteen-thousand-man army. Two miles south of Newtown, along the Valley Pike, the 27th Indiana had deployed across the Valley Pike near the home of the Crisman family. The 2nd Massachusetts, 28th New York, and two sections of artillery were sent to support them long enough for the wagon train to complete its journey to Winchester. The mission was completed successfully.
Shortly after the fight at the Crisman Farm the 2nd Massachusetts retreated alone to a hill just north of Bartonsville and Opequon Creek. Here the men in the regiment recalled that “no sooner had they setup a defensive position than Confederate cavalry attacked from across the Opequon. From across the run someone yelled…Charge.” “Company I had just gone down to the creek when the charge was announced. Its commander put his men into square and quickly repulsed the attack.”
AdaptedHotchkiss map showing the dispositions of the 2nd Massachusetts on May 22.
Following the skirmish at Opequon Creek the regiment retreated another mile north to the hamlet of Kernstown. It was here that Lieutenant Shaw caught up with his regiment. Major Dwight had chosen the Mahaney house as a temporary hospital for their wounded. Unfortunately, he had not had time to position his troops for defense. Dwight soon realized his mistake and quickly deployed his four companies. Outgunned, the regiment was forced to withdraw leaving their wounded and a physician, Dr. Leland, behind.
The 2nd Masachusetts continued its retreat to Winchester. Lieutenant Shaw noted: “At nearly every stone wall between Bartonsville and Milltown a company or two dropped back to deliver a volley at their pursuers. At 2 A.M. the 2nd Massachusetts stumbled into Winchester, the last Federal to enter the town that night.” Shaw reported he “was on outpost Saturday night” and “we were firing at intervals all night long.”
“The night was cold and the ground wet” and most Union troops had not eaten in more than twenty-four hours. At first light on May 25, though, picket fire opened the battle. The first Confederate attack occurred against the Union left flank at Camp Hill. Shortly thereafter Jackson turned his attention to Banks’ right flank atop Bowers Hill. The 2nd Massachusetts had been placed in line on the far-right flank of the Union line. To their immediate left was the 3rd Wisconsin, the 29th Pennsylvania and then, finally, the 27th Indiana. Two sections of the 1st New York Battery M had been placed to their rear.
Shaw remembered that when he had returned to the regiment he had done so without a weapon of any kind. It was sometime after the fight began on Sunday that he was able to “get a little sword from a drummer boy. It was little better than a toy-sword, but you get so accustomed to having one in your hand when on duty, that until I got it I felt as if I had no right to give an order.”
The morning mist had been lighter on the Union right flank and the fight had opened early with skirmishing and counter battery fire from both sides. Colonel Andrews of the 2nd Massachusetts pushed his skirmishers out seeking “new targets with deadly accuracy.” Two of the regiment’s companies provided artillery support on Bower’s Hill. According to General Winder their concerted fire caused “much execution” in the ranks of Confederate artillerymen.
Around 7:30 a.m. a flank attack led by General Richard Taylor’s Louisiana Brigade dislodged Federal defenders. As this attack developed the 24th Pennsylvania and 27th Indiana was deployed to the 2nd Massachusetts right flank. Despite this Banks’ line crumbled under the pressure of Jackson’s assault. Union soldiers fled north through the streets of Winchester.
Shaw recalled the battle and retreat through Winchester: “The fight began immediately and continued for about two hours when we were ordered to retreat. The rebels had a much larger force and actually got into the town before we did. We lost a great many men in the streets of Winchester. The inhabitants did their share from the windows – women as well as men.” “I hardly remember anything about it, for just at that moment we were busy with the men, as Colonel Andrews halted the regiment in the street and formed the line, so that every officer had his hands full keeping the men steady.” “I hope that town will be destroyed when we go back there. We had time to burn part of it while the fight was going on.”
Map of the Battle of 1st Winchester, National Park Service Map
It was during this period that Shaw was hit. “The watch was in the pocket of my vest, though I almost always carry it in my fob. I felt a violent blow and a burning sensation in my side, and at the same moment a man by my side cried out, “O, my arm!” “So when I felt the blow on my side & found my watch had stopped the ball, the first thing I thought of was how you all would have felt if I had been left on that infernal pavement and it seemed as if I could see you all standing on the piazza just before I came away.” “I had just time to wonder why I wasn’t lying on the ground, when the order came, ‘Right face, double-quick, march,’ and off we went…” “Never the less we managed to make 34 miles after the fight, though, to be sure, a good many stragglers were taken.”
Shaw remembered that there were fifty men in his company when they went into battle at Winchester. “There were one killed, eight wounded, and two taken prisoners and carried off by the rebels when they retreated. Nine killed and wounded out of fifty is a large proportion. Our wounded were left in Winchester and paroled and also several men were left as nurses in the hospitals.”
One of the major casualties for the 2nd Massachusetts was the regiment’s second in command, Major Wilder Dwight. Dwight had stopped while he was retreating through Winchester to help a wounded soldier to a house so he could be tended to. As he exited the house he was captured by “butternut soldiery.” Escorted to the Taylor House Major Dwight noted that the courthouse, once utilized as a hospital, was now being employed as a prison. Confederates were now making use of it’s fenced in courtyard as a penitentiary for captured soldiers.
Robert Gould Shaw’s fame is well known especially with regard to the exploits of the 54th Massachusetts Infantry. His involvement in Jackson’s Valley Campaign is an unknown for most though. Even fewer are aware of the impact the adventure would have on him for the remainder of his life. In addition to 1st Winchester, Shaw would fight at Cedar Mountain, and at Antietam. Here would receive a wound to his neck at Antietam while fighting in the Cornfield.
Following the battle at Fort Wagner commanding Confederate General Johnson Hagood returned the bodies of the Union officers who had died, but left Colonel Shaw’s corpse buried in a mass grave with his black soldiers. Hagood told a captured Union surgeon that “had he been in command of white troops … he would have returned Shaw’s body, as was customary for officers, instead of burying it with the fallen black soldiers.”
Although Hagood’s gesture was intended as an insult, Shaw’s acquaintances believed it was an honor for him to be buried with his men. As substantial “efforts had been made to recover Shaw’s body” Robert’s father publicly proclaimed that “he was proud to know that his son had been buried with his troops, befitting his role as a soldier and a crusader for emancipation.”
In a letter to the regimental surgeon, Lincoln Stone, Shaw’s father wrote: “We would not have his body removed from where it lies surrounded by his brave and devoted soldiers. … We can imagine no holier place than that in which he lies, among his brave and devoted followers, nor wish for him better company. – what a body-guard he has!”
Morris Island is smaller than 1,000 acres and has been subject to extensive erosion from the sea. “Much of the site of Fort Wagner has been eroded away, including the place where the Union soldiers were buried. By the time that had happened, the soldiers’ remains were no longer there because soon after the end of the Civil War, the Army disinterred and reburied all the remains, including presumably those of Shaw, at the Beaufort National Cemetery in Beaufort, South Carolina.” Here, in the quiet and shade of the Magnolia trees his gravestone may lie marked as “unknown.”
Afterthought: If you recall from earlier in this essay, I noted Lieutenant Shaw had been struck by a bullet and was astonished that “he had not been knocked off his feet and surprised further that he had not just been killed.” “The ball undoubtedly would have entered my stomach,” he wrote, “and as it was, bruised my left hip a good deal.” One might wonder what would have happened if this pocket watch had not stopped that “enemy ball.” The positioning of this timepiece, unbeknownst to Shaw or any other man on the Battlefield at 1st Winchester, would go on to shape history and launch a nationwide recognition of an entire race of people held in bondage. Lieutenant Shaw would send the watch home to his family as a memento of the battle and, unknown to his family, a token to the history of enslaved people. The location of the watch is currently unknown.
Robert Gould Shaw and the Massachusetts 54th Memorial in Boston
Source:
Cozzens, Peter. Shenandoah 1862: Stonewall Jackson’s Valley Campaign. University of North Carolina Press. Chapel Hill, NC. 2008.
Dwight, Wilder. Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight, Lieut-Col Second Massachusetts Mass Inf. Vols. Ticnor and Fields. Boston. 1866.
McDonald, Cornelia Peake. A Woman’s Civil War: A Diary with Reminiscences of the War, from March 1862. Gramercy Books. New York. 1992.
Phipps, Sheila R. Genteel Rebel: The Life of Mary Greenhow Lee. Louisiana State University Press. Baton Rouge, La. 2004.
Robert Goud Shaw, edited by Russell Duncan, Blue-Eyed Child of Fortune: The Civil War Letters of Colonel Robert Gould Shaw (Athens: The University of Georgia Press, 1992). Pages 203-210
On the morning of August 28, 1862, while his brigade reposed under the cover of some trees near the Brawner Farm at Groveton, Virginia, Colonel John Neff and the 33rd Virginia Infantry lay “in line of battle, anticipating an attack.” The regimental surgeon approached Colonel Neff and, “examined his pulse, and told him that in his condition he should not entertain the idea of doing any service that day.” The physician failed, it should be noted, to extract a promise from him that he would not participate. “It was but a short time ere the brigade was ordered to charge, and Colonel Neff, as he was wont to do, sprang to his feet, and repeated, in his clear, sonorous voice, the word of command which came ringing down the line. It was with a shout such as the Stonewall Brigade was famous for that the charge was made. On approaching a fence, amid a terrific fire of artillery and small-arms, Colonel Neff stopped in an exposed position, and Captain David Walker, in passing him, inquired if he had any orders to communicate.” Neff replied: “None; go to the fence and do whatever you may regard as necessary to be done.” Those were, most likely, his final utterances.
Following the battle, the inquiry was made, “Where is Colonel Neff?” “No one could respond satisfactorily to it. Strange to tell, was the exclamation, that he was not, as was his habit, moving among his troops and cheering them on to duty and victory. A match was struck and a candle lighted, and he was found in the icy embrace of death just at the spot where the writer (Captain Walker) had passed him. The fearful mystery was solved. Though many had fallen, and there were many expressions of regret, for none of the fallen heroes of that hour were there more heart-felt expressions of sympathy and regret than for Colonel John F. Neff.”
“A promise made him, and which was mutual in its character, when contemplating the uncertainties of life, had to be fulfilled then and there. The living image of her who was nearest his big heart must be secured, and the ring which she had placed upon his finger had to be taken off and conveyed as sad mementos to her of a love and plighted faith which could only be quenched or removed by the king of terrors. His remains were removed to a grassy spot in the woods from which he had made his last charge with his command, and there interred, in a carefully-marked spot.”
This notable military commander, John Francis Neff, was born September 5, 1834, at Rude’s Hill, on the banks of the North Fork of the Shenandoah River in Mt. Jackson, Virginia. He was the son of John Neff and Catherine Wine. His home, located just across the Shenandoah River west of Rude’s Hill, was a modest red brick house which had been built in 1847. His residence on the North Fork was within view of Meem’s Bottom and Mount Airy.
Neff Family Home at Rude’s Hill
The Neff family name is a common last name in the Shenandoah Valley. It is said “the name is the synonym of honesty, industry, and hospitality.” John’s father was a deacon in the Church of the Brethren and was said to be “a man of pacifist leanings.” The church, “correctly called the German Baptist Church, practices total triple immersion. Hence, its members are known as Tunkers or Dunkers, which has been corrupted to Dunkards.” In times of war, the Brethren encourage their children to resist direct military participation, yet dutifully serve their country in the role of a Conscientious Objector. During the Civil War members of this religious group differed significantly with Confederate officials in Richmond regarding their conscientious status and the bearing arms.
Cedar Grove Church of the Brethren which was attended by John and his family.
Southern conscription laws were more stringent than those of the North due to the scarcity of able-bodied men. “Some Dunkard’s were drafted into the army under protest, with the understanding among themselves that they would not shoot.” This no-shooting pledge was practiced by enough Dunkard’s and Mennonites, for example, to cause General Stonewall Jackson to say: “There lives a people in the Valley of Virginia that are not hard to bring to the army. While there they are obedient to their officers. Nor is it difficult to have them take aim, but it is impossible to get them to take correct aim.” General Jackson recognized this and recommended allowing pacifists to generate supplies or to serve as non-combatants.
Not all Dunker’s and Mennonites, however, refused to fight. Those that did battle for the Confederacy faced many challenges. Most were excommunicated by their church. One Brethren from the Shenandoah Valley noted: “In 1861 I was acquainted with a young brother who afterward enlisted in the army. He was excommunicated from the church…He died on the battlefield fighting for his country. He died as a patriot, which from the standpoint of the world is the noblest death a man can die, even though an excommunicated member—excommunicated because he was disobedient to the teachings of the Son of God.”
It is recorded that John Neff “applied himself well at a nearby country school and when the time came, he expressed an interest in higher education. As most schools included some military training in their curriculum his father was against the idea.” John appealed to General John Meem, a neighbor, who was a member of the Board of Visitors at the Virginia Military Institute. General Meem made several unsuccessful attempts to secure a state scholarship for him. “When these attempts failed John entered the bedroom of his sleeping father and removed $200 from the latter’s pocketbook, for which he substituted his personal note in that amount at 6% interest.” John took the money and headed south.
Not long after John’s departure, though, he received a letter from his father. “Who can imagine the joy which swelled the breast and beamed in the sunny countenance of the young adventurer upon the reception and perusal of a letter from his father bidding him come home, and assuring him that the necessary means would be furnished to enable him to take the regular course at the Virginia Military Institute?” “John returned to the home which he had forsaken, assured of his father’s ability to perform the promise made him.” “It was but a short time before young Neff was where he had longed to be, enjoying the advantages of one of the best institutions of the kind in the South, and within the moulding influence of men who have since shed a lustre upon the page of their country’s history which will be undimmed by the lapse of time.”
John graduated fourth in a class of nineteen from the Virginia Military Institute in 1858. One of his instructors there, and one of his forthcoming commanders, would have been Thomas Jackson. After graduating from VMI, he remained in Lexington and began a new career. There he entered the law-class of Judge J. W. Brokenbrough and obtained a license to practice law. John did not solicit his newfound occupation in Virginia but did so in the City of New Orleans. Later he traveled to Baton Rouge, and finally to Memphis, Tennessee. Here he formed a business association with James H. Unthank and continued with him until the commencement of the Civil War.
With the coming of war, John returned to Virginia, where he obtained from Governor Letcher, a commission as a drill-officer, and was ordered to report for duty to General Thomas Jackson who commanded the army at Harper’s Ferry. “He lingered but a day or two at home on his way to Harper’s Ferry, and then, with other graduates of the Virginia Military Institute, engaged in the important work of drilling the patriotic officers and men with reference to the mighty conflict which was at hand.”
The 33rd Virginia Infantry Regiment was organized during the early summer of 1861 with men from Hampshire, Shenandoah, Frederick, Hardy, Page, and Rockingham counties. John would join this regiment serving as its adjutant. Arthur C. Cummings would be its first colonel. “Cummings had served in the Mexican War rising to rank of Brevet Major. He had also been a member of the Virginia State Militia obtaining the grade of Colonel. Prior to the war he had practiced law in Washington County Virginia.”
The 33rd Virginia Regiment, served in what would soon be known as the Stonewall Brigade, and was active at the Battle of First Manassas. It is recorded that Neff’s conduct at Manassas “epitomized his conduct and bearing in every subsequent engagement in which he participated. He did not seem to partake of that wild enthusiasm which seized and possessed almost every other individual in his command. Cool, calm, and collected, he discharged the duties of his position very much after the style with which he discharged them in the camp or bivouac He had too much pride of character to shrink from danger, and this is, after all, the sum total of courage.”
Wartime Photo of Colonel John Neff
Sergeant Major Randolph Barton recalled the attack of the 33rd at Manassas. “The shrill cry of Colonel Cummings was heard, ‘Charge!’ And away the regiment went, firing as they ran, into the ranks of the enemy.” The rest of Jackson’s Brigade soon followed and before long the enemy was in full retreat. Barton credited Cummings as having “turned the tide of battle at First Manassas,” and added, “I should think to Colonel Cummings the circumstance would be of extraordinary interest, and that he would time and again reflect how little he thought, when he braced himself to give the order to his regiment, that he was making a long page in history.”
On March 21, 1862, news from Turner Ashby’s cavalry scouts suggested that Federals, were reducing their strength in Winchester to reinforce Union operations against Richmond. Stonewall Jackson launched an attack against Union forces situated at Kernstown, a few miles south of Winchester, on March 23. “The 33rd played a large role in holding a stone wall against overwhelming numbers, until being ordered to retire as their ammunition was expended.” John Neff escaped injury, but the regiment suffered 23 killed, 12 wounded and 18 captured out of the 275 engaged.
Following Kernstown Colonel Cummings resigned his commission to serve in the Virginia legislature. Neff was elected to Colonel on April 22, during the reorganization of the 33rd Virginia. At twenty-seven, he was the youngest regimental commander in the Stonewall Brigade. “The determination of Colonel C. momentarily cast a gloom over his command, and all eyes were turned upon Colonel Neff as the most suitable person to take his position as commandant of the regiment. This circumstance of itself speaks volumes, when it is remembered that Colonel Neff, though among the youngest officers in the command, was thought to be the man for a position which had been so conspicuously filled by a veteran soldier and officer. Election-day came, and with scarcely a dissentient voice he was elevated to the position. Colonel Neff did not seek the position; it sought him.”
John would lead his regiment throughout the remainder of Jackson’s Valley Campaign. Though not actively engaged at McDowell and Front Royal, Neff had his first experience commanding men in battle at 1st Winchester on May 25. The 33rd Virginia was posted on the right of Jackson’s line not far from the Valley Pike. “Early on in the fight General Jackson came to Colonel Neff and pointing to the high ground at Bower’s Hill shouted: ‘I expect the enemy to bring artillery to occupy that hill, and they must not do it! Do you understand me sir? Keep a good lookout, and your men well in hand, and if they attempt to come, charge them with bayonet and seize their guns. Clamp them, sir, on the spot!’” When the final attack was ordered Colonel Neff led his soldiers to victory.
Following the 1st Battle of Winchester, the Stonewall Brigade would advance to Harpers Ferry. They would arrive on the 28th and would remain for just two days. At noon on the 30th Jackson ordered his army to retreat to Winchester out of concern that his band would have its retreat cut off by two converging Union legions. Winder’s Brigade, including the 33rd Virginia, was directed to stay behind and skirmish along Bolivar Heights to screen Jackson’s withdrawal. It was not until mid-morning of the 31st that the Stonewall Brigade, and the overlooked 1st Maryland, would begin one of the longest marches of the war. By midnight of that day, they had walked and sprinted, most without food, more than thirty-five miles in just sixteen hours, all the way to Newtown (now Steven’s City). This triumph would empower his men to claim the moniker of “Jackson’s foot cavalry.”
Position of the 33rd Virginia on the Morning of June 9 during the Battle of Port Republic
Neff’s regiment retreated to Port Republic with the rest of Jackson’s Army. While the Battle of Cross Keys was in process the 33rd Virginia was sent to guard the fords below Port Republic to ensure Shields soldiers could not cross the Shenandoah and join up with Fremont. “Colonel Neff was ordered to take his regiment and guard the several fords of the Shenandoah a few miles below Port Republic. It was a responsible position, but entrusted to one who, though young in command, had won the confidence of his superiors, and who, if occasion had required, would have demonstrated, as he had done before and as he did subsequently, that he was the right man in the right place.”
General Shields did not make a second attempt to cross the Shenandoah. Colonel Neff, late in the evening on June 8, was ordered to join with his brigade at Port Republic. “He did so, but after nightfall was ordered to reoccupy the position which he had held during the day. It was late at night before he made such disposition of his troops as promised freedom from surprise and successful attack.”
“The sun was shining brightly the next morning when he awoke, and he at once inquired, ‘No marching orders yet?’ and upon being told that none had been received, he replied that General Winder had certainly forgotten him and his command. He communicated with him and found the fact to be as he supposed. Learning that his brigade was marching, with orders to engage the enemy when he met him, on the opposite side of the river, with the greatest promptitude he collected his troops and set out to join it.”
Neff “found General Ewell’s troops crossing the foot bridge which had been thrown across the river. Not willing to wait on said troops, he asked and obtained permission to cross his troops contemporaneously. He crossed first, having ordered his troops to follow as rapidly as possible. When the last were thus crossed over, Colonel Neff having personally superintended their alignment, the regiment moved off at a double-quick step.” Unfortunately, by the time the 33rd regiment arrived on the field the battle had been won.
Neff and his command would subsequently fight in the Seven Days Campaign. In the interim between its conclusion and the Battle of Cedar Mountain he was assigned to court martial duty following Jackson’s relocation to Gordonsville. “I was president of the court martial called by General Jackson,” wrote Neff to his parents, “and was therefore excused from other duties, but General Winder insisted that I still should attend to my other duties, some of which it was impossible for me to do and I determined to test the matter, knowing I was right to obey the command of superior before an inferior officer.”
General Winder arrested Neff for dereliction of duty. “I shall have a trial by court martial and feel sure I will come out all right.” Still under arrest on August 9, as Jackson’s army approached Cedar Mountain, Colonel Neff prepared to meet the enemy as an unarmed member of the regiment. Being under arrest John was not allowed a weapon. “His presence with the men under such circumstances,” wrote Captain David Walton of Company K “inspired them with an ardor and enthusiasm which, perhaps, they never manifested before in so eminent a degree. It requires the most genuine courage to withstand a deluging shower of leaden rain and iron hail without arms.”
Colonel Neff was restored to command following the death of General Winder. However, long marches and lack of sleep had prostrated Colonel Neff” by the time of the Battle of Brawner’s Farm. John ignored the advice of the regimental surgeon and chose to fight with his men. John Neff had not yet reached 28 years of his age. “He was in command of his regiment – the 33rd- when he was killed. He fell pierced by a ball which entered the lower part of the left neck bone, and came out near his right ear, producing instantaneous death. He was killed after dark, while gallantly leading his regiment in a charge upon the retreating enemy.”
John’s father retrieved his sons remains from the battlefield at Brawner’s Farm. As John’s church felt he had violated their conviction that Brethren should resist direct military participation it resisted the idea of allowing John’s body to be buried in the church cemetery. Instead, he was buried in the family graveyard with his parents. It was not until the 1890’s that the religious community reconsidered and allowed John Neff’s corpse to be buried in Cedar Grove Cemetery on the summit of Rude’s Hill. John’s body, one whom had offered up the ultimate sacrifice for a cause he believed in, had finally ended its journey. His obituary is particularly fitting.
Final Resting Spot for Colonel John Neff.
Obituary : ROCKINGHAM REGISTER – Harrisonburg, VA Friday Morning September 10, 1862 “The late Colonel Neff” “Col. John F. Neff, who was killed in the battle of Manassas Junction on Thursday the 28st of August, was the son of Rev. John Neff of Shenandoah county, and had not yet reached the 28th year of his age. He was in command of his regiment – the 33rd- when he was killed. He fell pierced by a ball which entered the lower part of the left neck bone, and came out near his right ear, producing instantaneous death. He was killed after dark, while gallantly leading his regiment in a charge upon the retreating enemy. His body was brought home for burial, and now rests in the FAMILY GRAVEYARD not far from Mt. Jackson. He was a single man and had served his country faithfully up to the hour of his death. He leaves many friends to lament his early death. Peace to his memory.”
References:
Cozzens, Peter. Shenandoah 1862: Stonewall Jackson’s Valley Campaign. University of North Carolina Press. Chapel Hill. 2008.
Tanner, Robert, Stonewall in the Valley: Thomas J Stonewall Jackson’s Shenandoah Valley Campaign, Spring 1862. Stackpole Books. 2002.
According to Professor Jonathan Noyalas at Shenandoah University, more than six hundred African Americans, all originating from the Shenandoah Valley, many of them freed and escaped slaves, served in a military organization known as the United States Colored Troops during the American Civil War. The deeds of these men have in most cases become obscured by time and memory. I would like to offer for your consideration the sacrifices of just one of these African Americans.
Edward, was at the time of the Civil War, living in Winchester, Virginia. Edward had been born in Jefferson County in 1827 and at the age of seven was brought to Winchester and sold into slavery. For the next thirty years he would abide as the chattel property of another human being. At the time of the war this man, known only as Edward, as slaves were not allowed to have surnames under Virginia law, waited for an opportunity to seek freedom for himself and his family. His mate, Ellen, could not even be identified as his wife, as marriage was also illegal among enslaved peoples in Virginia.
Near the end of 1863, however, Edward seized the opportunity to alter the situation under which he and his family lived. He decided he would do it by fighting for his freedom. In late 1863 Edward escaped his Winchester master, possibly under the cover of darkness on some cold winter’s day, and headed for Benedict, Maryland. He left his son Charles, and spouse Ellen behind, alone and abandoned to an uncertain future. Edward made his way to Camp Stanton in Maryland where he joined the 30th U. S. Colored Troops, which was organized in February and March of 1864. His unit would be attached to the 1st Brigade, Ferrero’s 4th Division, 9th Corps, Army of the Potomac.
Charles County Maryland Wayside Marker
Much of what allowed Edward to take this action was the result of a law passed by the U. S. Congress in July of 1862 called the Second Confiscation and Militia Act. This decree freed slaves who had masters in the Confederate Army. Two days later, though, slavery was abolished in all of the territories of the United States, and on July 22, 1863, President Lincoln presented the preliminary draft of the Emancipation Proclamation to his Cabinet.
After the Union Army turned back Lee’s first invasion of the North at Antietam, Maryland, and the Emancipation Proclamation was subsequently announced, black conscription was pursued in earnest. Recruitment was slow at first until black leaders such as Frederick Douglas “encouraged black men to become soldiers in order to ensure their eventual full citizenship.” Two of Douglass’s own sons volunteered to join the war effort. Other volunteers soon began to respond, and in May 1863 the Government established the Bureau of Colored Troops to manage the growing numbers of black soldiers.
Black troops, however, faced far greater peril than white soldiers, especially when captured by the Confederate Army. In 1863 the Confederate Congress threatened to punish officers of black troops severely and to enslave black soldiers if they were captured. As a result, President Lincoln issued General Order 233, threatening reprisals on Confederate prisoners of war for any mistreatment of black troops. Although the threat generally restrained Confederates, black prisoners were usually treated more harshly than white captives. In perhaps one of the most heinous examples of abuse, Confederate soldiers shot to death black Union soldiers captured at Fort Pillow, Tennessee in 1864. A second, less storied instance, occurred that same year at a battle known as “the Crater.”
The month of July had seen a Rebel Army under Lieutenant General Jubal Anderson Early drive north through the Shenandoah Valley and threaten Washington itself. General Early would finally decide Washington could not be taken without losses so severe that it did not warrant the attempt. Still, General U. S. Grant was compelled to send reinforcements to Washington which he had planned to use against Petersburg.
To counter Early’s perceived threat, it was decided a major offensive against Petersburg needed to be pressed. Grant would have to take advantage of other opportunities. One of those prospects would come in an unusual form. Along the Petersburg front, the 48th Pennsylvania held the apex of “the Horseshoe,” a forward projection of the Union trenches that came within a hundred yards of a Confederate strong point known as Elliott’s Salient. “Lieutenant Colonel Henry Clay Pleasants, commanding the 48th, had been an engineer in civilian life, and had designed and constructed numerous long tunnels for coal mines and railroads. In mid-June Pleasants suggested a plan for tunneling across the no-man’s-land between the Horseshoe and Elliott’s Salient, planting explosives below the strong point, and blowing it up.”
Pleasants’ believed the mine explosion would create a wide breach in the Confederate line, through which Federal infantry could attack. “Beyond Elliott’s Salient was open ground which rose gradually to the low north-south ridge along which ran the Jerusalem Plank Road. If Union infantry could seize and hold that high ground its artillery would command the town of Petersburg, splitting the Confederate army in two.”
Unfortunately, General Ambrose Burnside’s operational plan began to fall apart the day before the attack, when General Meade forbade the use of the “Colored Division” as the spearhead. Meade did not think blacks were suitable soldiers, and he feared political repercussions if he gave them so important and dangerous a mission. If they failed with heavy losses, Republicans in Congress would condemn him for “using Negroes as cannon fodder.” Democratic politicians would condemn him no matter what happened.
Lieutenant-colonel Henry Pleasants’ plan involved having his miners dig a sloping tunnel 500 feet long that would end in a large chamber. Once complete they then proceeded to fill the chamber with 320 kegs, or about four tons of gunpowder. The resulting explosion would be the largest intentional explosive detonation of the Civil War.
The fuses were lit on schedule but there was no explosion. Two volunteers from the 48th Regiment, Lieutenant Jacob Douty and Sergeant Harry Reese, crawled into the tunnel. After discovering the fuse had burned out at one of the splices, they merged a length of new fuse and relit it. “Finally, at 4:44 a.m., one hour behind schedule, the charges exploded in a massive shower of earth, men, and guns.” A crater 170 feet long, 120 feet wide, and at least 30 feet deep was created.
“The earth below the Rebel strongpoint bulged and broke, and an enormous mushroom cloud, full of red flames, and carried on a bed of lightning flashes, mounted towards heaven with a detonation of thunder.” “Clods of earth weighing at least a ton, and cannon, and human forms, and gun-carriages, and small arms were all distinctly seen shooting upward in that fountain of horror.” The explosion immediately killed 278 Confederate soldiers of the 18th and 22nd South Carolina. As a result, the stunned Confederate troops were unable to direct any significant rifle or artillery fire at the enemy for several minutes.
Period drawing of the mine explosion at the Crater.
Ledlie’s untrained division was not prepared for the explosion, and reports indicate they waited 10 minutes before leaving their own entrenchments. Eventually hundreds of white Union soldiers were pushed into the breach. Colonel Stephen M. Weld of the 56th Massachusetts recalled the ground was “filled with dust, great blocks of clay, guns, broken carriages, projecting timbers, and men buried in various ways . . . some with their legs kicking in the air, some with the arms only exposed, and some with every bone in their bodies apparently broken.”
Footbridges were supposed to have been placed to allow attackers to cross their own trenches quickly. Because they were missing, however, the men had to climb into and out of their own trenches just to reach no-man’s land. “Once they had wandered to the crater, instead of moving around it, as the black troops had been trained, they thought that it would make an excellent rifle pit in which to take cover.”
Ledlie’s troops moved down into the crater itself and realized too late that the crater was much too deep and exposed to function as a rifle pit and quickly became overcrowded. Confederates, under Brigadier General William Mahone, quickly gathered as many troops together as they could for a counterattack. In about an hour, they had formed up around the crater and began firing rifles and artillery down into it in what Mahone later described as a “turkey shoot.”
The plan had failed, but Burnside, instead of cutting his losses, sent Ferrero’s Colored Troops in to bolster the attack. Three hours after the initial attack Edward and his comrades were sent into this maelstrom. After several hours of fighting, though, all the advantages of surprise and shock were gone. Nevertheless, “the USCT assault accomplished far more than could have been expected. Lieutenant Colonel H. Seymour Hall and Colonel Delavan Bates, commanding the two leading regiments in the first brigade, improvised a pincer attack that drove the Rebel defenders back, and captured 150 prisoners and several battle-flags.”
About 10:30 a.m. General Burnside decided to abandon his plan and left it to the officers in the crater to extricate themselves. The troops were “dispirited and caught in an indefensible position.” “Between eight hundred and a thousand men were packed into the bottom of the crater, without food or water, in oven-like heat, unable to fight but vulnerable to mortar-fire.” A thin line of riflemen defended the crater shoulder and the trenches to either side. Officers who commanded in the crater testified that “Black troops were the mainstay of this last-ditch defense.” Private Bird of the 12th Virginia gave them the accolade: “They fought like bulldogs and died like soldiers.”
Then at 2:30 p.m. the Confederates made their final assault. Two of Mahone’s brigades were joined by the rallied survivors of Elliott’s South Carolinians and Ransom’s North Carolina Brigade. The attackers chanted, “Spare the white man, kill the nigger.” Major Matthew N. Love of the 25th North Carolina wrote, “such Slaughter I have not witnessed upon any battle field any where. Their men were principally negroes and we shot them down untill we got near enough and then run them through with the Bayonet . . . we was not very particular whether we captured or killed them the only thing we did not like to be pestered berrying the Heathens.”
Major John C. Haskell of the North Carolina Branch Battery observed: “Our men, who were always made wild by having negroes sent against them . . . were utterly frenzied with rage. Nothing in the war could have exceeded the horrors that followed. No quarter was given, and for what seemed a long time, fearful butchery was carried on.” Some of the officers tried to stop the killing, “but [the men] kept on until they finished up.”
The killing went beyond the excesses that occur in the heat of battle. “Many Black wounded and POWs under escort were shot, bayonetted or clubbed to death as they went to the rear. Confederate Captain William J. Pegram thought it was “perfectly” proper that all captured Blacks be killed “as a matter of policy,” because it clarified the racial basis of the Southern struggle for independence. He found satisfaction in the belief that fewer than half of the Blacks who surrendered on the field “ever reached the rear . . . You could see them lying dead all along the route.”
The performance of the black troops had been superior to that of any of the other engaged units. “They seized more critical ground, captured more enemy troops, advanced further and suffered heavier losses than any other units. Ledlie’s white division, which was engaged for nine hours, suffered 18% casualties. The Fourth Division, engaged for less than half that time, lost 31%; and because so many of their wounded were murdered, their ratio of killed to wounded was more than double that of any Federal unit.”
CASUALTIES IN FERRERO’S DIVISION AT THE BATTLE OF THE MINE EXPLOSION
Regiment.
Killed.
Wounded.
Missing.
Total.
23rd U.S. Colored Infantry
74
115
121
310
29th U.S. Colored Infantry
21
56
47
124
31st U.S. Colored Infantry
27
42
66
135
43rd U.S. Colored Infantry
14
86
23
123
30th U.S. Colored Infantry
18
104
78
200
39th U.S. Colored Infantry
13
97
47
157
28th U.S. Colored Infantry
11
64
13
88
27th U.S. Colored Infantry
9
46
90
75
19th U.S. Colored Infantry
22
87
6
115
Total
209
697
421
1,327
Edward would survive the crater assault and would go on the participate in both of the bloody assaults on Fort Fisher during the Carolinas Campaign. He would also be present for the surrender of General Joseph E. Johnston and his army in 1865. The 30th would see duty as occupation troops at various points in North Carolina until December. Edward continued to serve in the 30th USCT regiment until he suffered a devastating injury in March 1865 at Morehead City, North Carolina, when a haybale fell on his back while loading a ship.
After the war Edward would work as a contract “gardener and day laborer” under a system buoyed by the Freedman’s Bureau. In the end, due in part to his own struggle for freedom, Edward was able to legally claim a surname. He chose Hall. The Cohabitation Act of 1866, passed by the General Assembly on February 27, legalized the marriages of formerly enslaved people in Virginia and declared their children to be legitimate. As a result, Edward Hall would have been able to marry Ellen and declare Charles his lawful son.
Soldiers who were disabled because of their service were eligible for pensions; the amount depended on their rank and their injury. Supposedly, “the Civil War pension system was color blind in that there was nothing in the application process that required applicants to be white.” “Still, the fate of black veterans’ applications was decided by white bureaucrats who found it easy to turn them down without fear of retribution.” Fortunately, Edward would later in life receive a pension of $27 a month for his service and his injury. (Note: “The last Union pensioner was Albert Woolson who died in 1956, but that was not the end of Civil War pensions. The last known widow died in 2008 and there were still at least two dependents receiving benefits in 2012.”)
“Although the Shenandoah Valley’s African Americans who served in the Union army and navy during the conflict proved an important element in ensuring that one day all of this nation’s citizens, regardless of race, could enjoy freedom, liberty, and equality, those USCT veterans never lived in a world where that existed. Despite slavery’s constitutional destruction and federal laws granting voting rights in the Civil War’s aftermath, oppressive black codes and Jim Crow segregation created a world which emulated antebellum America. Sadly, as one Shenandoah Valley native, John Brown Baldwin observed, around the time of Sergeant Hall’s death: “While slavery has been abolished in the sense of property interest, the negro is in all those personal characteristics… as much a slave today as he was before the Civil War. He still struggles.”
Edward Hall died on August 24, 1915, and was buried in Winchester’s Orrick Cemetery. Edward’s veterans stone has only the company designation of which he was a member. The portion of the stone that would have named his regiment is missing, perhaps the victim of weather or vandalism over the years since his death. The land upon which this cemetery sits was donated by the Reverend Robert Orrick, a former slave himself. It was intended for use by African American families who, because of racism and segregation, were excluded from both public and private cemeteries.
Edward Hall’s Memorial Stone at Orrick Cemetery in Winchester
Was Edward Hall a hero? Certainly. Perhaps more so than other Civil War Soldiers. He certainly had more to risk. There was the constant uncertainty of what would happen to his family when he ran away. Also, remember, Edward had to break the law when he escaped risking punishment and death. If he was captured by Confederate soldiers, he risked immediate torture or demise by execution. Yet despite all these concerns Edward and many thousands of other African Americans assumed these risks and chose to fight. Mark Anthony’s oration at the funeral of Julius Caesar probably states it best when he declares: “The Evil That Men Do Lives After Them; The Good is oft Interred with their Bones.” This Shakespearean quote praises the good deeds of people but notes that the memory of those deeds is fleeting, in stark contrast to evil deeds and their perpetrators. Such may be the case with the triumphs of African American troops during the American Civil War. Still, I choose to see Edward Hall and all of his comrades as a heroes. They offered up everything they had for the object they so desperately desired; freedom.
Note: “By the end of the Civil War, roughly 179,000 black men (10% of the Union Army) served as soldiers in the U.S. Army and another 19,000 served in the Navy. Nearly 40,000 black soldiers died over the course of the war—30,000 of infection or disease. Black soldiers served in artillery and infantry and performed all noncombat support functions that sustain an army, as well. Black carpenters, chaplains, cooks, guards, laborers, nurses, scouts, spies, steamboat pilots, surgeons, and teamsters also contributed to the war cause. There were nearly 80 black commissioned officers. By war’s end, 16 black soldiers had been awarded the Medal of Honor for their valor.”
Ayers, Edward L. Thin Light of Freedom. The Civil War and Emancipation in the Heart of America. W. W. Norton and Company. New York, N. Y. 2017.
Noyalas, Jonathan. Slavery and Freedom in the Shenandoah Valley During the Civil War Era. University Press of Florida. Tallahassee, Fl. 2021.
On February 8, 1864, General George Crook issued General Order No 2. It stated: “The regimental commanders of this division will select one man from each company…to be organized into a body of scouts… One man from each regiment so selected to be a Non-Commissioned Officer… All these scouts then acting together will be under the command of Commissioned Officers… Officers will be particular to select such persons only as are possessed of strong moral courage, personal bravery, and particularly adept for this kind of service. The men selected who are not already mounted will mount themselves in the country by taking animals from disloyal persons in the proper manner… providing however, that sufficient stock is left these people to attend crops with…”
This assemblage of young males would be composed of ”the best men from the 5th, 9th, 13th and 14th WVA Infantries, 2nd West Virginia Cavalry and the 12th, 23rd, 34th and 36th Ohio Infantries. These hand-picked fellows would play important roles in the Dublin Raid on the Tennessee and Virginia Railroad and in Hunter’s Lynchburg Raid, where they made the front pages of many newspapers with their exploits.”
General Crook singled out Richard Blazer to lead what would be termed a “counterinsurgency” effort. “Blazer’s war was one of foraging, bushwhacking, sudden firefights, frequent ‘no quarter’ and always getting horses by any means necessary.” This organization would be labeled as “division Scouts” and would consist of approximately eighty men and would be charged with “suppressing local guerillas as well as gathering vital intelligence about the surrounding terrain and enemy.” Lieutenant Richard R. Blazer would be commander of this unit which would ultimately be known as “Blazer’s Scouts.”
When General Phil Sheridan took command of Union forces in the Shenandoah Valley, he would adapt this body of men to his own devices. On August 20, 1864, he sent a message to the war department. He stated: “I have one hundred picked men who will take out the contract to clean out Mosby’s gang. I want one hundred Spencer Rifles for them. Send them to me if they can be found in Wash.”
Captain Richard Blazer
Richard Blazer, himself, seemed an unlikely choice as a leader of a covert band of combatants. Before the war Blazer had been a coal boatman and “at his time of enlistment was driving a ‘hack’ between Gallipolis and Portland, the first station on the Cincinnati, Washington, and Baltimore branch of the B&O.” While some accounts claim Blazer was a “hardened Indian fighter,” Blazer was only 32 years old when the war began. “Hostile Indians had long since been vanquished from the Ohio Valley and there is no record that Richard ever went further west to confront Indians.”
Blazer surely impressed no one with his martial bearing. “He had a far away look in one eye, and a nearly sleepy look in the other. His vest was not always buttoned straight, nor his coat collar always turned down. If his boots were not made to shine as the picture on the blacking box is represented, he made no racket with his servant, for as like as any way he had no servant, or blacking either. If he undertook to drill his company he would give the wrong command, and at dress parade he rarely placed himself in the exact position required by the adjutant.”
Captain Adolphus “Dolly” Richards
When General Philip Sheridan first assumed army command in the Valley, he initially chose to ignore the guerilla problem. Sheridan “refused to operate against these bands believing them to be substantially, a benefit to me, as they prevented straggling and kept my trains well closed up, and discharged such other duties as would have required a provost guard of at least two regiments of cavalry.” It would not take long for Sheridan to change his mind. Eventually Mosby’s Rangers would be his primary concern and he would devote substantial resources to counter the threat.
John Mosby’s background was quite different from Blazer’s. In October of 1850, while he was enrolled at the University of Virginia, he became involved in a dispute with a man named George Turpin. In the process of settling the dispute he ended up shooting the man. The case was brought to trial and Mosby was found guilty. He was sentenced to a year in prison and fined five hundred dollars. On the positive side the governor pardoned Mosby and the legislature would eventually rescind the fine. While in jail, though, he took the time to study study law. It would become a lifelong passion and career.
John Singleton Mosby
When war broke out Mosby first joined the Washington Mounted Rifles under William “Grumble” Jones. He quickly transferred to the cavalry corps under General J.E.B. Stuart. Before long, however, Mosby determined he would like to form his own command. In January 1863, Stuart approved Mosby’s scheme and gave him a handful of men to begin his operations.
Mosby and his partisan rangers would later be integrated into the regular Confederate army. Their primary function consisted of destroying railroad supply lines between Washington and Northern Virginia, as well as intercepting and capturing Union soldiers, horses and supplies. In time Mosby’s numbers rose from a dozen men to a few hundred by the end of the war. Mosby’s rank likewise levitated steadily; his final promotion to colonel came in January 1865.
Once Blazer’s scouts had secured their mounts, his troopers were ready to begin hunting guerillas. By August of 1864 Lieutenant Blazer and his men had gained a great deal of experience in the science of countering the threat posed by groups such as the ones led by John Mosby and John McNeill. Equipped with Spencer repeating rifles, they challenged Mosby’s bands and defeated them in several pitched battles.
Marker for the Battle of Kabletown
On the evening of November 16, 1864, one of Mosby’s rangers, Richard Montjoy, reported to their leader the results of a raid they had made into the Shenandoah Valley. On his return he had sent half of his raiding force off toward their dwellings in Loudon County. Montjoy had himself continued on with about thirty of his scouts and twenty prisoners. A couple miles shy of the Shenandoah River Montjoy decided to rest his men and were suddenly attacked by some of Blazer’s scouts. Mosby’s men fled eastward and attempted to make a stand at a farm known as the Vineyard. In short order, though, Blazer “recaptured the prisoners and horses, killed two of our men, wounded five others, and galloped away…”
When Mosby got news of the skirmish at the Vineyard he was “furious.” He quickly determined he and Captain Blazer “could not inhabit opposite sides of the Blue Ridge Mountain.” Mosby quickly dispatched one of his most trusted officers, Major Adolphus (Dolly) Richards, to “wipe Blazer out! Go through him!” He warned them if you “let the Yankees whip you? I’ll get hoop skirts for you! I’ll send you into the first Yankee regiment we come across!”
One of the interesting oddities of the operation currently taking place was the comparative uniforms of the two opponents. Mosby and his men would have been at great risk wearing Confederate uniforms since they operated behind Union lines. Most of his men would have dressed in Union Blue. Many of Blazer’s men were said to have worn Confederate Uniforms. Henry Pancake, one of Blazer’s operatives, noted: “We were organized to fight Mosby’s guerillas, and we had to fight them as they fought us, wearing each others uniform was part of the game.”
Early on the morning of November 17, Dolly Richards rode out with two companies of his men in search of Blazer’s scouts. Estimates on the size of Richard’s force vary from 115 to 319 riders. Richard’s rode through, and beyond, Snicker’s Gap, searching in vain for any sign of Blazer’s men. Coming up empty handed, Dolly halted his troopers for the night in Castleman’s Woods, not far from the town of Berryville.
The elements quickly turned against Mosby’s Rangers. The skies opened up and it rained hard all night. Misery was rampant among the men, who were without shelter, and were not even allowed to set campfires for fear of warning the enemy of their presence. During the night, though, Richard’s received notification that Blazer’s men had been spotted in camp in the nearby hamlet of Kabletown.
Richard’s had his men up and moving early the next morning, arriving at the enemy camp well before dawn. Though the fires were still smoldering, the enemy was nowhere to be seen. Two of Richard’s men, Charles McDonough and John Puryear, were selected to try to locate Blazer. The two of them rode into Kabletown and where they were approached “by a small party of horsemen dressed in Grey uniforms.” They were Brazer’s men. They drew their weapons and immediately opened fire on them. McDonough was able to escape but Puryear was captured.
McDonough rode to find Richards, followed by Blazer and a couple of his scouts. McDonough related the earlier incident to Dolly who decided he would set an ambush to try and knab Blazer’s whole crew. Richard’s rode to the home of George Harris about a mile south of town. Here he shifted his cavalrymen into “a hollow of the field on the south side of the road. Richard’s warned everyone not to fire a shot or raise a yell until you hear shooting in the front. Don’t shoot until you get close to them; among them.”
Henry Pancake, one of Blazer’s men, related the story of the hours that led up to the fight at Kabletown. Henry was described as “an affable grocer from Ironton, Ohio when he was interviewed for a series of articles called ‘Close Escapes’ for the Ironton Register in 1886.” Henry’s story is the only known complete account of the final fight between Mosby and Blazer at Kabletown. At the time he was being interviewed for a local audience it was noted that “the only exaggeration may be Henry’s own involvement in the action.”
In Henry Pancake’s account, he recalled: “We had gone down on a scout from the neighborhood of Winchester into Luray valley. We had ridden two days and nights and were returning toward Winchester again. We had crossed the Shenandoah river, at Jackson’s ford, about daylight, and rode into Cabletown [sic], about a mile from the ford, and back on the Harper’s Ferry road a short distance, where we stopped to cook a little breakfast. I was standing near Capt. Blazer and Lieutenant [Thomas K.] Coles, boiling some coffee, when a colored boy came up and said about 300 of Mosby’s Guerillas had crossed the ford and taken position in the woods, half way between the ford and Cabletown, and were watching us. That was only a half mile or so from where we were. The Captain ordered Lieutenant Coles and myself to go to a little hill or mound, about halfway between us and them, and see how many there were and all about them.”
Hotchkiss Map Showing Battlefield Site
“They also saw us as we marched and followed on, no doubt thinking that Richards wished to avoid a fight. Turning off from the road near Myerstown through a little skirt of woods, Richards drew up his men in a hollow in the center of an open field facing the woods, which hid them from the view of those in the road. The Federals followed closely after us.”
Private Pancake recalled: “We proceeded to the hill and got a good view of the rebs… In the meantime, Capt. Blazer had formed his command and proceeded across the fields in the direction of the rebs, and we joined him when he had advanced some distance. We told him there were about 300 of them, that they were in a good position and it wouldn’t do to attack them with our little force, amounting to about 65 men all told. But the Captain told us to fall in, and the way we went. Before we got into position to attack the rebs who were across the road, we had to let down two big rail fences. This we did and filed deep into the field which was skirted by the woods where the rebs were and in plain view of them. It was a desperately daring deed, and we hurried up the job, coming around into line like a whip cracker.”
In spite of Richard’s orders, one of Mosby’s men, David Carlisle “drew his revolver and fired a shot at the head of Blazer’s advancing column.” Incensed by the event Blazer’s men continued to file off the road into a tree line some two hundred yards away. Once the maneuver was completed the Yankees dismounted and sent skirmishers forward to the stonewall.
Map illustrating initial troop placements. (Map made by writer)
At this point Richard’s realized that Blazer had a strong position behind the wall and a frontal attack would be costly. “Seeing Blazer’s men taking down the fence and dismounting, Captain Richards thought their intention was to dismount and fight us at long range, which would give them every advantage, with their guns — they being sheltered by the woods and we being exposed to their fire in the open field.”
The situation on the ground was rapidly evolving. Richard’s called out to Lieutenant Hatcher: “Harry, they are dismounting.” He quickly ordered Hatcher with Company A “to break a hole in the fence to their rear and act as if they were withdrawing. If the Yankees fell for the subterfuge, then Hatcher would turn and charge as soon as Company B attacked.”
Blazer, unable to see Company A “ordered his men to horse and then ordered them to charge. Dolly Richards had chosen his field of battle well. Richard’s felt the depression in the field had done a first-rate job of concealing his men. When Blazer’s men attacked, Richards men surged out of the gully and were among Blazer’s before he knew what had happened. “Company B was still in line, but as we wheeled we saw them charge up to the woods. “
Company A, led by Hatcher, “now swept over the intervening space at full speed and dashed with the fury of a tornado on the flank of the Federal column. “Blazer’s men used their carbines at first, until we got fairly among them, when they drew their revolvers. They fought desperately, but our men pressed on, broke them and finally drove them from the field. The road for a distance of several miles bore evidence of the deadly conflict, as well as the discomfiture of the Federals.”
Map showing Dolly Richard’s deception and the counterattack made by his command on Blazers’s men. (Map made by writer)
Pancake remembered the rebel attack vividly. “The rebs do[w]n on us with ai yell. We fired one volley, and then they were on us, blazing away. To get through the gap in the fence and get out of the scrape, and into the road, was the aim of all. But the rebs were right with us, shooting our boys down and hacking our ranks to pieces. Every fellow was for himself, and when those got into the road who could get out flew in all directions, some across the fields, some up toward Cabletown and some toward the ford.”
Pancake went on to say: “Oh, it was a awful nasty fight! We stood no show at all. We had hardly got into line when every fellow was expected to save himself. I got into the road among the last, the rebs all around me and after me. I had on a rebel uniform and that’s what saved my head, just then. Well, I took down toward Cabletown as fast as my horse could carry me… The balls whizzed all around me. Near the crossroads at Cabletown, Lieut. Coles fell from his horse his head resting on his arm as I passed by. After I passed him, I looked back and the foremost reb, whom I recognized as one of the prisoners (John Puryear) we had when we made the attack, stopped right over him, aimed his carbine and shot Lieut. Coles dead.”
Lt. Thomas Coles
“Blazer used every endeavor to rally his flying followers; but seeing the utter destruction of his command, and being well mounted, he endeavored to make his escape. Onward he dashed, steadily increasing the distance between himself and most of his pursuers, but a young man “named Ferguson,” mounted on his fleet mare ‘Fashion,’ followed close on Blazer’s heels. After emptying his pistol without being able to hit or halt the fugitive, he drove spurs into his horse and urging her alongside the Captain, dealt him a blow with his pistol which knocked him from his horse and landed him in a fence corner. “Boys,” said Blazer, when able to speak, “you have whipped us fairly. All I ask is that you treat us well.”
Twenty-four of Blazer’s men were killed or wounded and many prisoners were taken. “Fifty horses, with their equipments, were captured. Richards had one man, Hudgins, from Rappahannock, mortally wounded, and a number of others wounded, — but not seriously — among them Charles McDonough, Richard Farr, William Trammell, C. Maddux, and Frank Sedgwick.”
Pancake recalled: “The surrender of the Captain stopped them a moment and I gained a little, but on came the rebs mighty soon again and chased me for two miles further. The pursuing party was reduced by ten, and then finally gave up the chase by sending a volley that whizzed all around me. When I looked back and saw they were not pursuing me, I never felt so happy in my life. I rode on more leisurely after this, but had not proceeded more than a mile or so when I saw a man leading a horse along a road that lead into the road I was on. I soon observed he was one of our men. He had been wounded and escaped.”
Site of the Battle of Kabletown is actually in Meyerstown, West Virginia.
“We went together until we came to our pickets near Winchester about dusk. There I was captured sure enough, because I had on the rebel uniform, and put in prison. I could not make the pickets or officers believe that I was a union soldier, and wore a rebel uniform because I was ordered to do so, but about 11 o’clock that night, my story was found to be true and I was released.”
Pancake would explain that it was the rebel uniform which made his escape different from that of Captain Blazer. “He could surrender and live; I couldn’t. I had to beat in that horse race or die, and as there were 40 horses on the track after me it looked every minute like dying. There were 16 of us in Blazer’s company who wore rebel uniforms, and I was the only one who got out of that scrape alive.” Federal soldiers dressed in rebel uniforms would, of course, be designated as spies and summarily executed.
A couple of the survivors went down to the battlefield the next day. Twenty-two of Blazer’s men were buried near the road. “The colored people buried them. Lieutenant Coles body was exhumed and sent home and now sleeps in Woodland Cemetery [actually, he rests in Greenlawn Cemetery, in Scioto County, Ohio, near Portsmouth] near Ironton. He was a brave fellow.”
You see, said Henry, “we were organized to fight Mosby’s Guerillas, and as we had to fight them as they fought us, and wearing each others uniform was part of the game. Why, I’ve got in with the rebels and rode for miles without their suspecting I was a union soldier.” That’s the way we had to fight Mosby, and it was part of the regulations that some of us wore gray.
After Blazer’s capture he was sent to Libby Prison where he would spend the next four months until he was exchanged for a Union Colonel. When released Blazer “was presented with his personal effects including his Union cavalry sword” which was arranged by Colonel Mosby. He returned to the 91st Ohio infantry and was mustered out of service on June 24, 1865. He returned home to his wife and five children in Gallipolis, Ohio soon thereafter.
In the summer of 1878, the steamboat, John A. Porter, arrived at Gallipolis. Its passengers and crew had been stricken with yellow fever and had been desperately searching for a port that would take them in. The ships passengers found relief there at the hands of a few volunteers and the acting sheriff, Richard Blazer. Unfortunately, Blazer’s reward for this act of kindness would result in his contracting the disease. He would die from yellow fever on October 28, 1878.
Following the war Blazer and Mosby would become acquainted with one another and broaden their friendship by exchanging letters. Mosby would send his friend the gift of a Mississippi Rifle which it is said he put to good use “hunting squirrels.” It is said what is needed to fight counter-guerilla campaigns is “imagination, daring and ingenuity.” These were qualities both men recognized in each other. Mosby’s respect for his old opponent would extend beyond his untimely death. In a eulogy written for Captain Blazer, Colonel John Mosby would honor his friend, and former adversary, by declaring him his “most formidable foe.” A greater honor could not be written.
Blog written by Pete Dalton
North& South Magazine. Volume 11, No. 2. December 2008. Pg. 54.
Shenandoah Valley's Civil War 