Lucky Confederate officer fell sickly in Columbia, missed Franklin; comrades did not fare so well

I recently purchased a nice Confederate letter from Major William J. Crook, 13th Tennessee Infantry. It is dated December 10, 1864 and is written from Nashville.  Crook wrote several letters during the Civil War. Several of them are on file at the University of Tennessee Knoxville library.

In his Dec 10, 1864 letter Crook recounts the casualties his unit and division saw at Franklin. Fortune had smiled on the Major, who fell sickly in Columbia just a couple days before the Franklin action, thus missing the horrible Franklin action.

Major William J. Crook, 13th Tennessee Infantry, was lucky enough to survive the Battle of Franklin.   The 13th was part of Vaughan’s Brigade, under Brig Gen George B. Gordon.  The 13th TN fought with the 11th, 12th/47th, 29th and 51st/52nd TN Infantries at Franklin.

The 13th TN was on the furthest right of the advancing Gordon Brigade, just west of the Columbia Turnpike.  Gordon’s men overtook Wagner’s (Union) men as they retreated back behind the Federal line in the opening battle sequence. Once reaching the Federal line in front of the Fountain Branch Carter farm, Gordon’s Brigade and he 13th TN met fierce resistance from Opdycke’s and Strickland’s Briagades.  There was brutal hand-to-hand fighting here.

The University of Tennessee Knoxville library states this about William J. Crook:

William Jere Crook was born to Jeremiah and Mary (Arnold) Crook on October 20, 1836. He enlisted in Company I of the 13th Tennessee Infantry (CSA) as a Corporal on May 30, 1861 and was promoted to Captain on August 14 of the same year. Crook was seriously wounded and captured in Murfreesboro on December 31, 1862 and was exchanged in early 1863. He returned to his regiment and was promoted to Major on November 18, 1863. Crook was captured again near Athens, Georgia on May 8, 1865 and apparently released at the end of the war. He returned to Tennessee, where he married his cousin, Hattie Crook. William J. Crook died on January 10, 1881.

Here is a complete transcript of Crook’s letter. It is copyright protected and cannot be used without permission.

Copyright 2012, The Kraig McNutt Civil War Collection

Story of escaped slave who rose to U.S. Congressman focus of talk at Fort Negley on Monday, January 16th at 7pm

One of my favorite subjects to speak on is the incredible true story of escaped slave Robert Smalls who would rise to the height of a United States Congressman immediately after the Civil War. It’s a story in which truth is stranger than fiction and it will be the focus of my talk at the Nashville Civil War Roundtable on Monday the 16th at 7pm. Join us at Fort Negley in Nashville.

Robert Smalls (1839 – 1915) was born in Beaufort, South Carolina, on April 5th, 1839, in a slave cabin behind his mother’s master’s house on 511 Prince Street. In 1862 he escaped from Charleston harbor aboard a steamer called the Planter with his family and several friends too. The boat had to pass by five Confederate check-points and then surrender its contents to the northern Naval fleet out in the harbor where it was blockading the important southern port.

His escape succeeded and Robert would meet Abraham Lincoln personally a couple weeks later. Lincoln was quite impressed with a black man (slave) who had learned how to pilot and navigate the coastal waterways around Charleston. Lincoln rewarded Smalls handsomely with bounty-money and a commission into the Union Navy as a captain of a vessel – the Planter! He was the first black Captain of a U.S. Naval vessel.

Three months later Smalls would visit Abraham Lincoln in the Whitehouse to plead the opportunity for blacks to fight for the Union. Just days afterwards Lincoln approved the raising of the first black troops in the Blue uniform and Robert Smalls was instrumental in helping to start the 1st South Carolina Infantry of U.S. Colored Troops.

Smalls would go on to pilot the Planter for the Union cause and take pace in several important engagements around Charleston and the Sea Islands. After the Civil War he was elected among a few other blacks as they became the freshman class of blacks to serve as U.S. Congressmen.

Robert Smalls’s story is an amazing one of courage, determination, sacrifice, risk and reward – from slavery to Congressman!

Here is a photo gallery of various images I have taken related to Smalls and Beaufort.

Corner of Carteret and Craven Streets in Beaufort. Site of former slave mart.

Corner of Carteret and Craven Streets in Beaufort. Site of former slave mart.

Model of The Planter; the ship Robert Smalls escaped upon.

Desk belonging to Smalls as a Congressman.

Images of Robert Smalls.

Bust of Robert Smalls; Tabernacle Baptist Church in background.

Robert’s master was John and Henry (s0n) McKee. They are buried in nearby St. Helena Parish in Beaufort.

Christmas 1862

Christmas Night of 1862

by William Gordon McCabe

(1841-1920)

The wintry blast goes wailing by,
The snow is falling overhead;
I hear the lonely sentry’s tread,
And distant watch-fires light the sky.
Dim forms go flitting through the gloom;
The soldiers cluster round the blaze
To talk of other Christmas days,
And softly speak of home and home.

My sabre swinging overhead
Gleams in the watch-fire’s fitful glow,
While fiercely drives the blinding snow,
And memory leads me to the dead.

My thoughts go wandering to and fro,
Vibrating between the Now and Then;
I see the low-browed home again,
The old hall wreathed with mistletoe.

And sweetly from the far-off years
Comes borne the laughter faint and low,
The voices of the Long Ago!
My eyes are wet with tender tears.

I feel again the mother-kiss,
I see again the glad surprise
That lightened up the tranquil eyes
And brimmed them o’er with tears of bliss,

As, rushing from the old hall-door,
She fondly clasped her wayward boy
Her face all radiant with the joy
She felt to see him home once more.

My sabre swinging on the bough
Gleams in the watch-fire’s fitful glow,
While fiercely drives the blinding snow
Aslant upon my saddened brow.

Those cherished faces all are gone!
Asleep within the quiet graves
Where lies the snow in drifting waves,
And I am sitting here alone.

There’s not a comrade here to-night
But knows that loved ones far away
On bended knee this night will pray:
“God bring our darling from the fight.”

But there are none to wish me back,
For me no yearning prayers arise.
The lips are mute and closed the eyes–
My home is in the bivouac.

January 4, 1862. Harper’s Weekly

129th Illinois soldier recounts the dark days of December 1864, Hood skedaddles

Raleigh, North Carolina,
April 20, 1865,

Nov. the 28 we was ordered to Nashville to defend the place agains Rebel Gen. Hood. December 1 we got there and dug trenches 2 days and 1 night. Dec. the 4 & 5 considerable skirmishing. The 6 & 7 considerable firing on picket with a little fight. We lost several….the 15 Thomas went for them and it was a hard fight with a loss to the Rebs of 12 hundred prisoners 18 pieces of cannon 8 battle flags which we got. The 16th the fight gets harder our loss 1000 killed and wounded. Rebs loss 600 hundred killed & wounded. We captured 5000 prisoners 30 canon and several battle flags. The 17th Hood has left our front and skedaddled. Thomas after him. The 19th we was ordered to move we marched to Murfreesboro 2 days….went 9 miles the other side of Huntsville, Alabama the track being torn up. We had to march the rest of the way. The 27th we crossed the Tenn. River on transports and run the rebs out of Decatur . Our cavalry captured 4 canon then we started after Hoods pontoon train but hearing that he had made a crossing below we lay at Cortland a few days…April the 3 we started for Goldsborough where Sherman lay…the 10 we started for Raleigh…the 13 encamped for to make peace for Johnston has promised to surrender the papers has been sent to Washington to be signed…

129th Illinois Infantry, Co. I.

Source: Nate Sanders auction

 

75th Illinois, Company K, soldier – Hunt – saw action at Franklin in Kimball’s Division

Here’s a CDV of an Illinois officer – Isaac L. Hunt – who served in Company K, 75th Illinois. He would have seen action at Franklin in Grouse’s Brigade, Kimball’s Division. The CDV was recently offered in an online auction with Cowan’s.

 

101st Ohio, Company E, soldier fought at Franklin, later discharged for wounds suffered at Kennesaw Mountain

A recent image of a 101st Ohio Infantry soldier surfaced in an online auction at Cowan’s. It is of William Cox. The 101st was in Kirby’s Brigade, Kimball’s Division. Cox was wounded at Kennesaw Mountain and later discharged (1865) for those wounds.

Private Sam Watkins, Company H, 1st TN, describes Franklin action

Sam Watkins, Company Aytch

FRANKLIN

“The death-angel gathers its last harvest.”

Kind reader, right here my pen, and courage, and ability fail me. I shrink from butchery. Would to God I could tear the page from these memoirs and from my own memory. It is the blackest page in the history of the war of the Lost

Cause. It was the bloodiest battle of modern times in any war. It was the finishing stroke to the independence of the Southern Confederacy. I was there. I saw it. My flesh trembles, and creeps, and crawls when I think of it today. My heart almost ceases to beat at the horrid recollection. Would to God that I had never witnessed such a scene!

I cannot describe it. It beggars description. I will not attempt to describe it. I could not. The death-angel was there to gather its last harvest. It was the grand coronation of death. Would that I could turn the page. But I feel, though I did so, that page would still be there, teeming with its scenes of horror and blood. I can only tell of what I saw.

Our regiment was resting in the gap of a range of hills in plain view of the city of Franklin. We could see the battle-flags of the enemy waving in the breeze. Our army had been depleted of its strength by a forced march from Spring Hill, and stragglers lined the road. Our artillery had not yet come up, and could not be brought into action. Our cavalry was across Harpeth river, and our army was but in poor condition to make an assault. While resting on this hillside, I saw a courier dash up to our commanding general, B. F. Cheatham, and the word, “Attention!” was given. I knew then that we would soon be in action. Forward, march. We passed over the hill and through a little skirt of woods.

The enemy were fortified right across the Franklin pike, in the suburbs of the town. Right here in these woods a detail of skirmishers was called for. Our regiment was detailed. We deployed as skirmishers, firing as we advanced on the left of the turnpike road. If I had not been a skirmisher on that day, I would not have been writing this today, in the year of our Lord 1882.

It was four o’clock on that dark and dismal December day when the line of battle was formed, and those devoted heroes were ordered forward, to

“Strike for their altars and their fires,
For the green graves of their sires,
For God and their native land.”

As they marched on down through an open field toward the rampart of blood and death, the Federal batteries began to open and mow down and gather into the garner of death, as brave, and good, and pure spirits as the world ever saw. The twilight of evening had begun to gather as a precursor of the coming blackness of midnight darkness that was to envelop a scene so sickening and horrible that it is impossible for me to describe it. “Forward, men,” is repeated all along the line. A sheet of fire was poured into our very faces, and for a moment we halted as if in despair, as the terrible avalanche of shot and shell laid low those brave and gallant heroes, whose bleeding wounds attested that the struggle would be desperate. Forward, men! The air loaded with death-dealing missiles. Never on this earth did men fight against such terrible odds. It seemed that the very elements of heaven and earth were in one mighty uproar. Forward, men! And the blood spurts in a perfect jet from the dead and wounded. The earth is red with blood. It runs in streams, making little rivulets as it flows. Occasionally there was a little lull in the storm of battle, as the men were loading their guns, and for a few moments it seemed as if night tried to cover the scene with her mantle. The death-angel shrieks and laughs and old Father Time is busy with his sickle, as he gathers in the last harvest of death, crying, More, more, more! while his rapacious maw is glutted with the slain.

But the skirmish line being deployed out, extending a little wider than the battle did—passing through a thicket of small locusts, where Brown, orderly sergeant of Company B, was killed—we advanced on toward the breastworks, on and on. I had made up my mind to die—felt glorious. We pressed forward until I heard the terrific roar of battle open on our right. Cleburne’s division was charging their works. I passed on until I got to their works, and got over on their (the Yankees’) side. But in fifty yards of where I was the scene was lit up by fires that seemed like hell itself. It appeared to be but one line of streaming fire. Our troops were upon one side of the breastworks, and the Federals on the other. I ran up on the line of works, where our men were engaged. Dead soldiers filled the entrenchments. The firing was kept up until after midnight, and gradually died out. We passed the night where we were. But when the morrow’s sun began to light up the eastern sky with its rosy hues, and we looked over the battlefield, O, my God! what did we see! It was a grand holocaust of death. Death had held high carnival there that night. The dead were piled the one on the other all over the ground. I never was so horrified and appalled in my life. Horses, like men, had died game on the gory breastworks. General Adams’ horse had his fore feet on one side of the works and his hind feet on the other, dead. The general seems to have been caught so that he was held to the horse’s back, sitting almost as if living, riddled, and mangled, and torn with balls. General Cleburne’s mare had her fore feet on top of the works, dead in that position. General Cleburne’s body was pierced with forty-nine bullets, through and through. General Strahl’s horse lay by the roadside and the general by his side, both dead, and all his staff. General Gist, a noble and brave cavalier from South Carolina, was lying with his sword reaching across the breastworks still grasped in his hand. He was lying there dead. All dead! They sleep in the graveyard yonder at Ashwood, almost in sight of my home, where I am writing today. They sleep the sleep of the brave. We love and cherish their memory. They sleep beneath the ivy-mantled walls of St. John’s church, where they expressed a wish to be buried. The private soldier sleeps where he fell, piled in one mighty heap. Four thousand five hundred privates! all lying side by side in death! Thirteen generals were killed and wounded. Four thousand five hundred men slain, all piled and heaped together at one place. I cannot tell the number of others killed and wounded. God alone knows that. We’ll all find out on the morning of the final resurrection.

Kind friends, I have attempted in my poor and feeble way to tell you of this (I can hardly call it) battle. It should be called by some other name. But, like all other battles, it, too, has gone into history. I leave it with you. I do not know who was to blame. It lives in the memory of the poor old Rebel soldier who went through that trying and terrible ordeal. We shed a tear for the dead. They are buried and forgotten. We meet no more on earth. But up yonder, beyond the sunset and the night, away beyond the clouds and tempest, away beyond the stars that ever twinkle and shine in the blue vault above us, away yonder by the great white throne, and by the river of life, where the Almighty and Eternal God sits, surrounded by the angels and archangels and the redeemed of earth, we will meet again and see those noble and brave spirits who gave up their lives for their country’s cause that night at Franklin, Tennessee. A life given for one’s country is never lost. It blooms again beyond the grave in a land of beauty and of love. Hanging around the throne of sapphire and gold, a rich garland awaits the coming of him who died for his country, and when the horologe of time has struck its last note upon his dying brow, Justice hands the record of life to Mercy, and Mercy pleads with Jesus, and God, for his sake, receives him in his eternal home beyond the skies at last and forever.

 

Nashville to display an original copy of the Emancipation Proclamation on its 150th anniversary

Tennessee Governor Bill Haslam’s office announced Monday, December 12th that the Tennessee State Museum will display the treasured Emancipation Proclamation document, signed by Abraham Lincoln, during an exhibit to be hosted in 2013 at the state museum called “Discovering the Civil War“.

The rare document to be on display in Nashville will be the only site in the Southeast to host it.

When will it be on display?  It will be on display during a six day period, during planned intervals of time (to be announced) since the document can only be exposed to 72 hours of light during its visit. The treasured document rarely leaves the National Archives.

“The Emancipation Proclamation linked the preservation of American constitutional government to the end of slavery and has become one of the country’s most treasured documents. Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on Jan. 1, 1863, formally proclaiming the freedom of all slaves held in areas still in revolt,” said the Haslam-office press release.

The National Archives multimedia exhibit Discovering the Civil War, which will open at the state museum on Feb. 12, 2013 – Lincoln’s birthday – and continue through Sept. 2, 2013.

Here is a copy of the document to be displayed.

Emancipation Proclamation

 

 

 

John Bell Hood’s version of the Franklin action in ‘Advance & Retreat’

From 1993 reprint book description on Amazon:

When John Bell Hood entered into the services of the Confederate Army, he was 29 years old, a handsome man and courageous soldier, loyal to the ideal of Confederate Independence and eager to fight for it. He led his men bravely into the battles of Second Manassas, Gaines’s Mill, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, and Chickamauga. He rose fast, attaining the temporary rank of full general, only to fall faster. Hood emerged from the war with his left arm shattered and uselss, his right leg missing, his face aged far beyond his 33 years, and with his military reputation in disgrace. Blamed by contemporaries for contributing to the defeat of his beloved Confederacy, Hood struggled to refute their accusations. His most vehement critic, General Johnston, charged Hood with insubordination while serving under him and, after succeeding him in command, of recklessly leading Confederate troops to their “slaughter” and “useless butchery.” Sherman, too, in his Memoirs,took a harsh view of Hood. Born of controversy, Advance and Retreat is of course a highly controversial book. It is also full of invaluable information and insights into the retreat from Dalton in early 1864, the fighting around Atlanta, and the disastrous Tennessee Campaign in winter of that year. Far from being a careful, sober, objective account, this book is the passionate, bitter attempt of a soldier to rebut history’s judgment of himself as general and man.

Read the full transcript in Advance & Retreat pertaining to the Franklin action.

What were the soldiers who survived Franklin, and their loved ones, thinking after the Battle of Franklin?

Again, using the Worlde tool, one can construct a word cloud image based on numerous letters I collected from soldiers and their loved-ones immediately after the Battle of Franklin. What was on their minds?

Domino’s Pizza site in Franklin will soon be restored to battlefield condition, circa 1864

In late November (24th)  the Franklin historical preservation community welcomed the news that the Tennessee Department of Transportation had offered a $960,000 gift to help toward the purchase of the property where the strip mall and the Domino’s Pizza restaurant sits just north of Cleburne St and Columbia Avenue. The gift means that roughly half of the funds needed to buy the property would be provided by the TDT.

This site is vital and cherished by Civil War preservationists and people who want to see Franklin continue in the momentum of recapturing and reclaiming Civil War battlefield land that was presumably lost forever to development.

The Carter cotton gin originally sat on this location (see below) and on November 30, 1864, it was arguably the epicenter of a horrific engagement between the Union Army led by John M. Schofield and the Confederate Army led by John Bell Hood. There were roughly 10,000 casualties from this Gettysburg of the West battle, with some 1,700+ Confederate soldiers killed.

Members and guests of the Franklin Civil War Round Table, which meets in the new Franklin police department (the second Sunday of each month), were treated with some exciting news tonight (Dec 11th).  

Julian Bibb of Franklin’s Charge announced two additional gifts of $250,000 each. One is from an anonymous donor and the other is from the Civil War Trust.  The $500,000 donation is a challenge, meaning that the entire $500K will be donated toward the cotton gin land if the Franklin community can match the $500K by May 1st, 2012.

This good news comes on the heels of the recent news in which the Civil War Trust and Save the Franklin Battlefield had successfully collaborated on purchasing the five acre parcel known as Loring’s Advance (read more).

The map below shows the site of the strip mall area which is north and adjacent to Cleburne Park.

Once the park is completed the community will have successfully recovered a large commercial area to provide a scenic and appropriate way to commemorate the battle of Franklin.

To learn more about the role of Franklin’s Charge in this project click here.

‘Confederate’ breast plate becomes a post-war treasure

I recently blogged about Henry Clay Smith of the 4th TN Cav.  His daughter – still living – Corrine Davenport has a priceless treasure that her daddy made. It is a paper weight from his ‘Confederate’ breast plate. However, what makes this even more special is that he carved the wood base from a piece of a ‘surrender’ tree where the 4th TN Cav stood in April 1865.

One reader of this blog suggests that Smith probably picked this breast plate up from the field since its a Federal design. He likely carried it home and added the wood base later [note added 12.13.11].

Concerns of Thomas and Schofield at Franklin?

What was on the minds of the Union Generals George H. Thomas and John M. Scofield within hours of the start of the Battle of Franklin and during the day of the actual action?

Using the Wordle tool we know.  I used the texts of the telegrams sent between the two Union Generals to create this word cloud.

New York Times coverage of the Battle of Franklin?

Many newspapers covered the story of the Battle of Franklin in early December 1864. By examining the NYT’s coverage from December 2nd-6th, the following word cloud shows what the paper emphasized.

Word cloud generated using a free tool called Wordle.

Henry Clay Smith, Co G, 4th TN Cav

Circa 1920 picture of Confederate veteran Henry Clay Smith, Co G, 4th TN Cav from Lebanon, Tennessee.

Henry Clay Smith, from Lebanon, Tenn.

Smith mustered in as an 18 year old in early December 1861. He was a prisoner of war during a part of the war, but records indicate he was released an likely served at Franklin in November 1864 (under Nathan Bedford Forrest / Chalmer’s Division).

His daughter, Corrine Davenport (below), just turned 96 years old and lives in middle Tennessee.

Ms. Corrine Davenport, living Confederate daughter

Henry Clay Smith is buried in Mount Olivet Cemetery.