Posted on 04/19/2005 9:37:26 PM PDT by SAMWolf
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are acknowledged, affirmed and commemorated.
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Prisoners Under Fire Knowingly exposing helpless prisoners to artillery fire seems unconscionable. War, however, has a way of fostering inhumane behavior. The unfortunate situation had its roots in the previous summer. On August 21, 1863, Maj. Gen. Quincy A. Gillmore, the Federal commander in the Charleston area at the time, had sent a message to his Confederate counterpart, General P.G.T. Beauregard, informing him of the Union army's intention to fire into Charleston. He stated that the city was a military target due to its arsenal, which manufactured artillery shells, and its docks, which received supplies smuggled through the blockade. He informed the Southern general that the shelling would start sometime after midnight, August 22. Beauregard howled in protest, stating that he did not have adequate time to evacuate the city of its noncombatants. Nevertheless, in the wee hours of the following morning, Federal mortars sent their deadly projectiles into both the residential and business areas of downtown Charleston. Most affluent residents quickly fled the city, but the poorer inhabitants had to remain and face the onslaught. Gillmore placed an 8-inch Parrott rifle on Morris Island, four miles across the harbor from the south end of the city. The giant cannon, nicknamed the "Swamp Angel," hammered 16 screaming shells into Charleston before dawn, signaling the beginning of a bombardment that would last 567 days. In the month of January 1864 alone, 1,500 mortar shells were fired into the city. Once-mighty Fort Sumter, the linchpin of the city's defenses, was being pounded into a pile of rubble. Maj. Gen. Quincy A. Gillmore On April 20, 1864, Maj. Gen. Samuel Jones arrived in Charleston to take command of the Department of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida from Beauregard, who had been reassigned to North Carolina. Jones was a career army officer who had been born on December 17, 1819, in Powhatan County, Va. He attended West Point and ranked 19th out of 52 cadets in the class of 1841. He served on the Maine and Florida frontiers before returning to West Point in 1846 as a mathematics professor and an artillery instructor. Unlike many of the U.S. Army's young officers at that time, he saw no action in the Mexican War. In 1853 he was promoted to captain and served in Texas until 1858, when he was made assistant judge advocate. After Virginia seceded from the Union, Jones went with his native state. He resigned from the Army on April 27, 1861, and reported for service with the Confederacy. At the First Battle of Manassas, he commanded the Confederate artillery as a colonel under Beauregard and was shortly afterward promoted to brigadier general. Jones then led a brigade in Virginia, but was sent to Florida at the turn of 1862. He was promoted to major general and spent the rest of that year in various posts in Florida, Mississippi and Tennessee. Jones had a bad habit of questioning his superiors, and at times refusing their orders. He hated to relinquish troops under his command and usually ran into trouble as a consequence. In the autumn of 1862 he failed to send reinforcements to General Braxton Bragg in Kentucky, and for that misstep he was transferred to command the Department of Western Virginia. Throughout 1863 and early '64, he maintained the supply routes that fed the Army of Northern Virginia, but fell into disfavor with General Robert E. Lee when he continually argued about the assignment of regiments. In March, Jones was relieved of his Virginia command and ordered to Charleston. Confederate Major General Samuel (Sam) Jones When Jones arrived in Charleston, the battered city had already endured eight months of bombardment. Though deaths from the shelling were few, the Federal artillery had caused irreparable destruction throughout the city, and very few buildings within Union cannon-shot range had escaped damage from shellfire. The streets were pockmarked with craters and littered with the bodies of unburied animals. Only weeds grew in the yards of what had once been lovely homes, and the jewel of Southern antebellum culture had been reduced to the apocalyptic landscape of a scarred battlefield. In a grim attempt at humor, remaining residents called the area most damaged by the Federal guns the "Gillmore District." Shortly after the Southern change of command, the Union also assigned a new man to Charleston. On May 26, 1864, Maj. Gen. John Gray Foster replaced Gillmore as the head of the Department of the South. Foster was also a West Point graduate, class of 1846. He had seen considerable combat in the Mexican War and was wounded while in command of sappers, miners and pontoniers. Foster had been stationed at Fort Sumter as a captain when it fell in 1861. After the fort surrendered he returned to Washington, where he was placed in command of a New England brigade that he led to victories at Roanoke Island and New Bern, N.C. In 1863 he was transferred to Tennessee, where he fought at the siege of Knoxville and briefly commanded the Army of the Ohio. Following a fall from an unruly horse, Foster was transferred to the Department of the South to replace Gillmore. The relocation was a homecoming of sorts for the general. But no matter how badly he wanted to avenge Fort Sumter and seize Charleston, Foster realized that he lacked the means to successfully assault or outflank the massive defenses of the harbor town, and settled into continuing the siege by bombardment. 300 pound Parrot Gun, in Ft. Chatfield, Morris Island, S.C. Lacking the manpower and resources to drive Foster's Yankees away, General Jones looked for immediate ways to alleviate the bombardment. He turned to drastic measures to do so. On June 1, 1864, he requested from Jefferson Davis' military adviser, General Braxton Bragg, that 50 Federal prisoners be sent to him to be "confined in parts of the city still occupied by civilians, but under the enemy's fire." Davis approved his request, and orders were issued to move the unfortunate prisoners from Camp Ogelthorpe in Macon, Ga., to Charleston. On Sunday, June 12, trains arrived from Georgia bearing their unhappy cargo of Union captives. The event was smugly reported in the local newspaper, the Charleston Mercury, which expressed pleasure at the plight of the endangered Federal officers. "For some time it has been known that a batch of Yankee prisoners, comprising the highest in rank now in our hands, were soon to be brought hither to share in the pleasures of the bombardment. These prisoners we understand will be furnished with comfortable quarters in that portion of the city most exposed to enemy fire. The commanding officer on Morris Island will be duly notified of the fact of their presence in the shelled district and if his batteries still continue at their wanton and barbarous work, it will be at the peril of the captive officers." The unlucky 50 Yankees, all officersfive of them brigadier generalswere placed in a home converted into a prison in the south end of Charleston. Jones sent a note to Foster the day after their arrival to tell the Federal general of the captives' arrival and that they had been placed in "commodious quarters in a part of the city occupied by non-combatants....I should inform you that it is a part of the city for many months exposed to the fire of your guns." With that action, the Confederate commander set in motion a chain of events that would endanger the lives of helpless prisoners of war and outrage the highest officials of both governments. Morris Island, S.C. Federal mortars aimed at Fort Sumter, with crews Foster was furious and immediately requested that 50 Confederate officer prisoners be sent from the prison at Fort Delaware, located on Pea Patch Island in the Delaware River, and placed in front of the Union forts on Morris Island in retaliation. He sent a letter to Jones under flag of truce in which he argued that Charleston had munitions factories and wharves for receiving goods run past the blockade. He stated in angry terms that to "destroy these means of continuing the war is therefore our object and duty. You seek to defeat this effort, not by honorable means, but by placing unarmed and helpless prisoners under our fire." Jones was unshaken by the stern words of the Union general and fired back a letter chastising Foster and the Federal armies for their conduct throughout the war. He complained at length that the Confederate authorities had not been notified, or given time to evacuate the city, before the bombardment began the previous August. He closed his dispatch to the enemy commander with the furious words: "Under the foregoing statement of facts, I cannot but regard the desultory firing on this city which you dignify by the name bombardment, from its commencement to this hour, as antichristian, inhuman, and utterly indefensible by any law, human or divine." Clearly Jones was in no mood to be chastised by the Yankees, nor was he prone to any sympathy for the captive Union officers he was exposing to danger.
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Jones was dismayed at the fact that as of April 1863 the Federal government refused to continue the practice of exchanging prisoners. Prior to that date, a formal policy had existed that prescribed how prisoner exchanges were to take place. The new hard-line policy was designed to prevent soldiers from returning to the ranks of the Southern armies, as the Federal Army concluded that the Confederates received the greater benefit from the practice. It also, however, caused a rapid swelling of the numbers of men in Northern and Southern prisons.
Just when it seemed that the prisoner dispute had been resolved, things took a turn that would place even more captives in harm's way. Union Maj. Gen. William T. Sherman's campaign in Georgia was getting a bit too close to the overcrowded Southern prison camp at Andersonville, and the Confederate government began to send hundreds of Federal prisoners to Charleston for safekeeping. Jones objected to the situation, arguing to no avail that it was "inconvenient and unsafe."
Before long, the inmates included nearly 600 officers, more than 300 enlisted men both black and white, as well as local criminals and deserters from both sides. All were jammed into A-frame tents set up in the courtyard. An officer inmate described the yard as "A dirty filthy place unfit for human beings to live in." Another Federal, Lieutenant Louis Fortescue, wrote of the "intolerable heat" that he endured in the cramped courtyard, which did not have a "single shade tree."
Foster became wrathful when he heard of the new prisoner shipments, thinking that they had also been sent to the city to serve as human shields. He wrote Jones that he would place Confederate officers "under your fire" to retaliate. Construction began on a Union stockade in front of Battery Wagner on Morris Island and directly in the path of Southern artillery, and Foster ordered 600 Confederate officers removed from Fort Delaware, telling Maj. Gen. Henry W. Halleck, the Union Army's chief of staff, that "as soon as the rebel officers arrive I shall place them on Morris Island."
www.sonofthesouth.net
www.civilwarartillery.com
www.awod.com
rs6.loc.gov
www.swcivilwar.com
www.schistory.org
www.cr.nps.gov
members.aol.com/ rsjoslyn
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www.archives.nd.edu
It was even more terrifying when the Southern gunners replied to the Union salvos and sent inbound projectiles directly over the prisoners' camp. Henry Dickinson, a captain in the 2nd Virginia Cavalry, remembered the huge mortar shells that "looked as though they would fall directly on us." Dickinson could follow the shells at "night by the fuse burning," and was very relieved when their "parabolic course" terminated in Battery Wagner. As for the shells that sometimes burst over the camp, one of the incarcerated Confederates recalled that the inmates could "listen at the fragments humming through the air and hear them strike the ground with a dull thud among the tents." "Just imagine our position," one Rebel wrote in his diary. "Tied hands and feet as it were without the means of defending ourselves and know not what moment we may be writhing and bleeding under the effects of the bursting of terrible shell.... When shall it end?" As reports of the arrival of the Confederate officers in the stockade on Morris Island reached Confederate headquarters, Jones suggested that harsh methods of reprisal were necessary. On September 7 he wrote to the Confederate high command in Richmond: "If the department thinks it proper to retaliate by placing Yankee officers in Sumter or other batteries, let the order be given, prompt action should be taken. Please instruct me what if any authority I have over prisoners." On September 22, the Confederate prisoners were taken out of their stockade and placed once again on Crescent City. They remained in the damp hold of the ship for one storm-tossed evening and, unaware of Grant's firm dictate to Foster, hoped that they were to be exchanged. They had been transferred, however, so that Federal authorities could search their camp for unauthorized goods, and the inmates were herded back to their forlorn digs the following day. Throughout the month of September, the shelling continued, and the Confederate captives remained in their prison pen. Several Union guards outside the stockade were struck by shrapnel, but, almost unbelievably, the prisoners remained unharmed, even though approximately 18 rounds, fortunately all duds, actually landed among their sun-bleached A-tents. The prisoners' meager rations often consisted of only two pieces of hardtack a day. On a good day, a prisoner might receive some "worm eaten hard tack, a little chunk of bacon one half inch square" and a bowl of bean soup made, it was rumored, on a formula of "three beans to a half quart of water," remembered Thomas Pickney, a captain in the 4th South Carolina Cavalry. Swamp Angel General Jones' threats to put Union prisoners on the ramparts of Fort Sumter never materialized, and on October 8 the Union captives in Charleston were removed to cities farther inland. The Southern captives' ordeal continued, however, until October 21, when, after 45 days of exposure to shellfire, they were finally taken out of their miserable pen and transferred to Fort Pulaski at Savannah, Ga. The men spent a miserable cold, dreary winter there, 13 dying of disease. In March, the survivors were shipped back to Fort Delaware, where 25 more succumbed to illness. There they remained until after the war ended. The last man of the group was not released until July 1865. The harsh and unusual conditions of their imprisonment inspired one of the captives, John O. Murray, to record his experiences in the 1905 book The Immortal Six-Hundred. The name he gave the group stuck, and today they are still referred to as the "Immortal 600." Charleston in ruins Samuel Jones was transferred to Florida after Charleston finally fell to Union forces in February 1865. He remained there until war's end and surrendered at Tallahassee in April 1865. Following the war, Jones returned to Virginia and farmed until 1880, when he took a job in the adjutant general's office in Washington. He died in 1887. Foster remained in Charleston until the city surrendered. Then, like Jones, he was sent to Florida to command troops. He served in the U.S. Army after the war and is credited with developing underwater demolition techniques. He died in New Hampshire in 1874 and received a hero's funeral from the people of the Granite State. The issue between Jones and Foster over the use of prisoners as deterrents to shelling dramatized Charleston's symbolic importance during the Civil War. Jones was desperate to save the city, an icon of Southern independence, and its inhabitants from further destruction. Foster, on the other hand, was under pressure to capture the battered but resilient port city that was the cradle of the Confederate States of America, and to recapture Fort Sumter. RUINS OF THE NORTHWESTERN RAILROAD DEPOT Charleston SC Both generals had felt compelled to resort to tactics they knew were against the code of honor they had learned at West Point, yet both felt that under the circumstances they had little choice. Behind their decisions were the emotions of hatred for an enemy they had come to loathe, and the callousness that comes when the sight of destruction and death becomes commonplace. It is difficult to say who was at fault for the fiasco. Jones was the first to place prisoners under fire. On the other hand, the Federal Army was firing into a city where they were well aware civilians still resided. Grant must also shoulder some blame, for his orders ceased the prisoner exchanges. No matter who should bear the burden of responsibility, the treatment of the prisoners in Charleston Harbor, particularly that endured by the Immortal 600, remains one of the most controversial incidents of the Civil War. Certainly, the prisoners-as-shields practice constitutes a dark chapter in the greatest of American tragedies. |
G'morning....keep me on your bumplist please!
Morning RasterMaster.
Will Do.
Thanks! I guess it's still "evening" for another 10 minutes or so!
Sneaking through to say a good morning to all!!!
Good Morning and off to work Bump for the Freeper Foxhole
Regards
alfa6 ;>}
bttt
Good morning, snippy and everyone at the Foxhole.
I am dubious about the accuracy of our bathroom scale. So I've learned to manipulate it in a self-satisfying manner. The little adjustment knob serves to vary the register, and if that becomes too much bother, I just lean a certain way. The idea is to get a favorable reading-hopefully one that is a few pounds less. We live in an age when many people believe there are no absolutes. Self-serving behavior is rampant and tramples the moral law given for the protection of society. Our culture prides itself on "freedom" that is actually slavery to sin (Romans 6:16-17). But there is a God of absolutes whose scales never lose their adjustment. With Him, a pound is a pound, right is right, and wrong is wrong. He says, "I am the Lord, I do not change" (Malachi 3:6). For us as believers, this puts steel into our spiritual backbone. We gain confidence in the face of difficulty and are assured of the fulfillment of every divine promise. If God were easily moved by every whim or notion, our eternal destiny would be in constant jeopardy. But because He is the Unchanging One, we "are not consumed" (v.6). "His compassions fail not. They are new every morning" (Lamentations 3:22-23). -Paul Van Gorder
His truth remains forever; And from this faithful God of love No earthly trial can sever. -D. De Haan Earth changes, but God and His Word stand sure! -Browning
How Much Does God Control? Right & Wrong: A Case For Moral Absolutes |
Good morning ALL, going to be another one of those absolutely beautiful days here in Memphis. High 70s & sunny.
Chamber meeting this morning.
GET UP!!!
Morning Wneighbor.
You don't need to sneak. ;-)
Morning Iris7.
IMHO the most tragic period in our history was the War between the States.
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