Cindy Vallar's Blog - Posts Tagged "prisoners-of-war"

Sinking the Sultana: A Civil War Story of Imprisonment, Greed, and a Doomed Journey Home by Sally M. Walker

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


On 27 April 1865, Frances Ackley joins her husband on deck of the USS Tyler in the wee hours of the morning. The Mississippi River, where the gunboat is docked, runs higher than normal because of the winter thaw. At 2:30 in the morning, the sky should be dark, but glows orange. All around them, voices plead for help. Two navy cutters quickly launch and, despite her husband’s objections, Frances climbs aboard one. For the next hours, she helps rescue man after man. For each man saved, dozens more float past, too far to reach with the boat hook. Sinking the Sultana recounts the nightmare of that night, as well as the days and months before, and the terrible tragedy that killed so many who had endured so much, but were finally going home.

Walker begins this story by first laying the groundwork so readers understand the river, the evolution of travel on the Mississippi, and time period. Then she introduces some of the men who joined the Union Army, were captured by Confederate forces, and ultimately found themselves aboard the Sultana. Michael Dougherty was a recent emigrant from Ireland. Robert Hamilton came from Tennessee, but fought for the North because he opposed secession. Too young to fight, Stephen Gaston became a bugler. A lawyer in civilian life, J. Walter Elliott had to lie about his identity to stay alive. John Clark Ely, a teacher, kept a record his life in the army and in prison.

The next four chapters examine what life was like inside the notorious prisoner of war camp known as Andersonville, as well as the less familiar, but equally horrendous, Cahaba in Alabama. It quickly becomes apparent why so many died, but readers also learn how the five men mentioned above managed to survive until the war ended and were transferred to Camp Fisk in Vicksburg, Mississippi until transportation home could be arranged. Also covered are the use of steamboats during the war; the building and fitting out of the Sultana (including her lifesaving equipment); a problem that developed with her boilers; and how more than 2,000 POWs ended up aboard a boat that was only supposed to carry 376 passengers.

The final five chapters cover the explosion and its aftermath, how individuals reacted, rescue efforts, and the investigations into what happened and who was found culpable. Walker also discusses the rumors of sabotage, as well as what scientists of today believe caused the accident. To reinforce the magnitude of how many lost their lives, she compares the sinking of Sultana with the sinking of Titantic. Equally revealing are the reasons why the former tragedy isn’t as well known as the latter. In addition, she shares efforts by survivors, and later their descendants and interested parties, to make certain that no one forgets this tragedy. In her epilogue, Walker informs readers what happened to the five men she introduced early in the book, where the steamboat is now, and how the Mississippi has changed in the years since that fateful day.

Aside from Walker’s chronicling of events, what makes this book come alive are the passages from primary documents, such as Ely’s diary, and the many contemporary illustrations. Not only do these put faces to names, they vividly portray the realities of the prisons and the horror of that night. Two particularly poignant photographs show the effects of illness and starvation on an Andersonville prisoner, and the soldiers packed tighter than sardines on Sultana’s decks, while an engraving from Harper’s Weekly’s illustrates the burning inferno and survivors floating in the river. Also included are several maps, a glossary, source notes, a bibliography, and an index. Interspersed throughout the book are several special sections (pages with gray borders) that cover key points that require greater explanation than can be revealed in the normal telling of the story. These are explained in clear language that middle grade readers will readily understand without feeling as if they are being talked down to.

Walker’s depiction of this historical event is powerful, moving, and horrifying. After experiencing this book, readers come away with a better understanding that it’s never a single event that leads up to the crisis and that when the worst happens, people with disparate beliefs and life experiences willingly set aside their differences to help others, regardless of whether the disaster occurs today or in the past. Sinking the Sultana is a compelling retelling that graphically and realistically portrays the consequences of decisions made and the price paid by innocent people because of “fraud, greed, and clout.” (64)




View all my reviews

The Hated Cage: An American Tragedy in Britain's Most Terrifying Prison by Nicholas Guyatt

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


6 April 1815. The War of 1812 is over, yet many American prisoners of war remain confined within the granite walls of Dartmoor Prison. The POWs are in the yard when a fight breaks out. Eventually, British guards open fire. Those who attempt to flee inside the prison blocks find the doors locked. When peace returns, nine are dead and more than thirty suffer from serious wounds.

This incident, which opens The Hated Cage, is perhaps the only aspect of the most feared prison in the world that is remembered today. Like the war itself, few Americans know much about this enormous detention facility or the 6,553 Americans who lived within its confines between 1813 and 1815. The few remnants of their memory are either vague references in history books, or the 271 graves where bodies of these citizens are buried. All this is in spite of the fact that indelible records of these people, the majority of whom were privateers, do exist and Guyatt delved into archival records about and personal memoirs and journals from these POWs to change these deficits. He also shines a light on the men of color, of which there were nearly 1,000 yet not one left a written account of his time spent in America’s first racially segregated prison. One of these, a man history remembers as King Dick, serves as the nucleus around which the POW experience unfolds, because much of what has been written about him is steeped in mythology. Within these pages, the truth about Richard Crafus, the prison, life as a POW, and the massacre are explored.

Prior to 1809, the British incarcerated POWs in prison hulks (ships) and repurposed buildings. A change in social thinking and the large numbers of prisoners – a result of fighting with the French and the Americans in two separate conflicts – necessitated a change. Thomas Tyrwhitt, private secretary to the prince, decided to build a purpose-built prison and received permission to do so on a foggy, barren moor in the middle of nowhere. Dartmoor was designed by Daniel Asher Alexander. Bordered by a granite wall nearly a mile round, the northern portion of the prison consisted of large dormitories arrayed like wheel spokes where the POWs would reside. South of these structures were the other buildings needed to care for the captives and house those who oversaw and guarded them.

The most notorious of the blocks was Prison Four. It became the domain of the men of color, although all prisoners spent time there, spending money and whiling away idle time in pursuits such as staging plays or gaming. Supposedly, this was where King Dick reigned.

To reach Dartmoor, POWs walked from Plymouth in all types of weather. Once inside, each man had to dress in a yellow uniform sporting a diagonal arrow. The first man to enter its gates, over which was chiselled “Spare the Vanquished,” was a Frenchman named Etienne Pagert on 22 May 1809. The oldest prisoner was born in England in 1745; his name was Edward Johnstone. The youngest Black POW was James Johnson, a lad of thirteen who was aboard a privateer when it was taken by the British in February 1814. The first agent (warden) to oversee these men was Isaac Cotgrave; when he retired, Thomas Shortland took his place and oversaw the refurbishing of the prison before it began to house only American POWs beginning halfway through 1814. Frank Palmer, who wrote about his captivity, served aboard a privateer for less than a day before he was taken prisoner; he remained such for 545 days, some of which were spent in this prison.

Throughout the pages of this book, readers learn what it was like to be a POW both physically and emotionally. Also discussed are the problems encountered by both the POWs and the agents. This includes the original inhabitants of Prison Four who were collectively known as Romans, feral men who never wore clothes except a blanket if they went elsewhere in the prison. Daily life, prejudices, published narratives, escape attempts, the massacre and its aftermath, reasons as to why the POWs remained incarcerated for so long, and how some individuals came to be residents of Dartmoor are discussed, as are what became of these people after they returned home and how the prison was repurposed to house hardened criminals, which it continues to do until it closes in 2023.

The Hated Cage is an eye-opening and absorbing history of Dartmoor and the POWs, both French and American, who resided within its walls. Guyatt provides a wealth of details that clearly show the differences between expectations and realities. Although he includes the surprising detail that women and children (camp followers and captives) lived within Dartmoor’s walls, he doesn’t share much about these people. He does provide vivid imagery about what it was like to live within the prison blocks without many of the creature comforts we’ve come to expect. This is a must read for anyone with a general interest in the War of 1812 and those with a specific interest in privateering. It is not only a compelling account of what happened to those men who didn’t return from successful ventures, but it provides a more comprehensive and detailed experience than recent titles on privateering.



View all my reviews