Daniel A. Masters's Blog, page 14

I Want to See a Battle: A Hoosier at Shiloh

Writing in his diary, Private Manius Buchanan of the 29thIndiana recalled the eagerness with which his regiment marched towardsSavannah, Tennessee with the sounds of the battle of Shiloh ringing in theirears.

          “The forcedmarch was kept up until 2 p.m. when we were halted until 4 p.m,” he noted. “Therest was really needed, but the continual question is ‘Why are we stopped here?’The sound of battle increased in volume and anxiety to be up and doing growsmore intense. As I am weak from a late sickness, I am urged to fall to the rear;but no, in common with all, I want to see a battle and fear this will be myonly chance.”

The regiment would go intoaction the following afternoon, and of the four neighborhood boys who had enlistedtogether in Co. B, only Buchanan escaped unscathed. One afternoon's exposure to the horrors of battle was all it took to satisfy this Hoosier's desire to see the elephant. “I wanted to see a battle.I am satisfied. I don’t want to see any more. One such victory is enough for alifetime,” he concluded.

Buchanan would only serve a fewmore months with the 29th Indiana before being discharged fordisability. He later served as a captain in the 118th Indiana andafter the war, moved to Portland, Oregon. The local newspaper, the PortlandOregonian, published his diary in its April 8, 1902, edition marking the 40thanniversary of the battle.

 

          Forty years agolast Sunday morning April 6, the battle of Shiloh was ushered in with therising sun. Believing that a quotation from my diary, written at the time, willbe of special interest to some of your readers, I will copy it here. I willstate that I was in McCook’s division of Buell’s column and at this time wewere executing a hard march from Nashville via Columbia to join Grant’s forcesat Savannah or somewhere else on the Tennessee River. The weather had beenquite hot and the roads very dusty so much so that we were exhausted…

 

Private Manius Buchanan of Co. B, 29th Indiana in his officer's uniform while serving as a captain in the 118th Indiana Infantry. 

April 6, 1862: Heard the cannons openroar early in the morning. This is a very beautiful, bright Sunday morning. Uponsuch mornings as this, in times past, we delighted in answer to musical bellsto wend our way to some house of worship; but these sounds indicate that someat least will spend this Lord’s day in a vastly different way.

          Thecannonading is away in the southwest; it must be that Grant is over there. Westarted early and marched as usual until 10 o’clock when we obeyed withalacrity and enthusiastic shouts the order ‘Unsling knapsacks and prepare for aforced march!’ The cannonading is heavier and I think I can hear the roll ofmusketry. There is evidently something serious ahead.

          The forcedmarch was kept up until 2 p.m. when we were halted until 4 p.m. The rest wasreally needed, but the continual question is ‘Why are we stopped here?’ Thesound of battle increased in volume and anxiety to be up and doing grows moreintense. As I am weak from a late sickness, I am urged to fall to the rear; butno, in common with all, I want to see a battle and fear this will be my onlychance.

          The marchresumed at 4 p.m. and we arrived at Savannah on the Tennessee River at 8 p.m.We have marched 20 miles today and from the heat, dust, and excitement we areall tired. We stood around in the streets in a pouring rain without othercovering than the sheets of water until 2 a.m., when we were marched aboard aboat where we hoped to get a little rest and sleep preparatory for what themorrow may bring forth. All day long, the roar of battle has been borne to ourears, growing louder and more fearful as the day advanced and we came nearerthe scene of strife. In the morning, we were about 25 miles away, now we are 9miles distant.

          Late in theafternoon, a new sound was added to the cannonade- a shrill ‘b-i-n-g’ that hasthe sound of metal in it. We are informed that this is the music of thegunboats. That sound yet occasionally wakes the echoes of the night. Wordscannot express the feelings within us throughout this day of extreme anxietyand burning desire to be present and take a hand in the fray. How we shouldhave liked to shouted over to Grant’s men, ‘Be of good cheer, for we are coming40,000 strong!’

          Now gooddiary, this may be the very last time I will ever take you in hand; if so, Iwant you to be the messenger to carry my last farewell to all my friendseverywhere. Say to mother and sweetheart that their names are the last that mylips shall utter. A soldier’s life seems the cheapest thing out. Nobody seemsto value it- not even the possessors. We lie down upon our hard bed, the floor,and go peacefully to sleep with scarcely a thought of the morrow, althoughafter this quiet rest, we expect a harvest of death and many victims of thesickle will strew the ground. If I am one of them, farewell to all.

 

Colonel Edward N. Kirk of the 34th Illinois led Buchanan's brigade at Shiloh which consisted of Kirk's own regiment, the 29th Indiana, 30th Indiana, and 77th Pennsylvania. These four regiments would serve together throughout much the war. Kirk would be wounded at Shiloh and mortally wounded at Stones River, in both cases Colonel Joseph Dodge of the 30th Indiana assumed brigade command. 

April 8, 1862: Yesterday there wasneither time nor inclination to write. I cannot tell even my diary what took placeyesterday. No one sees a battle. I scarcely think anyone knows just what hedoes in a battle. Maybe others do not get rattled as I did. I can give only theslightest outline of the little part I took in the day’s events.

          As soon as itwas light enough, our boat took its slow way up the river. We arrived atPittsburg Landing at 7 a.m. and here we found an immense jam of demoralizedstragglers, estimated at 10,000 men, crowding the little hillside from the topto the water’s edge, apparently the only place safe from the flying missiles ofdeath. We were ordered to go to the top of the hill, about 75 yards from theboat, and form in line. A few hearts failed and joined the skulkers.

          We marchedback into the edge of a wood and ate our breakfast which consisted of a singlecracker sandwich and a cup of coffee. These sandwiches were made by twocrackers, the Army cracker is two inches square, and putting a thin, smallpiece of raw ham between them. Stray bullets were whistling around. Althoughthis kind of music was new to us, yet no one seemed to pay any attention to it.The only unsatisfactory thing about the meal was its small quantity. Afterdispatching our meal, we marched toward the fighting line, passing through anundulating, sparsely timbered country. There had been considerable undergrowthbut that was principally mowed off by the bullets. It looked to an unsophisticatedspectator as if it would be quite impossible for men to remain alive wherenearly all the small brush was cut down, yet they had. The larger timber looksas if it had been passed through a cyclone of leaden hail. I counted as many as70 ball holes in a tree, and some quite large branches were entirely cut off.

          Being in therear, I had good opportunity to look around. My attention was early called tothe dead. The difference between the Union and Rebel dead was very marked. TheUnion dead had the usual hue while the faces of the Rebel dead had turned quitedark, giving them a vindictive look. I am informed that this was caused by themdrinking whiskey and powder. The Union men put the powder in their guns.

Buchanan's division commander
General Alexander McDowell McCook

          I discoveredamong the dead a fine specimen of young manhood, yet in his teens, with thebreath of life in him. He was lying with his head in a rivulet. I went to him,raised him gently, and carried him to higher ground then fixed him as comfortablyas I could against the roots of a tree. I now gave him a drink of water and hesoon revived enough to talk to me. His first question was ‘Will I live?’ Herewas the saddest duty of my young life. Looking down into that noble young face,it was hard for me to say what duty demanded of me to say. ‘I fear not, youappear to be shot through the heart.’ He then gave me his mother’s address,some tender messages, a testament, etc. I now told him that I had done all Icould for him, must hasten to join my company, and the ambulance corps wouldsoon take care of him. Today, I have done all he requested of me. (Note: Iafterward learned that he had lived seven days with a ball hole through thelower part of his heart; he was taken up into Illinois and that in his lastmoments he was ministered to be a loving mother.)

          When Iovertook the regiment, it was halted on the reserve line. We were ordered tolie down. After a while, I got restless and wanted to see around. So, withSimon Trego, I got up to see better. Directly we saw a blue streak comingtowards us: it was a cannon ball. Although we could see it, we had no time toeven think, much less move. It came under the log behind which and just wherewe had been lying, struck Trego’s gun which stood on the ground between us,shattered it to splinters, the splinters tearing the clothing and flesh ofTrego’s leg into shreds. I caught Trego and assisted him to the rear and turnedhim over to the ambulance corps. Poor Trego! The first man shot in our commandand sent to the rear so soon. He will always regret not seeing the fun. Buthere was a lucky escape. Had we been obeying orders and lying down, one or bothof us would likely have been killed.

          About 10 o’clockwe were ordered forward. We marched out into an open field, halted, andreformed under a tremendous hail of all the missiles of death ever invented andwere then ordered to charge into a ravine filled with Rebels. We charged allright but were soon compelled to fall back again. We kept a good alignmentwhile charging, but when we commenced to fall back, I am sorry to say that somehurried too much. We faced about after crossing the field mentioned, and sooncrossed it a third time, not to stop until the enemy was in full retreat.

The battle was over by 4 p.m.and then we had the opportunity to pull ourselves together, see where we were at,and see who was left. Of the four neighbor boys who left home together, JacobOdel is shot through the right knee (died soon after), Daniel Rager is shotthrough the thigh, William Chasey is slightly wounded, and I alone am untouched.When the excitement died out, we realized for the first time today that we werehungry-mighty hungry. Practically without breakfast, and no time to think ofdinner, with the most exhausting labor, it is small wonder that we were playedout.

In making our first charge, ourcompany passed through a pond of water. I recollect seeing the balls glancingon the water, but I had no realization of being wet. This shows how completelyour whole being was absorbed by the terrible contest going on around us. Afterresting a little while, we marched back near the landing and went into camp. Bysome means, hardtack, coffee, and pork was dug up and our most pressing wantwas relieved. Men tumbled down here and there to talk over the events of theday and, exhausted, soon surrendered to the arms of Morpheus.

But I could not rest until I hadhunted up my wounded comrades and knew that they were as comfortable as waspossible under the circumstances. It was near midnight before I could relievemyself from duty. We still had no tents or blankets, and the rain was comingdown by the bucketful. I found a caisson with a tarpaulin over it. I dared nottake the tarpaulin off the caisson, but I did lift a corner of it and hunkerdown against a wheel. I stayed there until morning but I did not rest much.

This morning, we fell in andmarched 5 or 6 miles and apparently waited for orders to follow up the Rebels,but instead we returned to the former camp. The next duty was to bury the dead.I am not on the detail, so will get to take a much-needed rest. I wanted to seea battle. I am satisfied. I don’t want to see any more. One such victory isenough for a lifetime.

Source:

“The Battle of Shiloh: Mr. Buchanan’s Vivid Story of PersonalExperiences,” Diary account of Private Manius Buchanan, Co. B, 29thIndiana Volunteer Infantry, Portland Oregonian (Oregon), April 8, 1902,pg. 12

The Wizard of Oz and the Civil War

The1939 film The Wizard of Oz has delighted viewers for 85 years and ranks as a personal favorite, especially during the Halloween season. While watching itwith the family the other night, I wondered if there were any connectionsbetween the film and the Civil War. Not surprisingly, the answer is yes and those connections touch both the blue and the gray.

          Interestingly both “witches” in thefilm not only had Civil War ancestors but had connections with Civil War soldiers from Ohio. Margaret Hamilton, the “Wicked Witch of the West,” was born in Cleveland,Ohio on December 9, 1902, to attorney Walter Jones Hamilton and his wife MaryJane Adams; Margaret’s grandfather was Judge Edwin Timothy Hamilton. JudgeHamilton had served as a private in Co. D of the 84thOhio Infantry during the summer of 1862. The 84th Ohio, a threemonths’ regiment, served nearly the whole of its service attached to theRailroad District in western Maryland, performing provost duty at Cumberland, Maryland.

Judge Edwin T. Hamilton (left) was the grandfather of Margaret Hamilton, a native of Cleveland, Ohio who won lifelong plaudits for her depiction of the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz. Judge Hamilton served for three months with the 84th Ohio Infantry. 

Electedto his seat on the Common Pleas bench in 1875, Judge Hamilton served for 20years before forming a law partnership with his son Walter in 1895 which hemaintained until his death in 1905. Upon his retirement from the bench in 1895,the local newspapers lauded him as a “model judge, a man without reproach, anda citizen of whom Cleveland learned to be very proud.”  

BillieBurke, stage name of the Good Witch of the North, was born Mary WilliamEthelbert Appleton Burke on August 7, 1884, in Washington, D.C. to Ohio-born WilliamEthelbert Burke and his wife Blanche Beatty. William, a native of Knox County,Ohio, joined up as an 18-year-old corporal in Co. D of the 96th Ohio Infantry, serving from August 1862 until his discharge for disability in April 1863. The 96thOhio, after being rushed to Cincinnati in September 1862 to fend off GeneralHenry Heth’s threatened attack on the city, moved into western Tennessee andlater took part in the operations at both Chickasaw Bayou and Arkansas Post.

William E. "Billy" Burke enjoyed a lengthy career as a showman and clown after serving about half a year with the 96th Ohio in the middle of the war. His daughter Mary took the stage name "Billie" Burke in honor of her beloved father and likewise enjoyed a lengthy career on the stage and in film. 

Stylinghimself as “Billy” Burke, William became one of America’s most famous clownsand traveled all around the country as a showman, enjoying a nearly 40-yearcareer on the stage. Billing himself as “America’s Greatest Clown,” Billy atone time worked for Barnum & Bailey’s Circus. He moved the family to Europein the early 1900s and passed away at an infirmary in Huddersfield, England in1906; by that point, his vivacious daughter, styling herself “Billie” Burke, hadmade her debut on a London stage. She later returned to the U.S., making hermark on Broadway and later the big screen.

          Director Victor Fleming’s mother wasLizzy Evaleen Hartman, and his maternal grandfather was Lewis Shortly Hartmanfrom Columbia County, Pennsylvania. “At the first call for volunteers in the CivilWar, he had just been married and having two small children, thought it impossibleto give his service at that time and hired a substitute for three years’service,” Lewis’s obituary stated. “Later at the close of the rebellion, hevolunteered and served in the 79th Pennsylvania Infantry one yearand one month, participating in the capture of Atlanta and with General Shermanon his notable march to the sea.”  The 79thPennsylvania served in the 14th Army Corps of the Army of theCumberland and saw action from the outset of the war in the West including theAtlanta Campaign and the March to the Sea.

Joseph L. Baugh, a merchant from Winchester, Tennessee served nearly three years with the 11th Tennessee Cavalry during the Civil War; he was eldest brother to Judy Garland's grandmother. Garland's father Frank Gumm was born in Murfreesboro, Tennessee in 1886, the son of William Tecumseh Gumm who experienced the Battle of Stones River as an 8-year-old resident of Rutherford County. 

          The lead actress in the film was the legendary JudyGarland, the stage name for Frances Ethel Gumm who was born June 10, 1922, inGrand Rapids, Minnesota. Her father was Frank Avent Gumm who was born March 20, 1886 in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. The Gumm family had lived in Rutherford County since the early 19th century and as Rutherford County was the stage for so many engagements in the Civil War (including Stones River) Judy Garland’s grandfather WilliamTecumseh Gumm saw much of the war up close and personal during his boyhood. Helater worked as a merchant living in Murfreesboro before passing in 1906. William's father, John Alexander Gumm, did not serve in the war, working as a plasterer and living in a home on Church St. in Murfreesboro in his later years. 

Judy’spaternal grandmother was Elizabeth "Clemmie" Baugh, born in 1857; she likewise experienced the 'war outside her window' as a child growing up in war-torn middle Tennessee. Her oldest brother was Joseph Lawrence Baugh who owned a mercantilebusiness in Winchester, Tennessee and served in the war as a sergeant in Co. Cof Douglass’ Tennessee Cavalry Battalion (C.S.A.), joining the cavalry October 4, 1862, at Salem, Rutherford Co., Tennessee. Douglass’Battalion was folded into the 11th Tennessee Cavalry in 1863 andSergeant Baugh served with that regiment until the very end of the war,surrendering May 10, 1865, at Gainesville, Alabama, signing the oath of allegianceJune 7, 1865. He was remembered as “a most upright gentleman and enjoyed the veryhighest respect of all who knew him.”