All of the observations that Union soldier Elisha Hunt Rhodes offers regarding life in the Army of the Potomac are well-written and thought-provoking, reflecting the moral vision and clarity of mind of a brave young man from Rhode Island who represented well both his home state and the United States of America throughout the American Civil War. Rhodes served with the 2nd Rhode Island Volunteer Infantry Regiment throughout the terrible conflict, and in 1985 his Civil War diary and letters were collected and published by a descendant, Robert Hunt Rhodes, under the title All for the Union.
Elisha Hunt Rhodes, a native of Pawtuxet, Rhode Island, was 16 years old, and was working as a clerk to support his family in 1861 when war broke out (his father had died at sea three years earlier). He joined the army, with his mother’s permission, in June of 1861, with the rank of corporal. By war’s end, he was a lieutenant colonel, and was commanding the 2nd Rhode Island Infantry regiment. Ask your army friends how many people they know who joined the U.S. Army as an E-4 in 2021 and are now an O-5, and you’ll get a sense of how extraordinary Rhodes’s achievement was.
Rhodes was on hand for the Union Army’s first major battle, a surprising and disheartening defeat at Bull Run/Manassas in northern Virginia, and in recounting the battle he conveys well the sadness and disillusionment that he and other Union soldiers felt after the battle, even though the 2nd Rhode Island performed significantly better than many other units during the engagement. The Bull Run/Manassas battle was followed by an autumn and winter of relative inactivity, as Union General George B. McClellan took command of the army, named it the Army of the Potomac, trained it hard, and worked to build up the morale of its soldiers.
Rhodes was employed in staff work in Washington, D.C., that winter, and a diary entry from January 31, 1862, shows that the bad weather is taking its toll: “Mud, mud. I am thinking of starting a steamboat line on Penn. Avenue between our office and the Capitol.” The bad weather affects not only the individual soldier’s spirits but also the army’s ability to move against the enemy: “Will the mud never dry up so that the Army can move? I hope so, for I am tired and weary of mud and routine work.” At the same time, with his customary self-awareness and presence of mind, Rhodes reflects that “perhaps after a while I may be sighing for my comfortable quarters in Washington” (p. 54).
Rhodes would indeed get plenty of battle action in the months and years that followed. Later in that same year of 1862, the 2nd Rhode Island fought in McClellan’s Peninsular Campaign, in the Seven Days’ Battles around Richmond, and in the singularly bloody Battle of Antietam in Western Maryland. And when Rhodes’s fellow Rhode Islander Ambrose Burnside was given command of the Army of the Potomac, Rhodes had the chance to see how a fellow resident of the Ocean State would fare in command of a major army.
Sadly, General Burnside did not fare well at all in combat command; the Battle of Fredericksburg in December of 1862 resulted in horrific casualties for the Union forces, with no tactical or strategic gains to compensate for all those soldiers killed and wounded. Elisha Hunt Rhodes tries gamely to defend his fellow Rhode Islander’s generalship at Fredericksburg, writing on December 21 that “Notwithstanding our late defeat, we all have confidence in General Burnside. If his plans had been carried out, we should have won a victory” (p. 92).
But when it comes to Burnside’s generalship at Fredericksburg, editor Robert Hunt Rhodes is probably closer to the mark when he describes Burnside as a commander who “lacked confidence in himself” and “gave unclear and incomplete battle orders” to his corps commanders, until “some of his officers lacked confidence in his plan of attack. His vacillation resulted in losing the element of surprise, the ever-strengthening of the Confederates’ already good defensive position, and the demoralization of his troops in the miserable weather.” Yet “Burnside, despite the obvious failure of his plan, refused to change his orders” (p. 253), and the result was the disaster of Fredericksburg. R.H. Rhodes does acknowledge that “Probably the best tactic employed at Fredericksburg was his rapid and silent escape across the river during a noisy, stormy night” (p. 253); but if the best one can say about a general’s command performance is that he successfully retreated without losing all of his army, then that sort of damning-with-faint-praise speaks for itself.
Fredericksburg was followed by another long winter and early spring of inactivity – this time, with Unionists and Confederates watching each other from opposite sides of the Rappahannock River. A strange sort of unofficial truce seems to have developed at that time. On April 14, 1863, Rhodes writes from Falmouth, Virginia (on the north bank of the Rappahannock, directly across from Fredericksburg) that “Gen. Thomas J. Jackson (Stonewall) came down to the river bank today with a party of ladies and officers. We raised our hats to the party, and strange to say the ladies waved their handkerchiefs in reply. Several Rebel sentinels told us that it was Gen. Jackson. He took his field glasses and coolly surveyed our party. We could have shot him with a revolver, but we have an agreement that neither side will fire, as it does no good, and in fact is simply murder” (pp. 103-04).
Such truces could not last forever, of course; and within weeks, Rhodes and the 2nd Rhode Island were fighting once again – first in the Union defeat at Chancellorsville, Virginia, and then in the crucial Union victory at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, two months afterward. The alert reader will note that I have not yet provided any of Rhodes’s actual recollections of battlefield action. The reason is that I wanted to use a particularly powerful example, from later in Rhodes’s U.S. Army service, to draw the reader’s attention to the calm manner in which Rhodes recalls his battlefield experiences – muted and direct, and as far as one can get from the vainglory of some fireside patriots.
For evidence of Rhodes’s tendency to be right in the thick of the very worst Civil War battle action: He begins his May 11, 1864, entry by writing that “Yesterday we had another fearful day of battle” (p. 150). He writes about how the 2nd Rhode Island found itself in a very bad place in the fighting near Spotsylvania Court House, reporting that “On the right of our line the works formed an angle, and our Regiment found itself enfiladed by the enemy. Soon the horses and gunners of a Battery posted in the angle were killed or disabled, and the enemy charged with loud yells upon the guns” (p. 151). Rhodes had to deliver messages back and forth between regiment and battery, and repeatedly ran a gauntlet of very heavy fire.
Rhodes soon found that, within that angle, the 2nd Rhode Island was taking errant “friendly fire” from a misdirected Union battery, as well as all-too-accurate rifle and artillery fire from the Confederates. Rhodes recalls quite calmly how “a bullet hit me in the breast, tore a piece from my coat, but glanced upon my pocket book and then struck me a glancing blow upon the right arm. I thought my arm was gone and hastily stripped, only to find a slight flesh wound” (p. 152). Meanwhile, “A Brigade of Jersey troops were brought up and attempted to enter the angle but were driven back” (p. 152).
Serious students of American Civil War history have already anticipated that this angle Rhodes keeps referring to is
the
angle – the “Bloody Angle” or “Mule Shoe Salient” that is said to have been the site of the fiercest and most intense hand-to-hand fighting of the entire Civil War. Rhodes was indeed fortunate to survive that terrible day; but characteristically, he does not make a big deal of his battlefield courage.
The reader also gets a sense of Rhodes’s religious devotion throughout All for the Union. On Sunday, December 25, 1864, in the siege lines around Petersburg, Rhodes writes that “This is the birthday of our Saviour, but we have paid very little attention to it in a religious way.” He does not complain of it, though, noting simply that “It does not seem much like Sunday or Christmas, for the men are hauling logs to build huts. This is a work of necessity, for the quarters we are using are not warm enough.” Ever the practical military man, Rhodes is always concerned to make sure that his men have sufficient food and shelter. He adds that “This is my fourth Christmas in the Army. I wonder if it will be my last” (pp. 202-03).
With the advantage of hindsight, we know that that Christmas Day of 1864 will indeed be his last Christmas in the Army of the Potomac. Throughout All for the Union, Rhodes emphasizes how strongly he wishes to see the war through to final Union victory, and it is inspiring to see the quiet joy and gratitude with which he greets the moment when the United States of America has its new birth of freedom.
The book is titled All for the Union because the phrase is one that Rhodes frequently uses. In response to the rigours of a soldier’s life – bad food or no food, little sleep or no sleep, bad weather, long marches – Rhodes is philosophic, often stating something to the effect that “Oh, well, it is all for the Union.” It is fun to see Rhodes’s impressions of various Civil War luminaries – not just “Stonewall” Jackson, as mentioned above, but also President Abraham Lincoln (“a good honest man”) and Union General Ulysses S. Grant (a brave soldier and a resolute leader, but “he sits his horse like a sack of meal”).
All for the Union may be better known than many other Civil War soldier diaries because filmmaker Ken Burns drew upon it for his multi-part documentary The Civil War (1990), in order to leaven the film’s focus on military and political leaders with testimony from examples of the ordinary soldiers who did most of the marching and fighting of that war. Burns chose well, because All for the Union is one of the very best of the hundreds of Civil War soldier diaries that I have read.
I took up this book on a visit to Rhodes’s home state of Rhode Island, and am glad that I did. Rhodes emerges from the pages of All for the Union as both accessible and heroic. He knew that he had done great and important things in that war; and yet, at the same time, he came across as the sort of thoroughly decent fellow with whom you might fall into friendly conversation at a coffee shop in Newport, or on a train in Providence, without his ever telling you a thing about what he did in the Civil War.