Rambling Anecdotes

[4V50 Gary]

Buffalo hunt. Use a gun - all the time.

The following account is from an eyewitness. It's a rather slim book, but took me several nights to read as it had to be read aloud to be understood. The spelling is the author's and the editor choose to leave it as it was. He did insert in brackets some corrections so we can understand this account of a man almost killed by a buffalo.

One of the men we had with us was a young Irishman who was constant contending and disputeing with the other young men that was from old Virginia about words and customs, etc. So some time that morning I shot a Buffelo bull and he fell down. We all went up to him. Some of the men had never seen one before this one. I soon Discovered I had shot this buffelo too high and I told some of the boys to shoot him again.

This young Irishman said, "No"; he would kill him and Jumed at him with his tomerhock and strikeing him in the forehead.

I told him it would not Do, he could not hurt him, the wool and mud and skin and skull was so thick it would not Do. But he kept up his licks, a nocking a way.

The buffelo Jumped up. The man run, the buffelo after him. It was opin woods, no bushes, and the way this young Irishman run was rather Desending ground and every Jump he cryed out, "O lard! O lard! O lard! O lard!"

The buffelo was close to his heels. The man Jumed behind a beech tree. The bufflo fell Down, his head againt the tree, the tuckeyho boys laughing, "Ha! Ha! Ha!"

One of them went up and shot the buffelo again and killed him. The Irishmain exclaimed againt them, saying this was no laughing Matter but that these boys or young [men] (he said) was such fools they would laugh at it if the buffelo had killed him.

The young men would Mimmick him, "O lard! O l[ard]!" etc. and breack out in big laughter.

This Irishman said he would go no further with such fools. He said he had nothing against me but he would not go with such fools as these boys weare.

When I saw he would go back, that I could not persuid [persuade] him to go further, I advised him to take a load of this buffelo meet as it was very fat and he was welcome to it, to which he agreed to it as we Did not need it. We took a little of of it and bid him a Due [adieu], leaveing him a buchering his buffelo.

A tuckeyho boy is an Eastern Virginian. I had to look that up in the endnotes to figure it out.

 

[4V50 Gary]

To catch a thief.

Here's how one victim outwitted his suspect.

The story I am going to tell is of an old and inverterate joker, one whose name has appeared often in letters and in stories from the various camps, marches and bivouacs. In days gone by, it was a humorous, a droll, or a dry saying that hwas chronicled, and set the table in a roar. Roe, however, was transferred to a different branch of the profession. Formerly he was attached to Quartermaster Haverty's department. Then he was wagon-master. Afterwards he was Captain Martin's forage-master, not an unimportant position, when you consider the great quantity of forage consumed by the animals of the Brigade, its distribution to the various parties entitled to it on requisition and otherwise, and the keeping of the accounts connected with its receipt and distribution. The job becomes more troublesome when you are told that there are always following every army a number of individuals who have animals to which they are not entitled, and others who have more horseflesh than the law allows them. Well, all the animals somehow managed to exist-and I am bound to say, in many instances, by unauthorized requisitions on the quartermaster's department. For some time past, Captain Martin and Roe had been painfully conscious of raids upon the forage-tent. Measures were taken to entrap the thieves, but without effect. Roe remained up two nights in succession, the sentries were on the qui vive: in vain. In the morning more feed was missing. The rogue must be shrewed and wary, because not a single trace was left by which to track the purloiners. They almost gave up in despair, and nearly came to the conclusion that watching, vigiliance, care, were thrown away. No results, but still the quantities missing in the morning. The next night Roe turned in to take his natural rest. The large forage-tent was carefully tied up, but in dangerous propinquity to the entrance the careless forage-master kept a tempting bag of the choicest feed: it was within easy reach of the door. Our forage-master wrapped his blanket about him and was soon in a deep sleep. He awoke early in the morning, a little after day-dawn. He looked towards the door; the tempting bag of the choicest feed had disappeared. "I thought so," said the forage-master. He sprang down from his perch, folded up his blanket, went to the door, stooped down for a moment, as if to look for something, and said, "Aha, my cock, so I've caught you at last, have I?" From the door of the forage-tent to the door of another tent there was the feed, showing the course the bag had taken. Roe had inserted a knife in the bottom of the bag before leaving it so near the door the evening before. The thoughtless thief, in the middle of the night, was unconscious that, as he was carrying off his booty, he was laying a train for his own discovery."

 

[4V50 Gary]

bayonet duel

At the siege of Petersburg, one bored private, Michael DeLacy, of the Irish 63rd New York challenged the rebs. "Say Johnnies? You are a low lived lot of spalpeens. You face the Yankees in the open and we'll knock the devil out of yees. We can lick yees every time." Insulted by DeLacy's incessant taunts, a temporary truce was arranged between the two sides. Men climbed out from their trenches and rifle pits to watch as each side's champion met with fixed bayonet in no-man's land. The plucky DeLacy would either be struck down as a braggart or emerge as a victor crowned with glory. The Confederate thrusted and DeLacy ducked. He riposted with a butt stroke which struck the Confederate's chin, knocking him to the ground. Planting his foot atop the hapless Confederate's chest, DeLacy stood menancing over him with his bayonet ready to plunge into his foeman. Having made his point, DeLacy lowered his bayonet and allowed the fallen man to rise. Men on both sides cheered as DeLacy returned to his side.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Here's a tale from our frontier days.

"It is releated of the original Mrs. Zellers that she superintended the construction of the house, whilst her husband was out on an expedition against the Indians, and that her laborers were colored slaves. It is said, also, of this same Christine Zellers that one day, whilst alone in the fort, she saw three prowling savages approaching and heading for the small hole in the cellar shown on the picture attached (note: no picture was in my book). She quickly descended the cellar steps and stationed herself at the window with an uplifted axe. Presently the head of the first Indian protruded through the hole, when she quickly brought down the weapon with an effective blow. Dragging the body in, she disguised her voice and in Indian language, beckoned his companions to follow, which they did and were all dispatched in like manner."

 

[4V50 Gary]

Tough frontier woman.

Ann Hupp, upon hearing the shots that killed her husband and Jacob Miller, Sr., took charge of the defense of the blockhouse. She at once sent Frederick Miller, a boy aged eleven years, a son of Jacob Miller, Sr., to Rice's Fort for help. The Indians saw the boy, and fired upon him, wounding him in the arm. He was compelled to flee back to the blockhouse. Ann Hupp, inspiring the other women and old Mr. Ault with her sublime courage, ran from one port hole to another, pointing her rifle at the Indians, which gave them the impression that the place was defended by a large number of persons. Occasionally a shot was fired at the Indians as they showed themselves from behind the trees. Presently three men were seen coming from the direction of Rice's Fort. These men were Captain Jacob Miller, Jr., Philip Hupp and Jacob Rowe, aged sixteen, the last a brother of Ann Hupp. Ann Hupp shouted directions to them as to the safest way to approach the blockhouse. Making a dash, they entered the place unharmed. The occupants of the house now fired upon the Indians with spirit whenever one exposed himself to view. Towards evening, the Indians withdrew. The next day the bodies of Jacob Miller, Sr., and John Hupp, Sr., were buried near the blockhouse.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Turkey, it's what for dinner tonight.

I've been reading some modern things (Lucinda Frank's My Father's Secret War which is a great read but I think there are some mistakes, some WW II aviation books) as well as Civil War material. The last two books didn't produce anything of interest but that's the price of research. It's a hit or miss proposition. Anyway, here's a little gem from a book that I'm currently reading.

Captain Travis, who was the our quartermaster's sergant, tells me that while the regiment lay at this camp, he and a certain lieutenant procured shot-guns from a friendly farmer, and stated out early one morning in quest of birds for a game dinner. About a mile from camp they entered the woods at the foot of a mountain and began clambering up the sides. "Presently," says the captain, "we discovered, bobbing about on a plateau just ahead of us, an immense flock of wild turkeys, and creeping cautiously up, so that we could get good range, we blazed away both together, and as the flock raised we let them have the contents of our second barrels. Then we moved out and picked up six fine black fellows, and tying their feet together, we shouldered our guns, slung our birds over them, and hastened back to camp, as proud as cuffies. We knew Colonel Ellis was extremely fond of wild game, and concluded to select the largest pair and present them to him. On entering the Colonel's tent I found him busy writing, and without saying a word I laid the birds down beside him and walked quietly out; but before I was twenty feet away I heard him shout, 'Come back here!' On reentering the tent he looked first at me and then at the birds, and asked, "Travis, what ____ does this mean?' 'Well, Colonel,' said I, 'we had good luck this morning-captured half a dozen wild turkeys, and-' 'Wild turkeys! wild turkeys! Turkey-buzzards, you ____! Take away the carrion!' he shouted."

It's one case of looking the gift horse in the mouth.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Mothers, don't let your daughters go out like this.

One Union regiment in Virginia had rounded up some civilian males as prisoners.

We remained at Bolton that night and the following day, during which time quite a number of laides, hearing where we had halted, came to our camp with blankets and food for the men and boys we had brought along with us. One of these lady visitors was richly dressed, quite young, and decidely pretty. She brought something for a young man whom she blushingly said was her brother.

Lieutenant Chrissey, a fine looking, gay young officer, who had charge of the prisoners, seemed much affected by this southern beauty, and for half an hour after her arrival was very lavish of his attention to her; then he turned abruptly away, gave his entire attention to others, and from that time until she left camp hardly looking toward her again. Presently he was relieved from that particular duty, and came sauntering past where I sat leaning against a tree-from which position I had been amusing myself, by watching his deportment toward the prisoners and their callers - and I asked him the reason for his so suddenly leaving, in so unceremonious a manner, the charming young creature, whom I had judged from his actions he was at first very favorably impressed with. "Yes, yes," he replied, "she was petty - but - well to tell you the truth I was quite seriously smitten by her pretty face; and she was real intelligent too - but" Never mind your buts, I said; let us hear your story. "Well, I was just thinking that I ought to ask permission to escort her back to her home, for it seemed to me extremely dangerous and ungentlemanly to allow her to attempt a return unguarded; for our rough cavalrymen are, you know, scouting around throught he woods in every direction, and she lived several miles away. But I happened to catch a glimpse of her feet, which by the way, were encased in very small boots, but confound her, she hadn't half laced them; and the long ends of the strings were dangling and draggling in the mud. Pshaw! It was like finding a nasty hair in one's pudding."

 

[4V50 Gary]

My man Friday

OK, this is not the story of a faithful sidekick. Rather, its an amusing response and excuse for skedaddling. This is told by a Union soldier at that ill fated battle at Fredericksburg (Dec. 1862).

Company A's officers had with them a shining faced fellow named Jack Smith. Now, Jack was a rather proud and very logical chap, made the very best biscuits, said he seen some service, and claimed to have a large share of that admirable soldierly quality called bravery.

As we stood on the bridge just before the shelling commenced, I called Jack to me and asked for my canteen and haversack, for I mistrusted that if we should get into any trouble, Jack might not be on hand when I needed him; but the little fellow seemed so hurt by my apparent distrust, and protested so strongly, saying, "I'se bin in fights afore, and don't want to see captain toteing his own grub, and dis man loafin' 'long doin' noffin; s'pose you done get wounded, don't you' spec' me dar to took care of you? You needn't gone git afeerd I'se gwine to runn'd away from you; no sah, captain, I'll say wid you." So I left my haversack with Jack, taking only one of the three canteens he had strung about his shoulder. But the moment the shells began to fall, Jack disappeared; and as we about faced, I caught a glimpse of the little scamp just straightening himself up on the top of the bank, and the next instant he bounded off like a deer, the haversack and canteens seemed to stand right out behind him. It is needless to say I never tasted the contents of that haversack...

Well, the good captain marches off to battle where they are fortunate to be held in reserve. That's not so bad since they're not shot to pieces like everyone else who tried to storm Marye's Heights. The Union army is beaten and re-crossed the Rappahannock in defeat. We now learn what happened to fearless Jack.

The third day after our return, I walked over to the regiment, and was standing in Company A's street, talking to one of the men, when I heard some one shout, "John, dah," and looking up saw coming toward me the little scamp who ran away with my haversack, from the bridge at the river. He had just arrived in camp, and was the most woe-begone rascal I had ever beheld. He eyes seemed sunk in his head. His skin had lost its lustre, and was several shades lighter than I had ever seen. His clothes were tattered and muddy-his corkless canteen hung spout downward, and his empty haversack the wrongside out.

The he stood, the tears trickling down his cheeks, so pitiable a sight that my own eyes involuntarily moistened; and yet, so extremely ludicrous, it seemed impossible to refrain from laughing. After a little, however, I got mastery of both face and feelings, and said to him, in what I intended to be a severe tone, "You worthless, cowardly little vagabond, what are you doing here, after running away with my food, when you promised so faithfully to remain with me? What have you to say for yourself before I drive you from camp? Quick! if you have any excuse out with it." "Yes sah; yes sah," said he, "I'se got a scuse." "Well then," I replied, "let us hear it." "Well sah - well sah - I - I - I'se afeared you'll boot me." "Boot you? Why, there is nothing left of you to boot. But come - come, let us hear your excuse." "Well, captain - I wasn't any more coward an you wah" - and then he boo-hooed louder than ever. That was a flanker I did not appreciate; for in the meantime quite a crowd had gathered about us, and among the number several officers from adjoining camps.

"Well, now, Jack," said I, and this time in real earnest, "if you don't give me some satisfactory explanation of that assertion, I will certainly punish you, and that severely. You ran away, didn't you, before the first shell had fairly reached the water?" "Yes, sah."

"Well, Jack, did I run away?" "No, sah." "Why, then, you rascal, dare you tell me, in presence of all these gentlemen, that I am as great a coward as you are?" "Well sah - well sah- you won't boot me?" "Not if you can explain away your lying accusation; but otherwise I certainly will."

"Well, now, captain, I runn'd away cause I didn't dar stay, and you staid cause you didn't dar runn'd away."

And that, gentle reader, is the story of My man Friday. Background investigations were not something done back in the 19th Century.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Tuck in and a kiss

Well, not quite a tuck in and certainly not a kiss from one's loving parents. Here's a story of a lieutenant who had one drunk in his company.

There was a lively whiskey row, as sometimes occurs after pay day, this afternoon, mostly in Company B. I had a little trouble with one of my men, who was just drunk enough to be impudent. It was nothing very serious and I got him into his tent and quieted down, saving him from the guard house and severe punishment. This same man, whose name is Gear, gave me quite a scare this evening. I was sitting alone in my tent, when someone scratched at the door, the camp way of knocking, and when I said, "Come in," saw it was Gear, who, when he entered, had his hand in the breast of his blouse, and as he withdrew it, I saw the butt of a pistol. For a moment I was startled, thinking he was going to shoot, and was just going to jump for him when he handed me the weapon, saying he didn't think he was a safe man to carry it. He also said he was sorry he was saucy to me, and thanked me for not turning him over to the guard. I gave him a little good advice and the matter is dropped, but he did scare me!

There is a Malvin Gear and an Albert E. Gear of Co. H, so I'm unsure which Gear was involved.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Meet Col. Frank Wolford, 1st Kentucky Cavalry (Union)

Now here's a man we could follow.

We later learned that Morgan with a thousand men had crossed the Cumberland River, and surprised and captured forty pickets of Colonel Wolford's cavalry, a regiment of loyal Kentuckians, and a most remarkable organization it was - very little of army discipline and drill, but mighty good fighters in their own irregular way, and they did good service. Their commander, Colonel Wolford, was a unique character. He did not bother himself about the phraseology of tactics, and furnished lots of fun for us by his way of giving orders, one of which became a sort of a byword. Instead of giving out the proper command, "Prepare to mount! Mount!" he would sing out, "Prepare to git on your critters. Git!"

 

[4V50 Gary]

Top heavy?

As many know, in 1863 the War Department became worried that many veteran soldiers' three years term of enlistment were about to expire and that the army would suddenly lose a large core of experienced men. To entice them to re-enlist for another three years, they appealed to their patriotism and offered re-enlistment bonuses of up to $400 plus any additional amount their state and local government may offer. Perhaps the most appealing thing was a thirty day furlough to anyone who re-enlisted. Those who re-enlisted were sent home.

In one company, it was pretty bad and a lot of men were transferred out. This reduced one company to one lieutenant and four privates. The lieutenant almost immediately promoted the most promising and intelligent man to sergeant. The regiment had a dress parade.

We had a dress parade in the evening, the first for a long time, and when I marched out onto the line with a sergeant and one man, the other two being on guard, giving my orders in a loud voice as if I had a full company, there was a snicker along the whole line.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Two different views of Union veteran soldiers in the Civil War period

First, the polite perspective from one soldier:

[A] regiment of veterans appears to one uninitiated like a regiment of ragamuffins.

Now, for a less flattering view.

[T]he older the regiment, the more bold and expert in petty larceny; and the older the regiment too, the more undisciplined and disorderly, and the less inclined to go into battle, or perform the duties of a soldier any way.

The truth is somewhere in-between and it depends on when and where. With respects to battle, you'll never read in a regimental history that "we dropped our guns and fled for our lives." It's always the other regiment on either our left or right that broke first, thus exposing our flanks and causing us to conduct an orderly retreat.

 

[4V50 Gary]

The Baker Man

Armed robbery by a Civil War soldier.

Once we had a good laugh and something to eat, which happened in this way: A big native Pennsylvania dutchman came along with a big loaf of bread under his arm which several of the boys coveted and tried to beg, but it was no use begging. "Me sell him for a quarter" was all the english he could speak, so I made believe I was feeling for a quarter with my good arm, when I pulled out a little Smith & Wesson and told him to drop that loaf, and the way that fellow got over the fence (minus the loaf) and ran, would have done credit to the champion copperhead north, on his way to Canada.

This incident occured during the Gettysburg Campaign when a column of injured soldiers were marching from the battlefield to a hospital train in Hanover. As we know, Gettysburg was a hard won battle and the soldiers felt that besides defeating Lee's army (at last), that they saved Pennsylvania from the ravishing rebel hordes. In light of their accomplishments, it is likely that they thought the breadman was an ingrate.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Have a nice trip! or Bring a flashlight.

Nightime searches for hiding Confederates were not uncommon. One southern belle whose husband was an engineer in the Southern service recalled one such search.

Often & often have I gone over the house at night with them searching as they said "for Rebs." I early heard that the best way to get along with them was to put on a bold air, & tho often feeling as if exposure was certain, I never let them know. Oh how many of them used to sit in a large old fashioned cushioned chair, little thinking that underneath the cushion was grey cloth & other articles which w'd have caused them to turn us out, had they known it. They caused us to resort to many ingenious ways of eluding them & we were always ready with an answer, tho I assure you it was no easy matter to appear cool with 4 men with revolvers cocked & holding near your head, guarding you, & making you go with them & search the house, but I must tell you an amusing incident. Ours was an old fashioned house. You went into the Cellar from a passage & the door of which looked like a closet, & one night to my great satisfaction one of the men who were searching the house for a Southern soldier who they insisted we had concealed went to the door & called out, "I've got him Cap," gave it a push, & went headlong down the cellar. I asked him if we w'd not have a light, as they had been ordering me to bring a light in so many places at once. I told them when searching in Dixie they ought to remember lights were scarce & they ought to bring their own."

 

[4V50 Gary]

A Southern soldier's letter to his sister

I've slowed down my reading a bit and while on vacation, took three WW II aviation books with me. Right now I'm reading Joe Glatthaar's, "General Lee's Army."

In invading Pennsylvania during the Gettysburg campaign, one Corn-fed artillerist described his observations to his sister: "We passed through some of the prettiest country that I ever saw in my life they has [some] of the finest land in the world and some of the ugliest women that I ever saw."

Another Confederate wrote, "Sister I will Give you a description of the Girls in pensylvania thay are all nothing but Dutch and Irish and the durty and Sturnest menest lookig Creaturs that I ever saw to Call them selves white Girls." He added, "them is the Girls that is writing to their husbands and Sweeheearts and brothers to fight on and restore the union."

Not to start a fight about which part of the nation has prettier women, but some Union soldiers had quite a number of comments about Southern women. I got this from Irving Bell Wiley's, Life of Billy Yank. For instance, "They look more like polls than any thing else," and another wrote, "The women here are shaped like a lath, nasty, slab-sided, long haired specimins of humanity. I would as soon kiss a dried codfish as one of them." Even worse was this comment, "sharp-nosed, tobacco-chewing, snuff-urbbing, flax-headed, hatchet-faced, yellow-eyed, sallow-skinned, cotton-dressed, flat-breasted, bare-headed, long-waisted, hump-shouldered, stoop-necked, big-footed, straddle-toed, sharp-shinned, thin-lipped, pale-faced, latern-jawed, silly-looking damsels."

More generous and perhaps more generous was, "Thar is Som durnde good looking girls in the Soth." Another impressed northerner said there were, "Squads of 'em (some confounded good looking ones, too) were on dress parade."

Lesson: beauty is in the eyes o' the beholder.

 

[4V50 Gary]

During the Siege of Vicksburg, some clever Yankees figured out how to dig their approach trench to the Confederate lines without being vulnerable to rifle fire. Traditionally, in digging your zig-zag approach trench, you made a huge wicker sap-roller and pushed that ahead of you. It would stop rifle bullets and you could dig in relative safety. To move it forward, you used levers to roll it and when it moved, it exposed fresh dirt for you to excavate. Instead of using a sap roller (they may not have had the materials or the levers to roll one forward may not be available), the Union soldiers got a rail car and loaded it with cotton bales. Pushing it forward slowly, it allowed them to dig their trench in perfect safety. The Confederates saw it approaching and unable to use their artillery (which was suppressed by Union marksmen), they felt hopeless and morale plummeted - until one Confederate came up with a solution.

"The moveable breastwork in front of the entrenchments became a perfect annoyance, and various plans were proposed for its destruction, only to be declared unvailable. Some of the men actually proposed a raid on it, and set it on fire, a plan which would hve been the height of madness. Finally, a happy invention suggested itself to the mind of Lt. Washburn. He thought that if he could fill the cavity of the butt of the Enfield rifle balls with some inflammable material which would ignite by being fired from the rifle, the great desideratum would be obtained. Thus, procuring turpentine and cotton, he filled the ball with the latter, thoroughly satured with the former. A rifle was loaded, and, amid the utmost curiousity and interest, fired at the hated object.

The sharp report was followed by the glittering ball, as it sped from the breastworks straight to the dark mass of cotton-bales, like the rapid flight of a firefly. Another and another blazing missile was sent on the mission of the destruction, with apparently no satisfactory results, and the attempt was abandoned amid a great disappointment. The men, save those of guard, sought repose, and all the line became comparatively quiet.

Suddenly someone exclaimed, 'I'll be damned if that thing isn't on fire!' The whole regiment was soon stirring about, like a hive of disturbed bees. Sure enough, smoke was seen issuing from the dark mass. The inventive genius of Leiutenant Washburn had proved a complete success, and the fire, which had smouldered in the dense mass of cotton, was about bursting forth.

The men seized their rifles and five companies were immediately detailed to keep up a constant and rapid fire over the top and at each end of the blazing mass to prevent the enemy from extinguishing the flames. The discovered the destruction which threatened their shelter, and made impotent attempts to extinguish the fire with dirt and honor. But as the light increased, the least exposure of their persons made the unwary foe the target of a dozen rifles, hand-led by skillful marksmen.

The regiment was in darkness, while the blazing pile brought into bold outline every man of the enemy who thoughtless exposed himself within the radius of the light.

The rifles of the regiment sang a merry tune as the brave boys poured a constant shower of bullets above and around the great point of attraction, which was soon reduced to ashes and a mass of smouldering embers. How the men cheered and taunted the foe can better be imagined than described."

This is one of the "don't try this at home, kids" unless you're prepared to put out forest fires.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Found this on another board. It's two amusing tales from the nitro-cellulose days

These stories are worthy of Rambling Anecdotes but are too modern to retell here. Click on this link for two wonderful Payback stories

 

[4V50 Gary]

Meet Capt. Robert Hanna. Like Col. Frank Wolford (see above), Capt. Hanna of the 72nd Indiana Infantry wasn't much for formality. The 72nd Indiana was part of Wilder's Mounted Infantry. Trained as infantry, most of them learned it was easier to ride a horse or mule than march twenty miles on foot. Being mounted gave them mobility equivalent to a cavalry unit. Additionally, unlike most infantry, they were armed with Spencer seven shot repeater lever action rifles. This gave them firepower that made them equal to twice their number. The combination of mobility and firepower arguably made them the most formidable brigade of any army in the Civil War. They are much lesser known than the Union's Iron Brigade (the famous one of midwesterners) or the Confederate Stonewall Brigade. This is because they fought in the Army of Ohio that became part of Sherman's Army. Capt. Hanna had served in the Fourth Division as General Joseph Reynold's (not to be mistaken for the famous I Corps commander John Reynolds who died leading the Iron Brigade at Gettysburg) provost guard. One member remember a drill conducted by Hanna at Cave City, Kentucky.

"The captain wanted to bring us around on a right and left wheel, but unfortunately he forgot the command. Still he would not be bluffed and he yelled out for us to 'Swing around like a gate.'"

D*mn fine military bearing Capt. Hanna who was also fond of spirits. This in due time got him into trouble.

As there was an abundance of apple-jack in the country, the Captain was soon to 'hail fellow, well met,' with all the leading citizens, and one day while in his balmiest mood, he traded his military vest with one of the largest citizens for a home-spun, home-made vest of dark material with red stripes running across the breast. It was a wonderful garment, reaching from the Captain's chin almost to his knees. The vest trade passed as a good joke until we got to Murfreesboro, and the Captain one day reported to Col. Wilder for duty. The eye of the doughty chief scanned the vest and blazed with indigination, and he roared, "Captain, how dare you come into my presence with that vest on! You know that is not regulation garment. Leave me at once and do it quick!" The Captain went away and remarked, "I don't believe that Wilder likes my vest a damned bit from a few remarks he made about it."

There's an account of Capt. Hanna in battle and he was up to the task. I picked up this information from Richard Baumgartner's Blue Lightning: Wilder's Mounted Infantry Brigade in the Battle of Chickamauga.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Hooker at Chancellorsville

It is generally accepted as fact that the Union army general in charge of the Army of the Potomac, Maj. Gen. Joe Hooker, was leaning against a post when it was struck by a cannonball. Hooker suffered a concussion and was dazed for hours. He refused to relinquish command and the Union army was paralyzed while Lee's smaller army was administering heavy blows. Well, one Union bugler disputes that assertion and here's what he said about Joe Hooker:

As to the second excuse, the writer after the war became well acquainted with the bulger at Army Headquarters, and he ridiculed the idea that the solid shot had anything to dow ith Hooker's condition at any time. He said that the brandy bottle was the real reason for the fiasco. And, certainly the simple fact that a brandy bottle was frequently resorted to, is a more reasonable explanation of successive developments of the conduct and decisions of the commmander of the army than any other can be. From energetic activity, through the different grades of intoxication to final incapacity, is the age old and certain effect of too frequent resorts to the bottle. But those were the days of ignorance of the real character of alcoholic drinks. They were accounted good and necessary by the great majority of people, and were used freely as medicine, as a harmless stimulant under trying circumstances, as an innocent social indulgence and as a creator of "Dutch courage" in time of battle. It was not until the close of the war that a reazlization of the harmful effect of the use of intoxciants began to be felt.

This assertion has to be researched and can be refuted if eyewitness accounts of the cannonball could be found.

 

[4V50 Gary]

A question from Civil War Society (a yahoo group)

A question was raised as to the bayonet as a combat instrument during the Civil War. I've read numerous accounts, but never paid any attention to them as it was not my area of research. In Isaac Best's "History of the 121st New York State Infantry" he writes about Upton's May 10 attack on the Mule Shoe:

"Lieut. Jas. W. Johnston, on mounting the parapet, had a bayonet thrust through one of his thighs when raising his sword to strike down the Confederate who had thrust the bayonet through hin. The Rebel begged for mercy, was spared, and sent to the rear a prisoner."

p127.

In another entry we find:

"One of our officers in front of us jumped on the top log and shouted, 'Come on, men,' and pitched forward and disappeared, shot. I followed an instant after and the men swarmed upon, and over the works on each side of me. As I got on top of some Rebs jumped up from their side and began to run back. Some were lunging at our men with their bayonets and a few had their guns clubbed. Jim Johnston, Oaks and Hassett, were wounded by bayonets..."

p 130. Bayonets were apparently useful for things other than killing dogs or carrying hams.