_With_
Grant _at_ Fort Donelson,
Shiloh _and_ Vicksburg
And an Appreciation of General U. S. Grant
_By_
WILBUR F. CRUMMER
of the 45th Regt., Ill. Vols.
[Illustration]
With Illustrations
Published 1915
_By_ E. C. CRUMMER & CO.
Oak Park, Ill.
Copyright 1915
_By_ W. F. CRUMMER
[Illustration: _Yours truly_
_Wilbur F. Crummer_]
Table of Contents
Pages
Fort Henry 11-23
Fort Donelson 25-47
Shiloh 49-90
Vicksburg 91-171
Appreciation of General U. S. Grant 173-190
Illustrations
Pages
1. General Grant examining a prisoner’s haversack
at Fort Donelson 31
2. Charge of the 8th Missouri and 11th Indiana
Regiments, led by General Lew Wallace,
at Fort Donelson 44
3. The fight in the peach orchard at Shiloh 66
4. The 23rd Indiana and 45th Illinois Regiments
charging Fort Hill after the explosion of
the mines June 25th, 1863, at the siege of
Vicksburg 138
5. General U. S. Grant 173
FOREWORD
In this year of 1915, when the sounds of battle and strife come wafted
to us across the sea from Europe, the younger generation are asking
questions of the Veterans of the Civil War about their experiences in
battle.
Formerly I lived in Galena, Ill., and having been personally acquainted
with, and a neighbor of General U. S. Grant, and one of the “Boys in
Blue” who followed him in the battles of Fort Donelson, Shiloh and
Vicksburg, I deem it my privilege to add my mite to the history that
clusters round the greatest military genius of modern times.
To please many friends who have heard my lectures on the Civil War, and
at the request of my children, the following pages have been written,
from data made at the time and since, and from a vivid memory of the
stirring days of 1862 and 1863.
WILBUR F. CRUMMER.
Oak Park, Ill., June 14, 1915.
FORT HENRY
CHAPTER I.
“Say, Will, did you see that one as it crossed the line just now?”
“No, Jim; how can a feller see anything this dark night?”
“Well, he ran right by me, and I think he was as big as our dog, Rover,
at home. Isn’t it a beastly shame that orders are so strict about
shooting while on guard? I’d like to have shot that fellow for sure.”
“Never mind, Jim; you’ll have enough of shooting before this war is
over, I’m thinking, for I feel it in my bones that Gen. Grant is
getting ready to start something in the way of fighting, for I’ve seen
him two or three times, and he looks to me as though he was a fighter.”
“Well, old scout, anything but this kind of soldiering.”
The conversation was between two young soldier boys of Company A, 45th
Illinois Volunteers, while on guard duty around camp in the month of
January, 1862, at Cairo, Illinois, on one of the darkest and rainiest
nights they ever saw. The “It” was a calf that in crossing the path had
startled Jim so much he was tempted to shoot it. As the two neighbor
boys, just from the farm in Northern Illinois, trudged back and forth
on their posts through the deepest and blackest mud they had ever seen,
they stopped at the end of their “beat” as they met, and talked for a
few moments of home and the loved ones left behind; of camp and its
arduous duties, of drilling and guard duty, and then of what would be
the next move. The American Volunteers always kept up a “think” or two
in their heads as to what would and should be done in fighting the
battles for the Union.
“Will, I hope we won’t have to stay here long.”
“You bet we won’t” responds Will. “Grant has got something up his
sleeve and we’ll be moving before long, take my word for it.”
Will was right. In a few days a large number of steamboats gathered at
the wharf, and were being loaded with ammunition, commissary stores and
all the needed accessories of an army, and then the day came to break
camp and the boys marched on the boats, wondering which way the boats
would head out in the river.
On February 4th, 1862, the boats are loaded to the guards and the order
is given, and with Gen. Grant leading the way, the boats steam out into
the Ohio and start upstream.
Will and Jim were packed on the upper deck of the steamer “City of
Memphis” like a box of sardines with their comrades. While the day
lasted the boys feasted their eyes on the scenery from either side and
enjoyed the first steamboat ride of their lives.
At night they spread their blankets on the deck and laid down to dream
of home, but before going to sleep, they had a “talk-fest,” as they
called it, Jim thinking they must be going to Cincinnati. But Will
thought different, and said: “I don’t know where we’ll land, but I’ll
bet a hard tack it will be down south somewhere among the secesh.”
The next morning when they awoke they found themselves, not on the
Ohio, but on the Tennessee river headed down South. “What did I tell
you last night, Jim, that we were going to land somewhere in Dixie.”
“Say, Will, are you in close touch with Grant that you know what he’s
going to do?”
“No, but what’s a feller got a ‘bean’ on top of his body, if it isn’t
to think a little and reason things out somewhat?”
During the day our boat tied up at a landing for the purpose of
loading up with cord wood for fuel. Permission was given to the boys
to go ashore and stretch their legs. There was a large warehouse
there, stored with merchandise. The owner at once secured a guard to
be placed over some barrels of whiskey. In every company there were
men who liked strong drinks, and in prowling around they spied these
barrels of whiskey, and ways and means were at once started to get some
of the fiery stuff. One of the soldiers was directed to go near one of
the barrels and while talking with the guard to let his gun drop on the
floor, the man underneath would note where the gun struck the floor by
the dust loosened up, and the man who had let his gun drop came down
and directed just where the end of the barrel of whiskey would be. An
auger was procured and a hole was bored through the floor into the
barrel of whiskey. The boys stood ready with their canteens and caught
the precious stuff (?) as it came down. Not long after quite a number
of the soldiers were making merry and showing certain signs of being
under the influence of liquor. The officers were puzzled as to how the
men secured the liquor and rushed to the guard, accusing him of his
failure to properly guard his charge. He denied strenuously that he
had permitted any one to touch the barrels. One of the officers leaned
against one of the barrels and being empty it toppled over, and the cat
was out of the bag. The guard was exonerated, but some of the soldiers
who had taken too much of the stuff for their good were arrested and
punished. The plotters, however, were not discovered. It is a strange
fact that those who liked the fiery liquid, could smell out where it
was located and use the most curious ways to obtain it.
On February 6, 1862, in the afternoon, we landed on the eastern bank of
the river, and the soldiers were located in camps near by. This being
our first camp in Dixie, it was called “Camp Halleck.” How it did rain
that night and blow, leveling many of our tents.
Many of the boys made light of their mishaps. We pitched our tents
near a farm house, and the planter, not knowing our reputation at home
for honesty and uprightness, went to our Colonel and asked that a guard
be placed around the farm house to protect him and his property. The
Colonel granted the request, for at this stage of war, orders were very
strict about foraging and taking anything from the planters. It fell
to the writer’s lot to stand guard for two hours that night, during
that fearful storm, over some pigs. How disgusted he was: the idea of
enlisting to fight for “Old Glory” and save the Union, and the first
thing he had to do was to guard a lot of dirty pigs that were not half
as good as those in his father’s farm yard, but “orders is orders,” as
Jim said, and ’tis a soldier’s duty to obey. Strict orders were issued
that no trespassing would be permitted and a soldier caught stealing
would be severely punished. My two hours of guard duty over those pigs
was up at last and I turned them over to another sentinel. During the
night a great squawking was heard, and in the early morning the owner
of the farm complained to our Colonel that the soldiers had stolen
his geese. The Colonel ordered an officer to search each tent to find
the stolen geese and the thieves. When the officer came to our tent,
he commenced to turn over our blankets and knapsacks. There was one
sleepy fellow lying down with his head on his knapsack for a pillow,
apparently sound asleep; the officer touched him, but he slept on and
one of the boys said: “Don’t wake that fellow up, he’s been on guard
duty all night.”
“All right,” said the kind-hearted officer and passed out of the tent.
How relieved we were when he had gone away, for that sleepy fellow had
his head on his knapsack which held the goose. Of course we had goose
for breakfast, and it tasted mighty good if it was a “Dixie” goose.
Don’t ask me who stole it, for I’ll never tell, and my comrades will
not tell.
The next morning we took up our line of march toward Fort Henry.
The rain had fallen the night before, making the roads very muddy.
Many times we had to stop, stack arms, throw off knapsacks and put
our shoulders to the wheels of the artillery and help them out of
the mud holes. We came to several streams not bridged, but we were
enthusiastic in our seeking the enemy and spoiling for a fight. Taking
no time to build temporary bridges, we plunged into the water waist
deep and pushed ahead. This made me think of what I had read of our
Revolutionary fathers “wading swollen streams and toiling through
almost impassible barriers to fight for their liberty and rights.”
We hadn’t come to the fighting yet, but we hoped to do so soon; then
we could class ourselves with our forefathers. Now, I smile over the
thought I had then when a lad of 18 years, and though you may smile,
the thought comes that if we youngsters had not had the spirit of
emulating the deeds of our forefathers, where would this grand nation
be today?
In the distance the gunboats were hammering away at Fort Henry, and
as the sound of the booming cannon came to our ears we wished we were
there to attack from the land side. Commodore A. H. Foote, with five
gunboats, had attacked the fort and the fight was a most thrilling
picture; the whizzing of fragments of bursting shells; the deafening
roar of the guns in the fort; the black sides of five gunboats belching
fire at every port hole was something to be remembered a lifetime. The
fire from the gunboats dismounted seven big guns and brought down the
flagstaff, and, together with the bursting of a rifled gun in the fort,
created a panic in the enemy’s ranks. A shot from the enemy passed
through the boiler of the Essex and many were scalded. When the Union
tars were told that the enemy had surrendered, a sailor named Breas,
who was badly wounded, sprang to his feet saying, “Surrender! I must
see that with my own eyes before I die,” and then, climbing two short
nights of stairs to the deck, he saw a white flag flying over Fort
Henry, and shouted, “Glory to God!” sank exhausted on the deck and died
that night.
We were tramping along in the mud when a messenger passed along the
line announcing the capture of the fort by the gunboats. Some of us
cheered, but others were silent and really felt sore at the sailors
for their taking of the fort before we had a chance to help them.
How foolish we were then. We had enough of fighting ere the war was
over, and after the first battle we never begrudged other forces the
honor of gaining a victory without our help. Most of the enemy had
“skedaddled” to Fort Donelson. Commodore Foote took a small number
of prisoners, together with Commander General Tighlman. It was after
dark when we reached the outer earthworks, inside of which we camped.
Here we spent our second night in Dixie, without any shelter save the
blue sky above us. We built large fires and managed to keep fairly
comfortable, although it was pretty cold. Will was up very early the
next morning, and, having an intense desire to see the inside of the
fort, took “French leave” and started in that direction. (A French
leave is nothing more than a “pass” taken on your own responsibility.)
He found that the fort was situated on a very low piece of land;
indeed, it was a swamp, nearly all surrounded by water. The works
were well constructed, but whoever selected this as a suitable site
for a fort was, Will thought, either insane or knew nothing of modern
warfare. Ignorant as Will was of military ways, he said he would not
have picked on this place for a fort. Here Will had his first view of
the dead and mangled upon the battle field. One of the largest of the
cannon had burst while the cannonading was in progress and this carried
destruction to all those around the gun, tearing them all to pieces.
Will said afterwards: “I shall to my dying day carry that picture in
my memory.” Now, for the first time, did Will realize the horrors of
war. In his eagerness to secure relics he knocked off a large piece of
the bursted cannon and with other relics he loaded himself down, but
after carrying them for a while he threw them away, thinking it would
be a long time ere he returned home, as it surely proved to be. After
viewing the destruction on every hand until he was satisfied, Will
returned to camp in time to escape being noticed by his officer.
FORT DONELSON