_The Nameless Hero at Fair Oaks.--The Chivalry whipped by their Former
Slaves.--Endurance of the Blacks.--Man in Chains.--One Negro whips
Three Rebels.--Gallantry.--Outrages on the Blacks.--Kindness of the
Negroes.--Welcome._
The gallantry and loyalty of the blacks during the Rebellion is a
matter of history, and volumes might be written upon that subject. I
give here a few instances out of the many I have gathered:--
“At the bloody battle of Fair Oaks, Va., the rebels, during the first
day’s fight, drove Gen. Casey’s division from their camping-ground, and
rested for the night, confident that the morrow would give them a chance
to drive the Yankee invaders beyond the Chickahominy; but, just at
daylight that morning, Heintzelman’s corps re-enforced our line, and at
daybreak were hurled against the rebel foe. For a long time, the issue
was doubtful; the line swayed to and fro; but at last the Excelsior
Brigade the heroes of Williamsburg--were ordered to charge. That charge
is a matter of history. It gave us the battle-ground of Fair Oaks.
“During the month of June, that brigade held the ground they won, and
skirmishes with the rebels were of daily occurrence. One afternoon,
word was sent to Gen. Sickles that the enemy was advancing in force, and
every preparation was at once made for battle. A few shots were heard
from pickets but a few hundred yards in advance of our battery, and then
all was quiet. What meant that quietness? What were the rebels
doing? Several orderlies sent out to the pickets failed to bring any
satisfactory intelligence. Gen. Sickles turned to Lieut. Palmer, one of
his aides, and acting assistant adjutant-general, and directed him to
take a squad of cavalry, and ride cautiously out to the first bend in
the road, and communicate with our pickets.
“Palmer was a noble fellow,--young, handsome, a perfect gentleman, a
graceful rider, a gallant soldier. He was the pride of the brigade.
Forgetful of the caution given him, with the impetuosity characteristic
of youth, he dashed forward at a full gallop, with sabre drawn. He came
to the first bend in the road, and (fatal mistake) kept on. He came to
the second bend, and, as he turned it, directly across the road was a
company of rebel infantry drawn up to receive him. They fired. One ball
crashed through that handsome face into his brain, while another tore
the arm that bore aloft his trusty blade.
“The shots were heard at the battery; and in a moment Palmer’s riderless
horse, bleeding from a wound in its neck, galloped from the woods,
followed by the squad of cavalry, who told to the general the untimely
fate of his aide.
“‘Boys,’ said the general to the veterans who clustered around to hear
the story, ‘Lieut. Palmer’s body lies out in that road.’ Not a word more
needed saying. Quickly the men fell in, and a general advance of the
line was made to secure it.
“Whilst the cavalrymen were telling the story, a negro-servant of Lieut.
Palmer’s was standing by. Unnoticed, he left the group; down that road,
the Williamsburg Turnpike, he went. He passed our picket-line, and alone
and unattended he walked along that avenue of death to so many, not
knowing what moment he would be laid low by a rebel bullet, or be made a
prisoner to undergo that still worse death, a life of slavery. Upon the
advance of our line, that faithful servant was found by the side of his
dead master,--faithful in life, and faithful amid all the horrors of the
battle-field, even in the jaws of death.
“None but those who knew the locality--the gallant men that make up
Hooker’s division--can appreciate the heroism that possessed that
contraband. That road was lined with sharpshooters. A wounded man once
lay in it three days, neither party daring to rescue him. The act
of that heroic, unknown (I regret that I cannot recall his name) but
faithful contraband, was one of the most daring of the war, and
prompted by none other than the noblest feelings known to the human
breast.”--New-York Independent.
_“In Camp, Bermuda Hundred, Va., May 26, 1864._
“The chivalry of Fitzhugh Lee, and his cavalry division, was badly
worsted in the contest last Tuesday with negro troops composing the
garrison at Wilson’s Landing. Chivalry made a gallant fight, however.
The battle began at half-past twelve, p.m., and ended at six o’clock;
when chivalry retired, disgusted and defeated. Lee’s men dismounted
far in the rear, and fought as infantry. They drove in the pickets and
skirmishers to the intrenchments, and several times made valiant charges
upon our works. To make an assault, it was necessary to come across
an ‘open’ in front of our position, up to the very edge of a deep
and impassable ravine. The rebels, with deafening yells, made furious
onsets; but the negroes did not flinch, and the mad assailants,
discomfited, turned to cover with shrunken ranks. The rebel fighting was
very wicked. It showed that Lee’s heart was bent on taking the negroes
at any cost. Assaults on the centre having failed, the rebels tried
first the left and then the right flank, with no greater success. When
the battle was over, our loss footed up one man killed outright, twenty
wounded, and two missing. Nineteen rebels were prisoners in our hands.
Lee’s losses must have been very heavy. The proof thereof was left on
the ground. Twenty-five rebel bodies lay in the woods unburied; and
pools of blood unmistakably told of other victims taken away. The
estimate, from all the evidence carefully considered, puts the enemy’s
casualties at two hundred. Among the corpses Lee left on the field was
that of Major Breckinridge, of the Second Virginia Cavalry.
“There is no hesitation here in acknowledging the soldierly qualities
which the colored men engaged in this fight have exhibited. Even the
officers who have hitherto felt no confidence in them are compelled to
express themselves mistaken. Gen. Wild, commanding the post, says that
the troops stood up to their work like veterans.”--_Correspondence of
the New-York Times._
“The conduct of the colored troops, by the way, in the actions of
the last few days, is described as superb. An Ohio soldier said to me
to-day, ‘I never saw men fight with such desperate gallantry as those
negroes did. They advanced as grim and stern as death; and, when within
reach of the enemy, struck about them with a pitiless vigor that was
almost fearful.’ Another soldier said to me, ‘These negroes never shrink
nor hold back, no matter what the order. Through scorching heat and
pelting storms, if the order comes, they march with prompt, ready feet.’
Such praise is great praise, and it is deserved. The negroes here
who have been slaves are loyal to a man, and, on our occupation of
Fredericksburg, pointed out the prominent secessionists, who were at
once seized by our cavalry, and put in safe quarters. In a talk with
a group of these faithful fellows, I discovered in them all a perfect
understanding of the issues of the conflict, and a grand determination
to prove themselves worthy of the place and privileges to which they are
to be exalted.”--_New-York Herald_.
_“Carrollton, La., June 2,1864._
“I am writing in the camp of the Twelfth Connecticut Regiment, and about
here are encamped the Nineteenth Army Corps, under marching-orders
for Morganza, near the mouth of the Red River. In this tent sits a
man,--unfortunate because black,--once a slave, but free now, a member
of the grand army of the Unite! States, who is courageous, and who will
wield a sword or thrust a bayonet as vigorously as any, because he has
suffered so bitterly at the hands of those who would crush his race. His
crime was remonstrating with his master for beating his wife. When our
men found him, he was sitting on the floor, two long chains passing
over his shoulders, and fastened to a staple; and over him stood four
soldiers with muskets to prevent his escape. He is not only faithful;
but he is gentlemanly, intelligent, and interesting in conversation and
appearance. His brave heart is full of patriotism, and he is willing to
serve or die for his country.”--_Springfield Republican_.
An instance of the daring of negroes in that section is told by a Lake
Providence (Louisiana) correspondent of “The Philadelphia Inquirer:”--
“Recently a black man, after several days’ urgent request for a musket
and rounds of ammunition, succeeded in securing his wish. He set out
in the night, and by morning reached the vicinity of a rebel guard. He
crept cautiously forward, but was seen and watched. Suddenly the sharp
crack of rifles brought him to his feet. Before him were three rebel
soldiers. He instantly brought his musket to his shoulder, and fired.
One rebel fell dead. The negro, by the time the bewilderment of
the other two had passed off, was upon them with uplifted musket,
threatening them with its immediate descent, unless they surrendered at
once. They acquiesced in a hurry. Leaving the dead rebel to the
dogs, with the other two in tow, the negro returned to our lines, and
delivered them to the authorities. Since this exploit, the negro has
made himself useful in scouting and bringing in information.”
A correspondent, of “The Cleveland Leader,” writing from the
headquarters of the Fifty-ninth United-States Infantry (colored) at
Memphis, under date of June 15, gives a detailed and graphic account
of the brave fight of the colored troops in Gen. Sturgis’s command,
fully confirming previous accounts. The following is a material part of
the statement:--
“About sunrise, June 11, the enemy advanced on the town of Ripley, and
threatened our right, intending to cut us off from the Salem Road. Again
the colored troops were the only ones that could be brought into line;
the Fifty-ninth being on the right, and the Fifty-fifth on the left,
holding the streets. At this time, the men had not more than ten rounds
of ammunition, and the enemy were crowding closer and still closer, when
the Fifty-ninth were ordered to charge on them, which they did in good
style, while singing,--
‘We’ll rally round the flag, boys.’
“This charge drove the enemy back, so that both regiments retreated to a
pine-grove about two hundred yards distant.
“By this time, all the white troops, except one squadron of cavalry,
that formed in the rear, were on the road to Salem; and, when this
brigade came up, they, too, wheeled and left, and in less than ten
minutes this now little band of colored troops found themselves flanked.
They then divided themselves into three squads, and charged the enemy’s
lines; one squad taking the old Corinth Road, then a by-road, to the
left. After a few miles, they came to a road leading to Grand Junction.
After some skirmishing, they arrived, with the loss of one killed and
one wounded.
“Another and the largest squad covered the retreat of the white troops,
completely defending them by picking up the ammunition thrown away by
them, and with it repelling the numerous assaults made by the rebel
cavalry, until they reached Collierville, a distance of sixty miles.
When the command reached Dan’s Mills, the enemy attempted to cut it off
by a charge; but the colored boys in the rear formed, and repelled the
attack, allowing the whole command to pass safely on, when they tore
up the bridge. Passing on to an open country, the officers halted,
and re-organized the brigade into an effective force. They then moved
forward until about four, p.m.; when some Indian flank skirmishers
discovered the enemy, who came up to the left, and in the rear, and
halted. Soon a portion advanced, when a company faced about and fired,
emptying three saddles. From this time until dark, the skirmishing was
constant.
“A corporal in Company C, Fifty-ninth, was ordered to surrender. He let
his would-be captor come close to him; when he struck him with the butt
of his gun.
“While the regiment was fighting in a ditch, and the order came to
retreat, the color-bearer threw out the flag, designing to jump out and
get it; but the rebels rushed for it, and in the struggle one of the
boys knocked down with his gun the reb who had the flag, caught it, and
ran.
“A rebel, with an oath, ordered one of our men to surrender. He,
thinking the reb’s gun was loaded, dropped his gun; but, on seeing the
reb commence loading, our colored soldier jumped for his gun, and with
it struck his captor dead.
“Capt. H., being surrounded by about a dozen rebels, was seen by one of
his men, who called several of his companions: they rushed forward and
fired, killing several of the enemy, and rescued their captain.
“A rebel came up to one, and laid, ‘Come, my good fellow, go with me and
wait on me.’ In an instant, the boy shot his would-be master dead.
“Once when the men charged on the enemy, they rushed forth with the cry,
Remember Fort Pillow.’ The rebs called back, and said, ‘Lee’s men killed
no prisoners.’
“One man in a charge threw his antagonist to the ground, and pinned him
fast; and, as he attempted to withdraw his bayonet, it came off his
gun, and, as he was very busy just then, he left him transfixed to
mother-earth.
“One man killed a rebel by striking him with the butt of his gun, which
he broke; but, being unwilling to stop his work, he loaded and fired
three ‘times before he could get a better gun: the first time, not being
cautious, the rebound of his gun badly cut his lip.
“When the troops were in the ditch, three rebels came to one man,
and ordered him to surrender. His gun being loaded, he shot one, and
bayoneted another: and, forgetting he could bayonet the third, he turned
the butt of his gun, and knocked him down.”
Great were the sufferings which the colored people had to endure for
their fidelity to liberty and the Union during the Rebellion. Space will
allow me to give but one or two instances.
“On Monday, Feb. 21, a band of guerillas, commanded by Col. Moore, of
Louisiana, made a bold dash upon our lines at Waterproof, La., opening
with four pieces of artillery upon Fort Anderson. Capt. Johnson, of the
gunboat ‘No. 9,’ was on hand, and, after two hours’ vigorous shelling,
the enemy abandoned the attack.
“Our loss was three killed. Two colored soldiers, members of the
Eleventh Louisiana Volunteers, were captured, and afterwards brutally
murdered, with an old slave known by the sobriquet of ‘Uncle Peter.’
The bodies of the two soldiers were discovered the next day riddled with
bullets. Old Uncle Peter had been of great service to our Government
in piloting our officers to localities where large quantities of cotton
belonging to the rebel Government were concealed. After capturing this
old man, the assassins compelled him to kneel, with his hands behind
his back, in presence of some fifty slaves on one of the adjoining
plantations; and two Minie-balls pierced his body. They then intimidated
the slaves by threatening to treat all negroes in a similar manner whom
they caught aiding the Yankees.
“Through the instrumentality of this faithful old man, Capt. Anderson
had secured four hundred bales of fine cotton marked ‘Confederate States
of America,’ together with a hundred and fifty fine horses, and a number
of mules. The value of the cotton alone was a hundred thousand
dollars. Among the prisoners captured by our forces was Lieut. Austin,
adjutant-general on Gen. Harris’s staff, with his fine horses and costly
equipments. Capt. Anderson succeeded in capturing the murderer of old
Uncle Peter, and having plenty of slaves to testify who were obliged to
witness the infamous crime, he ordered the guilty wretch to be shot;
and in a few hours the villain paid the penalty of his dastard crime.
Another one of the guerillas engaged in this outrage is now in our
hands, under guard at this place; and it seems like an act of great
injustice to our brave soldiers, that such outlaws should be treated as
prisoners of war.
“After shooting these three defenceless men, the chivalrous knights
robbed old Uncle Peter of a thousand dollars in treasury notes, and
completely stripped the two colored soldiers of all their outer clothing
and their boots. We hear Northern copperheads, who have never been
south of Mason and Dixon’s Line, constantly prating about the
unconstitutionality of arming the slaves of rebels; and often these
prejudiced people accuse the negro troops of cowardice. After the bloody
proof at Milliken’s Bend, Port Hudson, and at Fort Wagner in front of
Charleston, it would seem that nothing more was needed to substantiate
the resolution and undaunted courage of the slave when arrayed against
his master, fighting for the freedom of his race. The following incident
speaks for itself:--
“In the attack on Fort Anderson, Sergt. Robert Thompson exhibited traits
of courage worthy of record. A party of eight guerillas surrounded
Sergt. Thompson of Company I, Eleventh Louisiana, and Corp. Robinson of
the same regiment. The two prisoners were threatened with torture and
death, and were finally placed in charge of three guerillas, while the
balance of their party were harassing our troops. Seeing a revolver
in the sergeant’s belt, they ordered him to give it up. As he fumbled
around his belt, he touched the corporal with his elbow as a signal to
be ready. Drawing it slowly from his belt, he cocked it, and, ere the
rebel could give the alarm, he fell a corpse from his horse. At the
same time, Corp. Robinson shot another; and the third guerilla, without
waiting for further instructions, put the spurs to his horse, and in a
few seconds was out of sight. The two brave men are now on duty ready
for another guerilla visit.”--_Correspondence of The Tribune._
Kindness to Union men and all Northerners was a leading trait in the
character of the colored people of the South throughout the war. James
Henri Brown, special correspondent of “The New-York Tribune,” in his
very interesting work, “Four years in Secessia,” says, “The negro who
had guided us to the railway had told us of another of his color to whom
we could apply for shelter and food at the terminus of our second stage.
We could not find him until nearly dawn; and, when we did, he directed
us to a large barn filled with corn-husks. Into that we crept with our
dripping garments, and lay there for fifteen hours, until we could again
venture forth. Floundering about in the husks, we lost our haversacks,
pipes, and a hat. About nine o’clock, we procured a hearty supper
from the generous negro, who even gave me his hat,--an appropriate
presentation, as one of iny companions remarked, by an ‘intelligent
contraband’ to the reliable gentleman of ‘The New-York Tribune.’ The
negro did picket-duty while we hastily ate our meal, and stood by his
blazing fire. The old African and his wife gave us ‘God bless you,
massa!’ with trembling voice and moistened eyes, as we parted from them
with grateful hearts. ‘God bless negroes!’ say I, with earnest lips.
During our entire captivity, and after our escape, they were ever our
firm, brave, unflinching friends. We never made an appeal to them they
did not answer. They never hesitated to do us a service at the risk even
of life; and, under the most trying circumstances, revealed a devotion
and a spirit of self-sacrifice that were heroic.
“The magic word ‘Yankee,’ opened all their hearts, and elicited the
loftiest virtues. They were ignorant, oppressed, enslaved; but they
always cherished a simple and beautiful faith in the cause of the Union,
and its ultimate triumph, and never abandoned or turned aside from a man
who sought food or shelter on his way to freedom.”
“On the march of Grant’s army from Spottsylvania to the North Anna, at
intervals of every few miles, families of negroes were gathered along
the roadside, exchanging words of salutation to our soldiers as they
passed, and grinning all over their faces. ‘Massa’s gone away, gemmen,’
was the answer in almost all cases where the query in relation to their
master’s whereabouts was raised. ‘Specs he gwan to Richmon’. Dun know.
He went away in a right smart hurry last night: dat’s all I knows.’ A
sight of the fine, athletic, plump appearance of some of these negroes,
of both sexes and all ages, would have driven a negro-trader crazy,
especially when he became convinced of the fact that, according to the
terms of President Lincoln’s proclamation, these negroes are free
the moment the lines of the Union army closed in upon them. It was a
pleasing spectacle, and commingled with not a little pathos, to hear
the benedictions which the aged and infirm negroes poured out upon our
soldiers as they marched by. ‘I’se been waitin’ for you,’ said an old
negro, whose eyesight was almost entirely gone, and whose head was
covered with the frosts of some eighty-five winters. ‘Ah! I’se been
waitin’ for you gemmen some time. I knew you was comin’, kase I heerd
massa and missus often talkin’ about you;’ and then the old hero
chuckled, and almost ground his ivories out of his head.”
No heroism surpasses that of the poor slave-boy Sam, on board the
gunboat “Pawnee,” who, while passing shell from the magazine, had both
legs shot away by a ball from the rebel guns; but, still holding the
shell, cried out at the top of his voice, “Pass up de shell, boys.
Nebber mine me: my time is up.” The greatest fidelity of the white man
to the Union finds its parallel in the nameless negro, who, when his
master sent him out to saddle his horse, mounted the animal, rode in
haste to the Federal lines, and pointed out the road of safety to the
harassed, retreating Army of the Potomac; then, returning for his wife
and children, was caught by the rebels, and shot. When the rebels made
their raid into the State of Pennsylvania, and the governor called the
people to arms for defence, it is a well-known fact that a company of
colored men from Philadelphia were the first to report at Harrisburg
for service. These men were among the most substantial of the colored
citizens in point of wealth and moral culture. Yet these patriotic
individuals, together with all of their class, are disfranchised in that
State.
In the engagement on James Island between the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts
and the rebels, the latter surrounded three companies of the former,
which were on picket-duty, and ordered them to surrender; the colored
troops replied by making the best possible use of their muskets. In the
fight, Sergt. Wilson, of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts, fought bravely,
having fired his last cartridge, used the butt of his gun upon his
enemies, and, even after being severely wounded, still struggled
against the foe with his unloaded weapon. The enemy, seeing this, called
repeatedly to the negro to surrender; but Wilson refused, and fought
till he was shot dead.