ENROLLMENT OF TROOPS.
Troops Gathered at Charleston--First Service as a Volunteer.
The Legislature, immediately after the passage of the ordinance
of secession, authorized the Governor to organize ten regiments of
infantry for State service. Some of these regiments were enlisted for
twelve months, while Gregg's, the First, was for six, of, as it was
understood at the time, its main duties were the taking of Sumter.
The first regiments so formed were: First, Gregg's; Second, Kershaw's;
Third, Williams'; Fourth, Sloan's; Fifth, Jenkins'; Sixth, Rion's;
Seventh, Bacon's: Eighth, Cash's; Ninth, Blanding's; besides a
regiment of regulars and some artillery and cavalry companies. There
existed a nominal militia in the State, and numbered by battalions
and regiments. These met every three months by companies and made some
feeble attempts at drilling, or "mustering," as it was called. To the
militia was intrusted the care of internal police of the State. Each
company was divided into squads, with a captain, whose duties were to
do the policing of the neighborhood, called "patrolling." They would
patrol the country during Sundays, and occasionally at nights, to
prevent illegal assemblies of negroes, and also to prevent them from
being at large without permission of their masters. But this system
had dwindled down to a farce, and was only engaged in by some of the
youngsters, more in a spirit of fun and frolic than to keep order
in the neighborhood. The real duties of the militia of the State
consisted of an annual battalion and regimental parade, called
"battalion muster" and "general muster." This occasioned a lively
turn-out of the people, both ladies and gentlemen, not connected with
the troops, to witness the display of officers' uniforms, and bright
caparisoned steeds, the stately tread of the "muster men," listen to
the rattle of the drums and inspiring strains of the fifes, and horns
of the rural bands.
From each battalion a company was formed for State service. These
companies elected their captains and field officers, the general
officers being appointed by the Governor. Immediately after the call
of the Governor for troops, a great military spirit swept the country,
volunteer companies sprang up like magic all over the land, each
anxious to enter the service of the State and share the honor of going
to war. Up to this time, few thought, there would be a conflict. Major
Anderson, U.S.A., then on garrison duty at Fort Moultrie, heard of the
secession of the State, and (whether by orders or his own volition, is
not known and immaterial,) left Fort Moultrie, after spiking the guns
and destroying the carriages; took possession of Fort Sumter. The
State government looked with some apprehension upon this questionable
act of Maj. Anderson's. Fort Sumter stood upon grounds of the State,
ceded to the United States for purposes of defence. South Carolina
now claimed the property, and made demands upon Maj. Anderson and the
government at Washington for its restoration. This was refused.
Ten companies, under Col. Maxey Gregg, were called to Charleston
for the purpose of retaking this fort by force of arms, if peaceful
methods failed. These companies were raised mostly in towns and
cities by officers who had been commissioned by the Governor. College
professors formed companies of their classes, and hurried off to
Charleston. Companies of town and city volunteers offered their
services to the Governor--all for six months, or until the fall of
Sumter.
On the 9th of January, 1861, the State was thrown into a greater
paroxism of excitement by the "Star of the West," a Northern vessel,
being fired on in the bay of Charleston by State troops. This steamer,
laden with supplies for Sumter, had entered the channel with the
evident intention of reinforcing Anderson, when the Citadel guards,
under Captain Stevens, fired several shots across her bow, then
she turned about and sped away to the sea. In the meantime the old
battalions of militia had been called out at their respective "muster
grounds," patriotic speeches made, and a call for volunteers made.
Companies were easily formed and officers elected. Usually in
selecting the material for officers, preference was given to soldiers
of the Mexican war, graduates of the military schools and the old
militia of officers. These companies met weekly, and were put through
a course of instructions in the old Macomb's tactics. In this way
the ten regiments were formed, but not called together until the
commencement of the bombardment of Sumter, with the exception of those
troops enlisted for six months, now under Gregg at Charleston, and a
few volunteer companies of cavalry and artillery.
The writer was preparing to enter school in a neighboring county when
the first wave of patriotism struck him. Captain Walker's Company,
from Newberry, of which I was a member, had been ordered to Charleston
with Gregg, and was stationed at Morris' Island before I could get
off. Two of my brothers and myself had joined the company made,
up from the Thirty-ninth Battalion of State militia, and which
afterwards formed a part of the Third S.C. Volunteers (Colonel
Williams). But at that time, to a young mind like mine, the war looked
too remote for me to wait for this company to go, so when on my way to
school I boarded a train filled with enthusiasts, some tardy soldiers
on their way to join their companies, and others to see, and if need
be, "take old Anderson out of his den." Nothing on the train could be
heard but war, war--"taking of Sumter," "Old Anderson," and "Star
of the West." Everyone was in a high glee--palmetto cockades, brass
buttons, uniforms, and gaudy epaulettes were seen in every direction.
This was more than a youthful vision could withstand, so I directed my
steps towards the seat of war instead of school. By this time the city
of Charleston may be said to have been in a state of siege--none could
leave the islands or lands without a permit from the Governor or the
Adjutant and Inspector General. The headquarters of Governor Pickens
and staff were in the rooms of the Charleston Hotel, and to that
place I immediately hied and presented myself before those "August
dignitaries," and asked permission to join my company on Morris'
Island, but was refused. First, on account of not having a permit of
leave of absence from my captain; secondly, on account of my youth (I
then being on the rise of 15); and thirdly, having no permission from
my parents. What a contrast with later years, when boys of that age
were pressed into service. The city of Charleston was ablaze with
excitement, flags waved from the house tops, the heavy tread of
the embryo soldiers could be heard in the streets, the corridors of
hotels, and in all the public places. The beautiful park on the water
front, called the "Battery," was thronged with people of every age and
sex, straining their eyes or looking through glasses out at Sumter,
whose bristling front was surmounted with cannon, her flags waving
defiance. Small boats and steamers dotted the waters of the bay.
Ordnance and ammunition were being hurried to the island. The one
continual talk was "Anderson," "Fort Sumter," and "war." While
there was no spirit of bravado, or of courting of war, there was no
disposition to shirk it. A strict guard was kept at all the wharves,
or boat landings, to prevent any espionage on our movements or works.
It will be well to say here, that no moment from the day of secession
to the day the first gun was fired at Sumter, had been allowed to pass
without overtures being made to the government at Washington for a
peaceful solution of the momentous question. Every effort that tact
or diplomacy could invent was resorted to, to have an amicable
adjustment. Commissioners had been sent to Washington, asking, urging,
and almost begging to be allowed to leave the Union, now odious to
the people of the State, without bloodshed. Commissioners of the North
came to Charleston to treat for peace, but they demanded peace without
any concessions, peace with submission, peace with all the chances of
a servile war. Some few leaders at the North were willing to allow
us the right, while none denied it. The leading journal at the
North said: "Let the erring sisters depart in peace." But all of our
overtures were rejected by the administration at Washington, and
a policy of evasion, or dilly-dallying, was kept up by those in
authority at the North. All the while active preparations were going
on to coerce the State by force of arms. During this time other States
seceded and joined South Carolina, and formed the "Confederate States
of America," with Jefferson Davis as President, with the capital at
Montgomery, Ala.
Being determined to reach my company, I boarded a steamer, bound for
Morris' Island, intending, if possible, to avoid the guard. In this I
was foiled. But after making several futile attempts, I fell in with
an officer of the First South Carolina Regiment, who promised to pilot
me over. On reaching the landing, at Cummings Point, I was to follow
his lead, as he had a passport, but in going down the gang plank we
were met by soldiers with crossed bayonets, demanding "passports." The
officer, true to his word, passed me over, but then my trouble
began. When I reached the shore I lost my sponsor, and began to make
inquiries for my company. When it was discovered that there was a
stranger in the camp without a passport, a corporal of the guards
was called, I was placed under arrest, sent to the guardhouse, and
remained in durance vile until Captain Walker came to release me. When
I joined my company I found a few of my old school-mates, the others
were strangers. Everything that met my eyes reminded me of war.
Sentinels patrolled the beach; drums beat; soldiers marching and
counter-marching; great cannons being drawn along the beach, hundreds
of men pulling them by long ropes, or drawn by mule teams. Across the
bay we could see on Sullivan's Island men and soldiers building and
digging out foundations for forts. Morris' Island was lined from the
lower point to the light house, with batteries of heavy guns. To the
youthful eye of a Southerner, whose mind had been fired by Southern
sentiment and literature of the day, by reading the stories of heroes
and soldiers in our old "Southern Reader," of the thrilling romances
of Marion and his men, by William Gilmore Simms, this sight of war was
enough to dazzle and startle to an enthusiasm that scarcely knew any
bounds. The South were "hero worshipers." The stories of Washington
and Putnam, of Valley Forge, of Trenton, of Bunker Hill, and Lexington
never grew old, while men, women, and children never tired of reading
of the storming of Mexico, the siege of Vera Cruz, the daring of the
Southern troops at Molino del Rey.
My first duty as a soldier, I will never forget. I went with a detail
to Steven's Iron Battery to build embrasures for the forts there. This
was done by filling cotton bags the size of 50 pound flour sacks with
sand, placing them one upon the top of the other at the opening where
the mouths of cannons projected, to prevent the loose earth from
falling down and filling in the openings. The sand was first put upon
common wheel-barrows and rolled up single planks in a zig-zag way to
the top of the fort, then placed in the sacks and laid in position. My
turn came to use a barrow, while a comrade used the shovel for filling
up. I had never worked a wheel-barrow in my life, and like most of my
companions, had done but little work of any kind. But up I went the
narrow zig-zag gangway, with a heavy loaded barrow of loose sand. I
made the first plank all right, and the second, but when I undertook
to reach the third plank on the angles, and about fifteen feet from
the ground, my barrow rolled off, and down came sand, barrow,
and myself to the ground below. I could have cried with shame and
mortification, for my misfortune created much merriment for the good
natured workers. But it mortified me to death to think I was not man
enough to fill a soldier's place. My good coworker and brother soldier
exchanged the shovel for the barrow with me, and then began the first
day's work I had ever done of that kind. Hour after hour passed, and
I used the shovel with a will. It looked as if night would never
come. At times I thought I would have to sink to the earth from pure
exhaustion, but my pride and youthful patriotism, animated by the acts
of others, urged me on. Great blisters formed and bursted in my hand,
beads of perspiration dripped from my brow, and towards night the
blood began to show at the root of my fingers. But I was not by
myself; there were many others as tender as myself. Young men with
wealthy parents, school and college boys, clerks and men of leisure,
some who had never done a lick of manual labor in their lives, and
would not have used a spade or shovel for any consideration, would
have scoffed at the idea of doing the laborious work of men, were
now toiling away with the farmer boys, the overseers' sons, the
mechanics--all with a will--and filled with enthusiasm that nothing
short of the most disinterested patriotism could have endured. There
were men in companies raised in Columbia, Charleston, and other towns,
who were as ignorant and as much strangers to manual labor as though
they had been infants, toiling away with pick and shovel with as much
glee as if they had been reared upon the farm or had been laborers in
a mine.
Over about midway in the harbor stood grim old Sumter, from whose
parapets giant guns frowned down upon us; while around the battlements
the sentinels walked to and fro upon their beats. All this preparation
and labor were to reduce the fort or prevent a reinforcement.
Supplies had been cut off, only so much allowed as was needed for the
garrison's daily consumption. With drill every two hours, guard
duty, and working details, the soldiers had little time for rest
or reflection. Bands of music enlivened the men while on drill,
and cheered them while at work by martial and inspiring strains of
"Lorena," "The Prairie Flower," "Dixie," and other Southern airs.
Pickets walked the beach, every thirty paces, night and day; none
were allowed to pass without a countersign or a permit. During the day
small fishing smacks, their white sails bobbing up and down over
the waves, dotted the bay; some going out over the bar at night with
rockets and signals to watch for strangers coming from the seaward.
Days and nights passed without cessation of active operations--all
waiting anxiously the orders from Montgomery to reduce the fort.
General G.T. Beauregard, a citizen of Louisiana, resident of New
Orleans, a veteran of the Mexican War, and a recent officer in the
United States Engineering Corps, was appointed Brigadier General and
placed in command of all the forces around Charleston. A great many
troops from other States, which had also seceded and joined the
Confederacy, had come to South Carolina to aid in the capture of
Sumter. General Beauregard was a great favorite with all the people,
and the greatest confidence felt in his skill and ability by the
soldiers. The State officers and troops obeyed him cheerfully, and had
implicit faith in his military skill. As he was destined to play an
important part in the great role of war that was soon to follow, I
will give here a short sketch of his life. General G.T. Beauregard was
born near the city of New Orleans, May 18th, 1818. His first ancestors
were from Wales, but engaging in an insurrection, they were forced to
flee from their country, and sought an asylum in France. In the last
of the thirteenth century one of them became attached to the Court of
Philip the IV, surnamed the "Fair." He then married Mademoiselle de
Lafayette, maid of honor to the sister of Philip. When Edward, King of
England, married the sister of Philip, he followed with his wife the
fortunes of the English King, and became a member at the Court of St.
James. He was afterwards assigned to a British post on the continent.
And again this family of the early Beauregards, then called Toutant
Beauregard, became citizens of France. Jacques Beauregard came
to Louisiana from France with a colony sent out by Louis XIV. The
grandson of this Jacques is the present Gustav Toutant Beauregard.
At the early age of eleven years he was taken to New York and placed
under a private tutor, an exile from France, and who had fled the
Empire on the downfall of Napoleon. At sixteen he entered West Point
as a cadet, and graduated July 1st, 1838, being second in a class
of forty-five. He entered the service of the United States as Second
Lieutenant of Engineers. He served with distinction through the
Mexican War, under Major General Scott, in the engineer corps. For
gallant and meritorious conduct he was twice promoted--first to the
Captaincy and then to the position of Major. For a short time he was
Superintendent of the West Point Military Academy, but owing to the
stirring events just preceding the late war, he resigned on the first
of March, 1861. He entered the service of the Confederate States; was
appointed Brigadier General and assigned to the post of Charleston.
Soon after the fall of Sumter he was made full General, and assigned
to a command on the Potomac, and with J.E. Johnston fought the
memorable battle of Bull Run. He was second in command at Shiloh with
A.S. Johnston, then the "Department of South Carolina, Georgia, and
Florida." With J.E. Johnston he commanded the last remnant of a once
grand army that surrendered at Greensboro, N.C. He returned to his old
home in New Orleans at the close of the war, to find it ruined, his
fortune wrecked, his wife dead, and his country at the feet of a
merciless foe. He took no further part in military or political
affairs, and passed away gently and peacefully at a ripe old age,
loved and admired by his many friends, and respected by his enemies.
Such, in brief, was the life of the man who came to control the
destinies of South Carolina at this most critical moment of her
history.
On March 6th he placed Morris' Island under the immediate command of
Brigadier General James Simonds, while the batteries were under the
command of Lieutenant Colonel W.G. DeSaussure. Sullivan's Island was
under the command of General R.G.M. Dunovant, and the batteries of
this island were under Lieutenant Colonel Ripley. Captain Calhoun
commanded at Fort Moultrie, and Captain Thomas at Fort Johnston. A
floating battery had been constructed by Captain Hamilton, and moved
out to the western extremity of Sullivan's Island. This was under
command of its inventor and builder. It consisted of very heavy
timbers; its roof overlaid with railroad iron in a slanting position,
through which trap doors had been cut for the cannon to project.
The Stevens' Battery, as it was called, was constructed on the same
principle; was built at Cummings' Point, on Morris' Island, and
commanded by Captain Stevens, of the Citadel Academy. It was feared
at this time that the concussion caused by the heavy shells and solid
shots striking the iron would cause death to those underneath, or so
stun them as to render them unfit for further service; but both these
batteries did excellent service in the coming bombardment. Batteries
along the water fronts of the islands were manned by the volunteer
companies of Colonel Gregg's Regiment, and other regiments that had
artillery companies attached.
On the 8th of April a message was received at Montgomery to the effect
that a fleet was then en route to reinforce Sumter, "peaceably if they
could, but forcibly if necessary."
General Beauregard was instructed to demand the immediate evacuation
of the fort; Anderson failing to comply with this demand, he was to
proceed to reduce it. The demand was made upon Major Anderson, and was
refused. General Beauregard had everything in readiness, only waiting
the result of the negotiations for the surrender or evacuation, to
give the command to fire. The night of the 11th was one of great
excitement. It was known for a certainty that on to-morrow the long
looked for battle was to take place. Diplomacy had done its work, now
powder and ball must do what diplomacy had failed to accomplish.
All working details had been called in, tools put aside, the heating
furnaces fired, shells and red-hot solid shot piled in close proximity
to the cannon and mortars. All the troops were under arms during the
night, and a double picket line stretched along the beach, and while
all seemed to be life and animation, a death-like stillness pervaded
the air. There was some apprehension lest the fleet might come in
during the night, land an army on Morris' Island in small boats, and
take the forts by surprise. Men watched with breathless interest the
hands on the dials as they slowly moved around to the hour of four,
the time set to open the fire. At that hour gunners stood with
lanyards in their hands. Men peered through the darkness in the
direction of Sumter, as looking for some invisible object. At half
past four Captain James, from Fort Johnston, pulled his lanyard; the
great mortar belched forth, a bright flash, and the shell went curving
over in a kind of semi-circle, the lit fuse trailing behind, showing
a glimmering light, like the wings of a fire fly, bursting over the
silent old Sumter. This was the signal gun that unchained the great
bull-dogs of war around the whole circle of forts. Scarcely had
the sound of the first gun died away, ere the dull report from Fort
Moultrie came rumbling over the waters, like an echo, and another
shell exploded over the deserted parade ground of the doomed fort.
Scarcely had the fragments of this shell been scattered before General
Stevens jerked the lanyard at the railroad battery, and over the water
gracefully sped the lighted shell, its glimmering fuse lighting its
course as it, too, sped on in its mission of destruction. Along the
water fronts, and from all the forts, now a perfect sheet of flame
flashed out, a deafening roar, a rumbling deadening sound, and the war
was on. The men as a whole were alive to their work; shot after
shot was fired. Now a red-hot solid shot, now a shell, goes capering
through the air like a shower of meteors on a frolic. The city was
aroused. Men, women, and children rush to the housetops, or crowd each
other along the water front of the battery.
But Sumter remained silent, grim, defiant. All there seemed to be in
peaceful, quiet slumber, while the solid shot battered against her
walls, or the shells burst over their heads and in the court yard
below. Round after round is fired. The gunners began to weary of their
attempt to arouse the sleeping foe. Is the lion so far back in his
lair as not to feel the prods of his tormentors? or is his apathy
or contempt too great to be aroused from his slumber by such feeble
blows? The grey streaks of morning came coursing from the east, and
still the lion is not angry, or is loath to take up the struggle
before he has had his morning meal. At seven o'clock, however, if
there had been any real anxiety to rouse his temper, it was appeased.
The stars and stripes ran up the flag staff, and from out the walls of
the grim old stronghold burst a wreath of smoke--then a report, and
a shot comes whizzing through the air, strikes the iron battery,
and ricochets over in the sand banks. He then pays his respects to
Moultrie. From the casements and barbette guns issue a flame and
smoke, while the air is filled with flying shot. The battle is general
and grand. Men spring upon ramparts and shout defiance at Sumter,
to be answered by the crashing of shot against the walls of their
bomb-proof forts. All day long the battle rages without intermission
or material advantages to either side. As night approached, the fire
slackened in all direction, and at dark Sumter ceased to return
our fire at all. By a preconcerted arrangement, the fire from our
batteries and forts kept up at fifteen-minute intervals only. The next
morning the firing began with the same vigor and determination as the
day before. Sumter, too, was not slow in showing her metal and paid
particular attention to Moultrie. Early in the forenoon the smoke
began to rise from within the walls of Sumter; "the tort was on fire."
Shots now rain upon the walls of the burning fort with greater fury
than ever. The flag was seen to waver, then slowly bend over the
staff and fall. A shout of triumph rent the air from the thousands of
spectators on the islands and the mainland. Flags and handkerchiefs
waved from the hands of excited throngs in the city, as tokens of
approval of eager watchers. Soldiers mount the ramparts and shout in
exultation, throwing their caps in the air. Away to the seaward the
whitened sails of the Federal fleet were seen moving up towards
the bar. Anxiety and expectation are now on tip-toe. Will the fleet
attempt the succor of their struggling comrades? Will they dare to run
the gauntlet of the heavy dahlgreen guns that line the channel sides?
From the burning fort the garrison was fighting for their existence.
Through the fiery element and hail of shot and shell they see the near
approach of the long expected relief. Will the fleet accept the gauge
of battle? No. The ships falter and stop. They cast anchor and remain
a passive spectator to the exciting scenes going on, without offering
aid to their friends or battle to their enemies.
General Beauregard, with that chivalrous spirit that characterized all
true Southerners, when he saw the dense curling smoke and the flames
that now began to leap and lick the topmost walls of the fort, sent
three of his aids to Major Anderson, offering aid and assistance in
case of distress. But the brave commander, too proud to receive aid
from a generous foe when his friends are at hand yet too cowardly to
come to the rescue, politely refused the offer. But soon thereafter
the white flag was waving from the parapets of Fort Sumter. Anderson
had surrendered; the battle was over; a victory won by the gallant
troops of the South, and one of the most miraculous instances of a
bloodless victory, was the first battle fought and won. Thousands of
shots given and taken, and no one hurt on either side.
A remarkable instance of Southern magnanimity was that of W.T.
Wigfall, a volunteer aide to General Beauregard. As he stood watching
the progress of the battle from Cummings' Point and saw the great
volume of black smoke curling and twisting in the air--the storm of
shot and shell plunging into the doomed walls of the fort, and the
white flag flying from its burning parapets--his generous, noble, and
sympathetic heart was fired to a pitch that brooked no consideration,
"a brave foe in distress" is to him a friend in need. Before
orders could be given to cease firing, or permission granted by the
commanding general, he leaped into a small boat, and with a single
companion rowed away to the burning fortress, shells shrieking over
his head, the waves rocking his frail little craft like a shell in
a vast ocean, but the undaunted spirit of the great man overcame all
obstacles and danger, and reached the fort in safety. Here a hasty
consultation was had. Anderson agreed to capitulate and Wigfall
hastened to so inform General Beauregard.
It was agreed that Major Anderson should leave the fort--not as a
prisoner of war, but as a brave foe, who had done all in human power
to sustain the dignity of his country and the honor of his flag. He
was allowed to salute his flag, by firing a number of guns, and with
his officers and troops and all personal belongings placed upon a
transport, was carried out to the fleet.
The only melancholy event of the memorable bombardment was the sudden
death of one of the soldiers of the garrison, caused by the premature
explosion of a shell while firing the salute to the flag.
The prominence given to Wigfall's exertion, and erratic conduct at
the time, and his meritorious career during the existence of the
Confederacy, prompt me to give a short sketch of this meteoric
character. He was born in Edgefield County along in the first quarter
of the century of good old South Carolina stock, and educated in
the common schools and in South Carolina College. His large means,
inherited from a long line of wealthy ancestors, afforded him
opportunities to enjoy life at his pleasure. He was full of that
fiery zeal for honor, hot headed and impulsive. His hasty and stubborn
nature caused him many enemies; yet his charitable disposition
and generous impulses gave him many friends. He could brook no
differences; he was intolerant, proud of his many qualities, gifted,
and brave to rashness. In early life he had differences with Whitfield
Brooks, the father of Preston S. Brooks, Congressman from South
Carolina, but at that time a student of South Carolina College. While
the son was in college, Wigfall challenged the elder Brooks to a duel.
Brooks, from his age and infirmities, refused. According to the rules
of the code duello, Wigfall posted Brooks at Edgefield Court House,
and guarded the fatal notice during the day with a loaded pistol.
A relative of Brooks, a feeble, retiring, and unassuming young man,
braved the vengeance of Wigfall, and tore the degrading challenge from
the court house door in spite of the warning and threats of the Knight
of the Code. A pistol shot rang out, and the young champion of Brooks
fell dead at his feet. Preston Brooks, hearing of the indignity placed
upon his father, the death of his kinsman and defender of his family
honor, now entered the list, and challenged the slayer of his father's
protector. Wigfall accepted the challenge with eagerness, for now
the hot Southern blood was thoroughly aroused, and party feelings had
sprung up and ran high. The gauge of battle was to be settled at Sand
Bar Ferry, on the Savannah River near Augusta, Ga., the noted duelling
ground of the high tempered sons of Georgia and the Carolinas. It was
fought with dueling pistols of the old school, and at the first fire
Brooks was severely wounded. Wigfall had kindled a feeling against
himself in the State that his sensitive nature could not endure. He
left for the rising and new born State of Texas. Years rolled by, and
the next meeting of those fiery antagonists was at the Capital of the
United States--Brooks in Congress, and Wigfall in the Senate.
* * * * *