TALKING FLAGS AND TORCHES.
“Ho! my comrades, see the signal
Waving through the sky;
Re-enforcements now appearing,
Victory is nigh.”
[Illustration]
Yes, there were flags in the army which talked for the soldiers, and I
cannot furnish a more entertaining chapter than one which will describe
_how_ they did it, _when_ they did it, and what they did it for. True,
all of the flags used in the service told stories of their own. What
more eloquent than “Old Glory,” with its thirteen stripes, reminding us
of our small beginning as a nation, its blue field, originally occupied
by the cross of the English flag when Washington first gave it to the
breeze in Cambridge, but replaced later by a cluster of stars, which keep
a tally of the number of States in the Union! What wealth of history its
subsequent career as the national emblem suggests, making it almost vocal
with speech! The corps, division, and brigade flags, too, told a little
story of their own, in a manner already described. But there were other
flags, whose sole business it was to talk to one another, and the stories
they told were immediately written down for the benefit of the soldiers
or sailors. These flags were _Signal_ flags, and the men who used them
and made them talk were known in the service as the _Signal Corps_.
What was this corps for? Well, to answer that question at length would
make quite a story, but, in brief, I may say that it was for the purpose
of rapid and frequent communication between different portions of the
land or naval forces. The army might be engaged with the enemy, on
the march, or in camp, yet these signal men, with their flags, were
serviceable in either situation, and in the former often especially so;
but I will begin at the beginning, and present a brief sketch of the
origin of the Signal Corps.
The system of signals used in both armies during the Rebellion originated
with one man—Albert J. Myer, who was born in Newburg, N. Y. He entered
the army as assistant surgeon in 1854, and, while on duty in New
Mexico and vicinity, the desirability of some better method of rapid
communication than that of a messenger impressed itself upon him. This
conviction, strengthened by his previous lines of thought in the same
direction, he finally wrought out in a system of motion telegraphy.[2]
[2] These facts are taken from a small pamphlet written by
Lieutenant J. Willard Brown of West Medford, Mass., and issued
by the Signal Corps Association. Other facts pertaining to
signalling have been derived from “A Manual of Signals,”
written by General Myer (Old Probabilities) himself, since the
war.
Recognizing to some extent the value of his system, Congress created
the position of Chief Signal Officer of the army, and Surgeon Myer was
appointed by President Buchanan to fill it. Up to some time in 1863 Myer
was not the _Chief_ Signal Officer alone, but the _only_ signal officer
commissioned as such, all others then in the corps—and there were quite
a number—being simply _acting_ signal officers on detached service from
various regiments.
One of the officers in the regular army, whom Surgeon Myer had
instructed in signalling while in New Mexico, went over to the enemy when
the war broke out and organized a corps for them.
From this small beginning of one man grew up the Signal Corps. As soon
as the value of the idea had fairly penetrated the brains of those whose
appreciation was needed to make it of practical value, details of men
were made from the various regiments around Washington, and placed in
camps of instruction to learn the use of the “Signal Kit,” so called.
The chief article in this kit was a series of seven flags, varying from
two feet to six feet square. Three of these flags, one six feet, one
four feet, and one two feet square, were white, and had each a block of
red in the centre one-third the dimensions of the flag; that is, a flag
six feet square had a centre two feet square; two flags were black with
white centres, and two were red with white centres. When the flags were
in use, they were tied to a staff, whose length varied with the size of
the flag to be used. If the distance to signal was great, or obstructions
intervened, a long staff and a large flag were necessary; but the
four-foot flag was the one in most common use.
It will be readily inferred that the language of these flags was to be
addressed to the eye and not the ear. To make that language plain, then,
they must be distinctly seen by the persons whom they addressed. This
will explain why they were of different colors. In making signals, the
color of flag to be used depended upon the color of background against
which it was to appear. For example, a _white_ flag, even with its red
centre, could not be easily seen against the sky as a background. In
such a situation a _black_ flag was necessary. With green or dark-colored
backgrounds the _white_ flag was used, and in fact this was _the_ flag of
the signal service, having been used, in all probability, nine times out
of every ten that signals were made.
Before the deaf and dumb could be taught to talk, certain motions were
agreed upon to represent particular ideas, letters, and figures. In
like manner, a key, or _code_, was constructed which interpreted the
motions of the signal flag,—for it talked by motions,—and in accord with
which the motions were made. Let me illustrate these motions by the
accompanying cuts.
Plate 1 represents a member of the Signal Corps in position, holding the
flag directly above his head, the staff vertical, and grasped by both
hands. This is the position from which all the motions were made.
[Illustration: PLATE 1.]
Plate 2 represents the flagman making the numeral “2” or the letter “i.”
This was done by waving the flag to the right and instantly returning
it to a vertical position. To make “1” the flag was waved to the left,
and instantly returned as before. See plate 3. This the code translated
as the letter “t” and the word “the.” “5” was made by waving the flag
directly to the front, and returning at once to the vertical.
[Illustration: PLATE 2.]
[Illustration: PLATE 3.]
The signal code most commonly used included but two symbols, which made
it simple to use. With these, not only could all the letters of the
alphabet and the numerals be communicated, but an endless variety of
syllables, words, phrases, and statements besides. As a matter of fact,
however, it contained several thousand combinations of numerals with the
significance of each combination attached to it. Let me illustrate still
further by using the symbols “2” and “1.”
Let us suppose the flagman to make the signal for “1,” and follow it
immediately with the motion for “2.” This would naturally be read as 12,
which the code showed to mean O. Similarly, two consecutive waves to the
right, or 22, represented the letter N. Three waves to the right and one
to the left, or 2221, stood for the syllable _tion_. So by repeating the
symbols and changing the combinations we might have, for example, 2122,
meaning _the enemy are advancing_; or 1122, _the cavalry have halted_; or
12211, _three guns in position_; or 1112, _two miles to the left_,—all of
which would appear in the code.
Let us join a signal party for the sake of observing the method of
communicating a message. Such a party, if complete, was composed of
three persons, viz., the signal officer (commissioned) in charge, with a
telescope and field-glass; the flagman, with his kit, and an orderly to
take charge of the horses, if the station was only temporary. The point
selected from which to signal must be a commanding position, whether a
mountain, a hill, a tree-top, or a house-top. The station having been
attained, the flagman takes position, and the officer sweeps the horizon
and intermediate territory with his telescope to discover another signal
station, where a second officer and flagman are posted.
Having discovered such a station, the officer directs his man to “call”
that station. This he does by signalling the number of the station (for
each station had a number), repeating the same until his signal is seen
and answered. It was the custom at stations to keep a man on the lookout,
with the telescope, for signals, constantly. Having got the attention of
the opposite station, the officer sends his message. The flagman was not
supposed to know the import of the message which he waved out with his
flag. The officer called the numerals, and the flagman responded with the
required motions almost automatically, when well practised.
At the end of each word motion “5” was made once; at the end of a
sentence “55”; and of a message “555.” There were a few words and
syllables which were conveyed by a single motion of the flag; but, as
a rule, the words had to be spelled out letter by letter, at least by
beginners. Skilled signalists, however, used many abbreviations, and
rarely found it necessary to spell out a word in full.
So much for the manner of _sending_ a message. Now let us join the party
at the station where the message is being _received_. There we simply
find the officer sitting at his telescope reading the message being sent
to him. Should he fail to understand any word, his own flagman signals
an interruption, and asks a repetition of the message from the last word
understood. Such occurrences were not frequent, however.
The services of the Signal Corps were just as needful and valuable
by night as in daylight; but, as the flags could not then talk
understandingly, _Talking Torches_ were substituted for them. As a “point
of reference” was needful, by which to interpret the torch signals made,
the flagman lighted a “foot torch,” at which he stood firmly while he
signalled with the “flying torch.” This latter was attached to a staff of
the same length as the flagstaff, in fact, usually the flagstaff itself.
These torches were of copper, and filled with turpentine. At the end of a
message the flying torch was extinguished.
The rapidity with which messages were sent by experienced operators was
something wonderful to the uneducated looker-on. An ordinary message of
a few lines can be sent in ten minutes, and the rate of speed is much
increased where officers have worked long together, and understand each
other’s methods and abbreviations.
Signal messages have been sent twenty-eight miles: but that is
exceptional. The conditions of the atmosphere and the location of
stations were seldom favorable to such long-distance signalling.
Ordinarily, messages were not sent more than six or seven miles, but
there were exceptions. Here is a familiar but noted one:—
In the latter part of September, 1864, the Rebel army under Hood set
out to destroy the railroad communications of Sherman, who was then at
Atlanta. The latter soon learned that Allatoona was the objective point
of the enemy. As it was only held by a small brigade, whereas the enemy
was seen advancing upon it in much superior numbers, Sherman signalled a
despatch from Vining’s Station to Kenesaw, and from Kenesaw to Allatoona,
whence it was again signalled to Rome. It requested General Corse, who
was at the latter place, to hurry back to the assistance of Allatoona.
Meanwhile, Sherman was propelling the main body of his army in the same
direction. On reaching Kenesaw, “the signal officer reported,” says
Sherman, in his _Memoirs_, “that since daylight he had failed to obtain
any answer to his call for Allatoona; but while I was with him he caught
a faint glimpse of the tell-tale flag through an embrasure, and after
much time he made out these letters
‘C’ ‘R’ ‘S’ ‘E’ ‘H’ ‘E’ ‘R’
and translated the message ‘Corse is here.’ It was a source of great
relief, for it gave me the first assurance that General Corse had
received his orders, and that the place was adequately garrisoned.”
General Corse has informed me that the distance between the two signal
stations was about sixteen miles in an air line. Several other messages
passed later between these stations, among them this one, which has been
often referred to:—
ALLATOONA, Georgia, Oct. 6, 1864—2 P.M.
Captain L. M. DAYTON, Aide-de-Camp:—
I am short a cheek-bone and an ear, but am able to whip all h—l
yet. My losses are heavy. A force moving from Stilesboro to
Kingston gives me some anxiety. Tell me where Sherman is.
JOHN M. CORSE, Brigadier-General.
The occasions which called the Signal Corps into activity were various,
but they were most frequently employed in reporting the movements of
troops, sometimes of the Union, sometimes of the enemy. They took post
on elevated stations, whether a hill, a tall tree, or the top of a
building. Any position from which they could command a broad view of the
surrounding country was occupied for their purpose. If nature did not
always provide a suitable place for lookout, art came to the rescue,
and signal towers of considerable height were built for this class of
workers, who, like the cavalry, were the “eyes” of the army if not the
ears. I remember several of these towers which stood before Petersburg
in 1864. They were of especial use there in observing the movements of
troops within the enemy’s lines, as they stood, I should judge, from
one hundred to one hundred and fifty feet high. Although these towers
were erected somewhat to the rear of the Union main lines, and were a
very open trestling, they were yet a conspicuous target for the enemy’s
long-range guns and mortar-shells.
[Illustration: SIGNAL TREE-TOP.]
Sometimes the nerve of the flagman was put to a very severe test, as he
stood on the summit of one of these frail structures waving his flag, his
situation too like that of Mahomet’s coffin, while the Whitworth bolts
whistled sociably by him, saying, “Where is he? Where is he?” or, by
another interpretation, “Which one? Which one?” Had one of these bolts
hit a corner post of the lookout, the chances for the flagman and his
lieutenant to reach the earth by a new route would have been favorable,
although the engineers who built them claimed that with _three_ posts cut
away the tower would still stand. But, as a matter of fact, I believe
no shot ever seriously injured one of the towers, though tons weight of
iron must have been hurled at them. The roof of the Avery House, before
Petersburg, was used for a signal station, and the shells of the enemy’s
guns often tore through below much to the alarm of the signal men above.
Signalling was carried on during an engagement between different parts
of the army. By calling for needed re-enforcements, or giving news of
their approach, or requesting ammunition, or reporting movements of the
enemy, or noting the effects of shelling,—in these and a hundred kindred
ways the corps made their services invaluable to the troops. Sometimes
signal officers on shore communicated with others on shipboard, and, in
one instance, Lieutenant Brown told me that through the information he
imparted to a gunboat off Suffolk, in 1863, regarding the effects of the
shot which were thrown from it, General Longstreet had since written him
that the fire was so accurate he was compelled to withdraw his troops.
The signals were made from the tower of the Masonic Hall in Suffolk,
whence they were taken up by another signal party on the river bluff, and
thence communicated to the gunboat.
[Illustration: A SIGNAL TOWER BEFORE PETERSBURG, VA.]
Not long since, General Sherman, in conversation, alluded to a
correspondent of the New York “Herald” whom he had threatened to
hang, declaring that had he done so his “death would have saved ten
thousand lives.” The relation of this anecdote brings out another
interesting phase of signal-corps operations. It seems that one of
our signal officers had succeeded in reading the signal code of the
enemy, and had communicated the same to his fellow-officers. With this
code in their possession, the corps was enabled to furnish valuable
information directly from Rebel headquarters, by reading the Rebel
signals, continuing to do so during the Chattanooga and much of the
Atlanta campaign, when the enemy’s signal flags were often plainly
visible. Suddenly this source of information was completely cut off by
the ambition of the correspondent to publish all the news, and the
natural result was the enemy changed the code. This took place just
before Sherman’s attack on Kenesaw Mountain (June, 1864), and it is to
the hundreds slaughtered there that he probably refers. General Thomas
was ordered to arrest the reporter, and have him hanged as a spy; but old
“Pap” Thomas’ kind heart banished him to the north of the Ohio for the
remainder of the war, instead.
When Sherman’s headquarters were at Big Shanty, there was a signal
station located in his rear, on the roof of an old gin-house, and this
signal officer, having the “key” to the enemy’s signals, reported
to Sherman that he had translated this signal from Pine Mountain to
Marietta,—“Send an ambulance for General Polk’s body,”—which was the
first tidings received by our army that the fighting bishop had been
slain. He was hit by a shell from a volley of artillery fired by order of
General Sherman.
To the men in the other arms of the service, who saw this mysterious
and almost continuous waving of flags, it seemed as if every motion
was fraught with momentous import. “What could it all be about?” they
would ask one another. A signal station was located, in ’61-2, on the
top of what was known as the Town Hall (since burned) in Poolesville,
Md., within a few rods of my company’s camp, and, to the best of my
recollection, not an hour of daylight passed without more or less
flag-waving from that point. This particular squad of men did not seem
at all fraternal, but kept aloof, as if (so we thought) they feared
they might, in an unguarded moment, impart some of the important secret
information which had been received by them from the station at Sugar
Loaf Mountain or Seneca. Since the war, I have learned that their
apparently excited and energetic performances were, for the most part,
only practice between stations for the purpose of acquiring familiarity
with the code, and facility in using it.
It may be thought that the duties of the Signal Corps were always
performed in positions where their personal safety was never imperilled.
But such was far from the fact. At the battle of Atlanta, July 22,
1864, a signal officer had climbed a tall pine-tree, for the purpose of
directing the fire of a section of Union artillery, which was stationed
at its foot, the country being so wooded and broken that the artillerists
could not certainly see the position of the enemy. The officer had nailed
a succession of cleats up the trunk, and was on the platform which he had
made in the top of the tree, acting as signal officer, when the Rebels
made a charge, capturing the two guns, and shot the officer dead at his
post.
During the battle of Gettysburg, or, at least, while Sickles was
contending at the Peach Orchard against odds, the signal men had their
flags flying from Little Round Top; but when the day was lost, and Hood
with his Texans pressed towards that important point, the signal officers
folded their flags, and prepared to visit other and less dangerous
scenes. At that moment, however, General Warren of the Fifth Corps
appeared, and ordered them to keep their signals waving as if a host were
immediately behind them, which they did.
From the important nature of the duties which they performed, the enemy
could not look upon them with very tender regard, and this fact they made
apparent on every opportunity. Here is an incident which, I think, has
never been published:—
When General Nelson’s division arrived at Shiloh, Lieutenant Joseph
Hinson, commanding the Signal Corps attached to it, crossed the Tennessee
and reported to General Buell, after which he established a station on
that side of the river, from which messages were sent having reference to
the disposition of Nelson’s troops. The crowd of stragglers (presumably
from Grant’s army) was so great as to continually obstruct his view, and
in consequence he pressed into service a guard from among the stragglers
themselves to keep his view clear, and placed his associate, Lieutenant
Hart, in charge. Presently General Grant himself came riding up the bank,
and, as luck would have it, came into Lieutenant Hinson’s line of vision.
Catching sight of a cavalry boot, without stopping to see who was in it,
in his impatience, Lieutenant Hart sang out: “Git out of the way there!
Ain’t you got no sense?” Whereupon Grant very quietly apologized for
his carelessness, and rode over to the side of General Buell. When the
lieutenant found he had been addressing or “dressing” a major-general,
his confusion can be imagined. (See frontispiece).
One more incident illustrating the utility of signalling will close the
chapter:—
After arriving before Fort McAllister, General Sherman sent General
Hazen down the right bank of the Ogeechee to take the fort by assault,
and himself rode down the left bank to a rice plantation, where General
Howard had established a signal station to overlook the river and watch
for vessels. The station was built on the top of a rice-mill. From this
point the fort was visible, three miles away. In due time a commotion
in the fort indicated the approach of Hazen’s troops, and the signal
officer discovered a signal flag about three miles above the fort, which
he found was Hazen’s, the latter inquiring if Sherman was there. He was
answered affirmatively, and informed that Sherman expected the fort to
be carried before night. Finally Hazen signalled that he was ready, and
was told to go ahead. Meanwhile, a small United States steamer had been
descried coming up the river, and, noticing the party at the rice-mill,
the following dialogue between signal flags ensued:—
“Who are you?”
“General Sherman.”
“Is Fort McAllister taken?”
“Not yet; but it will be in a minute.”
And in a few minutes it _was_ taken, and the fact signalled to the naval
officers on the boat, who were not in sight of the fort.