A lesser known part of the Chancellorsville campaign is the battle that swirled around Salem Church on May 3rd and 4th, 1863.  

The church saw use as shelter for refugees from the Battle of Fredericksburg in December 1862 and as a field hospital in May 1863.

Damage from the battle can still be seen inside and outside of the church.

See more photography from Kathleen Logothetis

The 150^th commemoration of Chancellorsville has been stirring up excitement at Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania County National Military Park over the past two weeks. A similar event takes place every five years or so, but until now the largest celebration was the 100^th anniversary. During the opening ceremony on the first of May, 2013, John Hennessey pointed out that we are no longer celebrating but rather commemorating the events that happened here. Back in 1963, the anniversary was viewed as celebratory; but today, rather than host parades and grand spectacles, we turn to more solemn thoughts and actions. “We are a remembering people,” said Hennessey. How we choose to remember, though, has changed significantly.

In 1961, just a year into Centennial celebrations, there was pressure to call the whole thing off. The USA faced a new era of civil war and this time there were no question about the reason: race. The Civil Rights movement was in full swing by the early 1960s, and the Centennial was on a crash course with that movement from the very start. On the 100^th anniversary of the firing on Fort Sumter, South Carolina held a giant celebration complete with fireworks. Unfortunately, a grey cloud hung over the festivities: Madaline Williams, an African American representative from the New Jersey Centennial Commission, was denied the same accommodations as her fellow white representatives. From this point forward, the Centennial, whether deliberate or not, found itself at the center of the Civil Rights debate.

In addition to the Civil Rights movement, the National Civil War Centennial Committee faced other issues. The reenactment of the First Battle of Manassas, while enjoyed by the public, received overwhelmingly negative reviews from the media. They considered the event disrespectful; after that, little hope was left for the rest of the Civil War Centennial Committee’s plans.

By 1963, though, tempers had calmed, and public’s focus turned to the Battle of Chancellorsville. Plans were in the works to open a brand-new visitors center on the Chancellorsville Battlefield; this attracted the attention of locals as well as those living outside Virginia.

Anniversary festivities were planned to begin on May 5, two days after the fighting in 1863 would have ended. Similar to the reenactment of Manassas that occurred on the 100^th anniversary, Chancellorsville organized a large celebration featuring the opening of the new visitors center. Attending the dedication ceremony were several dignitaries, including a U.S. senator and a House representative. The event might not have made national headlines, but in addition to the opening, the event included a concert, an art contest, and entry into three historical homes. A museum car called the “General” was on display, the Lee-Jackson marker was rededicated, and a single tour was given of the Chancellorsville battlefield.

The program of events left out several of the aforementioned activities, including the tour, suggesting that the focus was not to remember the battle but to keep minds focused on the present.

Fast forward to this year’s event in the park. The 8-page program of events nearly quadruples 1963’s version. Each day saw multiple tours, some occurring simultaneously. It might seem that we are celebrating even more now than in 1963, but I personally didn’t feel that way. We embraced the idea of commemoration and created a program that reflects the respect this bloody landscape deserves.

Looking back at newspaper articles from May 1963, I paid special attention to the photographs to get a sense of the atmosphere. The large banners, balloons, and grand stage of 1963 have been replaced by a simple podium. It is in these differences that a celebration becomes a commemoration. Fifty years ago people remembered the Civil War, but the hopes that a nation could come together and remember as a whole fell to the wayside as plans hit unexpected roadblocks. In 2013, we felt the excitement of what was to come, but at the same time remained reserved. Plans were laid out in a way that allowed for solemn remembrance. Instead of a parade, the park saw a group of people come together to share the story of what happened 150 years ago, and as one visitor commented to me, “Isn’t it amazing to see everyone here appreciating our history?” It is remarkable to think of the nation’s progress over the past 50 years. At no point during the commemoration did I pick up any sense of division among those who attended.

But why has our method of remembrance changed since 1963? The past 50 years has seen an evolution in both the general culture of this country and the interpretation of history; the way we choose to remember the Civil War reflects these changes. Perhaps the largest reason things have changed is because of the significant strides made from the Civil Rights Movement. The advancements that have come about because of the Civil Rights Movement have allowed us to move toward a different type of interpretation. In 1963 we were interpreting the Civil War, and while we are still interpreting the civil war, we also have a new chapter to consider. As historians, we have a duty not only to interpret historical events, but show how those events effect our present. We have to be able, as interpreters, to show the linear path that makes up our history and be able to explain how past events influence how we see the world today.

A second reason our remembrance has changed is because of the resurgence of the Civil War enthusiast. In 1957, when the Civil War Centennial Committee was formed, one of their main goals was to invoke a sense of excitement for the festivities. The Civil War, while still regarded as a significant event in our history books, did not have the following it currently does. The Civil War was a dark time in our country and a time many would have preferred to forget rather than commemorate. This notably was because some who were choosing to remember were also using it as a way to push their own agenda, and most did not want to be associated with that. So, in an effort to gain visitors and to provoke remembering our past, the centennial was planned in such a way that would ensure people to take notice, i.e. parades and fireworks. If anything, a celebration was bound to get some form of attention, much more so than tours of a battlefield.

Now 50 years later, the number of “history buffs” has grown and there is a sense of wanting or needing to keep our history fresh in our minds. Most have come to realize the forgetting the past won’t solve anything but rather complicate things.

Let me clarify that I do not wish to elevate one program above the other. In a comparison of the two, there are obvious differences. This does not necessarily mean that one was right and the other was wrong. We must remind ourselves and our visitors daily that we live in a different time, and as such it is impossible to fully understand how our ancestors felt and what motivations drove their actions. However, a speaker at the 100^th anniversary, Dr. James Robertson, reminds us that we might not be so different after all: “We gain constant reassurance by remembering the avenue of heartache that has marked our nation’s rise to greatness. This building and these grounds are a shrine to American unity and freedom. May we ever hold them as such by cherishing the valor of those who surmounted courageously the challenge of their time.”

John Hennessy echoed Robertson’s words two weeks ago when he said, “This week, on the 150^th anniversary of the Battle of Chancellorsville, we remember not just as individuals, but as a nation. We reflect not just on the acts and loss of participants – acts both noble and harsh, as war always is. We also reflect on our nation’s winding, complicated, difficult road to where we are.”

Sherman’s Bummers

On November 15 1864, Sherman began marching south, dividing his army into two wings. On November 22, a large (4,500) group of Confederate soldiers under General Pleasant J. Phillips met part (1,500) of the right wing of Sherman’s troops, commanded by General Charles C. Walcutt. The Battle of Griswaldville ended so badly for the South–94 Union casualties and losses versus 1,123 Confederate–that Confederate troops initiated no more major conflicts. Instead, they tried to anticipate Sherman’s line of march, working ahead of the Union forces and wreaking their own brand of havoc in front of Sherman’s men. In an attempt to slow the Union juggernaut, bridges were burned and wrecked, trees were felled across roads, and barns with provisions and fodder were burned before Sherman had a chance to use them.

Not that the Union was innocent of inflicting harm. Far from it! Union soldiers

Those famous “neckties”

unsparingly raided farms and plantations, stealing foodstuffs and personal possessions, slaughtering cows, chickens, turkeys, sheep, and hogs. Stores of molasses and sorghum, beehives, and untold numbers of sweet potatoes were “foraged liberally” by both officially authorized foragers and those men who simply felt that the early bird should get his share of the worm. One Iowa soldier in the Seventeenth Corps wrote home, “I think a katydid, following our rear, would starve.”

There are stories of wanton, unnecessary destruction on the part of Union soldiers, but they fall far short of war crimes, unless pianos are considered victims of war. An Ohio infantryman wrote his family about such a musical instrument being removed from one Louisville, Georgia, family home. “One fellow played on the piano while his comrades danced a jig on top of the instrument and then he drove an axe through it.”

Judson Kilpatrick

Serious and discomforting as these sorts of anecdotes are, they do not meet the criteria for being war crimes. However, reports made to General Sherman by cavalry commander General Judson Kilpatrick were more alarming. A letter from an Ohio cavalryman states that, “On the first of December, three men belonging to the regiment were murdered.” Another letter from a soldier in the 79th Pennsylvania reported that, “Rebels captured our Brigade Q(uarter) M(aster) and three men, shooting them all, some of them with their throats cut from ear to ear.” General Kilpatrick had put several such reports in his official correspondence with Sherman, who monitored the situation, but did not respond to the cavalry chieftain until Thursday, December 1, 1864.

Joseph Wheeler

Kilpatrick had been informing Sherman of even more instances of the murder and mutilation of his men after they had been taken prisoner. Sherman considered this to be, perhaps, anecdotal evidence, but he could not ignore the increasing number of incidents being reported. Sherman wanted to be certain that, before he issued any sort of retaliatory order, Kilpatrick had communicated his concerns to Confederate cavalry commander General Joseph Wheeler. Once Kilpatrick had alerted Wheeler, should he obtain substantial proof that Rebel soldiers were committing any excesses, Kilpatrick would receive official approval to retaliate. Sherman’s command, in such a circumstance, was: “You may hang and mutilate man for man without regard to rank.”

This communication puts Sherman clearly on the edge of the modern definition of war crimes, but in context, it does not cross that line. Sherman’s due diligence concerning waiting and monitoring the situation, the insistence on the notification of Wheeler about his concerns, and finally his clearly-voiced response–”man for man”–do not indicate approval of wholesale slaughter of an enemy combatant based on rumor or innuendo.

Prior to arriving in Savannah (Sherman’s actual destination was kept secret until the last possible moment), Sherman ordered an investigation of conditions at Millen, where Camp Lawton had been built. Camp Lawton was supposed to replace Andersonville Prison, but the approach of Sherman’s Left Wing had forced its evacuation. What Federal soldiers found inside the compound that had once housed Union prisoners of war both sickened and angered the men who saw it. David Anderson, of the 19th Michigan wrote: “We found the bodies of several of our men lying unburied in this loathsome den; consigning them to the parent earth, our bugles sounded, and falling in line, solemnly and sadly we moved away.” Upon hearing of the conditions in which prisoners had tried to exist, some failing, Sherman was angered. His verbal instructions to General Frank Blair, commander of the Seventeenth Corps, “was to make the destruction (of Millen) ‘tenfold more devilish’ than he ever dreamed of, as this is one of the places they have been starving our prisoners.” However, the letters and notes of Sherman’s aide, Major Henry Hitchcock, printed as Marching With Sherman: Passages from the Letters and Campaign Diaries of Henry Hitchcock, Major and Assistant Adjutant General of Volunteers-November 1864-May, 1865, clearly indicate that nothing more was done at Millen than was done at any other town; the government buildings were burned, the arsenal was fired, supplies were looted, and a hotel (not normally a legitimate target, but perhaps an accidental one) was burned.

By mid-December, Fort McAllister had been taken by the Federals and there was only Savannah left with which to deal. Forage had been poor for several weeks, as the Confederates removed everything they felt would aid Sherman, and torched what could not be carried. A siege is never anything other than painful, but on December 21, 1864, Savannah surrendered. General Sherman presented the capture of the city to President Lincoln as a “Christmas present.” In less than four months, the American Civil War would be over. However, there was unfinished war crimes business to be dealt with, for there were at least two men who had performed such unforgivably atrocious acts that it was nationally recognized that some sort of action must be taken against them.

The least known of these two men is Samuel “Champ” Ferguson, a Confederate guerrillawho operated outside any laws. He admitted to killing over 100 people, mostly civilians, whom he deemed sympathetic to the Union. He was also suspected of killing several wounded cavalrymen from the 5th U. S. Colored Cavalry. He was tried for fifty-three murders, and convicted. He was hung on October 20, 1865, in Nashville.

The better known case is that of Captain Henry Wirz, commandant of the notorious Andersonville Prison. Court records accuse him of, “willfully and traitorously . . . combining, confederating, and conspiring . . . to injure the health and destroy the lives of soldiers in the military service of the United States . . .in violation of the laws and customs of war.” To read the transcript of Wirz’s trial is a sickening endeavor for most, but the transcript makes clear that, even in the middle of the nineteenth century, there were “laws and customs” that could not be breached, even in a war. Wirz was convicted and hung on November 10, 1865.

Wirz Execution

No one has yet proved that the overall intent of Sherman’s March to the Sea was to do anything other than end the war. If it took creating a warlike atmosphere deep in the Confederacy to make the South understand that they could not win a war of attrition, then the powers in Washington agreed–ending the war was paramount. Sherman’s work in Georgia was destructive and sometimes brutal, but it did what it was planned to do–end the war. If war was hell, then “total” war was total hell.

Major Hitchcock, who began the March with a lack of confidence in Sherman’s tactics and in Sherman himself, sums up his complete turnaround to becoming a supporter of his general:

This Union and its Government must be sustained at any and every cost. To sustain it, we must war upon and destroy the rebel forces–must cut off their supplies, destroy their communications . . . and produce among the people of Georgia a thorough conviction of the personal misery which attends war, and the utter helplessness and inability of their ‘rulers’ to protect them . . . If that terror and grief and even want shall help to paralyze their husbands and fathers who are fighting us . . . it is mercy in the end.

Sherman and his generals

I later met the Iron Brigade in the Wilderness as they ran pell-mell through the forest—“like scared little girls,” one colleague liked to say—after Confederate counterattacks in the dark, close wood caught them completely off guard and crushed them.

I’ve run into them on many occasions since, but no meeting has been so fortuitous, or so interesting, as meeting them in Lance J. Herdegen’s excellent book The Iron Brigade in Civil War and Memory: The Black Hats from Bull Run to Appomattox and Thereafter. 

Lance Herdegen

“The Iron Brigade may have been the best combat infantry brigade of the American Civil War,” Herdegen says. While many would contest that statement, Herdegen makes a whopping 696-page argument that’s pretty convincing. “At the end of the war,” he points out, “it was determined the Iron Brigade regiments suffered the highest percentage of loss of any brigade in the Union Armies.”

Certainly the Iron Brigade is one of the most storied units in the entire Army of the Potomac, in no small part because so many members of the brigade chronicled their exploits after the war, circulating those adventures to wide acclaim. We “had fought on more fields of battle than the Old Guard of Napoleon, and have stood fire in far greater firmness,” one member of the brigade said.

At the time, the Iron Brigade first earned attention as the only all-Western brigade to serve in the Eastern Theater, comprised as they initially were of the 2nd, 6th, and 7th Wisconsin, the 19th Indiana infantry regiments (with Battery B of the 4th U.S. Artillery through in there, too). Their black felt hats gave them a particular battlefield élan not hard to miss, either.

Herdegen traces the brigade’s history in painstaking detail without bogging down in the weeds. He doesn’t sacrifice readability to achieve thoroughness, either. Herdegen knows how to keep his narrative engaging—no small feat considering the number of sources he works into the story. He draws on decades of research to tell this story.

Gettysburg gets the lion’s share of attention compared to other engagements, but that’s as much because there’s 150 years of muck Herdegen has to sort through as anything else. Certainly the brigade’s actions on May 1, 1863 deserve the focused discussion Herdegen gives them.

What’s more important about the book, however, is the detailed attention Herdegen gives all of the brigade’s exploits. The early section of the book, “Greenhorn Patriots,” may be my favorite because it’s a wonderful snapshot of a group of eager but inexperienced—and sometimes scared—men learning to be soldiers. “All had to learn the business of war,” a chapter header proclaims.

The book’s last section, too, deserves special attention. “Thereafter and Evermore” follows survivors of the brigade softly into that dark goodnight with some poignant observations.

I was glad to again meet these men of the Iron Brigade under such enlightening conditions. Herdegen does great honor to their memory while doing great service to the Civil War community by presenting their story so well. The Iron Brigade in Civil War and Memory is a well-crafted piece of scholarship worthy of the men whose exploits it recounts.

Confederate General Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson’s grave site

On May 15, 1863—150 years ago today—Confederate General Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson was laid to rest in his beloved Shenandoah Valley. He had died five days previously and, since his death, his remains had traveled from Guinea Station down to Richmond to rest in the Confederate capitol before beginning the trek westward.

Jackson was brought home to the town he had spent a majority of his adult life in, the town he had owned his only house in, and the town he marched off to war from and transformed from “Tom Fool” to “Stonewall” to eventually a “martyr of the Lost Cause.”

“He left the Va. Military Institute in command of the Cadets. He has been brought back to sleep among us—a world renowned hero,” wrote the Lexington Gazette.

Buried in downtown Lexington, the cemetery now boasts a memorial statue over the grave of the Confederate leader. One can still throw a lemon in the iron gate that surrounds the monument or walk through and visit the actual gravesite.

Lemons for General Jackson

Laid to rest in that cemetery are a few other notable personas of the Confederacy. But, one officer made the trip to Lexington slightly before the great “Stonewall.” Elisha “Frank” Paxton was killed on the assaults around Hazel Grove on the morning of May 3, 1863. He was linked with Jackson by first being on the staff of the general and then gaining command of the famous “Stonewall” Brigade.

Paxton was a native of Rockbridge County, Virginia and attended Washington College, next door to VMI before heading north to finish school at Yale. He returned to Lexington to begin his career.

Entering the war as a lieutenant in the 4^th Virginia Infantry he was wounded at First Manassas and after recuperation was appointed major in the 27^th Virginia Infantry. Although he lost out on the election of officers the next year—1862—he gained an appointment on the staff of “Stonewall” Jackson.

After rising to other positions on Jackson’s staff, his relationship with Jackson would later funnel him from major to brigadier general and in charge of the “Stonewall” Brigade. One of the only times Jackson would eschew military protocol in choosing to promote an officer to another command.

Paxton would lead the brigade at the Battle of Fredericksburg in December 1862 and into the Chancellorsville campaign.

On May 3^rd, Paxton was leading his brigade on the attack on Hazel Grove when he was shot, according to Lieutenant Randolph Barton of his staff through the heart. He died within the hour of receiving his wound.

His body was initially laid to rest at Guinea Station before following his former commander out to Lexington.

Grave site of Brigadier General Elisha “Frank” Paxton

The Confederacy lost only two general officers killed during the Battle Chancellorsville, Paxton and Jackson, and claimed Lexington has their home.

There are a few stories or history or legend or myth—whichever you’d prefer to call it—but according to one of these accounts, soon after “Stonewall” was laid to rest in Lexington angels descended from heaven to claim his soul. When arriving at the gravesite they could not locate Jackson’s soul. When they returned to heaven to tell St. Peter the bad news, they were shocked with his answer. St. Peter told the angels that Jackson’s soul was already in heaven; he had flanked the pearly gates and flanked marched in!

Margaret Junkin Preston wrote the following lines in her journal after attending Jackson’s burial; “Now it is all over and the hero is left ‘alone in his glory.’ Not many better men have lived and died.”

For the citizens of Lexington, she could have been speaking for all their native and adopted sons that had fallen.

Used as a source and for further reading into the last days and death of “Stonewall” Jackson was Christopher Mackowski’s and Kristopher White’s “The Last Days of Stonewall Jackson” part of the ECW series.

Follow the link below for more information on the book:
http://emergingcivilwar.com/publications/the-emerging-civil-war-series/

By Caroline Davis—part two

William H. Seward

The Union Blockade had begun to move inland up the Rio Grande by 1864, thwarting trade across the river. One would expect negative repercussions with the closing of this important trade route, but the Confederacy was never a primary benefactor in the relationship. In all actuality, the Matamoros Trade was more of a benefit to Mexico than to the southern United US. The small portion of West Texas that traded with Mexico before 1864 was the only Confederate area to directly reap the benefits. The sheer amount of travel required for goods to make it to the Rio Grande ate up most profits. Supplies coming in from the Matamoros Trade had to travel over 500 miles by wagon to reach the Texas-Louisiana border.

In the late 1850s and early 1860s, Mexico was developing its own cotton industry in addition to trading cotton with the Confederacy. This Central American country began growing cotton at a vital time. Prior to the war, the Union began developing its textile industry – specifically in New England. Northern textile manufactures had depended on southern cotton farmers to provide them with the raw materials needed to keep the textile industry afloat. The Civil War not only meant the death of the southern cotton industry but also threatened the New England textile industry. As a result, New England turned to Europe to buy the raw cotton needed. The New England textile industry suffered greatly in this newer, more competitive market due to its distance from the cotton-producing nations of India and Egypt. When Mexico began to grow cotton, New England saw an opportunity to combat some of the negative ramifications that had arisen from the laws banning trade between the Union and the Confederacy. Stepping up to the plate, Mexico began providing cotton to New England, helping to ease the effects of the “cotton famine.”

By the time the Civil War ended, the amount of trade between the Union and Mexico had increased fivefold.  According to the US Department of Commerce, 1860 showed a total of seven million dollars worth of imports and exports between the US and Mexico. There was a dip in 1861 and 1862, but in 1963 the amount skyrocketed to 12 million – and was at 22.6 million by the war’s end![i] This rapid increase in trade was due to the growth of Mexico’s raw cotton industry. The New England textile industry was in dire need of cotton by 1863. Maximilian I seized this opportunity to strengthen Mexico’s weak economy by taking advantage of the world’s provisional cotton shortage.

Mexico had been producing a small amount of cotton since the time of pre-Columbian Indian cultures, but production had remained incredibly low until the 1850 and 1860’s. As early as 1861, Mexican newspapers included cotton-growing tips and began devoting entire sections to the effects of the blockade. There were also textile industries in Mexico, but the continuing guerrilla warfare between Maximilian I’s newly-established government and the liberal party made domestic trading difficult.

In order to aid Mexico’s expanding cotton industry, the US began to export cotton gins to Mexico. Schoonover sites a rare letter from Lewis S. Ely to William H. Seward in which Ely states cotton-related machinery was one of the largest exports from the US to Acapulco and that, as an import, raw cotton was becoming increasingly more important to the U.S. Schoonover writes, “…in the export year ending on 30 September 1863, Ely reported that 7,095 bales or 1,036,444 pounds of cotton worth $209,475.44 had been shipped to the United States from Guerrero.”[ii] Information about the amount of cotton grown in Mexico at that the time is as Schoonover says “often scattered and incomplete.”[iii] However, data provided by the US combined with the little information that has been unearthed shows that the Mexican economy benefited from the new trade relations established due to the blockade and the laws banning domestic trade between the Union and the Confederacy.

Cotton

Unfortunately for Mexico, the high increase of trade to New England would eventually end. When trade between the northern textile manufacturers and the southern cotton farmers reopened in the spring of 1865, cotton was once again supplied domestically. Exports from New England to Mexico slowed to a crawl. With the southern states in complete disarray, nearly all provisions and money went to help rebuild the South’s damaged infrastructure. By 1870, the annual value of goods traded between the US and Mexico had dropped to 8.6 million dollars. [iv]However, not all was lost for Mexico. The blockade and trade with New England had helped to establish Mexico’s presence on the global cotton market. So even though trade slowed and the Mexican economy suffered slightly after the end of the Civil War (and the blockade), the country was able to partially depend on its improved cotton industry to keep their economy strong.

Increased trade between Mexico and Texas is an interesting and often ignored result of the Union Blockade. Consider how differently the blockade affected Mexico than it did other countries. Despite the violence and disorder, Mexico developed a raw cotton industry –this industry brought revenue into Mexico and helped to stabilize both the country’s government and economy. England and France, who had once depended on the South for cotton, had to find new suppliers. Egypt and India quickly stepped up and took on the role in the cotton market once played by the Confederacy. Essentially, the only change for those living in Europe was the source of the cotton. Simply put, the blockade helped – or perhaps even forced –Mexico to establish itself as a contender on the global cotton market.