Nearly 179,000 former slaves and freedmen fought in the Union Army, making up almost 10% of the United States’ total fighting force. Another 17,000 served with the Union Navy. We will take a look at how regiments of the United States Colored Troops (USCT) played an important role in the battles that raged across the country.
We will look at civilians, too. There were those who made dramatic escapes and set about taking an active role in improving the lives of others. There were those who remained in bondage until the very end and whose stories are still being written. There were those who liberated themselves by escaping to the Union Army and taking the first step to creating a free society for African Americans. Join us this month for stories of the African-American history-makers of the Civil War.
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Intelligence Report--Cadets At War: The True Story of Teenage Heroism at the Battle of New Market1/25/2017
Earlier this week, I shared the story of the VMI Cadets' coming of age. On May 15, 1864, 257 cadets from the Virginia Military Institute ranging in age from 15 to 19 years old put their military training to the test. For many of these cadets, this was the first time in a live combat situation. They were supposed to be the reserve of the Confederate Army operating under General Breckinridge. After a Confederate regiment from Missouri was cut to pieces, General Breckinridge gave the order he dreaded: “Put the boys in, and may God forgive me for the order.”
This book from Susan Provost Beller looks at personal letters and cadet files in the VMI archives to give a voice to that small number of cadets who helped the Confederates turn the tide of the battle. Beller begins with providing a bit of background, takes us with the cadets as they march north (“down the valley”) toward New Market, advance around the Bushong Farm House and through a muddy field (the Field of Lost Shoes) and finally as they defend their honor in the press and public perception years after the guns have gone silent. The book is less than 100 pages long, so the background on the cadets and the battle is necessarily brief. The battle scenes have urgency and don’t get bogged down in lots of minutia. Beller’s use of the words and stories of only a few of the cadets gives the book focus. However, the maps are hand drawn and difficult to read. The illustrations, with the exception of the cadet photos, did not reproduce well. Both maps and illustrations fail to adequately support the text. The writing style is very casual; the author writes how I imagine she speaks. She mentioned in the introduction she has shared this story with school groups many times, and it sounds as if she simply provided a transcription of one of those presentations. It is probably beneficial for young readers, but for me, it lacked authority. One final thing that that is only incidental to the story but that bothers me enough to correct--or perhaps better explain--why going north through the Shenandoah Valley is actually “down the valley” while going south is “up the valley.” She gives a vague reason tied to Pennsylvania settlers moving south away from civilization and into the unknown, so they called it going “up the valley.” The real answer is much more concrete and even simpler: the Shenandoah River flows from south to north toward its confluence with the Potomac River at Harpers Ferry, WV. Therefore going south is going upriver—up the valley—and going north is going downriver—down the valley. It almost makes me call into question all of the research she did for this book. Thankfully, she quoted letters and official records enough that the voices of the cadets are authentic. All they wanted was to be given the chance to show that the years they had spent training to be the next generation of Virginia’s military and political leaders hadn’t been wasted. What better way to prove their military training than during a real life, honest to goodness war? The cadets of the Virginia Military Institute (VMI) believed their opportunity had finally presented itself. But over three years after the first shots of the Civil War, the 260 or so cadets of VMI—most aged 15 to 18 years old--had still not been called to fight for their cause. Certainly, the leaders in Richmond wanted to preserve the next generation of leaders from the dangers of combat; but they also needed their particular expertise in military discipline and drill. So the cadets had been called upon to train Virginia militia units before those units would take off to the front lines, leaving the boys behind. VMI, in the picturesque town of Lexington, was located along one of the most well-traveled and important valleys in all the Confederacy. The Shenandoah Valley runs along the Blue Ridge Mountains from southwest to northeast. The valley opens up near Harpers Ferry in what is now West Virginia, a mere 60 miles—or three days hard march—from Washington, DC and Baltimore. It was fertile farm land, had a good road running its length, and was a loaded gun pointed at important Northern cities. There had been extensive fighting throughout the Valley in 1862, when Union General Nathaniel Banks lost—as in couldn’t find—Stonewall Jackson and his army before Banks decided that the Confederate army outnumbered him (it did not) and that he was a sitting duck for destruction (only in his own mind) and abandoned the Valley. Given the importance of the Valley, it is remarkable that by 1864, the cadets of VMI were still looking for their first chance to “see the elephant.” In May of 1864, the new General in Chief of the Federal forces, US Grant, was ready to execute a grand strategic plan for every Union army fighting in the war. His plan for the spring campaign was a series of coordinated attacks on several of the Confederacy’s fronts, including the Shenandoah Valley.
On May 11, 1864, the Cadets received the news they had been waiting for: Headquarters Va. Mil. Institute May 11, 1864 General Orders No. 18 I.Under the orders of Maj. Gen'l John C. Breckinridge, Commd'g Dept of Western Virginia, the Corps of Cadets and a Section of Artillery will forthwith take up the line of march for Staunton, Va., under the command of Lieut. Col. Scott Shipp. The Cadets will carry with them two days rations. II.Captain J. C. Whitwell will accompany the expedition as Asst. Qr. Master and Commissary and will see that the proper transportation &c is supplied. III.Surgeon R. L. Madison and Asst. Surgeon Geo. Ross will accompany the expedition and attend to the care of the sick and wounded. IV.Col. Shipp on arriving at Staunton will report in person to Maj. Gen'l Breckinridge and await his further instructions. V.Captain T. M. Semmes is assigned to temporary duty on the Staff of the Commd'g Officer. By Command Maj. Gen'l F. H. Smith {Signed} J. H. Morrison, A. A. V. M. Inst. The boys were on their way to war. General Breckinridge only called forth the Cadets out of desperate necessity. He was uneasy about the prospect of actually allowing the Cadets to engage the enemy. “They are only children," he told an aide, "and I cannot expose them to such fire." It was his intention to keep the boys in reserve, hopefully protecting them from battle. But as the battle opened north of New Market, Virginia, on May 15, 1864, the Confederates were still significantly outnumbered. The 257 Cadets, while held behind the main line, were to play a pivotal role in the fighting around the Bushong family’s farm. The Union troops had taken position on a hill north of the Bushong farm house. The infantry was supported by artillery. It was a strong position, and the Cadets were marching toward it. As they marched up and over Shirley Hill, the Cadets came into artillery range. They were ordered to stop and discard their blankets and packs. Then they formed up in the third echelon, supporting veteran troops as they moved forward to attack. As the 51st Virginia Infantry and the 30th Virginia Infantry Batallion neared the area of the Bushong farm house, it came under withering fire and was cut to pieces, causing soldiers in the units to retreat in disorder and stalling the Confederate advance. There was now a dangerous gap in the grey line. Breckinridge gave the order. “Put the boys in…and may God forgive me for the order.” The Cadets moved into the Bushong orchard under heavy fire. Still, they advanced. They charged forward to the remains of a wooden fence and, laying down, opened fire for the first time. They were in this position only about 20 minutes when Confederate forces tuned the Union right flank on top of the hill and the artillery and infantry fire facing the Cadets slowed considerably. It was then the Cadets were ordered to charge. They rallied around their colors and rushed through a wheat field, and then through a recently plowed farm field that had been turned to mud by the previous days' rains. The mud was so thick it sucked the shoes from the boys’ feet. Even so, the Cadets were able to capture two Union artillery pieces and between 60-100 troops before the Federal forces retreated from the field. It may have been a time for gleeful celebration, but the Cadets had come on to the field 257 strong. During the battle five Cadets had been killed in action, and another five would die from wounds they sustained during the fight. 45 other Cadets were wounded, though not mortally. The battle was a Confederate victory that tuned back the Union advance. General Sigel was soon replaced by David Hunter who would advance back up the Valley and in June, burn down the campus of VMI. The Field of Lost Shoes holds a special place in VMI history. Every year, first year Cadets, known as Rats, visit the New Market battlefield and charge across the Field of Lost Shoes before they officially take their oath of Cadetship. The Field also evokes a powerful image of lost youth. Much like the empty boots in the stirrups of a riderless horse, the idea of empty shoes being pulled out of a muddy morass conjures images of boys charging forward into battle, lost forever to the innocence of childhood--or lost even to life itself. Cadets Killed at the Battle of New Market
Earlier this week, I shared with you the story of Johnny Clem. The nine-year old earned fame for things he did and things he probably didn’t do. Called both “Johnny Shiloh” and “The Drummer Boy of Chickamauga”, Johnny survived the Civil War and later in his life went on to have a second distinguished career in the United States Army
Johnny’s story is the subject of John Lincoln Clem: Civil War Drummer Boy. This is a work of historical fiction and author E.F. Abbott has done a wonderful job creating an engaging, book-length story for young readers. The main character, Johnny Clem himself, is a well-written multidimensional character. He is stubborn and defiant, but honorable. He has a moment of cowardice and resolves to be brave. He is good but flawed. He is someone you want to root for. The author weaves in a lot of vignettes about camp life for ordinary soldiers including the rampant disease that would claim more lives than bullets did. She even uses a well documented description of General Grant-- “He wore an expression as if he had decided to drive his head through a brick wall and was about to do it.” The battle scenes are realistic and urgent and don’t romanticize what was truly a confused and terrifying experience. As a piece of fiction, this book is top notch. Unfortunately, the author’s research on her subject seems spotty. As I noted in my previous post, it is highly unlikely that Johnny was ever at Shiloh. The 3rd Ohio, the regiment he unofficially joined in this book did not fight at Shiloh and the 22nd Michigan, the regiment that he eventually formally enlisted with, was not mustered in until August 1862, several months after the battle of Shiloh. Several times, the author refers to beating the long roll as a call to advance. The long roll was actually a call used to call the soldiers to arms. It was to get the troops’ attention and get them all in one place so that a subsequent order could be sounded. It was not beat throughout an advance or to announce a charge. An additional concern appears when Captain McDougal asks the assembled crowd the reason the Confederate states seceded. The crowd answers “slavery” and McDougal adds a whole bunch of other things that are another way of saying slavery including economics and states’ rights and throws in the tariff for good measure. Captain McDougal tries to lessen the impact slavery had on the Confederacy’s founding, which does a disservice to the actual history. To add insult to injury, officers of the rank Captain are in command of a company of approximately 100 soldiers, not entire regiments (until later in the war when casualties began to mount). Regiments were commanded by Colonels. Because of the strong fictional narrative, I still highly recommend this book despite the historical liberties taken. In fact, the inaccuracies provide an opportunity to research some primary documents in a critical manner.
John Lincoln Clem: Civil War Drummer Boy is a great way to introduce the role of children in combat with an engaging and fast moving story so long as it is understood to be historical fiction.
Johnny was with the regiment when it engaged the Confederate army on the afternoon of September 20, 1863 along a creek in north Georgia called Chickamauga. On that day, Johnny shed his drum and instead carried a rifle musket, trimmed down from regulation length to fit his short stature. The battle was chaotic and the 22nd Michigan was being surrounded when a Confederate Colonel noticed the child soldier with his shortened weapon. The Colonel demanded that Johnny surrender by saying “I think the best thing a mite of a chap like you can do is drop that gun”. Johnny disagreed. In his opinion, the best thing he could do was to use it. He refused to surrender and instead shot the Colonel and headed back to his unit. Johnny, who at some point during the war officially changed his name to John Lincoln Clem to honor the President, was rewarded for his bravery under fire with a promotion to sergeant, becoming the youngest non-commissioned officer in the history of the United States Army. And the American public granted him another laurel wreath, deeming him “The Drummer Boy of Chickamauga.” The harrowing times were not over for Johnny. In October of 1863, he was detailed as a train guard when Confederate cavalry captured him. He was take prisoner and had taken from him his Union uniform, including his prized hat which sported three bullet holes it had received at Chickamauga. He was released in a prisoner exchange not long after, and would go on to fight in other battles as the armies marched toward Atlanta. John Clem was officially discharged a year after his harrowing experience at Chickamauga in September 1864. But John Lincoln Clem was not done with the army. After graduating high school in 1870, he tried--and failed--to pass the entrance exam for the West Point Military Academy. President Ulysses S. Grant appointed him second lieutenant in the 24th US Infantry and over the years, he steadily moved up the ranks and upon retirement was promoted to the rank of Brigadier General. In honor of his service, upon his death in 1937, he was buried in Arlington Cemetery,
Even without the feats ascribed to "Johnny Shiloh", the events that young Johnny Clem experienced before he turned 14 make his life a fascinating story that shows that often, children are capable of more than we could ever give them credit for.
References and Further Reading John Clem, Drummer Boy of Chickamauga The Boys of War The Drummer Boy of Shiloh by WS Hays 15 year old Union soldier Sheldon “Say” Curtis meets Pinkus “Pink” Aylee while Say is suffering from a leg wound. Pink and Say have both been separated from their units, and they make the decision to travel the three days they anticipate it will take to rejoin their units. Along the way, they return to Pink’s home and recover under the care of his mother Moe Moe Bay. The setting, a cozy cabin on the ruined estate of Pink and Moe Moe Bay’s former owner, creates an evocative backdrop for meaningful discussions about fear and bravery, the true nature of freedom and sacrifice.
In 48 short pages, Polacco writes a story with developed characters who discuss the deeper impact of the war, and challenge us readers to think about some of its enduring themes. There are many topics for family or classroom discussion. Despite giving this book 5 stars, I do have a few concerns. The first, and probably most problematic, is the audience for this book. It is a picture book, but the topics discussed and the graphic nature of the illustrations, skew this older than the typical picture book audience of preschoolers to young elementary readers/listeners. Two of the most moving vignettes captured in the story are deaths--the first that of Moe Moe Bay at the hands of “marauders” who come looking to loot Pink’s family cabin, and then Pink’s death himself by hanging at Andersonville. These topics are important to understanding the Civil War, and I do not advocate shying away from the difficult discussions. Knowing the true toll of war brings it from the realm of romanticism into reality. As Robert E. Lee said “It is good that war is so terrible--lest we grow too fond of it.” I do struggle, however, about the age appropriateness of this material. Amazon lists the appropriate age for this alternatively as: age 5-9; ages 6-9; Grade 4 (age 10) and up and Grade 1 (age 7) to Grade 4 (age 10). My best advice is for parents and teachers to read the book first to determine if your children or students are ready to handle the weighty discussions which will likely result from this book. My final reservation is that the author claims this is a true story handed down through family history. This simply is not the case. A review of the regimental muster rolls for the 24th Ohio Volunteer Infantry (Say’s regiment) does not show any soldier enlisted by the name of Sheldon Curtis (or alternative names that could have been the result of administrative error). Pinkus Aylee does not appear in the muster rolls of the 48th United States Colored Infantry. Further confirming the fictional nature of the story, according to each unit’s history, these two units never fought in the same battles. The story is strong enough to stand on its own without the disclaimer that this is a true story handed down generation by generation. It is possible the author deliberately used this “true story” label disingenuously. It is equally possible that the author, like so many of us, just accepted family history as gospel truth because it came from the sincerest of her elders. Either way, the fact that it is fiction from someone’s imagination does not diminish its impact. Even knowing the truth, I end the story with tears in my eyes as I say out loud, “Pinkus Aylee.” We typically think of war as the work of adults. Adults make the policies that lead to war. Children should not be exposed to the death, destruction and moral ambiguity that results from armed conflicts. Today, all branches of the American military require enlistees to be at least 17 years of age (with parental consent). But war hasn’t always been something that society has tried to shield children from. The Civil War has often been called The Boys’ War because of the young ages of the combatants. The average age of the Union soldier was 25.8 years (records for the Confederate armies are incomplete making it difficult to figure an average age). Both armies had policies that required a minimum age of 18 to enlist*, but that was policy, not necessarily practice. A determined young man or an unscrupulous recruiting officer could find ways to circumvent these rules, and they did so with alarming frequency. Many of these children were initially enlisted as musicians, but when the fighting started, either by choice or circumstances they found themselves carrying a musket or picking up a ramrod. The deadly hail of lead made no distinction of age when it found its target.
*The Union Army’s minimum enlistment age was 18, and 17 for musicians. Younger children could enlist with parental permission. For the majority of the Confederacy’s existence, the minimum enlistment age was 18, but in 1864 that was lowered to 17. Sources and Further Reading Child Soldiers in the Civil War Children in the Civil War The Boy's War: Confederate and Union Soldiers Talk About the Civil War by Jim Murphy Winter. Cold winter. On those kinds of days, when the cold and damp seem to seep into the bones, it’s nice to sit in front of a fireplace with a roaring fire, sipping a cup of hot cocoa. But on the night of December 30, 1862, as 83,000 soldiers dressed in blue and butternut were filing into the fields northwest of the Tennessee town of Murfreesboro, there was not going to be that kind of comfort. The distance that separated the men of the Union Army of the Cumberland and the Confederate Army of Tennessee as they went into bivouac that night was negligible. At some points on the line, only 300 feet separated the men of the opposing armies. Up and down both lines, veterans--men who had "seen the elephant"--understood that they were on the eve of a great attack. Union Brigadier General Henry M. Cist wrote, “Every soldier on that field knew when the sun went down on the 30th that on the following day he would be engaged in a struggle unto death, and the air was full of tokens that one of the most desperate of battles was to be fought.” Up and down the line the tension grew in anticipation of what was to happen when the sun next came up. And then, one of the regimental bands began to play. The calm, crisp night air allowed the tune to carry across the No Man’s Land between the armies, and all up and down the line, Union regimental bands would pay a song and Confederate regimental bands would answer. A rousing “Hail Columbia!” was countered by a rollicking “Bonnie Blue Flag.” “Dixie” would be answered by “Yankee Doodle.” Finally, one regimental band broke the cheerful competition and began to play the song “Home Sweet Home,” and regimental bands all over the field, Union and Confederate alike, picked up the refrain and soldiers, North and South, began to join their voices to the chorus of brass echoing “Be it ever so humble, there is no place like home.” No matter which side of the Mason-Dixon they were from, or what color uniform they wore, they shared a deep longing for the comforts of home and family. The camaraderie was short-lived. The Battle of Stones River began at dawn the next day and by battle’s end on the evening of January 2, 1863, 24,645 soldiers had been killed, wounded or were missing. Stones River would go down in history as the Civil War battle which had the highest percentage of those engaged become casualties...and for the remarkable experience that for a short time bonded enemies over the sweet strains of nostalgia played by regimental brass bands. Sources and Suggested Reading Battle of Stones River; The Tennessee Encyclopedia of History and Culture v. 2.0 God Rest Ye Merry, Soldiers: A True Civil War Christmas Story by James McIvor All it was supposed to take to resolve the momentous issue of Secession and Union was one battle. Some people even believed that battle would amount to no more than bloodless posturing. North Carolina Congressman and avid secessionist A. W. Venable, offered “I will wipe up all the blood shed with a handkerchief of mine." It wouldn’t last long. It would be all over by Christmas. But as December 25, 1861 passed, neither side had folded like their opponents expected. And as the sun set on December 25, 1862, the war seemed like it would continue to consume good men on both sides. The war was not proving to be quick, nor was it over by Christmas. By the time Christmas 1863 arrived, the mood in the country was anything but celebratory. The message of joy, hope and peace threatened to be silenced by the turmoil of the war. The dual Union victories in Gettysburg and Vicksburg in the height of the previous summer that seemed to herald the beginning of the end had turned instead into familiar inaction in the East and a bitter Federal defeat at Chickamauga in the West. And all across the nation, families were dealing with the wounding and death of their loved ones. Among those experiencing their own personal tragedies amid the nation’s crisis was American patriot and poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. In 1861, his beloved wife of 18 years, Frances “Fanny” Appleton Longfellow, was tending to household chores when her dress caught fire and though Henry tried to smother the flames, he was unable to save her. Then, in March of 1863, Fanny and Henry’s oldest son, Charles, slipped away from home to visit Washington, D.C. to join the Union Army. While there, the seventeen year old ran into an old family friend, Captain W.H. McCartney of Battery A, 1st Massachusetts Artillery, and appealed to the Captain to enlist him. Unwilling to take an underage recruit without parental permission, Captain McCartney sought the approval of the boy’s father. The elder Longfellow reluctantly granted it. Charlie was a natural soldier, and was soon offered a commission as Second Lieutenant of the 1st Massachusetts Cavalry. He still held this rank when, on November 27, 1863, Charlie was engaged at the Battle of New Hope Church (Mine Run Campaign) in Orange County, Virginia. He was shot through the left shoulder. The bullet traveled across his back, nicked his spine, and exited under his right shoulder. He escaped paralysis by a mere inch. When word got through to Henry of his eldest son’s serious injury, he and his younger son Earnest set off to Washington, D.C. to bring Charlie home to recover. It was in the midst of this personal and national tragedy that Longfellow heard the bells ringing from church belfries on Christmas morning 1863 and sat down to capture his raw emotions in words. The poem that he wrote that morning, Christmas Bells, was published in 1865 and later set to music to become a popular Christmas carol that speaks to the triumph of joy, hope and goodness even (or especially) during the disillusionment of the darkest times--I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, and wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom Had rolled along The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Till ringing, singing on its way, The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannon thundered in the South, And with the sound The carols drowned Of peace on earth, good-will to men! It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn The households born Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And in despair I bowed my head; "There is no peace on earth," I said; "For hate is strong, And mocks the song Of peace on earth, good-will to men!" Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: "God is not dead, nor doth He sleep; The Wrong shall fail, The Right prevail, With peace on earth, good-will to men.”
I don’t usually read two books at one time, but as the departure date of our Charleston vacation quickly approached, I had to make an exception. I haven’t known the remarkable story of the Hunley for long, but I knew it was woven into the fabric of its adopted home town of Charleston and made visiting it a top priority. Like pretty much every other historical site I visit, I like to prepare with a little homework to help me understand what it was I was going to see. I had two books I wanted to read--one focusing on the history of the submarine and the other focusing on the modern search and recovery--and only time to read one.
Between trying to clear my desk of urgent work for my day job, keeping up with Drummer Boy and the general running of the household, I could only dedicate half an hour or so during the evening, some days per week to reading. The only other time I had to dedicate to reading was my commute. But even as a passenger, reading while in a car would not translate to a particularly good time for me or anyone in my general proximity. As a solo driver with over an hour commute each way several days a week, reading while driving is not...encouraged. Thank goodness for Audible, the only safe way to read while driving (unless, I suppose you have hired a professional narrator that travels with you every where you go). I listened to Tom Chaffin's book on my way to and from work and work appointments and read Hicks and Kropf's book while curled up into the corner of my couch after Drummer Boy finally agreed to close his eyes. Reading both at virtually the same time allowed me to compare and contrast the two books much more easily as most of the information remained fresh in my mind while the authors crafted their own explanations and tried to use their sources to back their positions. It was an unwitting debate between the authors, and I got to judge the best position. The H.L. Hunley: The Secret Hope of the Confederacy was primarily focused on the history of submarine development, putting the Confederate efforts--including the CSS Pioneer and the American Diver--in historical context. Chaffin also used his time to illuminate the back story of the men who would propel the technology forward. Two-thirds of his book focused on the time leading up to the sinking of the Hunley, and only the final third focused on the aftermath. Ultimately, Chaffin only dedicated the final three chapters to the search for, and recovery of, the Hunley. Raising the Hunley: The Remarkable History and Recovery of the Lost Confederate Submarine by Brian Hicks and Schuyler Kropf is a story mainly of the efforts to find and then recover the Hunley. There is a discussion about the history of the submarine and its predecessors, but only the first third of the book covers this, leaving the authors, local Charleston journalists who were eye witnesses to the recovery and early conservation of the craft, lots of time to tell you exactly what they saw. So, which book should you read? Readability In The H.L. Hunley, there are several times Tom Chaffin uses $5 words when nickel words would do. Some of those times actually caused me to roll my eyes, their use was so out of place (dare I say egregious) within the structure of the sentence they were used in, it seemed an obvious effort to show off a superior vocabulary just because he could. While most of his text is highly readable, it is likely that you will learn a few new words to add to into your not-so-everyday conversations. Raising the Hunley is written by journalists and the reading level reflects this. Hicks and Kropf do not dumb things down, but they keep the language easy and the reading flows well. It is descriptive but not challenging. Winner: Raising the Hunley Credibility of the Authors Tom Chaffin uses his introduction to explain his method of historic research. He focuses on using primary documents and when he cannot document, he clearly identifies his own use of speculation. One of the best ways to see his extensive use of historic record is how he debunks the widely accepted myth that Queenie Bennett both gave George Dixon his famous gold coin and that she was his sweetheart. Hicks and Kropf’s eyewitness status to the raising and recovery of the Hunley notwithstanding, their sourcing is generally secondary documents (documents written by people who were not participants or contemporaries of those participants living at the time). Winner: The H.L. Hunley Overall Quality of the Work Chaffin’s book was published in 2008. It is a careful and thoughtful treatment of the history of the Hunley. His sources are credible, and he carefully discloses the rare instances of author speculation. Though there are some sections that are a bit dry and more academic, it isn’t something that plagues the whole of the book. Published in 2002, Hicks' and Kropf’s book reads like they rushed to write and publish it to take advantage of a transient public interest that would soon fade. Besides their unquestioning adherence to the Queenie Bennett myth, they also retell the story of the blue light from the lantern that was the prearranged sign to alert the crew’s home base on Sullivan Island that they had been successful, going so far as to cite the archaeologists’ find of the submarine’s lantern still inside the submarine as proof. They leave out, however, that the lantern’s lenses were clear and that there is no indication that they were ever tinted blue. Had they waited for more of the excavation of submarine, and allowed the findings to drive their narrative, rather than the other way around, the book would have improved greatly. Winner: The H.L. Hunley These are not the only books available on the Hunley, and I picked up several others while I was at the Warren Lasch Conservation Center, including a newer work by Brian Hicks published in 2014 which may correct some of the errors of his prior work. But until my schedule and reading list allow, people who wish to learn more about the sad tale of the remarkable men and their submarine won’t go wrong picking up or listening to Tom Chaffin’s The H.L. Hunley: The Secret Hope of the Confederacy. |
AuthorToni is a wife, mom and history buff who loves bringing the Civil War to life for family members of all ages. Archives
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