Archive for the ‘Confederate’ Category

Scientists have new clue to mystery of sunken sub

October 18, 2008

It’s long been a mystery why the H.L. Hunley never returned after becoming the first submarine in history to sink an enemy warship in 1864, but new research announced Friday may lend credence to one of the theories. Scientists found the eight-man crew of the hand-cranked Confederate submarine had not set the pump to remove water from the crew compartment, which might indicate it was not being flooded.

By Associated Press

That could mean crew members suffocated as they used up air, perhaps while waiting for the tide to turn and the current to help take them back to land.

The new evidence disputes the notion that the Hunley was damaged and took on water after ramming a spar with a charge of black powder into the Union blockade ship Housatonic.

USSHousatonic.jpg
Above: USS Housatonic

Css hunley on pier.jpg
Above: Artists impression of CSS Hunley

Scientists studying the sub said they’ve found its pump system was not set to remove water from the crew compartment as might be expected if it were being flooded.

The sub, located in 1995 and raised five years later, had a complex pumping system that could be switched to remove water or operate ballast tanks used to submerge and surface.

“It now really starts to point to a lack of oxygen making them unconscious,” said state Sen. Glenn McConnell, R-Charleston and the chairman of the South Carolina Hunley Commission, formed to raise, conserve and display the sub. “They may have been cranking and moving and it was a miscalculation as to how much oxygen they had.”

In excavating the sub, scientists found little intermingling of the crew remains, indicating members died at their stations. Those bones likely would have been jumbled if the crew tried to make it to the hatches in a desperate attempt to get out.

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American History: Diary of a Civil War Marine

September 15, 2007

By John E. Carey
First Published August 19, 2006
For The Washington Times

I have read and reported upon five or six Civil War journals and diaries over the course of the last ten years for The Washington Times and this is by far the best.

The newly released “note-book” or diary of Marine Henry O. Gusley (The Southern Journey of a Civil War Marine: The Illustrated Note-Book of Henry O. GusleyEdited and Annotated by Edward T. Cotham Jr., Austin, Texas: University of Texas Press, March 2006, 223 pp. $24.95.ISBN: 0-292-71283-9) is a wonderment for several reasons. First, Gusley proves a remarkably colorful, humorous and articulate story teller and observer of naval operations in the Gulf of Mexico in 1862-3. There are no diaries or memoirs quite as good as this.
Second, the editor of this “note-book,” Edward T. Cotham, combines Gusley’s book with the drawings of another keen observer in the same U.S. Navy Mortar Squadron, Dr.Daniel D. T. Nestell, and Acting Assistant Surgeon in the West Gulf Blockading Squadron.

To paraphrase the editor, if Gusley supplies the sound track and very colorful narration of navy operations in the Gulf of Mexico, Dr. Nestell provides the video tape.

And then there is the wonderful contribution of the editor himself, Edward T. Cotham Jr., who gives us a terrific forward and overview with context, and then follows-up with detailed notes. If most readers are like me, they rarely read the end or footnotes. This time you will want to.

The United States Marine Corps is the forgotten service of the Civil War. More than overlooked, many Civil War historians and enthusiasts don’t even know that the Marines served.

Henry O. Gusley fully covers shipboard life; the armaments, capabilities and limitations of his vessels; the social aspects of the war including emancipation; the duties of a U.S. Marine at sea during the Civil War; and at-sea operations.

Gusley participated in so many sustained shore bombardments of Confederate forts and concentrations that he was already losing his hearing at the end of the war. Although he participated in numerous operations, including against New Orleans, Vicksburg, Mobile, and Galveston; his book gives one of the few Union Navy first-hand accounts of the terrible defeat at the hands of the Confederates at Sabine Pass, Texas, on September 8, 1863. Gusley was captured in this engagement.

Still, Gusley recorded just after the Sabine Pass engagement, “We have been in several battles since our enlistment, but never have we been in one where we saw displayed so much coolness and calm courage. From the captain to the powder boys, without exception, everyone stood by his quarters until we were compelled to strike our flag.

On July 5, 1863, just after Grant’s victory at Vicksburg and Lee’s loss at Gettysburg, while in the Gulf of Mexico and unaware of either outcome, Gusley wrote, “The ‘Glorious Fourth’ passed…We flew four flags instead of one in honor of the day: we fired a salute of twenty-one guns at noon, and all hands were dressed in white….”

After recording the Fourth of July gun salute, Gusley adds, “The rebels…did not, of course.” Later that day Gusly tells us the squadron got “the latest rebel news that ‘General Lee has taken Pennsylvania!’”

Only weeks later did the Union Navy in the gulf learn the true successes of Union forces in early July, 1863.

Among Gusley many eyewitness accounts and reflections on his duties this is included on April 1, 1863: “One of our steamers, the [USS] Diana, had been captured by the rebels….with the greater part of her crew killed….The bodies of her captain and executive officer had been recovered and were to be buried that afternoon. It being a military funeral, the marines and sailors of the [USS] Clifton …for the first time in our life we took part in a soldier’s burial. The marines acted as guard of honor. We buried them in a beautiful orange grove, close by the town. ‘May they rest in peace.’”

Gusley also tells us about the steady dwindling of diversions and distractions at sea, including the elimination of the rum ration and running out of tobacco.

“We…organized a band of minstrels, and that we have nightly serenades and impromptu dances. Such things serve to make things more pleasant,” wrote Gusley on February 26, 1863. “We love music, however rude, and although not much of a dancer we do sometimes ‘shake a leg.’”

“The Southern Journey of a Civil War Marine: The Illustrated Note-Book of Henry O. Gusley,” Edited and Annotated by Edward T. Cotham Jr., will enthrall most all Civil War enthusiasts. Its appeal transcends regions, North, South, Army and Navy.

John E. Carey is a frequent contributor to the Civil War page.

Inspiration from American History: James Buchanan Eads

July 20, 2007

By John E. Carey
First Published in The Washington Times
January 31, 2004

When the deans of American colleges of engineering were asked in the early 20th century to name the top five engineers of all time, James Buchanan Eads was among them; the list also included Leonardo da Vinci and Thomas Edison.

He may have been the finest self-educated engineer of all time. Yet Eads also made himself a skilled fund-raiser, diver and inventor and an able leader.
James Buchanan Eads 
James Buchanan Eads

The Eads family was so poor during the 1820s in St. Louis that young James, named for his mother’s cousin who would later become president, had to quit school to sell apples in the street. He then was hired as a clerk in a dry-goods store. The owner gave him access to his personal library, thus stirring the mind and imagination of a gifted young man.

Eads’ lifelong relationship with the mighty Mississippi began in 1838, when he joined the crew of a riverboat. Realizing how many boiler-driven vessels were subject to fires or explosions, Eads entered the salvage business four years later. He was not interested in salvaging ships, however. He laid claim to the valuable cargoes strewn across the floor of the great river and made himself a millionaire.

Eads pioneered a diving bell that permitted divers to walk on the bottom of the Mississippi, and he was the first to risk using his invention, a perilous undertaking. He also became an expert in Mississippi River currents, silt and sand.

In April 1861, as the Civil War began, both the Union Army and Navy scrambled to find a way to fortify the Mississippi and penetrate the Confederacy. Military leaders summoned Eads to Washington, and in August, after months of study and negotiation, he signed a contract to design and build seven ironclad gunboats.

Eads’ first four ironclads sailed downstream to Cairo, Ill., in November 1861 under the command of the U.S. Navy. He had produced a novel kind of American warship in fewer than 100 days.

In February 1862, under the command of Navy Flag Officer Andrew H. Foote, Eads’ gunboats bombarded and contributed to the capture of Fort Henry on the Tennessee River and Fort Donelson on the Cumberland River in a joint attack with troops led by Ulysses S. Grant, then a little-known brigadier general.

On Feb. 4 and 5, Grant landed his divisions in two locations near Fort Henry, a Confederate earthen fort on the Tennessee River with outdated guns. One division went ashore on the east bank of the Tennessee River to prevent the Confederate garrison’s escape. The second division landed on the Kentucky side to occupy the high ground, which would ensure the fort’s fall.

As Foote’s seven gunboats began bombarding the fort, Brig. Gen. Lloyd Tilghman, commander of the garrison, realized that it would be only a matter of time before Fort Henry fell. Leaving the artillery in the fort to hold off the Union fleet, he withdrew nearly all his men to Fort Donelson, 10 miles away.

Foote slowly sailed the Eads gunboats closer and closer to Fort Henry, maintaining a tremendous barrage. Returning to the fort, Tilghman found the gunboats within 400 yards. The vessels continued lobbing shells into his fortifications, and Tilghman capitulated.

Fort Henry’s fall opened the Tennessee River to Union gunboats and shipping as far as Muscle Shoals, Ala.

Ten days later at Fort Donelson, Confederate Gen. Simon Buckner realized his force was beaten by Grant and the gunboats. He requested surrender terms. “No terms except an immediate and unconditional surrender can be accepted,” Grant famously replied.

After the fall of Donelson, the two major water routes in the Confederate west, bounded by the Appalachians and the Mississippi River, became Union highways for movement of troops and materiel. These were the first major Union victories of the war. Eads’ gunboats played a key role.

The gunboats were put to work bombarding the most crucial remaining Confederate stronghold: Vicksburg, Miss. The city fell on July 4, 1863. The combined Army-Navy operation, the first of its kind by U.S. military forces, opened the Mississippi to the sole use of Union forces.

After the war, St. Louis fell behind Chicago as a commercial center in the Midwest. Chicago enjoyed easy east and west railway service, while St. Louis was cut off by the Mississippi River. The city fathers in St. Louis decided they needed a railroad bridge spanning the river. Eads gladly created a design. As chief engineer of the St. Louis Bridge Co., he would become instrumental in building the bridge and reinvigorating the economy of St. Louis.

Eads created a design to compete with a proven method of bridge-building submitted by Brooklyn Bridge designer John Roebling. The Eads plan called for a span longer than any existing bridge, with a triple arch founded on bedrock. The design called for one arch 520 feet long and two arches of 502 feet. If built, it would become the world’s first major steel bridge.

Eads’ critics sent his plan to a board of 27 leading civil engineers for review. The group unanimously condemned it. Eads had stolen a march, so to speak, however, and already had begun construction on the west abutment, where bedrock was just 47 feet below the high-water line. Eads used compressed-air pneumatic caissons to build the west and east piers and the east abutment. He wasn’t the first American builder to use pneumatic techniques, but he would be the first to attempt such a deep penetration using compressed air.

The drawing for the east abutment called for penetration to 136 feet below high water. Unfortunately, the job produced a first – the introduction of “caisson disease,” also called “the bends.” This agony affected 80 of the crew’s 352 sandhogs, and 15 died. Eads again showed his mental acuity, however, developing slower ascent methods and limiting the men’s time at depth to lessen the effects of the bends.

To prevent obstruction of river traffic during construction, Eads developed new methods of bridge building. He used a tieback system that introduced cantilevering to American bridge construction. The bridge’s three arches each consisted of four 18-inch steel tubes composed of steel staves bound together by steel hoops. The massive structure was completed in 1874 at a cost of more than $10 million. The bridge supported two rail lines, with a 54-foot-wide pedestrian promenade above.

Even before Eads had finished his bridge in St. Louis, he became intrigued by another engineering challenge. At New Orleans, every time the “bar” – the blockage of silt and sand in the delta – made passage into and out of the Gulf of Mexico impossible, ships lay at anchor and moored to piers, filled with idle crewmen and stevedores. Commerce came to a standstill. Often, more than 60 ships sat near New Orleans for days while waiting to cross the bar. New Orleans fell to eighth on the list of most productive American port cities.

Eads said he would find a solution, but he didn’t know when he started that he would have to fight the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers every step of the way.

He went to work on one of the largest engineering challenges in the United States. He pledged that he would find a way to remove the silt from the Mississippi River delta without using clumsy and costly dredging boats. He proposed a method to use nature and the river’s own flow to “cleanse” the water.

Eads proposed to Congress that he would create a channel 28 feet deep and 300 feet wide through the river’s southwestern pass. He also wanted a contract to maintain the passage for 10 years. He offered to finance the work himself until his channel reached 20 feet. After that, he wanted $1 million with incremental $1 million payments for each additional foot of depth produced until the channel reached 28 feet. His maintenance fee would then be $500,000 a year for 10 years.

Eads said he could deepen the channels of the Mississippi by narrowing and restricting the flow of the water. The Corps of Engineers, led by Gen. Andrew Atkinson Humphreys, wanted no part of Eads’ scheme. The corps wanted to dredge and build a canal.

Eads had clashed with Humphreys before, over a proposal to build a canal around his bridge in St. Louis. The end of that dispute had come easily when Eads called on his old friend President Grant. The president had sided with Eads, killing Humphreys’ plan.

Eads went to work raising the money for his Mississippi delta project. He hired the Grand Republic, one of the most luxurious steamers of her day. He planned to wine and dine investors and politicians while showing them that his initial jetties were, in fact, deepening the channel. Humphreys sent his own man from the Corps of Engineers, armed with facts and figures disputing every claim Eads made. Humphreys successfully undermined Eads’ fund-raising effort.

In the end, Eads narrowed the south pass of the Mississippi in 1875 by building jetties.

The restricted flow increased the speed of the river, flushing sediment into the gulf. Within eight months, the channel at the sandbar deepened to 13 feet. By August 1876, the channel was 20 feet deep. By 1879, the South Pass Channel was 300 feet wide and 30 feet deep. The force of the river completely removed the sandbar.

The final project of Eads’ enormously productive career – a maritime link between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans – never came to fruition. (His audacious accomplishments are recounted in detail in John M. Barry’s fine book “Rising Tide.”) Eads had proposed not a canal, but a railway to carry oceangoing ships in cradles and huge flat cars across Mexico’s Isthmus of Tehuantepec. The Mexican government endorsed the plan and, largely because of Eads’ reputation and record of success, the House voted for the idea, but the Senate defeated the bill.

Had he lived a few more years, we might today be able to see huge ships crossing the Sierra Madre del Sur by rail. We’ll never be sure whether Eads might have been successful with this wild idea. He had never failed before, though.

John Carey is a retired U.S. Navy Commander and the President of International Defense Consultants, Inc.  He is a frequent contributor to The Washington Times.

Inspirational Story From the Civil War: Father James Sheeran

July 7, 2007

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By John E. Carey
Frequent Contributor to The Washington Times

The Reverend James Sheeran, a Catholic priest, served with the 14th Louisiana Regiment from New Orleans in General Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia.

Writer and historian Bruce Catton once said he wished he had met Sheeran. Sheeran perplexed “Stonewall” Jackson by his tenacity and self assurance. Robert E. Lee and Phil Sheridan both backed down in the face of Sheeran’s logic and determination.

Father Sheeran ministered to those in need of religious support, cared for the sick and wounded, and performed innumerable acts of kindness for his fellow man.

Sheeran’s determination and righteousness, grounded in God, inspired common soldiers and generals alike. In the face of all kinds of adversity, Sheeran displayed real backbone.

Three things seemed to guide Sheeran in every action, every disagreement and every situation. He believed in duty, the word of the Lord, and his home in the Confederacy.

During a confrontation at a hospital, Sheeran demonstrated some of his strengths.

“Across the road from our hospital,” Sheeran wrote, “was one full of Yankees. As usual having attended to the wants of our own men I visited the wounded of the enemy and offered my service.”

What Father Sheeran found in the Yankee hospital infuriated him. “I enquired if they had no surgeon of their own or any person to dress their wounds. They told me that they had several surgeons over there (pointing to the adjacent building), but they paid no attention to them, did not even come to see them.”

Sheeran marched directly to find the surgeons responsible for the Yankee wounded, telling them “of the painful condition of the wounded and requested them as a matter of humanity not to neglect them so….”

The Union medical staff “told me that they had no bandages to dress the wounds, no instruments to operate with, and that they were fatigued from the labors of the night.”

“I remarked it would be some consolation to their wounded if they would but visit them and wash the wound of those who were bathed in their own blood. I next went to their men paroled to attend to the wounded, asked why they did not wait on their companions, many of whom were suffering for a drink of water. They told me that they had no one to direct them, that their surgeons seemed to take no interest in the men.”

“I became somewhat indignant to hear the excuses of these worthless nurses, and putting on an air of authority ordered them to go to the rifle pits filled with the dead bodies of their companions and they would find hundreds of knapsacks filled with shirts, handkerchiefs and other articles that would make excellent bandages.”

“They obeyed my orders with the utmost alacrity and soon returned with their arms full of excellent bandage material, and bringing them to me asked: ‘Now sir, what shall we do with them?’” Sheeran was fully prepared to give the required final direction. “Go and tell your surgeons that you have bandages enough now.”

“Off they went to the surgeons….” Sheeran records. “In about two hours I returned and was pleased to find the surgeons and nurses all at work attending to their wounded.”

Sheeran spoke his mind and, when he believed he was in the right, he was not afraid of any man. In 1892, a Sheeran friend, Father Joseph Flynn wrote down this account of Sheeran’s run in with Stonewall Jackson:

“Going to his [Father Sheeran’s] tent one day, General Jackson sternly rebuked the priest for disobeying his orders, and reproached him for doing what he would not tolerate in any officer in his command. [The exact offense is unknown.] ‘Father Sheeran,’ said the general, ‘you ask more favors and take more privileges than any officer in the army.’ [Sheeran apparently replied] ‘General Jackson, I want you to understand that as a priest of God I outrank every officer in your command. I even outrank you, and when it is a question of duty I shall go wherever called.’ The General looked with undistinguished astonishment on the bold priest and without reply left his tent.”

Dr. Hunter McGuire, Chief Surgeon of the Second Corps of the Army of Northern Virginia, recalled another incident between Father Sheeran and Stonewall Jackson. “At one time just before the fight at Chancellorsville,” Dr. McGuire said, “we were ordered to send to the rear all surplus baggage. All tents were discarded…. A Catholic priest belonging to one of the Louisiana brigades sent up his resignation because he was not permitted to have a tent, which he thought necessary to the proper performance of his office.”

“I said to General Jackson,” reported McGuire, “that I was very sorry to give up [the] Father–; that he was one of the most useful chaplains in the service. He replied: ‘If that is the case he shall have a tent.’ And so far as I know this Roman Catholic priest was the only man in the corps who had one.”

Looking to clear the way for unrestricted access to men in need throughout the army and the countryside, Sheeran sought an authorization to go wherever and whenever he is needed. This led the chaplain into conflict with both Robert E. Lee and Phil Sheridan. Army red tape tends to restrict one’s movements to designated times and places. Sheeran set out to attain a pass authorizing the fullest freedoms imaginable.

After hearing half-answers, excuses and outright lies from dozens of officers, Sheeran obtained entry into General Lee’s presence. Lee, at first, refused to support Sheeran. But then Sheeran explained his army role, the length and arduous nature of his service, and the number of men he has prayed with and assisted along the way. Lee scribbled Sheeran a pass “that will last me the rest of the war if I should last so long.”

Later in the war, Union troops arrested Sheeran for crossing into Yankee lines. The Union Army imprisoned Sheeran at the old horse stables of Fort McHenry. Civil War Historian Scott Sheads at Fort Mc Henry in Baltimore pulled Sheeran’s file for us.

“The Reverend James Sheeran was arrested at Winchester, Virginia on November5, 1864 and confined at Fort McHenry on November 10, 1864. Arrested byorder of Major General Philip Sheridan.”

In the cold, cramped, dung and vermin filled environment, of Civil War Fort McHenry, Sheeran tired physically but his resolve stiffened. He wrote letters to General Sheridan and the Union Secretary of War, denouncing his treatment.

Ultimately, the Union Army set Sheeran free. But he again encountered red tape; only this time it is in the form of Union Army rules and restrictions. Sheeran again explained his case, this time to a befuddled General Phil Sheridan. Sheeran, as usual, departed with the passes and respect he thought he deserved.

James Sheeran knew God wanted him at his place at the front. During one engagement, Sheeran actually formed and “commanded” a rag-tag force of troops. “Our ambulance drivers….as well as our stragglers, were for stampeding,” wrote Sheeran. “Mounting my Grey and riding down….I ordered [them] to move forward as quickly as possible….” Before infantry officers arrived to take over, Sheeran wrote, “I took command of the stragglers and formed them in a line…”

Throughout the war, Sheeran retained his sense of humor and his sense of perspective.

Father Sheeran was born in Temple Mehill, County Longford, Ireland, in 1818. At the age of twelve, he emigrated to Canada and eventually settled in Monroe, Michigan where he taught in a boy’s school opened by the Catholic Redemptorist Fathers. Sheeran married and fathered a son and a daughter. But his wife died in 1849 and Sheeran was drawn to the life of a Catholic priest. He joined the Redemptorist Congregation 1855 and was ordained a priest in 1858. At about the same time, his daughter became a nun and his son succumbed to illness.

Assigned to a parish in New Orleans, he became an ardent Southerner. When the leader of his Catholic province asked for volunteers to serve as chaplains in the Confederate Army, Father Sheeran enthusiastically offered his service.

In 1960, Bruce Catton’s wrote, “[To Father Sheeran] the real enemy appears to be war itself, and not just the opposing army.” Father Joseph Durkin wrote of Father Sheeran, “He may have been, at times, unduly stern and uncompromising. He may have lacked some of the gentler virtues. But, in a world which so readily sells responsibility for ease, and integrity for profit, we may well prefer Father Sheeran’s iron to a more sophisticated irony.”

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