James A. Durrett was born around 1840 to John Andrew Jackson Durrett and Anne (Beauchamp) Durrett. James A. Durrett, along with his brother Thomas Jefferson Durrett and cousin Henry Durrett, enlisted in Company E of the 18th Alabama Infantry in the fall of 1861. Even more amazingly, their mother, Anne Beauchamp Durrett also appears on the muster records of the 18th Alabama Infantry as the “matron” of the regiment. Her records indicated that she received pay through November 30, 1861.
Muster record for Anne (Beauchamp) Durrett listing her as Matron of the regiment.
While Anne (Beachamp) Durrett seems to have stopped serving with the regiment sometime in 1861 or 1862, her sons stayed on for the duration of the war and she is the recipient of some of James A. Durrett’s letters home. Our collection spans nine letters written from 1863 to 1865 as well as photos of some of the Durrett family.
James A. Durrett and the Battle of Missionary Ridge
The Battle of Missionary Ridge took place on November 25, 1863 and with it the Union army seized control of Tennessee and held Chattanooga which would soon become a major logistical hub for their armys. The Confederate forces under General Braxton Bragg were forced to withdraw and a large number were taken prisoner, including James A. Durrett’s brother, Thomas.
In a letter to his sister written on December 2, 1863, James A. Durrett detailed what he had learned about Thomas’s capture.
“I suppose you have heard the sad news of Tom’s capture before now. I know that a wise Providence has and will direct all things to be as they are, but I sometimes wish that I had been permitted to have shared his fate. I know that if alive, a long and tedious captivity and exile from home and all that is dear to him awaits him, but he can feel that he has done his duty, and that will sustain him in captivity — or death if need be. I will tell you all I have been able to learn about him.
When our Brigade went into battle it went into an ambush the Yankees had prepared and the first notice they gave of themselves was to pour a deadly fire into our Brigade from three directions. This threw us into confusion and a great many — seeing that they were flanked and nearly surrounded — started to run but being rallied by the officers, stopped and fought until the officers — also seeing the danger of being cut off — gave the command to retreat. Tom with eleven others of our company either not hearing or not wishing to obey such an order, stood their ground and while the rest made their escape, were surrounded. The rest is left to conjecture whether they continued to fight and were killed at their post (which I do not think probable), or, seeing they were surrounded and no chance of escape, surrendered.”
Although he was not directly involved in the battle, James A. Durrett had a close call of his own:
“I was not in the battle. I was detailed to hold the Colonel’s horse. Because I had no gun, my business does not require me to keep a gun, and as we were not expecting a battle even in the morning of the day it came off. I had no chance to get a gun, but I think I will be prepared for the next one. I came very near being captured — so near that I was obliged to throw away my knapsack and haversack and run about five miles. But I suppose I had better not tell that part of it as it is not military to throw away baggage on a retreat. I will close for tonight.”
Near Capture at Egypt Station
There is a gap in James A. Durrett’s letters lasting through much of 1864, though he is known to have been hospitalized at Jackson, Mississippi for much of the winter of 1864 and early 1865. On February 18, 1865, James A. Durrett wrote to a friend, Mrs. Marian Abigail (Fitch) Searcy, a former schoolteacher. He first detailed the much reduced state of his regiment saying:
“On returning to my regiment from the Hospital, I found it much decreased in number. In fact, but very few who went into Tennessee returned. Of my company, but two escaped capture — though strange to say, none were killed or even wounded — all captured [and] doomed to waste away their lives in Yankee prisons. Slowly and wearily the time will drag along with them, but then it is a soldier’s fortune and, as such, they will take it nor grumble at the hardship, but be thankful that life is spared to them.”
James A. Durrett then went on to recount his own close call with capture:
“I came very near being captured by a raiding party of Yankees after I left home the last time. I had got to Okolona, Mississippi, on my way to my regiment when the railroad was torn up thirteen miles above there by the raid. I joined a company and went back to Egypt Station, seven miles below Okolona. At daylight next morning, and while we were asleep, the enemy surrounded us. As soon as this was known, the company to which I belonged was ordered to get on the cars as an attempt was going to be made to run the train out and save it from capture. We ran out almost through the enemy’s lines, they firing at us all the way, and we returning it with interest. After making so bad an out in my first attempt to reach my regiment, I concluded to wait for a quieter time and remained in West Point, Mississippi, until my regiment passed on its way here.”
Death of James A. Durrett
A terse letter written on April 3, 1865, by James A. Durrett’s cousin, Henry, revealed James A. Durrett’s grim fate during the Battle of Spanish Fort:
“Dear Cousin,
It is with painful regret that I inform you that Jimmy was this evening mortally wounded, being shot directly through the brain. He was wounded about four o’clock this evening. While standing in the ditches, he imprudently raised his head to look over at the enemy which was firing at our line. He is now at the field hospital and will be sent to Mobile tonight. As he had written the letter enclosed with this [dateline 22 March 1865], I concluded to send it to you with a lock of his hair.
I am, dear cousin, yours with great sympathy, — Henry Durrett”
The letter written March 22 was a happy one from James A. Durrett, sharing the news that many of his brigade had been exchanged and he hoped that his brother Thomas, already a prisoner for two years, would be among them.
One April 7, 1865, Anne (Beauchamp) Durrett received a more detailed account of her son’s death:
“I very much regret to have to inform you that your son James is dead. He died about dark on Monday evening the 3rd of this month from a gun shot received that evening near Spanish Fort, about fifteen miles below Mobile. The ball penetrated his forehead just below the edge of his hair and came out near the top of his head. The blow seemed to produce insensibility and he never spoke afterward, but continued to sink until death. Henry Durrett, who accompanied him to the field hospital, was present at his death…”
James A. Durrett was buried in Mobile, Alabama. His brother, Thomas, survived the war and was finally exchanged on May 23, 1865. Thomas passed away in 1924 at the age of 82. To read the full collection, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership.
We’d like to extend a special thank you to William Griffing at Spared & Shared for transcribing and sharing these letters.
For more spotlights on our collection, check out our articles on Albert Henry Bancroft of the 85th New York Infantry and Colonel Clark Swett Edwards of the 5th Maine Infantry.
Sometimes following museum best practices with your collection can seem overwhelming. Here are 3 simple tips to protect your archival collection that you can do quickly, easily, and affordably.
Use Archival Folders
These Pendaflex folders from Staples are acid-free and would be an easy option for archival storage. They can be found here.
If you’ve gotten into collecting Civil War history, you’re likely to start winding up with a lot of paper. This ephemera could be CDVs, military documents, old newspaper articles, etc. Some of these may end up on display somewhere in your home, but if they are not, they need to be stored. It may be tempting to just stick them in a box for safekeeping, but that is not the best idea.
Placing these historic documents in archival folders is a great cost-effective option because it allows you to protect the documents while also keeping them organized. Archival folders are becoming much easier to find nowadays. Instead of ordering them from museum supply companies, you can often find them at your local Walmart or Staples store. They tend to cost a bit more, but in the long run they are worth it. Non-archival materials will damage your documents over time. They tend to be acidic, which means they will turn papers yellow and eventually crumble them away.
We’ve all seen an old, yellow crumbly newspaper, right? The reason that the newspaper is yellow and crumbly is because it was printed on very acidic paper. Dime store paperbacks from the 1950s and 1960s are often yellowed as well for the same reason. Acidic paper is cheaper and is often used by printers when longevity is not a priority. Now, have you seen a paper turn yellow because it was stored next to a newspaper? I’ve seen this happen countless times in shoe boxes of old papers that folks tend to keep. The newspaper clippings are acidic and so any paper they come into contact with is also yellowed and damaged. That is exactly why we want to use archival folders to store our documents. We don’t want them to turn yellow because they were stored inside an acidic folder.
Use Acid Free Paper
This paper is extremely low cost and available locally in Walmart stores. It is acid free and suitable for archival purposes. This paper is a great low cost option for interleaving. It can be found here.
Now that you’ve got some archival folders, you’ll want to get a ream or two of acid free paper. You can store multiple documents in the same folder, but you’ll want to separate them with acid free paper. Use the paper as interleaving between the documents.
Let’s say you have 5 papers that all relate to the same individual and you would like to store them in a folder together. You can store the first document in the folder, then a sheet of acid free paper, the next document, a sheet of acid free paper, and so on, until you’ve placed them all in the folder. This ensures that the papers are not rubbing against each other and transferring ink or dirt, and they are also protected from any potential acid transfer. Now, this is something that you will need to check on. If you have a folder full of newspaper articles, that acid in those newspapers may leach through the interleaving eventually, so you may need to replace it periodically.
Acid free paper can also often be found locally very easily at any office store or big box store.
Use Archival Photo Sleeves
These are archival products that I really can’t live without. I use these for photos and also for any important documents. These sleeves give paper artifacts and an extra layer of protection. For reference, I prefer the side-locking sleeves that I’ve mentioned in previous posts, which can be purchased here.
Here is an example of one of those hard plastic sleeves. Notice how this is only a narrow opening available to slide media in and out and how it takes a great deal of pressure to open. Compare that to a sleeve that lays completely flat, opens up for your to place your document inside and then folds back over. These may have value for dealers who have people sifting and sorting through their wares on a regular basis, but these have no place in a private collection for long term storage of fragile documents.
I have had CDVs shipped to me in rigid plastic folders that I CANNOT STAND. I’ve also seen a lot of collectors keep their CDVs in these same hard plastic holders that are only open on the top. I hate these for several reasons:
You have no idea if they are archival or not. Just because an antique dealer shipped you a photo in it, does not imply that it is safe to continue to store your item in it.
They are rigid and the document is held inside by force. This is not a good way to store archives. You don’t want pressure on the document because that harms it over time. Think of any video you have ever seen of an archive or museum collections room—are ANY of the artifacts stored in things that squish them, press down hard on them, or force them in any way? No.
Because they are so rigid and only open on one side, it is much more difficult to remove the document from them and also difficult to place them back inside. Yes, we all have our little tricks to pop them open a certain way, use a thumb to press down and slide them out, etc. Again, where have you ever seen anything like that done in a museum collection? It’s not. Typically, these cards are used to store CDVs, although I have seen them used with tintypes, which is a whole other issue…CDVs are basically REALLY old cardstock with an image printed on it. It should be handled delicately because each time you remove it and put it back, you are damaging it. Period. No matter how good you think you are at getting them in and out. The very fact that you have to grab the image with your thumb to pull it out, damaging it. Period images should be handled by the edges just like how you’d handle an “old fashioned” CD. Remember how sacrilege it was to get fingerprints on a CD? Think of that when you’re handling those CDVs and tintypes. You can’t handle them by the edges and use those rigid plastic holders that are only open on the top. For that reason alone, they are not good for these collections. Not to mention rubbing on the images, damaging the prints, etc.
If some of you would like to keep your images in “pockets” I would recommend looking into archival sleeves that are designed to hold images safely in binders, or even small archival books designed to hold images. I use these notebooks, place the images on the paper using archival photo corners, and they are safe inside the book without any pressure on them, and they can easily be removed if I need to rescan them for any reason.
Bonus Tip
Always, always, always scan and digitize your collection! If you don’t have one, invest in a simple scanner that can scan at least 600 dpi and scan all your photographs at that resolution to start. Documents can be scanned at 300 dpi and be easily read and enlarged clearly. Once you have your collection digitized there is no reason to be pulling old photos in and out of sleeves, documents in and out of folders, etc. You can easily look at them digitally and ensure that their condition is not degrading as you keep handling them. No matter how careful you are, every time a document is handled, its condition degrades. That’s a simple archival fact. So, the more we can minimize that, the better! And as an extra tip, please consider setting up a digital catalog system like I discussed in a blog post a few weeks ago here! All of these tips will go a long way to protect your archival collection!
The Storied Saga of the 71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry
Upon an initial review, the 71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry (OVI) may seem like a regiment that was on the sidelines of the the American Civil War. However, upon a deeper dive, their story is as turbulent and fascinating as many of the more active regiments that may have had more of a combat role.
Formed in late 1861 in western Ohio, this regiment’s journey spans early battlefield controversy, years of garrison duty, and a hard-won redemption in the war’s final campaigns. Along the way, its soldiers left behind letters and records rich with personal stories – from tales of cowardice and courage at Shiloh to daily ledger entries now preserved in newly digitized regimental books. This post provides an informative yet entertaining chronicle of the 71st Ohio Infantry’s service. We’ll explore the regiment’s formation, key engagements, commanders, and notable anecdotes. We’ll also spotlight the Research Arsenal’s recent digitization of the 71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry’s regimental ledgers – including descriptive rolls, morning reports, and order books – explaining what each contains and how they bring the soldiers’ experiences to life for modern researchers.
Formation of the 71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry: “Camp Tod” and Early Struggles
The 71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry began organizing in September 1861 at Camp Tod in Troy, Ohio, as the nation realized the Civil War would not be a short conflict(source). Recruiting largely drew men from Miami, Mercer, Auglaize, and Clark counties of western Ohio. Like many volunteer regiments of 1861, local politicians and prominent citizens played a major role in raising companies – and often secured officers’ commissions as a reward. In the case of the 71st OVI, Rodney Mason, the son of a well-known Springfield politician (Samson Mason), leveraged his connections to be appointed colonel, surpassing Lt. Col. Barton S. Kyle who had done much of the organizing work. This caused some grumbling in the ranks, as many soldiers respected Kyle and resented Mason’s political ascent. Nonetheless, the men’s admiration for Kyle kept them united, and the regiment mustered into Federal service for three years on February 1, 1862.
71st Ohio Ordnance Return showing their issuance of the old Belgian muskets. (Source: Research Arsenal)
Armed initially with antiquated Belgian muskets, the 71st Ohio traveled to the Western theater of war. After a grand send-off dinner in Piqua, they paraded in Cincinnati and then moved to Paducah, Kentucky in February 1862. There they encountered the grim realities of war for the first time – seeing wounded from Fort Donelson with missing limbs and ghastly injuries, a sight one private described as “an awful sight to see… cut up in every way”. The regiment was assigned to the Army of the Tennessee, in Colonel David Stuart’s brigade of General William T. Sherman’s division.
Trial by Fire at Shiloh: Controversy and Courage
The 71st Ohio’s first major combat came at the Battle of Shiloh (Pittsburg Landing) on April 6–7, 1862 – and it would brand the unit with infamy and debate. The regiment, about 800 strong at the outset, was posted on the far left of the Union line near Lick Creek, guarding a vital bridge and isolated from the rest of Sherman’s division. When the Confederate surprise attack struck on Sunday morning, April 6, Colonel Mason later claimed his men were unarmed and scrambling to position. Lt. Col. Barton Kyle fell mortally wounded early in the fight (one of 57 men killed from the 71st that day). Amid intense artillery and musket fire, the regiment gave way. Exactly what happened next has been debated for over 150 years – did the 71st Ohio panic and flee the field, or conduct an orderly retreat under impossible odds?
Contemporary accounts were harsh. General Ulysses S. Grant wrote that Colonel Mason “led [his] regiment off the field at almost the first fire,” and that Mason came to him “with tears in his eyes” after the battle, mortified and begging for another chance. Sherman’s report simply noted the 71st was not found with the brigade after a certain point. Fellow soldiers in the adjacent 55th Illinois felt “abandoned” by the 71st’s withdrawal. In Northern newspapers, the regiment (among others from Ohio) was openly accused of cowardice. One Ohio lieutenant, Elihu S. Williams, was so incensed by the “slanderous reports” that he offered to give a “plain, unvarnished tale” to clear the regiment’s name.
71st Ohio Volunteer Infantryat Shiloh
The truth is complex. The 71st did sustain serious losses – 57 killed and 51 missing in the chaos – suggesting many soldiers stood and fought longer than the critics acknowledged. Some eyewitnesses later testified that Colonel Mason tried to rally a second line 150 yards to the rear and that the unit became scattered but not wholly craven. But in the end, the 71st did leave the field in disarray on April 6th, earning Colonel Mason the derisive nickname “Runaway Mason” in the army rumor mill. The regiment spent the second day of Shiloh regrouping in the rear.
Despite the blemish on its record, the 71st Ohio remained in service and Mason implored his superiors for a chance at redemption. The men of the 71st, many likely humiliated by the aspersions, were determined to prove themselves. Unfortunately, their next trial would only deepen the controversy.
“The Cowardly Colonel”: Surrender at Clarksville and Aftermath
After Shiloh, the under-suspicion 71st Ohio was pulled from frontline action and assigned garrison duty in Tennessee. In April 1862 they were ordered to occupy Fort Donelson (which had fallen to Union forces in February) and the nearby town of Clarksville, Tennessee. Perhaps higher command thought this quieter post would keep Colonel Mason out of trouble while giving the regiment time to steady itself. The 71st split its companies between garrisons at Fort Donelson and Clarksville through the summer.
(Col. Mason of the 71st Ohio Infantry)
On August 18, 1862, disaster struck the 71st’s reputation again. At Clarksville, Col. Mason faced what he believed was a superior Confederate force led by guerrilla raider Col. Adam Rankin “Stovepipe” Johnson (so nicknamed for his use of fake cannon made from stovepipes). Johnson’s rebels – perhaps only 200–300 strong – bluffed the Union garrison. Initially Mason refused a demand to surrender, but soon lost his nerve. Without firing a shot, he capitulated, handing over 125–200 Union soldiers as prisoners. News of this “sad surrender” enraged the Northern press. One Democratic-leaning Ohio newspaper, the Western Standard, blasted Mason as “the cowardly Colonel of the 71st regiment [who] went into the service not from motives of patriotism, but to win a name and fame that would carry him into the Halls of Congress”, sneering that “his record is made”.
President Lincoln’s patience had run out. Just four days later, by order of the President, Col. Rodney Mason was cashiered (dishonorably discharged) for repeated acts of cowardice in the face of the enemy. Virtually all the regiment’s officers who were captured with Mason were also dismissed. An attempt by Ohio politicians to reinstate Mason was firmly rebuffed by Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, who argued that overturning such a judgment would only demoralize the army. Mason’s military career was effectively over. (He would live until 1893 as a civilian lawyer and patent officer, his name forever tied to disgrace – though as we’ll see, his men later took a kinder view of him.)
What of the enlisted soldiers of the 71st OVI after their colonel’s downfall? Despite the humiliation, the rank-and-file “soldiered on” . The regiment remained on duty in Tennessee under new leadership. Lt. Col. Henry K. McConnell eventually took command (he would be promoted to colonel and lead the regiment through the end of the war). For many months, the 71st performed unglamorous guard and garrison assignments. They protected the vital Louisville & Nashville Railroad supply line, with headquarters at Gallatin, TN, through late 1863. They skirmished occasionally with guerrillas and Confederate cavalry raiders like John Hunt Morgan, but mostly endured the monotony and low-level dangers of occupying hostile territory.
Life in garrison had its own challenges and insights. Gallatin, for instance, was full of “contrabands” – formerly enslaved people who had fled to Union lines for refuge. By 1863, with the Emancipation Proclamation in effect, hundreds of runaway slaves camped around the post. The 71st Ohio’s soldiers witnessed the formation of a U.S. Colored Troops regiment (the 14th USCT) there, and often employed Black men as laborers on fortifications. Captain W. A. Hunter of the 71st noted that these freedmen were doing “the drudgery of war” and quipped they had “just as much right to do the drudgery of war as the white [men]”. Private John M. Piles of Company E went further, writing in a letter, “I say arm every Negro to kill every Rebel.”. Such comments reflected a shifting attitude among Union soldiers, who by that stage of the war increasingly accepted African Americans as allies and soldiers.
71st OH at Shiloh
Garrison duty also meant coping with disease and boredom. The regiment’s morning reports from 1862–63 record more men lost to illness than enemy bullets. Camps in the Tennessee heat were rife with malaria and dysentery, which hit the 71st hard after Shiloh. One soldier, Pvt. Thomas M. Carey of Company I, is a case in point. The regimental Descriptive Book lists Carey as a 5’9” carpenter with gray eyes and light hair, age 24 at enlistment. Carey was “reported sick” on the first day of Shiloh and was ill through April, May, and June 1862. Many soldiers went home on sick furlough to recover; Carey did so in late 1862, but then overstayed his leave. By early 1863 he was marked absent without leave and eventually deserted in April 1863 when the regiment was at Camp Chase, Ohio. Remarkably, he returned to duty by July 1863 and served out his term, even becoming a color guard by 1864. His mixed record of illness, desertion, and redemption was all carefully recorded in the regimental books. Such details illustrate how the morning reports and ledgers tracked each man “present or accounted for” every day, providing a paper trail of the regiment’s fluctuating health and numbers.
Throughout late 1862 and 1863, the 71st Ohio saw no large battles, which helped them rebuild their strength and discipline. By early 1864, the regiment (or at least those who had reenlisted as veteran volunteers) earned a furlough home. In February 1864, the men returned to Troy, Ohio on leave, where townspeople feted them with speeches and food – a testament to the community’s continued support despite the regiment’s checkered past. Col. McConnell then led five companies of the 71st on an anti-guerrilla expedition in Tennessee in early 1864. He proudly reported home, “Our boys chased the rebels into caves in the mountains and then lit candles and went in after them. We can beat the rebels bushwhacking in their own country.”. This aggressive action helped burnish the 71st’s reputation as it prepared to rejoin major Union offensives.
Back Into the Fray: Atlanta and the Franklin–Nashville Campaign
In mid-1864, after long months of guard duty, the 71st Ohio Infantry finally rejoined a field army for a major campaign. In July, they were reassigned from rear posts to Sherman’s Army in northern Georgia. Arriving in time for the tail end of the Atlanta Campaign, they were placed in the 4th Army Corps (Army of the Cumberland). The 71st participated in the Siege of Atlanta (July–August 1864) and the flanking move to cut off the city’s railroads. In late August they saw action at Lovejoy’s Station and notably at the Battle of Jonesboro (August 31–Sept 1, 1864), where Sherman’s forces forced the Confederates to evacuate Atlanta. During these fights, the regiment deployed as skirmishers out front. Sergeant William T. Hunter wrote proudly from near Jonesboro that “Half of the 71st were on the skirmish line and behaved first rate.” Such praise was a far cry from the sneers of ’62.
With Atlanta fallen, the 71st OVI joined the Union pursuit of Confederate General John Bell Hood during the fall of 1864. Hood attempted to lure Sherman back by moving north into Alabama and Tennessee. Instead, Sherman sent the 4th Corps and others back under General George Thomas to deal with Hood, while he marched to the sea. Thus the 71st Ohio found itself in the Franklin–Nashville Campaign in November–December 1864, the climactic battles of the Western Theater.
At the Battle of Franklin (November 30, 1864), the 71st Ohio was part of 4th Corps’s 3rd Division defending the Union line against Hood’s furious frontal assault. Franklin was a bloody affair (though the 71st’s specific role is less documented in surviving anecdotes). The Union line held, and Hood’s army was badly mauled. Just two weeks later came the decisive Battle of Nashville (December 15–16, 1864), where the rejuvenated 71st Ohio would fully redeem its honor. On the second day at Nashville, the regiment took part in the grand charge that shattered Hood’s remaining forces. Captain William H. McClure (by now commanding a portion of the regiment) recalled how before the assault, troops “piled up their knapsacks” knowing the charge would be so hazardous that even the bravest men turned pale: “big strong men I never knew to flinch would turn white around the mouth [and] swallow their Adam’s apple.” It was a moment of high drama and understandable fear – but the men went forward anyway. The 71st Ohio advanced across tough ground under fire, and in the victorious rush they helped overrun the Confederate works.
The cost at Nashville was significant. The 71st officially suffered many casualties in the battle, including 2 officers and 19 enlisted men killed. Many of those wounded would succumb in hospitals in the following days. Yet the victory was complete. One could say that on the fields of Nashville, the 71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry finally erased the stigma of Shiloh. No one doubted their courage in that crucial battle. As Hood’s beaten army retreated, members of the 71st joined the chase down to the Tennessee River.
Winter quarters in early 1865 found the regiment in northern Alabama and eastern Tennessee. In April, as the war drew to a close, the 71st received word of Lee’s surrender in Virginia, followed shortly by the shocking news of President Lincoln’s assassination. Private John M. Piles wrote to his wife on April 16, 1865, “My heart is very sad over the death of our president in cold blood… How sad every heart is as we have lost one of the noblest men we will ever see.” The war’s end was bittersweet for these veteran Buckeyes – triumphant, yet marred by national tragedy.
(71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry last ledger entry while in San Antonio, Texas)
In June 1865, the 71st Ohio, along with much of the 4th Corps, was sent on one final odyssey: down the Mississippi to New Orleans, and then over to Texas for occupation duty. Stationed around San Antonio that summer, they guarded the Mexican border (with an eye on French imperial intrigues in Mexico) until finally mustering out on November 30, 1865. Of the roughly 900 men who had enlisted, only 377 were left to be discharged in Texas at war’s end. The regiment had lost 206 men during service – 69 killed or mortally wounded, and 137 dead from disease.
Aftermath and Reunion: Setting the Record Straight
The survivors of the 71st Ohio returned home with a mix of pride and poignancy. They had endured one of the war’s rockiest journeys. In 1866, Ohio’s adjutant general officially acknowledged their service, and over time the sting of early accusations faded. At regimental reunions in the post-war decades, the veterans of the 71st actually took steps to restore Col. Rodney Mason’s good name. At their 35th reunion, Capt. William McClure – now living in Kansas – wrote a letter about Shiloh, stating “no particular officer was to blame that day and Col. Mason was not the coward he was made out to be.” The gathered old soldiers passed a resolution endorsing McClure’s letter, effectively absolving Mason in their eyes. It was a generous act of forgiveness from men who had every reason to hold a grudge. For the 71st Ohio’s veterans, their Civil War service was about more than one man’s failings – it was about comradeship, perseverance, and final victory.
Many notable members went on to live productive lives. Corporal Charles Marley Anderson of Company B became a U.S. Congressman. Captain (later brevet Major) Solomon J. Houck, who had been provost marshal in Gallatin, returned to Ohio and remained a community leader. Major James W. Carlin, one of the regiment’s early officers, survived the horrors of Andersonville prison only to perish tragically in the explosion of the steamboat Sultana in April 1865 while en route home. Lt. John Davis, another Andersonville survivor from the 71st, miraculously lived through the Sultana disaster. And Colonel (brevet Brigadier General) Henry McConnell led the regiment through its redemption and mustered out with the unit, later serving in public roles in Ohio. Each soldier’s story – whether heroic, tragic, or humble – forms part of the rich tapestry of the 71st OVI’s history.
New Light on Old Records: The 71st OVI Regimental Ledgers in the Research Arsenal
One exciting development for researchers and descendants of 71st Ohio soldiers is the recent digitization of the regiment’s official ledgers and record books. These historical documents, now available via the Research Arsenal database, offer an intimate day-to-day look at the regiment and invaluable data on individual soldiers. Surviving 71st OVI records that have been scanned include:
Descriptive Book (Companies A–K)
What it is: A “Descriptive Book” was essentially a roster of all men in the regiment, organized by company, with personal details and service notes. The 71st’s descriptive book lists each soldier from Companies A through K, recording information such as name, age, place of enlistment, physical description (height, complexion, eye and hair color), occupation, and enlistment date. It often also included remarks on each man’s service – for example, promotions, transfers, wounds, desertions, or death. This book is a goldmine for genealogists: it puts a face (figuratively) to the names on the muster roll. A researcher can discover, for instance, that their ancestor was a 5-foot-8 farmer with blue eyes who enlisted at Troy in October 1861.
Why it’s valuable: The descriptive book provides personal descriptors and vital stats not found in basic muster rolls. If you’re tracing family history, these details help confirm identity (distinguishing your John Smith from the next) and paint a picture of the soldier. Moreover, any notations in the remarks column can summarize that soldier’s war – noting if he was killed in action, discharged early, or served full term. In the case of Pvt. Thomas M. Carey (Co. I) mentioned earlier, the descriptive book (and associated service cards) document his entire rollercoaster: from enlistment, to periods of illness around Shiloh, to an AWOL incident and return to ranks, all the way to his mustering out in 1865. Having this book digitized means researchers can search for any name and see that individual’s entry exactly as recorded in the 1860s, which is immensely satisfying for descendants seeking a personal connection to their ancestor.
What they are: The morning report was a daily company-level log kept by the first sergeant, reporting the unit’s strength and status each day. Every company in the 71st Ohio maintained its own morning report book. The Research Arsenal has preserved the morning reports for companies A through E in one volume, and F through K in another. Each daily entry typically notes how many officers and men were present for duty, absent, sick, on detached service, on leave, etc., along with any changes since the previous report (such as transfers, returns, deaths, or new admissions to the sick list). These reports were signed each morning by the company 1st Sergeant and an officer, then consolidated up the chain. As one period source described, every man was either “present” or “accounted for” in the morning report – no one was simply forgotten.
Why they’re valuable: Morning reports are perhaps the most revealing day-to-day record of a unit’s condition and routine. For researchers, they offer a granular view of camp life and attrition. Want to know on what date your great-great-grandfather fell ill, or returned from furlough, or was noted “absent – missing after battle”? The morning reports will tell you. For example, a morning report for Company E in April 1862 might list 3 men “sick in hospital” (possibly including Pvt. Carey who reported sick at Shiloh), 2 “absent without leave,” 1 “killed in action April 6,” and so on. By flipping through, you can literally watch the ebb and flow of a company: before a battle, company strength might be 80 present; the day after, 50 present with the rest accounted for as killed, wounded, or missing. You see the toll of battlefield attrition, but also of sickness and recovery – those long periods where more men died from disease than combat. Morning reports also record promotions or attachments (e.g. “Sgt. John Doe detailed as brigade guard”). In short, these ledgers illuminate the daily life of the common soldier, the impact of harsh campaigns (straggling, illness, casualties), and even administrative rhythms like furloughs and returns. Historians can use them to analyze how effective strength fluctuated over time, while family researchers might use them to pinpoint a relative’s whereabouts on a given date. With the Research Arsenal’s digitization, one can search these morning report books by name or date, rather than paging through fragile originals – a huge boon.
Order Book (Companies A–G)
What it is: Military units kept order books to record official orders received and issued. The surviving Order Book for the 71st Ohio covers Companies A–G (why H–K are absent is unclear – possibly a separate volume was lost). In this ledger, one would find copies of regimental and company orders, such as duty assignments, guard details, court-martial proceedings, promotions, or directives from higher headquarters that were to be circulated to the companies. For example, if the brigade issued an order to send 20 men on a foraging party, or if the regimental commander published a list of men to be transferred to the Veteran Reserve Corps, those would be copied into the order book. It effectively served as the official memo book for the regiment and its sub-units.
Why it’s valuable: The order book gives context to the regiment’s operations and administration beyond the battlefield. It can reveal tidbits like: Who was the acting commander of Company C when Lt. So-and-so was on leave? What instructions were given to the regiment on the eve of a certain march or battle? Were any soldiers of the 71st commended or disciplined in orders? For descendants, finding a mention of an ancestor in an order (perhaps detailing them as a teamster, or noting their promotion to corporal) is exciting evidence of their role. Even when individual names aren’t involved, the orders shed light on the daily duties and organizational life of the regiment – something often glossed over in battle narratives. The fact that we have this book for companies A–G means researchers can study how the 71st was managed internally. For instance, an entry from August 1863 might instruct Company B to furnish 10 men for picket duty at Gallatin, or record General Orders from army headquarters about maintaining sanitary camp conditions. These details enrich our understanding of the 71st OVI’s experience. Now, thanks to digitization, one can read these orders in the original 19th-century handwriting, which adds an authentic touch to any research project.
Regimental Descriptive & Consolidated Morning Report Book
What it is: In addition to company-level records, Civil War regiments often kept regimental-level books. This particular volume appears to serve a dual purpose: a Regimental Descriptive Book and a Consolidated Morning Report Book combined. The regimental descriptive section likely summarizes key information on the regiment’s officers and perhaps an overview roster of enlisted men (essentially a higher-level abstract of the company descriptive books). The consolidated morning reports are the daily or periodic summaries compiled from all the companies’ morning reports. Each day, the adjutant of the 71st would take the ten company reports and merge the numbers to report “Regiment present for duty: X officers, Y men; absent: Z; on extra duty: …” and so forth. These consolidated reports were sent up to brigade and army headquarters. The regimental morning report book would contain a copy of each of those daily summary reports, often with additional notes.
Why it’s valuable: While the company morning reports show granular detail, the consolidated regimental morning reports show the big picture of the regiment’s status at a glance. Researchers can follow the arc of the 71st OVI’s strength over time – for instance, seeing it with nearly 900 men in early 1862, down to perhaps 500 effectives after the ravages of disease and detachments in 1863, and back up a bit with new recruits in 1864, then dropping again after heavy losses at Nashville. These figures are crucial for understanding how much combat power the unit really had at various points. Moreover, any extraordinary events sometimes are noted in regimental reports. The adjutant might annotate a day’s report with “Battle of Jonesboro – Co. C lost 2 killed, 5 wounded” or “Skirmish at Pickett’s Hill – 3 men missing” as an explanation for changes. Such notes provide a concise chronicle of the regiment’s engagements and attrition. For descendants, if your ancestor’s company reports are missing, the regimental report still confirms if he was present with the regiment. And the descriptive portion of this book can be a fallback source for soldier data, or unique information on officers (e.g. a list of field and staff officers with personal details and service record). In essence, this book ties all the companies together and is key for regimental-level research. Having it digitized means one can easily track the regiment’s overall condition day by day – a task that previously required visiting an archive and laboriously copying data by hand.
Regimental Letter, Endorsement & Order Book
What it is: The final ledger now in the Research Arsenal’s 71st Ohio collection is a Regimental Letter Book, which also includes endorsements and orders. During the Civil War, regimental headquarters corresponded frequently with higher commands and sometimes with other units or officials. They kept “letter books” copying all outgoing correspondence (and sometimes important incoming letters) for record-keeping. An endorsement is a form of official notation added when forwarding a letter up or down the chain (“Respectfully forwarded by Col. ___ with the following remarks…”). This volume likely compiles all the formal letters sent by the 71st Ohio’s commanders – whether requests for supplies, reports of activities, lists of casualties after battles, or disciplinary matters – as well as any headquarters orders specific to the regiment. For example, after Shiloh, the acting commander might have written a report to brigade HQ explaining the regiment’s losses; or later, Col. McConnell might have sent a letter recommending a lieutenant for promotion. Such communications would be copied into the letter book.
Why it’s valuable: The regimental letter and order book is perhaps the most narrative and personalized record among these ledgers. Here, the dry numbers of morning reports give way to actual written dispatches in the words of the officers. This is where you might find a poignant letter detailing the aftermath of a battle (“I regret to report the death of Lt. Kyle, who fell while bravely encouraging his men…”), or a request (“Many of our men are barefoot and require new shoes”), or even the proceedings of a regimental court-martial for a soldier (which could name names and describe offenses). For historians, such documents are primary evidence of the regiment’s experiences and the concerns of its leaders. For family researchers, there is a chance (though not a guarantee) that an ancestor is mentioned in correspondence – perhaps in a list of honorees, or as a misbehaving private in a disciplinary report, or as one of “five men of Company D” praised for some act. Even if individual soldiers aren’t named, these letters provide color and context: they show what challenges the regiment faced (illness, logistics, combat reports) in the very voices of those in command. Reading them can be as engaging as reading someone’s mail – you get authentic content like an endorsement from brigade command noting “the gallant conduct of the 71st OVI in the late engagement at Nashville” or a War Department order relieving the regiment from duty in Texas. Now that this letter book is digitized, anyone can dive into these communications and perhaps discover new anecdotes. It’s like opening a time capsule of the regiment’s administrative life.
Using the Research Arsenal for the 71st Ohio’s Records
All the above records – the descriptive book, morning reports, order books, and letter book – have been carefully scanned and made available in the Research Arsenal’s online Civil War database. For researchers, this means the 71st Ohio’s paper trail is accessible with a few clicks. You can search for a soldier’s name and potentially find every ledger page where he’s mentioned, or browse by date to see what was happening on a particular day of the war. The scans show the original handwriting, which adds authenticity (and occasional challenge in deciphering old script!). The Research Arsenal has also helpfully indexed many names, making it easier to find ancestors in these documents.
For example, if you’re looking up Sgt. Daniel W. Ellis (Co. C) – a soldier from Piqua whose preserved letters to his sweetheart Mary give us additional insight into the 71st’s daily life – you might search his name and discover entries in the morning reports noting when he was on duty or absent, corroborating the timelines in his letters. Or if you’re curious about officers, you might find Capt. Elihu S. Williams (Co. K) mentioned in an endorsement or order regarding his resignation or duties (Williams, the New Carlisle attorney, resigned in 1863 and later received local praise despite partisan sniping). Each discovery helps connect the dots between the official record and personal stories.
Perhaps most importantly, these records allow us to appreciate the humanity behind the history. The morning reports quantifying daily sickness, the descriptive rolls measuring each man, the orders detailing rations or marches – all remind us that an army is not just its generals and battles, but its regular people managing day-to-day life. The 71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry’s journey – from raw recruits “sober to a man” after a Piqua farewell dinner, to the hell of Shiloh, the ignominy of Clarksville, the long vigil in Tennessee, and the final storming of Nashville – can now be studied not only in secondary histories but through the very pages those soldiers wrote and signed.
Conclusion: A Regiment Reborn Through Research
The 71st Ohio’s Civil War odyssey is a tale of resilience and redemption. Initially maligned for failure under poor leadership, these Ohioans proved their mettle in the end – chasing guerrillas in dark caves, holding the line at Franklin, and braving the fire at Nashville. Along the way they interacted with freed slaves, endured illnesses that decimated their ranks, and witnessed pivotal moments of the war’s end. Their story, once “particularly varied” and sometimes romanticized in local histories, can now be explored in vivid detail thanks to primary sources.
For descendants and history buffs, the newly available regimental ledgers in the Research Arsenal are a treasure. Whether you want to confirm a cherished family legend (“Grandpa was wounded at Nashville”) or simply understand daily life in a Civil War regiment (“How many men answered roll call on a cold December morning?”), these records deliver. They underscore the significance of tools like morning reports – often overlooked – which show us the health, morale, and attrition of a unit beyond what battlefield reports convey. A morning report can reveal a silent killer like dysentery sweeping through the camp, or note the return of a long-absent soldier just in time for a campaign. The 71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry’s documents particularly highlight how a unit can recover from setbacks: by late 1864 their reports and letters tell of a veteran regiment full of confidence and competence, a far cry from the faltering outfit of Shiloh.
In researching your favorite regiment or ancestor, remember that history lives in these details. The 71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry’s saga – equal parts infamy, endurance, and triumph – is now more accessible than ever. As you flip through a scanned ledger page or read a captain’s letter in flowing penmanship, you form a tangible connection with those Union soldiers of long ago. And perhaps, in those pages, you’ll hear echoes of the musket volleys at Shiloh, the reveille bugle at Gallatin, or the cheers of victory at Nashville. This is the lasting legacy of the 71st OVI, brought to life through the marriage of historical archives and modern research tools.
Sources:
Research Arsenal: 71st OH Regimental Ledgers (RG94.6851106)(71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry)
National Park Service, “71st Regiment, Ohio Infantry” (unit history and service timeline)nps.govnps.gov (71st Ohio Volunteer Infantry)
From Monmouth to the Cumberland: The 83rd Illinois Infantry
HARDING, Abner Clark-83rd Illinois Infantry
Formation and Early Service in Illinois
In the summer of 1862—amid a new call for volunteers following heavy losses in the spring campaigns—patriotic fervor in western Illinois gave rise to the 83rd Illinois Volunteer Infantry. The regiment was organized at Monmouth, Illinois, drawing its ten companies from Warren, Mercer, and Knox counties. On August 21, 1862, 936 officers and men mustered into Union service under the command of Colonel Abner C. Harding, a 55-year-old local businessman who had remarkably enlisted as a private and been elected colonel by his men. Camped on the fairgrounds outside Monmouth, these fresh recruits began the transition to soldier life. Early regimental orders issued at Camp Warren (as the encampment was known) reveal the strict discipline imposed from the outset. General Order No. 1, dated August 24, 1862, forbade any member of the 83rd Illinois Infantry from leaving the limits of camp “without a leave of absence from regimental headquarters”. This meant no soldier could slip away to town or home without written permission – a necessary rule to keep this new unit together and focused. Two days later, General Order No. 2 established the regiment’s daily routine, regulating roll calls, drill schedules, and other duties to instill military order in the volunteers. By late August the men of the 83rd were deemed ready to move out, having transformed from a collection of farm boys and townsmen into an organized fighting unit. They left Monmouth on August 25, traveling by rail and steamboat via Burlington, Iowa, and St. Louis toward Cairo, Illinois. Reaching Cairo on August 29, the regiment reported to Brigadier General James M. Tuttle, who commanded that important Union river port at the southern tip of Illinois. Within days, orders came for the 83rd Illinois to head south into the war’s Western Theater, where it would spend the next three years guarding strategic strongholds and supply lines.
Garrison Duty for the 83rd Illinois Infantry at Fort Donelson and the Battle of Dover
In early September 1862, the regiment steamed up the Tennessee River to Fort Henry (recently captured by Union forces), then marched on to Fort Donelson on the Cumberland River. Fort Donelson, Tennessee had fallen to Ulysses S. Grant in February 1862, a major Union victory. Now the 83rd Illinois Infantry was tasked with holding this vital post and the surrounding region. They would remain garrisoned at Fort Donelson for the next year, a period marked by ceaseless guard duty and skirmishes. The countryside around the Tennessee and Cumberland rivers was “infested with guerrillas,” as one account recorded, and the 83rd found itself in near-daily contact with irregular Confederate cavalry and bushwhackers. These running fights, though often small in scale, were dangerous. In one sharp skirmish at Waverly, Tennessee and another at Garrettsburg, Kentucky, the regiment saw particularly intense action. Such encounters honed the unit’s mettle and kept them alert.
The greatest test for the 83rd Illinois Infantry came on February 3, 1863, in what became known as the Battle of Dover. On that day, a Confederate force of about 8,000 veteran cavalry and infantry under Maj. Gen. Joseph Wheeler and Maj. Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest launched a ferocious attack to retake Fort Donelson and the town of Dover. The garrison at Donelson was vastly outnumbered – it consisted mainly of nine companies of the 83rd Illinois (about 600 men present) and a single Illinois light artillery battery. Colonel Harding, commanding at Fort Donelson, refused to surrender. His men dug in and, with the help of the fort’s artillery, “successfully resisted the attack” by the Confederate raiders over the course of a seven-hour battle. The 83rd Illinois Infantry fought from 1:30 in the afternoon until 8:30 PM in cold winter rain, holding the fort against repeated assaults and even a demand for surrender. By nightfall, Wheeler and Forrest withdrew, having failed to break the Union defenses. The victory at Dover was a proud moment for the raw Illinois regiment. However, it came at a steep price. The 83rd Illinois suffered 13 men killed and 51 wounded in the fight. Among the fallen were Captain P. E. Reed of Company A, First Sergeant James Campbell of Company C, and the regiment’s quartermaster, Lieutenant Harmon D. Bissell. One of the wounded was Captain John McClanahan of Company B, who was shot while repositioning his men and later died of his injuries.
83rd Illinois Infantry Morning Reports
The morning reports (scanned and made available here by the Research Arsenal) for February 4th in the regiment’s ledger would have reflected these losses – noting the sudden drop in “present for duty” and listing the men killed or incapacitated the previous day. Such primary records humanize the toll of battle beyond the statistics, naming each casualty and often recording their fate. For their heroism at Fort Donelson, the soldiers of the 83rd earned high praise. Colonel Harding’s “gallant conduct” in the defense won him promotion to brigadier general, and the regiment gained a reputation for steadfast courage. A Confederate newspaper, amazed at the stand made by what they assumed was a much larger force, dubbed Harding’s command “those d—d stub–born Yankees at Donelson.” The Battle of Dover cemented the 83rd Illinois as battle-tested veterans.
Holding the Line: Skirmishes and Guerrilla Warfare
After the repulse of Forrest and Wheeler, the 83rd Illinois Infantry continued to perform critical garrison and patrol duties in the Fort Donelson area throughout 1863. Confederate guerrillas and scouting parties remained active in northern Tennessee and Kentucky, requiring constant vigilance. The regiment’s companies were sometimes dispersed to cover more ground: in mid-1863, five companies of the 83rd (the right wing) were sent to Clarksville, Tennessee, a town upriver towards Nashville, while the rest stayed at Fort Donelson. From these outposts the Illinoisans engaged in expeditions to disrupt enemy guerrillas and cavalry raids. They joined operations under Maj. Gen. Lovell H. Rousseau and others, chasing elements of Forrest’s and Wheeler’s commands who threatened Union supply lines. The soldiers often found themselves marching through swamps and forests, tearing up Confederate camps or ambushing raiders – the dirty, grinding work of counterinsurgency that seldom made headlines. Small-scale fights were frequent. For example, on August 20, 1864, Captain William M. Turnbull of Company B led 11 men out from Fort Donelson in pursuit of a band of five guerrillas who had been stealing horses. They rode into an ambush. A larger group of pro-Confederate partisans lay in wait in the woods. Turnbull and seven of his troopers were killed in a sudden volley; one soldier had both legs broken and was left for dead in a barn, where he was “cowardly murdered” by guerrillas who discovered him helpless. Only three of Turnbull’s patrol survived to tell the tragic tale. This harrowing incident, recorded in both the regimental order book and later histories, underscores the constant peril faced by the 83rd Illinois even when no major battles were underway. Through 1864, the regiment was responsible for guarding over 200 miles of supply lines and communications, including roads, telegraph lines, and river routes vital to the Union armies operating in the Deep South. The men built blockhouses, manned signal posts, escorted wagon trains, and patrolled roads to prevent sabotage. According to one account, “during the year 1864, the regiment had some two hundred miles of communications to guard and much heavy patrol duty”, duties which often stretched the companies thin across isolated outposts. Their morning report ledgers from this period show constant detachments of squads on scouting duty or stationed at remote posts, as well as the return of veterans on furlough and arrival of new draftee replacements that helped fill the ranks. By late 1864, as General Sherman marched to the sea and Confederate General Hood moved north into Tennessee, the 83rd Illinois was pulled into more concentrated duty. The regiment was ordered to Nashville, Tennessee, where it served as provost guard during the winter of 1864–65. In this role, the Illinois soldiers maintained order in the crowded Union-held city, escorted prisoners and supplies, and likely took pride in seeing the Confederate Army of Tennessee decisively defeated outside Nashville in December 1864.
Throughout these long months of garrison service, the 83rd Illinois had few opportunities for glory, but its contributions were invaluable to the Union war effort. They denied the enemy a foothold in Tennessee, protected civilians from lawless guerrillas, and ensured that Union armies operating further south (like Sherman’s) stayed reliably supplied. The regiment’s Descriptive Book and Casualty Book further testify to the hardships endured: beyond combat deaths, disease took a steady toll in the unhealthy camp environments. In total, the 83rd Illinois Infantry lost 1 officer and 82 enlisted men to sickness (often dysentery, typhoid, or exposure), in addition to 4 officers and 34 enlisted men killed or mortally wounded in action. These ledger entries of hospitalizations and burials, written in faded ink, give somber evidence of the less-glamorous battle the regiment fought against illness. Each name and date in the books represents a grieving family back home and a sacrifice for the Union cause.
Muster-Out and Legacy of the 83rd Illinois Infantry
With the Confederacy collapsing in the spring of 1865, the veteran regiments raised in 1862 were finally allowed to go home. On May 31, 1865, Major General Rousseau issued a special order praising the 83rd Illinois as they prepared to be discharged. He lauded their “soldierly bearing and gentlemanly conduct” and noted he had “not been troubled with complaints against them for disorderly conduct or marauding”, high praise for troops who spent so long on occupation duty. Rousseau declared that “I do not know a regiment in the service whose brave and soldierly bearing more fully entitles it to the respect and gratitude of the country than the Eighty-third Illinois”, a testament to their discipline and reputation. Under the command of Brevet Brigadier General Arthur A. Smith (who had risen from lieutenant colonel), the regiment mustered out in Nashville on June 26, 1865. They returned to Illinois by rail, arriving in Chicago for final pay and discharge on July 4, 1865. After nearly three years away, the weary survivors of the 83rd Illinois marched down Chicago’s streets and then went their separate ways into civilian life. Many would bear the scars of their service—some visible, some hidden—for the rest of their days.
Virgil Earp-83rd Illinois Infantry
One private in Company C, Virgil W. Earp, would become far better known for his later exploits in the Wild West. Yes, that Virgil Earp of O.K. Corral fame began his fighting days as an 18-year-old in the 83rd Illinois. Enlisting in July 1862, Earp served through the entire war, mustering out with his regiment in 1865. The regiment’s descriptive rolls capture a snapshot of the future lawman at enlistment: Virgil was recorded as “five foot ten with light hair, blue eyes, [a] light complexion, single, [and a] farmer”. Such details, preserved in 160-year-old ledgers, allow us to picture the youthful soldier who would later uphold the law in Dodge City and Tombstone. Click HERE to see Virgil Earp’s enlistment descriptive roll in the Research Arsenal.
Virgil Earp-83rd Illinois Infantry
Dozens of other men of the 83rd Illinois are similarly described in those pages, from color of eyes to birthplace and occupation, offering a treasure trove for genealogists tracing Civil War ancestors. The Regimental Descriptive Book even noted each soldier’s fate – who re-enlisted as a veteran volunteer, who transferred to the 61st Illinois in June 1865 (a handful did rather than go home), and who perished along the way.
When the regiment disbanded, its story could easily have faded into obscurity, overshadowed by larger battles and more famous units. Yet the veterans kept its memory alive through reunions and the regimental flag they carried with pride. Today, historians and descendants can reconstruct the rich history of the 83rd Illinois largely thanks to meticulously kept ledger books that have survived and been digitized.
Uncovering History Through the 83rd Illinois Infantry’s Ledgers
The Research Arsenal has made available a collection of original 83rd Illinois Infantry regimental ledgers, whose pages offer unparalleled insight into the daily experiences of the unit. These include:
Morning Report Ledgers (Companies A–E and F–K) – Daily muster reports noting how many men were present, absent, sick, or on detached service. Researchers can follow the regiment’s strength rising and falling over time. For instance, one can see the sudden drop in effective numbers right after the February 1863 battle, or trace when veterans went home on furlough. These reports also occasionally include remarks on significant events (e.g. “2 men killed on picket – last night” might appear after a skirmish).
Descriptive Books (Companies A–K & Regimental) – Detailed registers of every officer and enlisted man who served in the 83rd Illinois Infantry. They record each soldier’s name, age, physical description, occupation, enlistment date, and hometown, as well as notes on their service (promotions, wounds, discharge or death). Through the descriptive books we learn personal details – for example, the entry for Quartermaster Lt. Harmon Bissell would note his tragic death in action on Feb. 3, 1863. These volumes put a human face on the regiment, allowing descendants to identify ancestors and historians to analyze the composition of the unit (average age, occupations, etc.).
Order Books and Miscellaneous Records – The Regimental Order Book and Order/Casualty & Miscellaneous Book contain copies of official orders, correspondence, and casualty lists kept by the regimental adjutant. In these pages are found the general orders issued by the regiment (such as the ones from August 1862 quoted earlier) as well as special orders detailing promotions, assignments, or punishments. For example, General Order No. 4, issued at Cairo on August 31, 1862, laid down guidelines for conduct and readiness, stating in part that “the Colonel commanding expects every officer and soldier of the Regiment to faithfully perform his duties” and that company commanders would be held responsible for enforcing all orders. The same books also include casualty reports after engagements, which enumerate the killed, wounded, and missing by name. Reading those lists alongside battle reports in the Official Records can confirm details and sometimes correct them. Moreover, letters and miscellaneous memoranda tucked in these ledgers shed light on day-to-day problems (such as supply issues or disciplinary cases) that rarely make it into history books.
Together, these six ledgers form a comprehensive paper trail of the 83rd Illinois Infantry’s Civil War service. By studying them, one can track the regiment’s journey from its first days in Monmouth – when order book entries like General Order No. 1 emphasized basics like not leaving camp without leave – to its final mustering out, when a farewell order in June 1865 praised the men’s honesty and bravery. The ledgers allow us to hear the voices of the regiment’s officers as they struggled to maintain order and morale, to see the names of every volunteer who filled the ranks, and to understand the administrative side of army life that unfolded behind the front lines.
For history enthusiasts and descendants, access to these digitized records is akin to time-travel. A family researcher might discover an ancestor’s enlistment entry, learning his height and eye color and exactly when and where he served. A Civil War scholar can correlate the morning reports with battlefield accounts, gaining a clearer picture of how an engagement impacted the unit day-by-day. Through the dry official language of these books emerge countless poignant stories – the farmer’s son who died of fever in a hospital tent, the teenaged recruit who survived Gettysburg only to be ambushed by guerrillas, the experienced sergeant promoted after Turnbull’s death to take charge of what remained of Company B.
The history of the 83rd Illinois Infantry is more than a list of dates and battles; it is the sum of the experiences of the nearly one thousand men who served in its ranks. Thanks to the preservation of primary sources like the 83rd’s morning reports, descriptive rolls, and order books, we can piece together those experiences in vivid detail. From the regiment’s humble beginnings guarding a cornfield camp in Illinois, to the thunderous afternoon when they stood firm at Fort Donelson, to the lonely picket posts along the Cumberland River, the story survives in the ink and paper of those ledgers. As Major General Rousseau affirmed in 1865, the 83rd Illinois Infantry earned the “respect and gratitude of the country” through its service. Today, with the help of these digitized records, we can finally give this hard-fighting regiment the recognition and understanding it deserves, and ensure that the lived experiences of the 83rd Illinois Infantry continue to enlighten and inspire future generations.
Sources: The above narrative is drawn from a variety of primary and secondary sources, including the Illinois Adjutant General’s Report and regimental history,(illinoisgenweb.org), official records and correspondence, and the 83rd Illinois’s own surviving ledger books (morning reports, descriptive rolls, and order books) available via the Research Arsenal.
From Maine to the Gulf: The 2nd Maine Cavalry’s Civil War Journey
The 2nd Maine Cavalry Regiment is a fascinating example of a Civil War unit that traveled far from home and faced unusual challenges. Raised in the Pine Tree State late in the war, these cavalrymen found themselves fighting guerrillas in Louisiana swamps, charging Florida villages, and besieging Confederate forts in Alabama. Along the way, they endured a far deadlier enemy than Southern bullets: disease. In this post, we’ll explore the formation, deployments, battles, and ultimate fate of the 2nd Maine Cavalry. We’ll also highlight colorful anecdotes – from daring raids to single-handed heroics – and discuss the treasure trove of digitized regimental records (descriptive books, letters, order books, morning reports, etc.) that shed light on the men of the 2nd Maine and the impact of sickness on their ranks.
Formation of the 2nd Maine Cavalry
By late 1863, Maine had already contributed one cavalry regiment (the 1st Maine Cavalry) to the Union cause. A decision was made to raise a second regiment of mounted troops. Organizing at Augusta, Maine in the winter of 1863, the unit officially mustered into service on January 12, 1864. Governor Cony of Maine sought volunteers for a 3-year term, though sources note the regiment was mustered for about 23 months of service (likely anticipating the war’s end). The new regiment attracted over a thousand men from across Maine. They were led by Colonel Ephraim W. Woodman, appointed as the regiment’s commanding officer.
The Regimental Descriptive Book, now digitized in the Research Arsenal archives, lists every soldier who joined the 2nd Maine Cavalry. In it one can find each man’s name, his company (A through M), and basic details like age, physical description, occupation, and enlistment date. This creates a full roster of the regiment’s members – from seasoned officers like Col. Woodman to fresh-faced privates. Such details help us imagine the composition of the unit: hardy lumbermen, farmers, and fishermen from Maine, suddenly preparing to serve on horseback in a far-off theater of war.
After organizing and training through the winter, the 2nd Maine Cavalry departed the frigid Northeast for a very different climate. In April 1864, the regiment left Maine for the Department of the Gulf, part of a transfer of Union forces to reinforce campaigns in the Deep South. Many of these Maine men had never left New England; now they faced a long journey by rail and steamship toward the Gulf of Mexico.
Duty in Louisiana: Defenses of New Orleans and the Red River Campaign
Dexter True of the 2nd Maine Cavalry
Upon arrival in New Orleans in spring 1864, the 2nd Maine Cavalry was attached to the Union forces guarding southern Louisiana. They performed picket and scouting duty in the defenses of New Orleans through May 1864. This relatively quiet period ended when a portion of the regiment was drawn into the ongoing Red River Campaign – Union General Nathaniel Banks’s ill-fated attempt to invade Texas via the Red River in Louisiana.
In mid-April 1864, Companies A, D, and G of the 2nd Maine were detached from the main regiment and sent to Alexandria, Louisiana to bolster Banks’s army. There they skirmished with Confederate forces and guerrillas in the swampy bayous. For several tumultuous weeks, these Maine cavalrymen covered the federal retreat from the Red River, fighting in sharp actions at Marksville (Avoyelles Prairie) on May 15, 1864, at Mansura on May 16, and at Yellow Bayou on May 18. At Yellow Bayou – the last battle of the Red River Campaign – Union troops fought a rearguard action to fend off pursuing Confederates. The Maine troopers helped hold the line. By late May 1864, Banks’s battered force escaped, and the detached companies rejoined the rest of the 2nd Maine Cavalry at Thibodeaux, Louisiana on June 1.
Meanwhile, Colonel Woodman and the majority of the regiment remained stationed in the District of La Fourche (the area around Thibodeaux and Brashear City) during April–July 1864. They conducted frequent scouting expeditions and anti-guerrilla operations. One young officer, Major Andrew B. Spurling, made a name for himself during this time. Spurling had transferred from the veteran 1st Maine Cavalry and took command of several companies in the field. Near Brashear City (modern Morgan City), Spurling led his men in running battles against Confederate guerrillas harassing Union supply lines.
By July 1864, the 2nd Maine Cavalry had acclimated to soldiering in Louisiana’s heat. They had seen a bit of action (especially those detached companies) and were now seasoned enough for more active operations. That summer, a new campaign beckoned – this time eastward to Florida, a region with few Union troops but plenty of Confederate activity.
On to Florida: Pensacola and the Raid on Marianna
In late July 1864, the regiment received orders to move to the Florida Panhandle. They embarked from Algiers (near New Orleans) and arrived at Pensacola, Florida by August 11, 1864. Pensacola’s Union-held Fort Barrancas became the 2nd Maine’s new base of operations. The strategic aim was to project Union power into western Florida, to disrupt Confederate supply lines and stop refugees or troops moving east from Alabama.
For the next several months, the 2nd Maine Cavalry was the backbone of Union cavalry raids across the Gulf coast of Florida and Alabama. A notable early encounter came on August 25, 1864, when a detachment skirmished at Milton, Florida, a small town north of Pensacola. As summer turned to fall, a much larger expedition was planned that would become the regiment’s most famous action: the Marianna raid.
The Battle of Marianna – “Florida’s Alamo”
In September 1864, Brigadier General Alexander Asboth, the Union district commander at Pensacola, organized a raid deep into northwestern Florida. His target was Marianna, Florida, a town believed to be a recruitment center and refuge for Confederates (and reportedly housing Union prisoners). Asboth assembled about 700 troopers, including three battalions of the 2nd Maine Cavalry under Lt. Col. Andrew Spurling and one battalion of the 1st Florida U.S. Cavalry (Unionists from Florida), plus a few companies of U.S. Colored Infantry. On September 18, the column rode out from Fort Barrancas, trekking over 200 miles through woods and swamps.
After more than a week of hard riding and small skirmishes, Asboth’s force reached Marianna at noon on September 27, 1864. The town’s defense fell to a mix of Confederate cavalry and local home guard militia hastily gathered by Col. Alexander Montgomery. As the Union troopers approached, they encountered an ambush. Without fully reconnoitering the situation, Gen. Asboth ordered Major Nathan Cutler to lead his 2nd Maine battalion in a headlong charge down Marianna’s main street. The Maine cavalrymen galloped in – and were met by shotgun and musket fire from militiamen concealed in houses and behind fences. Major Cutler’s men were staggered by the point-blank volley and had to pull back. Immediately, Major Eben Hutchinson led a second battalion into the fray, clearing some barricading wagons and pushing further in, only to be blasted by another close-range volley. Both Maj. Cutler and Maj. Hutchinson were severely wounded in these charges. Even Gen. Asboth was shot from his horse (he took a bullet to the cheek and arm) as he personally rode into the fight.
Despite the ambush, the veteran “boys from Maine” did not break. “The 2nd Maine boys chased the retreating enemy cavalry into Courthouse Square,” as one account describes. In vicious close-quarters combat amid Marianna’s streets, the Union troopers gradually gained the upper hand. Among them was Sergeant Edward H. Cushman of Company M, a 21-year-old from Sumner, Maine who found himself in a literal shootout worthy of a Wild West tale. Sgt. Cushman had dismounted near St. Luke’s Episcopal Church when multiple armed home guards fired at him from behind tombstones and a fence in the churchyard. Cushman, armed with a Spencer repeating carbine (seven shots) and a revolver, coolly returned fire. According to a Maine newspaper report, he fired at the muzzle flashes of his hidden foes, causing the rebels to drop their guns and flee after each shot. As one enemy continued firing from behind a monument, Cushman pretended to be out of ammo; when the Confederate stepped out, Cushman dropped him with a well-aimed shot.
Lieutenant Colonel Andrew B. Spurling of the 2nd Maine Cavalry was a fearless leader during the Florida raids. He commanded the Union cavalry column in the Marianna raid of September 1864 and later earned the Medal of Honor for heroism in Alabama.
Moments later, Sgt. Cushman and Captain John M. Lincoln of Company D charged around the corner of the church and came face-to-face with a pocket of militiamen. The two Maine men — Cushman wielding his carbine and revolver, Capt. Lincoln brandishing a revolver in each hand — fell upon the startled home guards “shooting many of them down before they had time to reload”. At least 27 Confederates were captured in this fierce clash at the churchyard. During the melee, Cushman was hit in the left thigh, but kept fighting. Moments later, a fleeing militiaman suddenly turned and fired at close range, striking Cushman’s other thigh. In what one might call Cushman’s personal “high noon” moment, he also fired – both men hit their mark, and the Confederate fell mortally wounded even as Cushman collapsed from his own wounds. Bleeding from both legs, Sgt. Cushman was carried to safety by his comrades as the fight ended. Captain Lincoln survived unscathed, revolvers smoking.
By late afternoon, the Battle of Marianna was over – a Union victory at the cost of heavy casualties among the defenders. The 2nd Maine Cavalry had several men killed or wounded in the fray, in addition to those captured in earlier skirmishes. (Among the fallen were Privates Silas Campbell and Thomas A. Davis of the 2nd Maine, both “killed outright” in the streets of Mariannasites.rootsweb.com.) The Federals seized about 100 prisoners (including civilians) and destroyed Confederate supplies. However, the fight was bloody for its size. General Asboth, badly wounded, had to be taken back to Pensacola and saw no further field command. For the 2nd Maine Cavalry, Marianna was their fiercest engagement of the war – sometimes called the “Florida’s Alamo” due to the close and desperate nature of the combat.
Cunning Raids and Daring Adventures in Late 1864
After Marianna, Lt. Col. Andrew Spurling took over active command with Asboth injured. Spurling proved to be an audacious cavalry leader, always game for a bold raid. In the following months, the 2nd Maine Cavalry continued striking at Confederate outposts in the region. One particularly unorthodox tactic paid off during an expedition in November 1864. Spurling led 450 men of the 2nd Maine and 1st Florida Cavalry on a mission to destroy a strategic bridge on Pine Barren Creek in Florida. Knowing the element of surprise was crucial, Spurling authorized a risky ruse: a selected vanguard of Union troopers dressed themselves in Confederate uniforms. This mixed group (a few men from each company) was led by Lieutenant Joseph G. Sanders of the 1st Florida Cavalry – a former Confederate officer who had switched sides. In essence, Spurling turned Sanders and these Maine cavalrymen into “bogus Rebels” for the raid.
For three days, the column moved through the pine barrens. According to a letter by Sgt. Frank Pearce of the 2nd Maine, the disguised advance guard made all the difference. Early on the morning of November 17, 1864, near the Pine Barren Creek bridge, Sanders’s camouflaged detachment slipped ahead and surprised the Confederate pickets, who mistook them for fellow soldiers. “Our own Rebels captured the pickets without firing a shot,” Sgt. Pearce reported home. They repeated the trick at several guard posts, quietly seizing all the sentries on duty before they could raise an alarm. By 9 a.m., every outlying picket post had been taken by stealth. Only then did the main Union force rush the Confederate camp near the bridge. When the ruse was finally discovered, Spurling’s troopers charged over the small bridge in a lightning assault. “We chased them in every direction,” Pearce wrote with pride. The result: 38 Confederates (including a lieutenant commanding the camp) were captured, all their horses and weapons seized, and their camp and the crucial bridge were set ablaze. Remarkably, “all this was done without losing a man” in the Union force.
Such success without bloodshed was rare, and Spurling’s report to headquarters glossed over the controversial uniform trick (wearing enemy colors was outside the traditional rules of war). But he did praise the bravery of his men, especially two sergeants in the lead party – one of them identified as Sgt. Frank Butler of the 2nd Maine Cavalry. Butler’s gallantry and the entire deception at Pine Barren Creek showcased the ingenuity of the 2nd Maine and their leaders. For soldiers who had been raw recruits less than a year earlier, they had become savvy veterans willing to take risks.
In December 1864, the regiment undertook another raid, this time into Alabama. Spurling, now commanding a brigade, struck the railroad hub of Pollard, Alabama on December 15, 1864. They skirmished at Bluff Springs and Pollard, capturing the town and tearing up railway tracks. By Christmas, the Maine cavalrymen returned to their Pensacola base. They had earned a bit of rest after months of constant expeditions. Many probably assumed the war was winding down. However, one more major campaign awaited – one that would finally break Confederate resistance in the Gulf region.
2nd Maine Cavalry Regimental Descriptive Roll
The Mobile Campaign and War’s End (1865)
In early 1865, Union General E.R.S. Canby mustered forces for an offensive against Mobile, Alabama, one of the last major Gulf ports still in Confederate hands. The 2nd Maine Cavalry was assigned to Brig. Gen. Joseph Lucas’s cavalry brigade in Major General Steele’s column, which moved from Pensacola north into Alabama. In March 1865, as Steele’s column marched toward Mobile, the 2nd Maine (about 200 men mounted, with additional troopers temporarily without horses fighting on foot) scouted ahead and skirmished with enemy patrols. On March 24, the regiment had a brush with Confederate troops near Evergreen, Alabama. It was here that Lt. Col. Andrew Spurling performed the act of heroism that later earned him the Medal of Honor. Leading a band of scouts in the Alabama backwoods, Spurling encountered three Confederate couriers in the dark. “On that day he captured three ‘Johnnie Rebs’ single-handed, wounding two of them and bringing all three into the Union camp,” a newspaper later recounted. By preventing those Confederates from alerting others to the Union advance, Spurling materially aided the success of the campaign. (Though Spurling performed this valorous feat in March 1865, he did not receive the Medal of Honor for it until decades later, in 1897.)
Proceeding onward, the 2nd Maine Cavalry took part in the siege of Fort Blakely outside Mobile from April 1–9, 1865. Fort Blakely was assaulted and captured on April 9, 1865 – notably, just hours after Lee’s surrender at Appomattox, making Blakely one of the last pitched battles of the war. The 2nd Maine joined in the victorious charge that overran Fort Blakely, helping to compel Mobile’s surrender. They entered the city of Mobile on April 12, raising the U.S. flag over a city that had defied Union attacks for four years.
With the war effectively over, the regiment marched to Montgomery, Alabama (the former Confederate capital) later in April. For several months, companies of the 2nd Maine Cavalry served occupation duty across Alabama and western Florida, keeping order as Confederate armies laid down their arms. Finally, the time came to go home. On December 6, 1865, the 2nd Maine Cavalry was mustered out of service at Barrancas, Florida, and shortly thereafter the men returned to Maine. They were formally discharged at Augusta on December 21, 1865, exactly two years from the day the regiment had been officially organized.
Trials off the Battlefield: Sickness in the Ranks
The 2nd Maine Cavalry’s story is not only one of battles won and lost, but also of hardships faced in camp. A striking fact emerges from the records: for every man killed in combat, dozens died from disease. Out of the regiment’s total enrollment, only 10 men were killed or mortally wounded in action, whereas a staggering 334 died of disease during their service. This toll was typical of Civil War regiments, but especially those serving in the Gulf Coast’s disease-ridden environments. Far from Maine’s cool climate, the soldiers had to contend with malaria, dysentery, typhoid, and yellow fever, among other maladies.
The morning reports preserved in the regiment’s records vividly illustrate the prevalence and impact of sickness. These reports were essentially daily roll calls, noting how many men in each company were present for duty, absent, sick, or hospitalized. By examining morning reports from late 1864 and 1865, one can see the attrition due to illness. For example, one source notes that by December 1, 1864, some companies had virtually no officers fit for duty – sickness had sidelined nearly all of their lieutenants and captains, necessitating reassignmentssites.rootsweb.com. Enlisted men too were often laid up in regimental hospitals in Pensacola or New Orleans. On some days, far more troopers were listed as “sick in quarters” or “absent sick” than were available for combat.
What do these stark numbers mean in human terms? They reflect men like Private Henry F. Nason of Company K (for instance), who might have survived Marianna unscathed only to perish from fever in a New Orleans hospital. They show how disease could cripple a unit as effectively as enemy bullets – especially in an era before antibiotics and effective sanitation. The morning reports, now digitized by the Research Arsenal for Companies A-F and G-M, are a goldmine for historians seeking to understand day-to-day regimental health. They provide granular data, allowing us to track, say, how a yellow fever outbreak in Pensacola in the summer of 1864 caused a sudden spike in sick lists, or how many men were lost to chronic diarrhea during a swampy march. In short, the regiment’s documents highlight that the war’s “unseen” enemy – illness – was constant and devastating.
Treasures in the Regimental Ledgers – Research Arsenal Archives
Fortunately for researchers and descendants today, the 2nd Maine Cavalry’s regimental ledgers have been preserved and digitized (notably by the Research Arsenal project). These primary sources open a window into the daily operations and personnel of the unit. Key ledgers and their importance include:
Regimental Descriptive Book – This master volume lists every soldier in the regiment, along with their personal details and service information. It’s essentially a comprehensive directory of the 2nd Maine’s members. Here you can find, for example, that Sgt. Edward H. Cushman was a 21-year-old farmer, or that Private John Doe of Company B enlisted in December 1863 and was mustered out in late 1865. Such basic service details (age, birthplace, enlistment date, promotions, casualties, etc.) are invaluable for genealogists and historians. The descriptive book confirms the names and companies of all soldiers, ensuring that none of these men’s service is forgotten.
Company Descriptive Books (A–F and G–M) – In addition to the regimental book, the army kept separate descriptive rolls for each company (A through M, with J typically omitted as a company letter). The 2nd Maine’s records are split into two volumes: one covering Companies A-F and another for G-M. These contain similar details as the regimental book but organized by company. They often include physical descriptions (height, complexion, hair and eye color) and remarks on each soldier. This is where one might learn that a trooper had a scar or was a blacksmith by trade – humanizing details beyond the service numbers.
Regimental Letter, Endorsement, and Order Book – This ledger contains copies of official correspondence and orders to and from the regimental headquarters. For example, when Col. Woodman wrote to the Department of the Gulf in June 1864 requesting that a valued sergeant (John C. Phinney of Stockton) be allowed to remain in the 2nd Maine rather than be transferred to another unit, that letter (and the approving endorsement from higher command) was recorded in this book. Such entries reveal the administrative side of the regiment – transfers, disciplinary actions, supply requests, and commendations. They can also mention individual soldiers by name, providing context to personnel changes. The order book portion includes any general or special orders issued at the regimental level (e.g. orders about camp inspections, guard details, or congratulations for a successful raid).
Company Order Books (for Cos. A-G and I-M) – Much like the regimental order book, these volumes contain orders and directives at the company level. These might be instructions from the company captain about daily duty assignments, or company-level morning report summaries. They give insight into the day-to-day running of each company. For instance, an entry might note “Company D – detail 5 men for picket duty along the bayou” on a certain date, or record that Corp. James Smith was assigned to clerk duty due to injury.
2nd Maine Cavalry Morning Reports
Morning Reports (Companies A-F and G-M) – The morning report books, as discussed, are essentially the daily health and status log of each company. Each morning, the first sergeant noted how many men were present, absent, sick, on detached duty, on furlough, etc. Over time, these reports show the ebb and flow of the regiment’s effective strength. They are crucial for understanding the impact of sickness. For example, if one flips through the morning reports of Company E, 2nd Maine Cav, you might see entries in July 1864 showing multiple men “absent sick in hospital – New Orleans” following the Red River campaign, or a notation in August 1864 of “10 men died this month – fever”. By aggregating this data, one can chart how disease outbreaks coincided with certain campaigns or locations (the Research Arsenal’s digital platform even allows searching these reports by keyword or date). These reports also sometimes mention casualties in action or new recruits joining, making them a day-by-day chronicle of the regiment’s condition.
In sum, the digitized ledgers of the 2nd Maine Cavalry are an arsenal of knowledge (quite fittingly, given the project’s name). They empower anyone interested in the Civil War to dive deep into the micro-history of a single regiment. Whether you’re tracing an ancestor like Corporal William H. Reed (whom a letter home joked should “shoot a Rebel for me”) or analyzing how a unit coped with tropical diseases, these records are indispensable. The fact that they are now text-searchable and accessible online means the stories of the 2nd Maine Cavalry are more reachable than ever.
Conclusion: Legacy of the 2nd Maine Cavalry
The 2nd Maine Cavalry may not be as famous as Gettysburg’s 20th Maine Infantry, but their journey is no less compelling. In just under two years of service, they traversed half a continent – from the far Northeast to the Gulf of Mexico – and adapted from green recruits into seasoned cavalry. They protected New Orleans, rode down remote Florida roads in daring raids, and charged fortifications in Alabama in the war’s final days. They witnessed the chaos of guerrilla warfare, the horror of ambush at Marianna, and the elation of final victory. They also endured long months of illness, boredom, and hard duty, which tested their endurance as much as any battle.
Many individuals of the regiment left their mark. We remember Col. Ephraim “Woodman” struggling to keep his unit staffed as sickness thinned the ranks, Maj. Spurling rallying his men and pulling off audacious feats that read like adventure novels, Sgt. Cushman limping heroically from his personal showdown, and Sgt. Pearce and Sgt. Butler using creativity to bring about a bloodless win. Dozens of other names surface in letters and reports – each a story waiting to be discovered in the archives. The regiment even formed a veterans’ association post-war; in 1873 they held a reunion in Augusta to reminisce about their shared trials.
Today, the legacy of the 2nd Maine Cavalry is preserved both in written history and in those digitized regimental ledgers. The Research Arsenal’s collection makes it possible for us to peek over the shoulder of a company clerk writing the morning report, or a colonel penning a request to headquarters. Through these records, we gain not only facts and figures but a sense of the daily life of the unit – the churn of recruits and casualties, the ever-present concern for health, the commendations for bravery, and even mundane notes about equipment and rations. It’s a reminder that history is often built from such ledgers, as much as from grand narratives.
The 2nd Maine Cavalry’s service in the Civil War illustrates the breadth of the conflict: even far-flung Florida saw determined action, and even late-war regiments raised from scratch could contribute significantly. Their story – informative and inspiring – invites us to appreciate the courage of soldiers who fought in unfamiliar lands under harsh conditions. Whether charging in a “High Noon”-style gunfight or simply answering sick call on a sweltering morning, the men of the 2nd Maine Cavalry did their duty. And thanks to preserved records, we can continue to learn from their experiences 160 years later, ensuring their sacrifices and adventures are not forgotten.
Sources:
Maine State Archives, “2nd Maine Cavalry – Adjutant General’s Correspondence” (DigitalMaine repository) – service dates and casualty statisticsdigitalmaine.com.
Maine Legacy project, Letters to & from Sgt. Pearce – Sgt. Frank Pearce’s November 1864 letter describing Spurling’s disguised raidmainelegacy.commainelegacy.com.
Maine Memory Network, Col. C. W. Woodman letter, 1864 – example of regimental correspondence about soldier transfersmainememory.netmainememory.net.
The West Florida War (Rootsweb archival excerpt) – names of 2nd Maine Cav soldiers killed at Mariannasites.rootsweb.com.
Albert Henry Bancroft was one of five children born to shoemaker Jenson Bancroft and his wife Esther Susannah Batchelor in Ontario County, New York. Bancroft enlisted in the 85th New York Infantry on September 26, 1861, as a private in company B. He would later receive a promotion to corporal.
Our collection contains 62 letters, mostly written by Albert Henry Bancroft to his family, with a few other letters being written by his brother, William, who served in the 24th New York Cavalry, and a few by sister, Almira “Myra” Bancroft. The letters span from 1861 until his capture in 1864.
85th New York Infantry duty in Washington, D.C.
After its formation, the 85th New York Infantry was sent to do duty as part of the defenses of Washington, D.C. In a letter from January 14, 1862, Albert Henry Bancroft related an amusing story about his company’s somewhat unusual taste for meat:
“There was one or two companies out practicing with blanks and the train of mule teams — 6 mules in each team — come along and not liking the noise, they pricked up their ears and took French leave as though they were sent for and the way they went was not slow. One mule capsized and went under the wagon and all stopped and we thought we were going to have some fresh mule for supper but we were doomed to be disappointed for when the wagon was raised off from him, he was as good as new and the last I saw of him he was going along in his mule way rejoicing. But we all hoped him dead. We have eat so much mule beef that our ears are about 3 inches long and thrifty indeed. I am almost ashamed to look a mule in the face, and some of the boys are braying quite lustily, and all are tough and so am I.”
In a letter to his aunt on March 2, 1862, Albert Henry Bancroft conveyed his rather unflattering opinion of the city of Washington:
“ The inside of the building is mostly marble and of all kinds and colors and it does not seem as though the hand of man were capable of working out such wonders. One may travel all day and yet see something new at every turn, and here inside the walls of marble, it seems we are keeping our drones or fast men. We had better take the bees way of ridding the hive of its worthless members and hang them and then they would not be picking quarrels and the stand behind the fence ready to join the biggest heap and share their profits and cry, “didn’t we give it to ’em.” But the Capitol is all that makes Washington for there are more poor, rickety old houses and three-cent grog shops here than there ought to be in seven cities and anyone that visits the city must have a keen eye to get his money’s worth.”
Shortly after this letter was written, the 85th New York Infantry left Washington D.C.
Albert Henry Bancroft and the Battle of Seven Pines
Photo of Lieutenant Colonel Abijah J. Wellman who was wounded at the Battle of Seven Pines.
The Battle of Seven Pines occurred on May 31 and June 1, 1862. At the time, it was one of the the biggest battles of the Civil War to date and resulted in large casualties to both the Union and Confederate armies with neither side winning a decisive victory. In a letter to his sister written a few days after the battle on June 6, 1862, Albert Henry Bancroft wrote in great detail about his regiment’s role in the battle:
“The first indication we had of the enemy was a cannon ball—and then another, sounding more like a swarm of bees in a great hurry but doing no harm. This was about 11 in the forenoon. And then the order was to fall into line for the Rebs were driving in our pickets (which they had done the day before) and in five minutes our Brigade was in line and the 81st New York and 98th were sent out to support the pickets. They marched into a piece of woods which our men have been felling to prevent them from coming on to us and we were put in to the half-finished rifle pits for them to fall back on in case they were driven back. The 92nd [New York] was to the right of us and between us was a small fort with three small cannons inside and three out. We were in the pits nearly an hour before we saw anything of the enemy. In the meantime, those in front of us were hammering away at them and the little Brass Boys were speaking to them once in awhile but their balls had been kept too long and broke all to pieces when they got over into the woods. But soon we saw what was to pay. Those in front came running back beyond us and the obnoxious Rebel flag was seen bearing down upon us through the slashing when the Colonel said, “Take good aim boys, and let them have it,” and for the first time we drawed a bead on the Rebs and then they were more than 50 rods [275 yards] off, but they felt it. We loaded and fired as fast as possible and the canister shot was poured into them from the cannon but they still bore down upon us until within about 20 rods [100 yards] when what there was left of them turned and went back. But there was not one-fifth of them able to get back out of the two regiments that started out.
But there was fresh troops ready to take their places and we saw that they were coming down on us on both sides and in the center and that the cannons were deserted and the horses nearly all killed and wounded and floundering in their harness. Our Lieutenant Colonel [Abijah J. Wellman] was wounded and the Colonel [Jonathan S. Belknap] no where to be seen and the Major [Reuben V. King] also had got out of the way or somewhere else and the regiment gave away for a moment. When remembering that we had no orders for doing so, we rallied into the pits again and with a shout of defiance we poured in the leaden storm, doing fearful execution, but they swarmed on all sides and we had to run or be taken prisoners. We fell back across our camps and there met reinforcements and from that time until dark, we were fighting anywhere we could see Rebs. But there was a fault somewhere. If Couch’s Division had supported our left as he should, we never need to have been driven from our camp and lost everything. But the battle is over. Our dead are buried. Our wounded are cared for. The enemy are driven beyond our camps and we can draw any signal from it we see fit. But it was a bloody field.”
Albert Henry Bancroft gave an additional account of the battle in another letter written on June 25 presenting many of the same details.
The 85th New York Infantry at Plymouth, N.C.
Illustration of the capture of Plymouth, N.C. by Confederate forces from Harpers Weekly 24 December 1864 via Library of Congress.
In May 1863, Albert Henry Bancroft and the 85th New York Infantry moved to Plymouth, North Carolina where they would serve for a large portion of the war. Writing to his sister, Albert Henry Bancroft described their new location:
“We are all well and over head and ears in work digging, chopping, and picket duty. Our brigade is all the troops that are here and the duty will be heavy for awhile until the place is fortified. Plymouth has been a nice place for a small one but the best buildings are burned and some of the brick buildings pierced for rifles which makes the place look military. The streets are all lined with shade trees and soldiers quarters where the elite once lived. We are outside of the town in new tents raised with boards 4 feet high—4 in each tent. We have brick walks in front of the tents, one walk right in front and one the whole length so [sketch of parallel lines I I I I I I] and the corners are sodded over and all say they look nice. So you see we are comfortable.”
In April, 1864, Confederate forces led a successful attack on Plymouth, driving back the Union forces and leading to the surrender of the garrison at Fort Williams. Albert Henry Bancroft was among the soldiers captured on April 20, 1864 and was held at Andersonville Prison until his death in August 1864.
We’d like to extend a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his tireless work in transcribing and sharing these documents. You can read the full collection of letters and thousands more with a Research Arsenal membership.
Check out more of our spotlights like this one on Colonel Clark Swett Edwards of the 5th Maine Infantry and John L. Hebron of the 2nd Ohio Infantry.
Last week we discussed how museum and archive numbering systems work, and this week we are going to discuss how to label your collection. This is a relatively straightforward process, but there are a few key things to keep in mind as you go. The main rule of thumb is that however you add your catalog number to your object or document, it is done in a non-permanent way. In other words, don’t pull out the Sharpie and start writing all over your things! Sadly, I have seen that happen in museums, and that’s definitely something we want to avoid!
How to Label Your Collection: Writing Directly on the Document Vs. Archival Sleeves
When you’re working with paper or photographic archives there are two schools of thought with regard to how they should be numbered. Some folks will write VERY lightly in pencil the catalog numbers on the bottom right (or left) corner of the document—typically on the back. This way the writing is not visible from the front if it is on display, the writing is reversible because it can be erased, and the size of the writing is very small so that it is not intrusive. This method can work for relatively modern documents. For example, if you have someone’s 1980s era research notes that you are adding into your collection you may choose to number it that way. For Civil War era paper materials (including CDVs), I would hesitate to use this method, simply because the documents are often very fragile—and in some cases disintegrating—to the point that should that number ever be erased, doing so would likely destroy the paper. The advantage of lightly writing the number in pencil on the document directly ensures that it will never be separated from the number. If using this method, do not use a mechanical pencil as it is often too sharp and can damage old paper or leave an imprint that shows through the front. Use a 2B soft leaded pencil, sharpen it, and then use a piece of scratch paper to soften the tip of the lead so that it is a bit duller. The below video shows how to mark papers, photographs, and books using this method.
Personally, the method I prefer (and the one we use at the Research Arsenal) is to write the number on the clear archival sleeve that protects the document. This ensures that the document is not directly affected by the writing. Should the number ever need to be changed it only needs to be placed in a new sleeve with the correct number. You can use a fine point Sharpie to write on the sleeve and the ink will not smear. Be sure it has dried completely before you place a document inside just in case the document touches the ink.
Here is an example of writing the catalog number directly on the archival sleeve.
If your documents are digitized (which they all should be eventually) then there will be minimal need to handle the original documents in the future. If you want to read through them or look up something with them, you only need to use the digital scan, rather than handling the original document which can further degrade it.
How to Label Your Collection: Tagging Objects
This is an example of a museum artifact tag sold by Gaylord here.
In this case, I am going to include tintypes (in cases) and ambrotypes as objects as opposed to archives simply because they are not made of paper material. Anything not made of paper will typically fall into the object category and use tags. Tintype photos not in cases can be safely stored in archival sleeves and can be numbered using the above method of numbering the sleeve.
Objects will need an archival tag which consists of a small square of archival cardstock strung on a loop of archival string. These come in all sorts of sizes and shapes and can be used on a variety of objects. They are also easily removed if need be and can be arranged in such a way that they are not obtrusive if the object is on exhibit.
To use a tag, you will want to write the catalog number on the tag and if there is room, a one- or two-word description. A tag for a M1851 Colt Navy Revolver might look like “2025.002.0014 M1851 Colt Navy Revolver” and that’s it. You can shorten or lengthen in to your preference, the intention being that it allows you to easily identify what item the tag goes with, should it become separated, and also so that you can easily identify what the object is without needing to look it up. To write on the tags you can use the fine point Sharpie again.
You’ll want to loop the tag around the object in some fashion so that it is unlikely to fall off. In the above example of the Colt Navy Revolver, you could loop it around the trigger guard. For objects that don’t have an obvious way to loop the tag, you’ll have to get a bit more creative. You can tuck the tag inside the case of a tintype, loop it around a buttonhole, tuck it in the band of a hat, etc. It will vary from object to object. No matter what the object is and how difficult it is to find a way to secure the tag, do NOT tape, glue, or otherwise use adhesives to attach it. If you are working with small objects, maybe say, Minie balls, you may wish to keep them in a small Riker mount and then tag the mount or keep them in a small archival box with the tag inside the box. The most important thing to consider in all of this is that what we are doing does not have any permanent effect on the object.
This week our spotlight is on the Clark Swett Edwards Collection, a group of 25 letters written by Clark Swett Edwards throughout his service in the 5th Maine Infantry. Clark Swett Edwards helped form the regiment as a captain of company I, before being promoted to Major, then Lieutenant Colonel and Colonel, eventually being awarded the brevet rank of Brigadier General.
Clark Swett Edwards and Company I, 5th Maine Infantry
Clark Swett Edwards was born in 1824 to Enoch and Abigail (McLellan) Edwards. Prior the war he operated several trading businesses in Maine and married Maria Antoinette Mason, to whom he addressed many of his letters in our collection. At the start of the Civil War, Clark Swett Edwards began recruiting a company in his hometown of Bethel, Maine which became known as the “Bethel Rifle Guards.”
The Bethel Rifle Guards were then mustered in as Company I of the 5th Maine Infantry, with Clark Swett Edwards as their captain. Clark Swett Edwards’ brother, Bryce M. Edwards, also served as a private in company I.
Throughout his service, Clark Swett Edwards kept a close eye on the Company I and often lamented its ever dwindling numbers of the original enlisted men.
While his letters to his wife did not discuss the specifics of the many battles in which his regiment fought, he frequently shared with her small anecdotes of camp life, as he did in this letter from August 9, 1861:
“One little circumstance I thought I would write you. It is this. In Company F, a lady by the name of [ Mrs. Albion R.] Stewart came from Lewiston here to see her husband. He stood in his camp door night before last and the first he knew of it, she stood before him. They told me he stood like a ghost for a minute and then she fell into his arms. There were but few dry eyes around the camp for a few minutes. She is here yet. The quartermaster gave up his tent to them and they have it yet. She left Lewiston alone and came on here without his knowing it.”
Clark Swett Edwards as a Field Officer
Clark Swett Edwards was promoted to Major on August 28, 1862 and to Lieutenant Colonel on November 1, 1862. Despite this, he remembered his men from company I and kept a special interest in them. In a letter written December 28, 1862, about a month after his promotion to Lieutenant Colonel, he wrote about the situation of some of the men in company I and the problems with military bureaucracy:
“I will now write you the news of the camp. [Rufus Crockett] Penley of my old company died this morning of consumption here in our camp hospital. He was a fellow I enlisted in Portland when at Camp Preble. The poor fellow sent for me to come and see him a few moments before he breathed his last. He thanked me for my kindness to him while under my command and requested me to see that his folks received the pay due him from government. I took him by the hand and bid him a last farewell. It caused a tear to dim my sight but such is life. I think he has gone to a happier land than this. The poor man should have gone to his home in Portland months ago but this red tape and want of promptness of actions is fatal in many cases. I sometimes feel that great injustice is done to the poor soldiers in holding them when the surgeon knows he will never be of service to the government but it is the same as everything else. There is a lack in almost every department of energy. I have yet some discharged from Co. I since I left it and am making an effort for others which I hope will be successful. I feel sad at heart when I look back on my old company and think of what it once was but few are now in it that once filled its ranks. Some are discharged for disability; others are now sick in hospitals around Washington; some in convalescent camps; while others have gone to their last resting places among the dead. It is anything but pleasant for me to look back and I almost shudder when I look or reflect on the future. But I must drop this and look on the brought side.”
During this same time, Clark Swett Edwards’ brother, Bryce Edwards, was also sick in the hospital. After many months he would be discharged for disability as well.
On January 18, 1863, Clark Swett Edwards was worried about the future battle plans for his regiment and feared that they would be sacrificed in service of General Ambrose Burnside trying to regain ground lost after the Battle of Fredericksburg in December 1862. The offense, known as the “Mud March” was a failure and was General Burnside’s last major action as commander of the Army of the Potomac.
Sketch by Alfred Rudolph Waud of the Army of the Potomac near Falmouth, Virginia on January 21, 1863 via Wikimedia Commons.
Contributing to the march’s failure was the awful weather, which Clark Swett Edwards detailed in his letter, as well as his determination to do his duty despite his own misgivings:
“Last night it froze hard enough to bear my horse anywhere in the roads so you can judge how it is with the poor soldiers. And still the prospect is a fight soon. We are now under marching orders and I think it must be over the river but I dread the consequence as the army is disheartened. Burnside is bound to cross the river at this place and to retrieve his loss but all the generals are opposed to it so you can judge of our prospect. It is heart sickening, I can assure you. But I shall do my duty regardless of others, or at least I think I will now, but no one can tell till after the fight is over. I feel for others as well as myself. I know if a fight comes off now, that the wounded must suffer greatly, but then I will not borrow trouble as it comes soon enough. The sick of my regiment I sent away this morning to Aquia Creek but as the hospital tents were not ready to receive them, so they only went a mile or so and were sent back. I ordered to send them in the morning again but this moving the sick this cold weather is awful.”
Clark Swett Edwards Hopes for a Star
Towards the end of his service, both Clark Swett Edwards and his wife, Maria, were hopeful that he might receive a promotion to general, despite the long odds against them. The referred to this potential promotion as a “star” in reference to the uniform insignia.
On December 6, 1863, Clark Swett Edwards referenced his wife’s desire to see him promoted:
“ I know you are wishing to see me one peg higher but it will take some political influence to bring that about. But one thing sure, I will never be beholden to anyone at home for a promotion in the army. I know I have done enough to have a star, but there is to many Big men sons in the army for me to rise higher. I still see puff in the eastern papers for myself, some in the Bangor papers [and] also in the Massachusetts papers, but they will do now if I get no more. I presume you see a great many but not all.”
In a letter from January 27, 1864, Edwards was less optimistic:
“You speak of the Star. I am not expecting it. I learn there were six hundred names before Congress at this session and out of that number, five has been appointed—four for Black Regiments and one in the [Regular] Army. There is a great many Colonels whose commission dates from sixty-one while mine dates only back to sixty-three, so you see my prospects is poor. If I should get it, it would be for my exhibiting good conduct.”
Clark Swett Edwards mustered out with most of his regiment on July 27, 1864. The veterans of the regiment who stayed were transferred to the 7th Maine Infantry. On March 13, 1865, Edwards received a brevet promotion to brigadier general for gallantry in action. He died in his hometown of Bethel in 1904.
We’d like to thank William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his tireless work in sharing and transcribing these letters.
To access all of the Clark Swett Edwards Collection as well as thousands of other letters, photos, and other documents, sign up for a Research Arsenal membership here.
Looking for more spotlights on our collection? Check out the story of John L. Hebron of the 2nd Ohio Infantry or the letters of Alfred Washington Ellet, the commander of the US Ram Fleet.
Last week we looked at how to catalog your collection and the software available to do that. This week, we’re looking at how to set up a catalog numbering system and the kind of information we want to prioritize in our collections, whether it’s for our own personal reference, for other people to use after we’re gone, or insurance purposes.
Catalog Numbering Systems
If you’ve ever visited a library—I am assuming everyone has (if not, go to a library!) —you’ve no doubt seen a very prominent numbering system in use. The Dewey Decimal system allows libraries to organize and catalog books using a numeric code. Each prefix in the string of number indicates what subject matter the book relates to. Additionally, each call number has additional numbers indicating where the book falls in relation to that subject and author information. All of this is contained in a simple numerical code! The Dewey Decimal system dates back to 1876, and although it has been updated over the years, it is still in use in libraries today.
This chart shows the categories and numbers connected with the Dewey Decimal system.
If you visit a museum, you may see a similar string of numbers on various artifacts. Sometimes the numbers are also included on the signage within the exhibits. These catalog numbers are very similar to the call numbers on books in libraries, however, there is no standard in catalog numbers that is used by all museums. Typically, these numbers will be in a trinomial system, which each section representing a specific data point. For example, a catalog number of 2024.003.0001 would be broken down into: 2024 meaning the year the item was acquired, .003 indicating it was the third collection of items to be acquired, and finally, .0001 would mean that this object is the first item in the collection. For a museum that routinely acquires donations of materials this system works very well. For a private collector, who is acquiring items often one or two pieces at a time, this may not work as well, as the number of collections (middle number) in any given year could grow very large.
Therefore, it may be more reasonable to modify this number system and use the middle number to track the source on a market basis rather than by individual person. For example, using the same number 2024.003.0001, the first number would still represent the acquisition year, but .003 would now represent “eBay,” and .0001 would represent the first item purchased from eBay that year and added to the collection. In this system, you may have various numbers that would retain the same meaning regardless of the acquisition year.
2025.003.0013 would simply mean the item was acquired in 2025 from eBay and that it is the 13th item from eBay that year. Your additional secondary numbers could represent donations, garage sales, specific auction houses (Fleischer’s, etc.) you regularly purchase from, and individual people you regularly trade with, or from whom you have received a large collection.
.001= Donations/gifts
.002= Garage sales/flea markets
.003= Ebay
.004= Fleischer’s
.005= Joe Smith
Once you have this key, it is easy to add more numbers to it as you go if they are needed. If you start buying a lot of items from another auction house, for example, then you simply add that new venue in as .006. The rest of the system stays the same, as the first number is always the year of acquisition, and the last number is always the number of the individual item.
Here you can see a good example of a trinomial catalog numbering system on a museum artifact. This particular item is at the Huron County Museum. You can read more about this image and museum numbering here.
Is everyone still with me? I know this is a lot of numbers and may seem convoluted, but the nice thing about having a system like this is that it gives you a good amount of information by just glancing at a number. This is especially useful if you do not have a computer-based system and are looking up items by hand in a notebook or with an index card system. Knowing that the item you are trying to find was purchased on eBay in 2023 gives you the first two numbers and narrows your search. Likewise, if you are looking at an item in your collection and see the catalog number for it on a tag with it, you immediately know where you got it from and when. If you need some examples of what the secondary numbers can represent, take a look at the Research Arsenal database search page and select “Search by Source/Call Numbers” then select “11th OVC Archives” from the top drop down menu. Once you select a year, you’ll be able to select the secondary set of numbers and can see how those work to filter through collections on the database. We’ll go into how to tag objects and archives in the next post as that can get a bit more complicated.
Now, as an aside, there are situations where these numbers may change a little. Let’s say you have a Civil War letter and the corresponding envelope. Or a letter and the CDV the soldier sent home with it. Obviously, these two items are related, and they also came together. This is the key part—they CAME TOGETHER. From a catalog standpoint, these would be cataloged as a single item. The envelope is intrinsic to the letter—it was not mailed without the envelope; the envelope is part of the overall object. The CDV was mentioned in the letter and mailed with it, therefore, it became part of the object of the letter. In this case, there are a couple of options of how to handle this. You would use the same numbering system we discussed above with just a minor addition to indicate they are tied together. Personally, I use lower case letters, so the letter would be 2024.003.0012a, and the envelope would be 2024.003.0012b. I prefer lower case because at times a “B” can look like an “8” very easily depending on handwriting, and there are less issues of that with lower case letters. If you prefer to use strictly numbers, then you could structure it as: 2024.003.0012-1 and 2024.003.0012-2 or use only decimals with 2024.003.0012.1 and 2024.003.0012.2. This really just comes down to personal preference. To me, using extra numbers at the end makes it easy to not see a decimal point or a hyphen and then get .0012.1 confused with .00121. This is why I prefer using letters to indicate items that are tied together.
For our next blog post, I’ll discuss how to label your items with catalog numbers, now that we know how to create a system. In the meantime, go through your collections and determine what your secondary numbers might be. Find out where you’ve acquired a lot of your items and use that as a guide to create those prefixes. Once you have that, save that as a key and use it to reference and add more numbers to as your collection grows.
While serving in the 2nd Ohio Infantry, Company G, as a bugler, John L. Hebron wrote hundreds of letters home to his family. These letters offer a valuable insight into the mind of a Union soldier who served from September 1861 to October 1864 as well as the movements and actions of his regiment. The letters of the Hebron collection begin in September 1861 and continue through the end of August, 1864.
The 2nd Ohio Infantry in 1861
The 2nd Ohio Infantry was originally formed as a three-months regiment and mustered into service at the outbreak of the war in April, 1861. Although John Hebron did not serve in the three-months regiment, he enlisted in the three-years regiment on September 10, 1861.
John Hebron’s first letter to his family in the collection comes from Camp Dennison, Ohio, just one week after enlisting on the September 18, 1861. He assured them that his regiment had enough food and mentioned some of the other regiments passing through the camp:
“We have a good time of it down here. We had big bonfires down here last night. There was an Illinois Regiment come along hungry and we got them their supper. They were the 24th [Illinois]. Two regiments left here on Sunday for western Virginia — one zouave regiment and the 32nd Ohio.”
In early October, 1861, the regiment was engaged in battle for the first time at West Liberty, Kentucky. John L. Hebron wrote home about the skirmish to his mother:
“I now sit down to write you a few more lines after the war [battle] of West Liberty. We started from Camp Garrett Davis on Tuesday at 2 o’clock p.m. and marched all day and all night. Early in the morning we met the enemy about 200 strong. They fired first without doing any damage. Then we tore down a fence and got in a field and throwed a shell among them which scattered them in every direction. They all broke for the hills. Then we marched about a hundred yards and then throwed two shells into the town about a half mile distant. We thought there was more in the town. The inhabitants fled in all directions.
The cavalry went after the soldier secesh and killed 6 or 7 of them while they only wounded one of the cavalry — a lieutenant. One of our company received a flesh wound in the arm while another had a ball go through his coat on top of his shoulder. None of the rest of the companies had a bullet come near them. The secesh heard that we had only 75 men and they had an awful frolic on the head of it. They left blankets, their grub, and everything else. They thought they were going to take us right away but they was sold.”
John L. Hebron’s Animosity Toward General Don Carlos Buell
In the summer of 1862, the 2nd Ohio Infantry was serving under General Major Ormsby Mitchel whom John L. Hebron had grown to like along with the rest of his division. General Mitchel had recently captured Huntsville, Alabama, for the Union army and Hebron attributed jealousy over that success to General Don Carlos Buell coming down hard on the men of his division. In a letter from July 20, 1862, Hebron wrote:
“ I see the papers are giving Mitchel’s division thunder on all sides — something he don’t deserve at all. The whole division was down on him at one time but now they like him so much the better. I guess Old Buell didn’t like it because Mitchel got another star on his shoulder. The citizens around Huntsville made a poor mouth [complained] to Buell how Mitchel has used them and Buell is now giving them our rations and feeding us on half rations. Old Mitchel told them [the citizens] he wouldn’t allow the stores to open till his trains could go through to Shelbyville without being fired into and it was nobody but the citizens that done it. And they tried to burn the bridges and fired into the cars when they were full of soldiers every chance they could get. [In retaliation,] Old Mitchel burnt down some of their houses and the people in Huntsville will spit in a soldier’s face now. We all were down on Mitchel because we thought he was not hard enough on them but Old Buell won’t make much by feeding us on half rations for the hogs and sheep look very saucy at us and we have to shoot them for fear they will bite us for we know they are secesh. And [we] don’t like to leave them lay around to stink so we eat them.”
Two days later John L. Hebron had even harsher words for General Buell:
“Dave Laizure just came from Huntsville last night. He was shot through the foot above the big toe some 2 or 3 weeks ago but he has got able to walk now. He says that Buell is giving all the sugar and nearly all the other rations to the citizens and we are living on half rations. He says the negroes are going around with wheel barrows of flour and meat. He [says] the citizens are stepping around with their revolvers and knives and a guard can’t say a word to them. If the government don’t do something with Buell soon, some of our division will for he was shot at by one of the 10th Ohio and shot through the hand and there has been a good many threats made. I believe he is as bad as Old Jeff himself.”
Battle of Stones River
The battle of Stone River or Murfreesboro’ sketched by A.E. Mathews, 31st Regiment, O.V.I. via Wikimedia Commons.
The Battle of Stones River, also known as the Second Battle of Murfreesboro, was fought between December 31, 1862 and January 2, 1863. The Battle of Stones River resulted in a Union victory, high casualties on both sides, and the withdrawal of the Confederate forces under General Braxton Bragg.
During the battle, Lieutenant Colonel John Kell of the 2nd Ohio Infantry was killed and the regiment was credited with capturing the flag of the 30th Arkansas Infantry regiment. John L. Hebron was present for the first day of the battle and even helped to transport the 30th Arkansas flag, as he described in a letter to his mother after the battle:
“On the morning of the 31st [December], our division to the front or away back through some cedar bushes that was so thick you could hardly see 10 steps ahead of you. We went through them about ¼ of a mile and maneuvered there a few minutes and then fell back in order that we could get a better chance at them. We went about 400 yards from the woods and stopped and layed down as the rebs had followed us and were firing on us. On they came towards Terrill’s Battery which was at our right. Our regiment let them come till they was pretty close [and] then let them have it — and the Battery gave them grape and canister and just mowed them down. They dropped their flag and run like scared sheep.
It was while charging on us that [Lt.] Col. [John] Kell was killed and Waty Nichols, William Dunn, and Elijah Matlock was wounded. Somebody picked the [dropped] flag of the rebs up and gave it to Gen. Rousseau and Gen. Rousseau gave it to Major McCook for the 2nd [Ohio]. He said they took the flag. Major [Anson G.] McCook gave the flag to me and told me to keep it till the fight was over so I took the flag and put it in the ambulance and went to gathering of wounded for that is the musician’s job in battle.”
Conclusion
John L. Hebron and the 2nd Ohio Infantry went on to fight in many more battles including the Battle of Chickamauga as well as the Atlanta campaign. Miraculously, Hebron never received a single wound in battle and was mustered out on October 10, 1864, returning to his home in Ohio and remained in the state until his death in 1914.
With nearly 150 letters as well as photographs of John L. Hebron and his family, the collection is a fascinating and detailed look at one Ohio man’s service during the Civil War. We would like to extend a special thanks to William Griffing of Spared & Shared for his work in transcribing and sharing the letters.
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