In 1932, a dottering old man dressed in an old army uniform asked for quiet.
A crowd of well-wishers had gathered to celebrate his eightieth birthday. Everybody present, including the press, referred to him as Major John L. Clem, but wanted to be remembered as "the Drummer Boy of Shiloh."
Johnny Clem was one of the youngest soldiers of the Civil War. He was just ten years old when he served as a drummer boy for the Twenty-second Michigan Infantry.
The soldiers of Johnny's unit saw a little action in 1861, but it wasn't until the battle of Shiloh in early April of 1862 that they received their baptism by fire, and it just so happened that the young drummer boy got caught in the middle.
On April 6, Johnny's unit was caught off guard and was almost pushed into the Tennessee River. During the fighting a Union soldier dropped right at his feet, nailed by a sharpshooter. Ten-year-old Johnny picked up the dead man's rifle and drew a bead on a Rebel colonel who had failed to see the small lad with the big gun. In the next instant, the Confederate officer was on the ground. Johnny Clem had killed him with one shot.
The battle of Shiloh lasted two days and up to that time was the bloodiest conflagration that had ever been fought on the American continent. The North lost 13,000 men, while the South counted 10,700 casualties.
An account of the battle of Shiloh of course made the newspapers, and in every piece, the story of Johnny Clem's bravery was told. Soon the entire nation knew about him.
Johnny ended the war as a teen-age sergeant and sported a medal given to him by the secretary of the treasury. He remained in the army and retired at the age of sixty-five with the rank of major. When Clem died at the age of eighty-two, his military tombstone was inscribed with the usual information: name, regiment, company, and state, but in Johnny's case it also carried an epitaph: "Here lies the Drummer Boy of Shiloh." Now no one would forget.
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
A Blow to Southern Womanhood
The Sanctity of Womanhood:
Every southern male was taught to respect it, and when Yankees invaded their homeland during the Civil War, they fought for it almost as fiercely as they did to keep slavery. Then along came Captain John Dowdy. On Christmas Day, 1864, one woman put him to the test, and all of his fine upbringing couldn't save her life.
Captain Dowdy rode with Morgan's Raiders. He and his comrades raised such havoc in Tennessee and Kentucky that a $1,000 bounty was put on their heads. On September 4, 1864, Dowdy was encamped with the rest of the troopers about two miles outside of Greenville, Tennessee. General Morgan was headquartered in Greenville proper, at the Williams home. He thought he was safe there, but he had reckoned without Mrs. Williams, who had dollar signs in her eyes.
Captain Dowdy rode in to the Williams home at four o'clock in the morning to receive orders from the general for troop movements that day. Morgan sent a directive to the troops to be ready to move by 7 a.m. Dowdy saluted smartly and took his leave. He never saw his commander again.
At 6 o'clock over eighty Yankees came out of nowhere and surrounded the Williams home. The general grabbed his pants and boots and ran, still in his night clothes, into the garden to hide, but it was futile. His betrayer, yelled out, "There he goes," pointing to the shrubbery in which Morgan had secreted himself. His pursuers quickly found him and put several bullets in his chest.
Meanwhile, the camp was also attacked, and Captain Dowdy was captured and taken to an Ohio prison. He remained a prisoner of war for almost four months and managed to escape. After crossing the Ohio River, the captain rode through Kentucky and Tennessee. He was headed back to Greenville to settle a score.
On December 25, 1864, Captain Dowdy arrived at the Williams home. He didn't have to go to the house; he spotted Mrs. Williams coming up from the cow pen. With his arms folded, Dowdy blocked the path.
"Oh Captain Dowdy," a stunned Mrs. Williams exclaimed. Dowdy responded with a terse, "Correct Ma'm."
Sensing that she was in trouble, the woman cried out, "Captain, don't kill me. I'll give you a thousand dollars." Dowdy calmly replied, "If you have anything to say, you have five minutes to talk."
The shaken woman dropped to her knees, preferring at that point to address the Almighty. When the five minutes expired, so did Mrs. Williams. Captain Dowdy shot her at point blank range, killing her instantly. He picked her up and carried her to the front porch. After crossing her hands, he rode off without looking back.
Notwithstanding the fact that Captain Dowdy shot an unarmed woman in cold blood, chivalry remained alive for many years after. Women continued to be the objects of manly affections and respect, except for those rare instances when circumstances, such as Captain Dowdy faced, tore the mantle of virtue off the fairer sex, and they came tumbling down from their pedestal to a more level playing field.
Every southern male was taught to respect it, and when Yankees invaded their homeland during the Civil War, they fought for it almost as fiercely as they did to keep slavery. Then along came Captain John Dowdy. On Christmas Day, 1864, one woman put him to the test, and all of his fine upbringing couldn't save her life.
Captain Dowdy rode with Morgan's Raiders. He and his comrades raised such havoc in Tennessee and Kentucky that a $1,000 bounty was put on their heads. On September 4, 1864, Dowdy was encamped with the rest of the troopers about two miles outside of Greenville, Tennessee. General Morgan was headquartered in Greenville proper, at the Williams home. He thought he was safe there, but he had reckoned without Mrs. Williams, who had dollar signs in her eyes.
Captain Dowdy rode in to the Williams home at four o'clock in the morning to receive orders from the general for troop movements that day. Morgan sent a directive to the troops to be ready to move by 7 a.m. Dowdy saluted smartly and took his leave. He never saw his commander again.
At 6 o'clock over eighty Yankees came out of nowhere and surrounded the Williams home. The general grabbed his pants and boots and ran, still in his night clothes, into the garden to hide, but it was futile. His betrayer, yelled out, "There he goes," pointing to the shrubbery in which Morgan had secreted himself. His pursuers quickly found him and put several bullets in his chest.
Meanwhile, the camp was also attacked, and Captain Dowdy was captured and taken to an Ohio prison. He remained a prisoner of war for almost four months and managed to escape. After crossing the Ohio River, the captain rode through Kentucky and Tennessee. He was headed back to Greenville to settle a score.
On December 25, 1864, Captain Dowdy arrived at the Williams home. He didn't have to go to the house; he spotted Mrs. Williams coming up from the cow pen. With his arms folded, Dowdy blocked the path.
"Oh Captain Dowdy," a stunned Mrs. Williams exclaimed. Dowdy responded with a terse, "Correct Ma'm."
Sensing that she was in trouble, the woman cried out, "Captain, don't kill me. I'll give you a thousand dollars." Dowdy calmly replied, "If you have anything to say, you have five minutes to talk."
The shaken woman dropped to her knees, preferring at that point to address the Almighty. When the five minutes expired, so did Mrs. Williams. Captain Dowdy shot her at point blank range, killing her instantly. He picked her up and carried her to the front porch. After crossing her hands, he rode off without looking back.
Notwithstanding the fact that Captain Dowdy shot an unarmed woman in cold blood, chivalry remained alive for many years after. Women continued to be the objects of manly affections and respect, except for those rare instances when circumstances, such as Captain Dowdy faced, tore the mantle of virtue off the fairer sex, and they came tumbling down from their pedestal to a more level playing field.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Southern Charm from the Chamber Pot
Resistance to what Southerners called the War of Northern Aggression took many forms. In addition to armed conflict, the citizens of the South stood ready to show their contempt for the Union army in ways that were almost as vexatious as drawn swords, especially down in New Orleans.
By the summer of 1862, the Union Navy, under Admiral David G. Farragut, had made possible the occupation of New Orleans by General Benjamin F. Butler, who, in addition to holding the city, announced his determination to force its citizens to bend their knees to his occupying forces. Unfortunately for the general, that was easier said than done.
While Union soldiers were apparently safe to walk the streets of New Orleans, their flag could not go unattended. On June 7, 1862, one fellow by the name of Mumford decided to haul down the stars and stripes and cut the flag of the United States up into lapel stickers. This was too much for the general. He ordered Munford executed.
If Butler thought, however, that a hanging would elicit better manners from the Confederates, he was mistaken. Now it was the women's turn. The southern belles developed the habit of congregating on the hotel balconies dressed in all of their fineries. Whenever a Yankee soldier passed by, they would all whirl around and flirt out their skirts, causing one officer to comment that "Those women evidently know which end of them looks the best."
The greatest insult to northern dignity, however, was yet to come. On one occasion Admiral Farragut himself, walking to a dinner engagement, passed beneath the balcony of a hotel. Suddenly he was drenched in a downpour from above. Several women had emptied the contents of the hotel's slop jars directly on the heads of the admiral and his party.
Butler was livid and issued his famous General Order Number 28, which said that any female showing contempt for the United States shall be held liable to be treated as a woman of the night.
Butler always claimed that General Order Number 28 put an end to such loathsome expressions of contempt, but it was also noted that while performing patrol duty, the Union soldiers did so from the middle of the streets. They no longer seemed willing to subject themselves to the possibility of a vengeance from above, which often reeked to high heaven.
By the summer of 1862, the Union Navy, under Admiral David G. Farragut, had made possible the occupation of New Orleans by General Benjamin F. Butler, who, in addition to holding the city, announced his determination to force its citizens to bend their knees to his occupying forces. Unfortunately for the general, that was easier said than done.
While Union soldiers were apparently safe to walk the streets of New Orleans, their flag could not go unattended. On June 7, 1862, one fellow by the name of Mumford decided to haul down the stars and stripes and cut the flag of the United States up into lapel stickers. This was too much for the general. He ordered Munford executed.
If Butler thought, however, that a hanging would elicit better manners from the Confederates, he was mistaken. Now it was the women's turn. The southern belles developed the habit of congregating on the hotel balconies dressed in all of their fineries. Whenever a Yankee soldier passed by, they would all whirl around and flirt out their skirts, causing one officer to comment that "Those women evidently know which end of them looks the best."
The greatest insult to northern dignity, however, was yet to come. On one occasion Admiral Farragut himself, walking to a dinner engagement, passed beneath the balcony of a hotel. Suddenly he was drenched in a downpour from above. Several women had emptied the contents of the hotel's slop jars directly on the heads of the admiral and his party.
Butler was livid and issued his famous General Order Number 28, which said that any female showing contempt for the United States shall be held liable to be treated as a woman of the night.
Butler always claimed that General Order Number 28 put an end to such loathsome expressions of contempt, but it was also noted that while performing patrol duty, the Union soldiers did so from the middle of the streets. They no longer seemed willing to subject themselves to the possibility of a vengeance from above, which often reeked to high heaven.
From Bull Run to Appomattox
The American Civil War was a watershed in our nation's history. It redefined the character of the United States and sent the population of the South reeling, especially people like Wilmer McClean, who always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Wilmer McClean was one of the more prosperous residents of Manassas Junction, Virginia, in July of 1861, when the Northern and Southern armies began to gather around his place. His 1,400-acre plantation straddled Bull Run, so the Confederates occupied his house and used it as its headquarters in this, the first real, full-fledged battle of the Civil War.
After the first battle of Bull Run, McClean sold his farm and moved further west, out of the line of fire between the two contending armies. He assured his family that "the sounds of battle would never again reach them" in their new home.
In the meantime, battle followed battle: Chancellorsville, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and hundreds of others. For four years Billy Yank and Johnny Reb pounded each other, and as they did, they got closer and closer to Wilmer McClean 's new home.
Finally in April, of 1865, Lee's Army of Northern Virginia and Grant's Army of the Potomac faced each other, and where do you think they were? Somehow the center of this horrific conflict, which began at his Bull Run farm four years earlier, had sought McClean out and found him once more. The Union and Rebel forces were camped once again, almost in his front yard.
On April 9, 1865, General Robert E. Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant, and since they were so close, the combatants took over McClean's home once again---to agree upon and sign the terms of the capitulation. When he left his home on Bull Run to find that safe haven from the ravages of war, McClean settled near Appomattox Courthouse, never dreaming that he was jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
Wilmer McClean was one of the more prosperous residents of Manassas Junction, Virginia, in July of 1861, when the Northern and Southern armies began to gather around his place. His 1,400-acre plantation straddled Bull Run, so the Confederates occupied his house and used it as its headquarters in this, the first real, full-fledged battle of the Civil War.
After the first battle of Bull Run, McClean sold his farm and moved further west, out of the line of fire between the two contending armies. He assured his family that "the sounds of battle would never again reach them" in their new home.
In the meantime, battle followed battle: Chancellorsville, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and hundreds of others. For four years Billy Yank and Johnny Reb pounded each other, and as they did, they got closer and closer to Wilmer McClean 's new home.
Finally in April, of 1865, Lee's Army of Northern Virginia and Grant's Army of the Potomac faced each other, and where do you think they were? Somehow the center of this horrific conflict, which began at his Bull Run farm four years earlier, had sought McClean out and found him once more. The Union and Rebel forces were camped once again, almost in his front yard.
On April 9, 1865, General Robert E. Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant, and since they were so close, the combatants took over McClean's home once again---to agree upon and sign the terms of the capitulation. When he left his home on Bull Run to find that safe haven from the ravages of war, McClean settled near Appomattox Courthouse, never dreaming that he was jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
Dying for the Stars and Bars
Symbols---they can make one swell with pride, or wretch in disgust. Take that flap about flying the Confederate flag above the state house in South Carolina, for instance. That may have been the most recent fight over that symbol, but it won't be the last, and it certainly wasn't the first.
The guns had barely quieted at Fort Sumter when President Lincoln ordered that Alexandria, Virginia, just across the Potomac, be taken from the Rebel hands. After all, there staring him in the face each morning was the Confederate flag flying atop the Marshall House, and he wanted it taken down.
The soldier who was placed in charge of this detail was Colonel Elmer Ellsworth, one of the four soldiers who formed the president's body guard. Ellsworth's orders were simple. Take the town and remove that flag. the former was easy, but the latter had its price.
Ellsworth's troops landed early in the morning of May 24, 1861. There was no resistance, so the Colonel marched directly to the Marshall House, where the offending bit of bunting waved in the breeze. Flanked by a quartet of soldiers, Ellsworth climbed to the second story of the hotel unmolested.
From one of the top windows he clambered out onto the roof and cut the flag from its staff. With the emblem in hand, Ellsworth then made his way back to the stairs from which he intended to descend and make secure his occupation of Alexandria.
He had no more than reached the top step when from out of the shadows lurched an enraged Rebel who would not stand for such an abominable sacrilege as the desecration of the Confederate flag. He raised a gun to Ellsworth's heart and fired, killing him instantly. Needless to say, the assassin was quickly dispatched as well.
They brought Ellsworth to Washington where Lincoln mourned the fallen soldier, calling him the "greatest little man I ever met." In the meantime, the Confederate flag went back up on the Marshall House, but it flew in thousands of other places, and as recent events show, it still stirs the emotions of partisans, almost 140 years after that first forced removal of the stars and bars.
The guns had barely quieted at Fort Sumter when President Lincoln ordered that Alexandria, Virginia, just across the Potomac, be taken from the Rebel hands. After all, there staring him in the face each morning was the Confederate flag flying atop the Marshall House, and he wanted it taken down.
The soldier who was placed in charge of this detail was Colonel Elmer Ellsworth, one of the four soldiers who formed the president's body guard. Ellsworth's orders were simple. Take the town and remove that flag. the former was easy, but the latter had its price.
Ellsworth's troops landed early in the morning of May 24, 1861. There was no resistance, so the Colonel marched directly to the Marshall House, where the offending bit of bunting waved in the breeze. Flanked by a quartet of soldiers, Ellsworth climbed to the second story of the hotel unmolested.
From one of the top windows he clambered out onto the roof and cut the flag from its staff. With the emblem in hand, Ellsworth then made his way back to the stairs from which he intended to descend and make secure his occupation of Alexandria.
He had no more than reached the top step when from out of the shadows lurched an enraged Rebel who would not stand for such an abominable sacrilege as the desecration of the Confederate flag. He raised a gun to Ellsworth's heart and fired, killing him instantly. Needless to say, the assassin was quickly dispatched as well.
They brought Ellsworth to Washington where Lincoln mourned the fallen soldier, calling him the "greatest little man I ever met." In the meantime, the Confederate flag went back up on the Marshall House, but it flew in thousands of other places, and as recent events show, it still stirs the emotions of partisans, almost 140 years after that first forced removal of the stars and bars.
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Bible: True or False
1. The miracle of Gideon's fleece (Judges 6:36-40) is the most remarkable event in the Bible
that was announced by shepherds.
2. Faith, hope, charity, forbearance, and tolerance are five things to which we are commanded
in the Bible to hold fast.
3. The Ark of the Covenant contained only the staff of Moses.
4. A gentle and quiet spirit is the most beautiful ornament of a Christian woman, according to
1 Peter 3:3-4
5. "Jesus" is the one word in Scripture that is said to contain the whole law.
6. James compares the Word of God to a mirror.
7. Felix is an example of one stifling religious convictions.
8. Festus, the governor of Damascus, endeavored to take St. Paul and make him a prisoner.
9. The color of the sky in the morning is mentioned by Jesus as a sign of the coming rain.
10. Thirty pieces of silver was the value of the books burned at Ephesus by those who practiced
magic.
that was announced by shepherds.
2. Faith, hope, charity, forbearance, and tolerance are five things to which we are commanded
in the Bible to hold fast.
3. The Ark of the Covenant contained only the staff of Moses.
4. A gentle and quiet spirit is the most beautiful ornament of a Christian woman, according to
1 Peter 3:3-4
5. "Jesus" is the one word in Scripture that is said to contain the whole law.
6. James compares the Word of God to a mirror.
7. Felix is an example of one stifling religious convictions.
8. Festus, the governor of Damascus, endeavored to take St. Paul and make him a prisoner.
9. The color of the sky in the morning is mentioned by Jesus as a sign of the coming rain.
10. Thirty pieces of silver was the value of the books burned at Ephesus by those who practiced
magic.
Death by Friendly Fire at Fort Sumter
In 1861, The Confederate Army fired on Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor. As fate have it, the enemy commanders were well acquainted with one another, and this fact had fatal consequences for a private, Donald Hough.
Before the Rebels began their attack on Fort Sumter, General P.G.T. Beauregard sent a message out to Major Anderson, his old artillery instructor at West Point. The Confederate general, sure that he was going to be successful in taking the fort, informed Anderson that when the inevitable occurred, the Union commander would be given the opportunity to salute the Stars and Stripes before it was replaced with the Stars and Bars. With this understanding between the two former comrades, the ball began.
The Confederate batteries opened fire first, while Anderson and his troops remained sheltered in the covered casements, unable to do much damage to the Confederate gun positions. Finally, when it became obvious to everyone that the fort was going to fall, Anderson signaled his intention to surrender, but before he did, he was going to take advantage of his past relationship with his adversary.
So Anderson ordered his guns to make ready for the salute that Beauregard had promised. Halfway through the observance, however, one heavy gun exploded and killed Private Donald Hough instantly.
During that siege of Fort Sumter, not one soldier lost his life, but in this one act of military courtesy extended by Beauregard to Anderson as he was surrendering his position, Donald Hough was accidently killed by "friendly fire" and became the first man to die in a war that would see the deaths of more than 600,000 other men and boys. In retrospect, it seems a pity, at least for Hough, that his commanding officer was on such friendly terms with the enemy.
Before the Rebels began their attack on Fort Sumter, General P.G.T. Beauregard sent a message out to Major Anderson, his old artillery instructor at West Point. The Confederate general, sure that he was going to be successful in taking the fort, informed Anderson that when the inevitable occurred, the Union commander would be given the opportunity to salute the Stars and Stripes before it was replaced with the Stars and Bars. With this understanding between the two former comrades, the ball began.
The Confederate batteries opened fire first, while Anderson and his troops remained sheltered in the covered casements, unable to do much damage to the Confederate gun positions. Finally, when it became obvious to everyone that the fort was going to fall, Anderson signaled his intention to surrender, but before he did, he was going to take advantage of his past relationship with his adversary.
So Anderson ordered his guns to make ready for the salute that Beauregard had promised. Halfway through the observance, however, one heavy gun exploded and killed Private Donald Hough instantly.
During that siege of Fort Sumter, not one soldier lost his life, but in this one act of military courtesy extended by Beauregard to Anderson as he was surrendering his position, Donald Hough was accidently killed by "friendly fire" and became the first man to die in a war that would see the deaths of more than 600,000 other men and boys. In retrospect, it seems a pity, at least for Hough, that his commanding officer was on such friendly terms with the enemy.
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