BUT THE CALM did not last. All of Vicksburg was horrified to learn that the Yankees had burned Jackson and that they were laying waste to the countryside. Grant’s men seemed bent on total destruction. They tore up railroad tracks, pulled down telegraph lines, burned cotton fields—anything they could do to demoralize citizens and cripple the South’s ability to fight. They killed poultry and livestock; emptied crocks of molasses and vinegar; and burned homes, smokehouses, barns, stores, and warehouses. Horses, mules, oxen, carriages, and wagons were confiscated for the army’s use. In spite of orders to the contrary, many officers looked the other way when soldiers stole jewelry, china, and silver; slashed feather mattresses; and took clothing. Though army rules forbade it, some officers claimed valuable belongings for themselves.
Stories of looting and destruction spread quickly. The cry of “The Yankees are coming!” struck fear into every heart. Southerners thought these men must be cutthroat monsters, more animal than human. In fear of their lives, many people hid when the Yankees approached, leaving their valuables unguarded. A Union officer told of houses that were grand beyond description, and how the owners had run off, leaving his men to help themselves.
One young girl, whose family had fled Vicksburg to hide on a plantation, watched in fear as Yankee soldiers marched along the road. She saw that “their arms were filled with fine china, plates, dishes, and every kind of ware, which they had taken from the Blackman place adjoining our plantation. As they rode along they would throw these beautiful pieces to the ground just for the pastime of seeing them smashed to a thousand pieces.”
A Union soldier wrote home that he’d seen forty or fifty plantations burn in a single day. Before setting them afire, officers often quartered in them for one or more nights. General Grant himself was known to enter kitchens and order whoever still lived there to feed his officers. Usually it was only old people, women, and children who remained, for older boys and men were in the Confederate army. A few slaves continued to serve their owners, but most left the moment the Yankees appeared. It wasn’t just Union soldiers terrorizing the population. Blacks following the army did their share of looting and tried to carry their newfound treasures with them, even if it meant dragging along furniture, rugs, and featherbeds.
Southerners had to decide whether to stay and try to protect their property, or take what they could and flee. Many lost everything, regardless of which choice they made.
EVEN THOUGH THEY MISSED THEIR FATHER, who had stayed in Vicksburg to continue his ministry, Willie Lord and his sisters were happy at the Flowers plantation, deep in the countryside. They had plenty of space to play, and the plantation house was most interesting to explore.
But Mrs. Lord worried. She missed her husband and complained about being separated from him. When rumors reached the plantation that Yankees were in the area, she was convinced she and her children would be killed. “My mother was so constituted that when separated from those she loved, her imagination constantly drew the most painfully realistic pictures of possible disaster,” said Willie. Mr. Flowers tried to assure her that she and her children were safe where they were, but she sent word to her husband, begging to come home. Willie knew that his father was concerned about the impact that worry was having on her health, and he “reluctantly gave his consent to our return to the city.”
In the agricultural South, some plantation owners had thousands of acres of land, hundreds of slaves, and large, beautiful mansions. But most plantations were more like medium-sized farms, with fewer slaves and homes like the one shown here.
Soon preparations were in place. “On our return journey to Vicksburg we rode in state in the Flowers’ family carriage,” said Willie, “but left behind us, alas! the priceless library, our household bric-a-brac, and the greater part of my mother’s dainty wardrobe; all, by the courteous permission of our host, stored, safely, as we supposed, in the apartments we had occupied on the ground floor of the plantation mansion. As it happened, this was about the worst possible disposal of our treasures.”
The Lord family had just set out for Vicksburg when they received word that the Yankees had indeed arrived in the area and were burning and looting homes. What was meant to be a pleasant ride back home turned into a long and frightening journey, for they were fearful that at any moment the Yankees might catch them. Finally, with great relief, they came within sight of the city and soon reached their house. They found sleeping soldiers overflowing the church, and military wagons and artillery jamming the streets and filling the yard.
But they were home, and as long as Mrs. Lord had anything to say about it, they would not leave again.
FOR SEVERAL WEEKS, Lucy and her mother and brothers had been content in their country home near the little town of Bolton’s Depot. “My mother, so comfortably fixed … considered herself safe,” Lucy said. But that all changed when they learned that Bolton’s Depot was in the direct path of the Union army: “Suddenly one day,” remembered Lucy, “there flashed through the town the news, the Yankees are coming!” Fearing for her family’s lives, Indiana McRae determined that they must return immediately to Vicksburg. She hastily packed, ordering Rice to have the surrey and a wagon “ready to make an early start for Vicksburg tomorrow morning.”
When Rice asked what was going on, Lucy’s mother was reluctant to inform him, for she desperately needed his help and feared he would run away. When she did finally tell him, Lucy recalled, “I remember so well how the man almost rebelled, so anxious was he to get to the Federal army. I can see how fine and faithful he was to obey his mistress, when every fiber in his heart was crying out for that freedom.”
Rice loaded all the trunks and household possessions he could fit into the wagon. Everything else had to be left behind. Early the next morning they started out. Rice drove the wagon, while Lucy, her mother and brothers, and their other slave, Mary Ann, followed behind, crowded into a surrey.
For ten-year-old Lucy, their journey that day was the adventure of a lifetime. As frightened as she was, she was caught up in the drama unfolding before her eyes. “When we drove into the little village of Bolton’s Depot, all was confusion,” she related. “Confederate cavalry and infantry were grouped about. To my young eyes this was exciting beyond expression, and right close did we children huddle to mother as she sat in the surrey, driving as fast as our heavy loads permitted. She inquired as to news, and the reply that the Yankees were close on us caused her much alarm.
“Mother kept Rice ahead with his heavy load, and our progress was slow. I shall never forget how my heart would beat as they talked of the Yankees being so close behind us. I do not know what I thought they were, but it was certainly something very dreadful. We pushed on, being stopped here and there and questioned. When we reached the Joe Davis place, belonging to the brother of the President, we found the plantation deserted … In answer to our request for water, a negro woman told us she was looking for the army every minute. Mother said, ‘drive on, Rice,’ but Rice was not eager to go. Mother was constantly saying, ‘drive on, Rice, or they will catch us.’ On our journey we could hear the roaring of cannon, and afterwards knew it was the Battle of Champion’s Hill.”
After long hours on a road jammed with horses, wagons, and carriages also fleeing toward Vicksburg, they finally reached the city. According to Lucy, with great relief they found that “there were no pickets along the road, no guards to ask questions, and we drove right on into town.”
THE ROAD TO VICKSBURG
May 15-19, 1863
On May 15, Grant and most of his army departed Jackson, leaving the city in flames. Fred rode with his father. Everyone was tense, uncertain of what lay before them on the road to Vicksburg. The constant rain, the muddy roads, and the harsh hot sun slowed Grant’s army. Northerners who had been in Mississippi since the beginning of Grant’s campaign were becoming toughened to the heat and humidity, but newer troops, used to cool breezes, struggled to keep up.
The army stopped for the night, then was on
the road early the next morning when spies confirmed that Pemberton was moving eastward toward them with 22,000 men. Grant, heading west, had 30,000 men. Even with greater troop strength, he expected a tough fight against Pemberton. They had served together in the Mexican War, and Grant knew that Pemberton was smart, strong, and disciplined. “This I thought of all the time he was in Vicksburg and I outside of it; and I knew he would hold on to the last,” Grant later wrote.
Pemberton also knew a hard fight was ahead. His spies had reported Grant’s troop strength, and he immediately regretted having left 10,000 of his men behind in Vicksburg—something he had to do in case the Yankees attacked from the river. He had expected to meet up with General Joe Johnston and merge their two armies, knowing that together they would outnumber the Federals. But where was Old Joe? Pemberton had received no word from him since Johnston had abandoned Jackson several days earlier.
Pemberton had other problems as well. He and his generals disagreed on strategy for the upcoming battle. Also, because Pemberton was a Northerner, some of the troops did not trust his leadership. He was from Philadelphia, and two of his brothers were Union officers. His wealthy family had disowned him when he decided to fight for the South—a decision influenced by his beautiful young wife, Patty, who was from Virginia and was passionately pro-Confederate.
Fortunately for Pemberton, all his generals and their men were united in their determination to beat the Yankees, even if they had to do it without Joe Johnston’s help.
On May 16, Grant’s and Pemberton’s armies met halfway between Jackson and Vicksburg on a farm belonging to the Champion family and began lining up opposite each other. The land included a high hill that became the center of what would be known as the Battle of Champion’s Hill—the fiercest and most bloody battle of the Vicksburg campaign.
In the bloody Battle of Champion’s Hill, when soldiers ran out of ammunition, they fixed their bayonets and charged.
On that morning, Grant was in high spirits, confident the day would end in victory. He called out to his men that this was the day they would fight the battle that would win Vicksburg. On a signal from officers, the battle began. Cannon roared their opening volleys and the two sides charged each other, then regrouped and charged again. Generals usually stayed far enough behind the front lines to be out of the range of fire, but on this day Grant stayed close to the men, riding up and down the lines on his horse, shouting orders, and encouraging and inspiring his troops.
Fred witnessed his father’s bravery during a crucial moment. “Our line broke and was falling back when Father moved forward and rallied the men. He rode to all parts of the field, giving orders to the generals, and dispatching his staff in all directions.” Appreciative soldiers fought hard for their commander. Many later reported seeing him on the battlefield, and several commented on his humbleness and his encouragement to the men, who always cheered when they saw him.
Both sides gave their all. When they were the attackers, the Confederates often employed their famed Rebel yell, meant to terrorize the bluecoats. One Union soldier described it as sounding like 10,000 starving and howling wolves.
Pemberton and his officers kept watching for Joe Johnston to join the battle, but Johnston didn’t come. Finally, after a long and bloody day, the Union, with its superior numbers, forced the Confederates to withdraw in defeat.
NIGHT FELL. Bill Aspinwall, a Union soldier, had fought hard all day. He had been shot in the shoulder but could not get medical assistance because his injury was light compared to so many others. In pain and too exhausted to do anything more, he bedded down on a corner of the battlefield. Nearby lay a Confederate soldier who was severely wounded. Feeling sorry for him, Aspinwall offered to share his blanket, and the soldier accepted. Though they had fought against each other hours before, now they lay under the stars and talked. The Confederate was growing weaker. Fearful he would die, he gave Aspinwall a card with the address and names of his wife and children and asked him to let his family know what had happened to him. Aspinwall promised he would. He drifted off to sleep, and when he awoke, the Confederate was dead.
Aspinwall couldn’t write because of his shoulder injury, but he found another soldier who penned a letter to the Confederate’s wife. Then he made his way to a Confederate field hospital and gave the letter to an officer, who thanked him and said he would see that it was delivered.
Such acts of kindness were not uncommon. Grant later wrote, “While a battle is raging one can see his enemy mowed down by the thousand, or the ten thousand, with great composure; but after the battle these scenes are distressing, and one is naturally disposed to do as much to alleviate the suffering of an enemy as a friend.”
It had been a terrible day on both sides, with a combined estimate of over 8,000 men dead. In describing the Battle of Champion’s Hill, one soldier commented, “We killed each other as fast as we could.”
ALL THAT NIGHT AFTER THE BATTLE, Pemberton’s defeated soldiers retreated toward Vicksburg. When they got to the Big Black River bridge, twelve miles from the city, most of the army crossed on over. Because the hour was so late, the last 5,000 men, exhausted from their grueling day of battle, bedded down next to the river and slept behind a barricade of cotton bales. Many of them were injured, and all of them were demoralized. They were startled awake early the next morning to cries of alarm. As they pulled themselves to their feet, they learned that the Yankees had pursued them and were preparing to attack.
With their backs to the river, 5,000 Rebels faced 17,000 Federals. Suddenly, without waiting for anyone else, one of Grant’s officers gave the signal for his division to advance, and 1,500 Yankee bluecoats, their bayonets ready, surged forward across a field and through the waist-high water of a bayou, then charged directly into the Confederate lines.
The mayhem lasted only three minutes. Overwhelmed, the retreating Rebels swarmed across the Big Black’s bridge. Those who could not get to the bridge tried to swim the river, and many drowned. Another 1,700 were killed or captured before the Confederates could finally set fire to the bridge to stop the Yankee pursuit.
Fred was there and saw it all. When the Union troops charged the Confederate line, he recalled, “I became enthused with the spirit of the occasion, galloped across a cotton field, and went over the enemy’s works with our men.”
Fred was thrilled. The Confederates were in retreat. They were on the run! But at that very moment, as he savored this victory, his luck ran out. “Following the retreating Confederates to the Big Black, I was watching some of them swim the river,” he recalled, “when a sharpshooter on the opposite bank fired at me and hit me in the leg.”
With a cry of shock and pain, Fred fell to the ground. His leg was bleeding. Was this how his life would end? Bleeding to death on a battlefield? A moment later, one of Grant’s aides “came dashing up and asked what was the matter. I promptly said, ‘I am killed!’ Perhaps because I was only a boy, the colonel presumed to doubt my word and said, ‘Move your toes,’ which I did with success.
“He then recommended our hasty retreat. This we accomplished in good order.”
PEMBERTON’S BEATEN ARMY struggled back to Vicksburg with less than half of the 22,000 soldiers that had set out days earlier to meet the Yankees. At the Big Black River, Grant and Sherman put part of their men to work constructing three temporary bridges to replace the bridge the Confederates had burned. Other soldiers foraged for food and looted homes in the area. Sherman stopped to drink water from a well near a log cabin and learned that the property belonged to Jefferson Davis. The house had been plundered by his troops, and Sherman found a book on the ground that was a copy of the United States Constitution. It would become a prized souvenir, for he noticed to his amazement that on the title page was written the name of the owner: Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy.
That night, when the bridges were complete, Grant’s army began to move across the river. Sherman, an amateur artist, viewed the scene with a painter’s eye. He wrote,
“After dark, the whole scene was lit up with fires of pitch-pine. General Grant joined me there, as we sat on a log, looking at the passage of the troops by the lights of those fires; the bridge swayed to and fro under the passing feet, and made a fine war picture.”
Fred’s leg was attended to by a physician who removed the bullet and dressed the wound. Fred knew such an injury could be fatal if it became infected. The next day, he was still shaken from his experience and in pain from the wound, but he rode with his father and Sherman all the way to the bluffs north of Vicksburg. In the distance they could see the Mississippi River.
Grant felt Vicksburg was as good as taken. Very quickly he would silence the guns along the water, and the great Mississippi River would be completely in Federal hands. How could anyone doubt it? He had successfully transported his army south of Vicksburg. In the last eighteen days he had marched his men 200 miles into enemy territory and won five battles:
After Confederates burned the bridge over the Big Black River, Sherman’s engineers constructed a pontoon bridge similar to this one on the James River in Virginia.
Grant’s successes at Champion’s Hill and the Big Black River put him in position to attack Vicksburg only eighteen days after getting his army onto Mississippi soil.
Grand Gulf, Port Gibson, Raymond, Champion’s Hill, and the Big Black. He had defeated Pemberton, badly damaging and demoralizing the Rebel army.
Under Siege! Page 5
