War Crimes Against Southern Civilians Read online

  In December 1862, Butler was transferred and given command of the two-corps-strong Army of the James. Later it was discovered that several of the general's potentially incriminating record books had disappeared.' His replacement was Maj. Gen. Nathaniel Banks, who soon received a letter from Andrew Butler proffering a bribe of one hundred thousand dollars "if you will allow our commercial program to be carried out as projected previous to your arrival in this Department, giving the same support and facilities as your predecessor." Banks declined the offer, writing to his wife of the situation he inherited. "Our affairs have been terribly managed here. . . . Everybody connected with the government has been employed in stealing other people's property. Sugar, silver-plate, horses, carriages, everything they could lay hands on.... Our people must give up stealing, or give up their country, one or the other.

  During 1862 a number of Southern newspapers and individuals placed bounties on the head of General Butler,'' though he managed to escape justice. After the war his political career was crowned with election as governor of Massachusetts. Butler is distinguished, however, as the only Federal commander branded by the Confederate government as a criminal. For "repeated atrocities and outrages"-particularly his execution of Mumford-a declaration was issued in Richmond.

  Now, therefore, 1, Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederate States of America, and in their name, do pronounce and declare that the said Benjamin F. Butler to be a felon, deserving of capital punishment. I do order that he be no longer considered or treated simply as a public enemy of the Confederate States of America, but as an outlaw and common enemy of mankind, and that in the event of his capture the officer in command of the capturing force do cause him to be immediately executed by hanging.'4

  Chapter 8

  "Randolph Is Gone"

  Law and Order and Sherman

  For the next year and a half and beyond, the conflict waged across the fields, forests, swamps, and hamlets .. . split communities, districts, and families and set the fragments against each other. . . . Crops and houses were destroyed, as was anything of value that could not be carried or driven off. The ebb and flow of the ... conflict had everything to do with the rise and fall in fortune of the conventional armies of the two sides. Its mainstay, style of fighting, and option of immediate resort, however, was first and foremost guerrilla warfare.'

  A description of the Civil War behind the lines in Missouri or Tennessee? No, the author is describing the situation in South Carolina's backcountry during the American Revolution. Generations of Southerners had been raised on stories of gallant American partisans battling the British tyrants for their freedom and independence-and enduring atrocities from the likes of "Bloody" Banastre Tarleton. Daring men such as Francis Marion (the "Swamp Fox") and Thomas Sumter (the "Gamecock") became legendary heroes of the patriot cause, admired for their mastery of irregular warfare. It was not only in the South, but in the middle states as well, where partisan militia proved their value against British regulars and Hessian mercenaries. "Without these militia soldiers, and without Washington's exploitation of their capabilities," concluded one historian, "the leaders of the United States would have found it difficult to wage war for eight years against the military power of the British empire."2

  Patriots fighting the invaders from behind the lines, using hit-and-run tactics, this was the example of their Revolutionary War ancestors that Confederates quickly adapted to their own struggle for independence. United States authorities failed to see parallels between themselves and the British but would adopt measures to suppress the insurgency that surpassed the redcoats in brutality. That William Tecumseh Sherman was prominent in that effort a few incidents from the fall of 1862 will demonstrate.

  On September 23, Confederate guerrillas operating in an area controlled by the Union army tried to capture the steamboat Eugene as it docked at the Mississippi River town of Randolph, Tennessee. The effort failed, and apparently no one was injured. "Immediately I sent a regiment up with orders to destroy the place," reported Sherman three days later. "The regiment has returned and Randolph is gone."

  The following month Southern partisans armed with a twelve-pound howitzer fired from the Arkansas bank of the Mississippi, near Needham's Cut-off, just south of the Missouri state line. Their targets were the steamboats Continental and J.H. Dickey. In a protest letter to Confederate major general Thomas C. Hindman, Sherman claimed that no troops were on board, but in the same paragraph he admitted that "a reserve guard" was present and complained of being out of patience with "men who fire from ambush upon soldiers." Though Arkansas was outside his area of command, Sherman sent troops to the neighborhood to "expel ten families for each boat.""

  In a letter written to a civilian on October 22, Sherman expressed his rising anger over another incident of partisan rangers attacking his boats. "God himself has obliterated whole races from the face of the earth for sins less heinous," claimed the general. Federals would not "chase through the canebrakes and swamps" after those responsible, "but will visit punishment upon the adherents of that cause which employs such agents." That same day orders were issued for the destruction of buildings in neighborhoods used by guerrillas. Sherman concluded with these words: "The people at large should be made to feel that in the existence of a strong Government, capable of protecting as well as destroying, they have a real interest; that they must at once make up their minds or else be involved in the destruction that awaits armed rebellion against the nation's will."5

  "For Sherman, God had long ceased to be governor of this war," observed one scholar. "Sherman's religion was America, and America's God was a jealous God of law and order, such that all those who resisted were reprobates who deserved death."'

  Maj. Gen. William T. Sherman

  Hindman, in late September, wrote to Sherman about Lieutenant Tolleson, a captured Southern officer slated to be executed by Federals as a guerrilla. Hindman pointed out that Tolleson belonged to a cavalry company raised under Confederate authority and promised that a Wisconsin lieutenant held as a prisoner of war would be hanged in retaliation should Tolleson be harmed. Sherman replied at length, complaining of "guerrillas or partisan rangers without uniform, without organization except on paper, wandering about the country." Sherman maintained that captured guerrillas would only be executed after a fair trial, and only when that punishment was individually approved by the U.S. president. Having proclaimed his government's high standards of justice and resolute intentions, Sherman (and the Wisconsin lieutenant) escaped the dilemma with the announcement that Tolleson 117 "escaped last week through the negligence of a

  Writing from Jackson in November, Confederate lieutenant general John C. Pemberton brought up the murder of a civilian by Federals. William H. White of De Soto County, Mississippi, lived on the Hernando and Memphis plank road, thirteen miles from Memphis. On or about September 11, 1862, troopers of the Sixth Illinois Cavalry Regiment, assuming the young man was a partisan, shot him in the presence of his mother and wife. "White was not a Confederate soldier, not even a guerrilla, and some contend he was a good Union man," replied Sherman, admitting that "his killing was unfortunate." But to Sherman, White's death was the fault of Southerners themselves for having "torn to pieces the fabric of our Government so that such acts should ever occur." Furthermore, Sherman informed Pemberton, the killing was a civil issue, and "what shadow of right you have to inquire into the matter I don't see.""

  Meanwhile, in neighboring Marshall County, the work of the Union army went on. "The news from Holly Springs is that the last house in the town was burned night before last," an Illinois soldier wrote home. "Pretty rough, but I say, amen. It's pretty well understood in this army now that burning Rebel property is not much of a crime." From Waterford, Mississippi, he reported that his comrades were even stealing from blacks, "and many of them are learning to hate the Yankees as much as our `Southern Brethren' do." He continued, "The army is becoming awfully depraved. How the civilized home folks will ever be able to live
with them after the war, is, I think, something of a question. If we don't degenerate into a nation of thieves, 'twill not be for lack of the example set by a fair portion of our army."9

  Chapter 9

  "Their Houses Will Be Burned

  and the Men Shot"

  Tyranny in Tucker County

  On April 17, 1861, two days after Lincoln declared war on the Confederacy, Virginia's sovereignty convention called for secession, subject to approval by a popular vote set for May 23.' When that day came, Virginians, by a majority of 86 percent, voted to leave the Union. The tally in seventy-five counties was unanimous, or nearly so. The 14 percent of voters wishing to remain in the union was concentrated in the western portion of the state, but even there only eighteen counties failed to register a majority in favor of secession.'

  By summer of that year Federal forces had overrun the northwestern part of the state, and a Unionist rump regime was promptly put forward as "the Restored Government of Virginia." In October a referendum was held-with United States troops stationed at polling places to keep loyal Confederates from participating-that called for the creation of a breakaway state called West Virginia. The U.S. Constitution requires that before a new state is formed from an existing one the state effected grant its approval, so the "Restored Government" was called on to make the transaction legal. West Virginia would be admitted to the United States on June 20, 1863, retaining slavery, though committed to gradual emancipation. Fifty counties were chosen by Unionists for inclusion based on military, political, economic, and geographic considerations.' The will of the people was not consulted or considered. Half the counties within the boundaries of West Virginia had voted to abandon the Union in the May referendum." One of those counties was Tucker, where voters endorsed secession by a two-to-one margin.' In the fall of 1862 the people of that mountainous western county, now behind enemy lines, waited helplessly as their future was determined by outsiders.

  Their present master was a United States brigadier general by the name of Robert H. Milroy. Milroy, forty-six, was a native of Indiana, lawyer, veteran of the Mexican War, and for years a militant abolitionist.' Back home, his neighbors were aware of his temper. Only a year after joining the Rensselaer Presbyterian Church he was disciplined for "having resorted to unscriptural and unchristian means to avenge himself," but he promised to "refrain from similar acts of violence." Finally, his unorthodox beliefs led to suspension of church membership. Indianans knew him as a staunch Unionist, one of the first to call for volunteers to assist in "crushing out this rebellion."' In late November 1862, Milroy issued an edict that made his name well known North and South.

  Some Unionists in occupied western Virginia were suspected of selling their horses in Pennsylvania then of making reimbursement claims with Federal authorities back home on the grounds of having been robbed by "bands of guerrillas."' Milroy's solution was to begin assessing Tucker County citizens for these supposed losses. On November 27 and 28, between thirty and forty people were served with papers and required to appear before the general at his headquarters in the town of Saint George. Abraham Parsons was assessed $340.00, his son Job Parsons $14.25, and Adam Harper $285.00.9 Other amounts ranged as high as $700.00. All those "taxed" by Milroy had three days to pay, after which time he directed that "their houses will be burned and themselves shot and their property all seized." Milroy ordered his officers to "be sure that you carry out this threat rigidly and show them that you are not trifling or to be trifled with.""'

  In the same order to his subordinates, Milroy demanded that should civilians observe Confederate soldiers approaching a Federal camp, "they must dash in and give you notice." If noncombatants failed to perform as required, "their houses will be burned and the men shot.""

  Adam Harper, eighty-two years old and crippled, avoided Milroy's death penalty by paying the assessment. Abraham Parsons and others did the same. An estimated six thousand dollars was taken by Milroy from little Tucker County. Job Parsons, probably not a land owner himself and having less property to lose, rode away to join Confederate forces commanded by Col. John D. Imboden, operating nearby.

  The colonel dashed off a letter to Pres. Jefferson Davis, enclosing the summons that Milroy had served on Job Parsons. "This is only one of a thousand barbarities practiced here in these distant mountains," wrote Imboden to his commander in chief. "Oh for a day of retribution!"" Davis forwarded the letter to Robert E. Lee with instructions that he question Milroy's superiors, threatening "retaliation to repress the indulgence of such brutal passions" should Washington fail to respond."'

  Two days later additional Milroy edicts came to the attention of Richmond authorities. On December 20 the general ordered that all civilians under his command take an oath of allegiance to West Virginia (a state that did not yet exist) and to the United States. Those failing to do so would "forfeit all right to the protection" of his army. From Moorefield in Hardy County, a Milroy underling issued his own threatening pronunciamento the same day, adding that in addition to forfeiting "protection," the recalcitrant must provide supplies for his troops. Since he was defending "the only truly republican Government in the world, rebel sympathizers, aiders, and abettors, seeking its destruction, must be made to feel the strong arm of Government, whether found in arms against it or at home with their families."" The people of Hardy County, like those of Tucker, had voted in May 1861 to withdraw from the jurisdiction of that "strong arm of Government.""

  Milroy's actions could not have been unknown to his superiors. A copy of his infamous November order had been published on Christmas Eve 1862 by The Crisis, a Northern "peace Democrat" newspaper."' The General Assembly of Virginia branded Milroy an "outlaw" and offered one hundred thousand dollars for his capture. On January 10, 1863, Lee wrote to Maj. Gen. Henry Halleck in Washington, demanding an explanation for Milroy's threats of death and destruction. Should a response not be received in ten days, wrote Lee, the Confederate government "will be compelled to protect its citizens by the immediate adoption of stern retaliatory measures." Lee then penned a letter to his own secretary of war requesting that prisoners taken from Milroy's command not be exchanged, but be held for now as hostages.

  Halleck told Lee he would investigate the matter and that if Milroy's orders were to prove genuine, they were "disapproved." Halleck went on to boast that United States forces had "not only observed the modern laws and usages of war," but also had patiently refrained from exercising "severer rights." Confederates, Halleck claimed, had committed "innumerable violations of the rules of civilized warfare," and he closed his letter by condemning Lee's "unbecoming threats of barbarous retaliation."

  Halleck's disavowal of Milroy's orders took nearly two weeks to reach Tucker County. There would be no telegraphic communication to instantly put a stop to Milroy's confiscations and death threats. Lee's letter, with Halleck's comments, was forwarded to Headquarters, U.S. Eighth Army; from there to Headquarters, Defenses of the Upper Potomac; then to Headquarters, Cheat Mountain Division, where two weeks later Milroy could finally see it for himself. There was no promised investigation. Milroy was never reprimanded. Nothing else was said or done by Federal authorities.''

  Lee wrote his own letter to Imboden cautioning the colonel against any retaliation on Union sympathizers in his region of command."

  Chapter 10

  "The Best Government the

  World Ever Saw"

  Milroy Rules Winchester

  Winchester, in Frederick County, had a prewar population of 4,403, with nearly as many of her black residents free as slave.' In the May 1861 referendum on Virginia's secession, the coun112 Repeatedly invaded and then ty had voted 81 percent "yes. liberated during the first year and a half of war, on Christmas Eve 1862 began an occupation by Federals that would last for six long months.

  Their conqueror was Brig. Gen. Robert H. Milroy, Republican, abolitionist, and staunch foe of all enemies of the Union. Milroy was thrilled by what he called "the most important event in the history of t
he world since Christ was born"-his president's recent Emancipation Proclamation. "Our boast that this is a land of liberty has been a flaunting lie," the general told his men. "Henceforth it will be a veritable reality." Some of his troops were less enthusiastic. "I never intend to stay here and risk my life for these damned niggers," wrote a Pennsylvanian.

  Civilians under Milroy's sway certainly came to question the general's concept of "liberty." In a January 1863 letter to his wife, Milroy told her that "my will is absolute law-none dare contradict or dispute my slightest word or wish ... both male and female tremble when they come into my presence ... I feel a strong disposition to play the tyrant among these traitors."` Virginians had, after all, dared bear arms against-in Milroy's words-"the best government the world ever saw."4

  Maj. Gen. Robert H. Milroy

  Milroy ordered clerks to read all civilian mail, and if a word was detected that questioned the Union-or Milroy-the offending citizen could expect to be exiled. Exile or jail awaited anyone who might "insult" a blue-clad officer. When boys throwing snowballs accidentally hit one such officer, the child was arrested. It became an "illegal assembly" for as many as two people to meet publicly in Winchester. Cornelia McDonald recorded in her diary that "even the little school girls are dispersed if more than two stop to talk on the street on their way home." Another local diarist, Laura Lee, wrote that "Gen Milroy told a girl the other day, when she went to him to ask for a pass, that Hell was not full enough of rebels yet, and would not be until more of these Winchester women went there."5