War Crimes Against Southern Civilians Page 9

  One inmate, Rose McDonald, described her imprisonment as "a living death." "We slept on the bare floor without a pillow, blanket or bedding of any kind, and were never alone, for day and night an armed guard was with us.... After a time I sickened and lay for several days unnoticed on the bare floor, suffering from a scorching fever."'

  A notice appeared in the Journal, a call to Louisville citizens from the Commission for the Aid of Refugees, appealing for funds. "There are children of every age, some so attenuated as to be living skeletons, perishing for want of proper care," it read. Dozens of families crowded together, many were sick, and all needed "proper care and support.""

  Dr. Mary Edwards Walker was sent by the military authorities to provide that care. She was appointed "Surgeon in Charge" of the Louisville Female Military Prison hospital in late September.' "It was during my illness that I first saw the anomalous creature that was put over us for our sins," wrote McDonald. "If ever a fiend in human guise walked this earth it did it in that woman's body." A two-year-old, the child of a prisoner, sat at the top of stairs when Dr. Walker "came storming along," she remembered. "`Get out of my way, you little brat!' she cried, and kicked the little thing down the stairs."

  Some kind ladies of Louisville promised us a Christmas dinner, and every day we talked of it over our scanty means. At last the long wished-for day arrived, but we did by no means spend it as we had hoped, for the Doctor furnished each room with a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water and locked up the inmates for the day. She received the dinner and she alone knew what became of it.

  During Christmas morning some Confederate prisoners were marched past our window.... I and others waived [sic] our handkerchiefs to them. The Doctor saw us, consequently we spent the rest of that day in the dungeon.

  When an army inspector came, inmates complained about Dr. Walker and presented a statement of their grievances. There was no change, except that Walker found out about the protest. "She was like an insane person after that," said McDonald."'

  It became increasingly difficult to justify the incarceration of hundreds of women whose only crime had been that they worked for a living. Over a period of months, as the war wound down and Confederate armies surrendered, the women and children were released in small groups to find their way home.

  Chapter 15

  "Make It a Desolation "

  The Shelling of Atlanta

  "Let us destroy Atlanta and make it a desolation," said Sherman as Union shells rained down on that city. "One thing is certain, whether we get inside Atlanta or not, it will be a used up community by the time we are done with it."'

  After a two-month campaign through northern Georgia, by mid-July the Union army was camped outside Atlanta. Over the next three weeks Sherman's field artillery fired on the city. "A battery of twenty pieces is posted near my headquarters and is booming away night and day into Atlanta," one Federal officer wrote home. "in the night it is particularly noisy and Superintendent of the Atlanta gas works, Mr. Warner, was himself attempting to rest at eleven o'clock on the night of August 3 when one of those iron projectiles crashed into his home at the corner of Elliott and Rhodes Streets. Both his legs were severed by the missile and he died within two hours. Warner's six-year-old daughter was cut in two by the same shot. Elsewhere that day a man, his wife, and their daughter were killed by shell fragments. An unidentified woman died when shrapnel shattered the window of a train arriving from Macon. One lady, a refugee from Rome, was ironing clothes when a shell hit her directly, tearing her to pieces. Citizens soon began to dig pits and "bomb proofs" in their yards, and sandbags went up around some buildings. "I do not think there is a house in the city but what has had a shell or shot to fall or pass very near it," wrote a Southern newsman.' Little did he know that Atlanta's ordeal was only beginning.

  Sherman ordered heavy artillery be sent by rail from Chattanooga, "with which we can pick out almost any house in the town," he boasted. "Let me know if the 41/z-inch guns have come and where you will place them," he wrote Maj. Gen. George H. Thomas on August 8. "I would like to have them at work to-morrow."' Every Union gun within range of the city223 cannon of all size-opened fire on August 9. As many as five thousand rounds of shot and shell fell on Atlanta that one day, the heaviest bombardment ever inflicted on an American city. It went on day and night for another three weeks. Six members of one family were killed by a direct hit on their shelter.' A forty-two-pound shell crashed through the roof of the Presbyterian church on Marietta Street, penetrated the floor, and exploded in a basement Sunday School room crowded with those seeking shelter. Miraculously no one was killed, though a man lost his right arm.' Another shell hit the sidewalk on Alabama Street, mortally wounding black barber Solomon Luckie as he stood outside his shop.' One lady was killed instantly by an explosion on the street in front of the Express Office.' There seemed no end to the carnage. During the shelling, one surgeon reported having performed 107 amputations on men, women, and children.

  With thousands of shells and solid shot falling on the city every day, citizens tried to discern warning signs. Incoming shells with burning fuses might be observed as they fell-"like meteors or shooting stars"-but those with percussion caps gave only a brief whistle before suddenly exploding on impact.' Fires were sometimes started by the explosions, and incendiary shot were thrown into the city to ignite wooden structures. "We could see the thick volumes of smoke and then the lurid flames shooting along the horizon," wrote a reporter for the New York Herald. "We could also hear the fire bells ringing. Some of our batteries are pouring red hot shot on the town." Atlanta's volunteer firefighters braved the shelling to battle flames, well aware that Federal gunners would increase their rate of fire any time they observed the glow from a new conflagration."'

  Most Confederate troops were engaged in parrying Federal advances or manning the trenches outside Atlanta during the bombardment. Of course, Southern soldiers might be found on the streets of the city they were defending as they redeployed, transported supplies, or perhaps were taken to a hospital. But enemy troops were not the target of Sherman's indiscriminate shelling of Atlanta's homes, businesses, and churches. Clearly, terror was his objective.

  An Indiana doctor serving in Sherman's army toured Atlanta after its evacuation.

  I had often heard of the terrors of a bombardment of a crowded city but I never realized it before. Houses were shattered and torn in every shape that can be imagined, some utterly destroyed and some but little injured. Some had shell through the doors, some places the shell had burst inside of a house and torn it all to pieces....

  I would not for a great deal have missed that ride through Atlanta [concluded the Hoosier]. It almost paid me for the whole campaign."

  "You defended Atlanta on a line so close to town that every cannon-shot ... that overshot their mark, went into the habitations of women and children," wrote Sherman to Gen. John Bell Hood only weeks later,' blaming the Confederate commander for his own deliberate shelling of civilians.

  Chapter 16

  "As Captors, We Have a Right to It"

  The Forced Evacuation

  of Atlanta

  As soon as Sherman occupied Atlanta in September 1864 he, in his own words, "at once set about a measure already ordered, of which I had thought much and long, viz., to remove the entire civil population, and to deny to all civilians from the rear the expected profits of civil trade. Hundreds of sutlers and traders were waiting at Nashville and Chattanooga, greedy to reach Atlanta with their wares and goods, with which to drive a profitable trade with the inhabitants."'

  Sherman had long distrusted entrepreneurs who followed his army-especially when they happened to be Jews. In July 1862 he stopped all cotton trading in Memphis carried on by "Jews and speculators." He was not alone in his bigotry. While Sherman complained of what he called "swarms of Jews,"' Maj. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant issued orders banning "speculators coming South," adding that "Jews should receive special attention." In December, Grant went even further, exp
elling "Jews, as a class," from his Department of the Tennessee.'

  But Sherman had additional motives for depopulating Atlanta. With no civilians left, the place would be easier for him to fortify. More importantly, he did not want the responsibility of caring for "a poor population" while "listening to [their] everlasting complaints and special grievances." In his view, Atlanta no longer belonged to those who lived there. "As captors, we have a right to it." And forcing the residents of Atlanta from their city would send a message to other Confederates fighting for their homes. "I knew that the people of the South would read in this measure two important conclusions," said the general, "one, that, we were in earnest; and the other, if they were sincere in their common and popular clamor `to die in the last ditch' that the opportunity would soon come."4

  On September 7, Sherman sent a letter to Gen. John Bell Hood, commander of the Confederate Army of Tennessee. "I have deemed it to the interest of the United States that the citizens now residing in Atlanta should remove, those who prefer it to go south, and the rest north." A truce was proposed, during which those civilians forced to refugee south would be transported to the care of Confederates at the village of Rough and Ready in Clayton County. "I do not consider that I have any alternative in this matter," Hood responded, agreeing to the terms, though, "In the name of God and humanity, I protest."

  Sherman exploded in anger. In another letter to Hood he accused Southerners of starting the war, seizing forts, and making prisoners of "the very garrisons sent to protect your people against Negroes and Indians." Hood took up the challenge, replying in a long letter to Sherman that countered each of his arguments, holding that Southern "masters, slaves, and Indians ... with a unanimity unexampled in the history of the world, [are] warring against your attempts to become their masters."

  When Atlanta's mayor asked Sherman to reconsider his plan in light of the suffering forced evacuation would cause, the general was adamant. His order was "not designed to meet the humanities of the case," but to further military goals. "War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it.... you cannot have peace and a division of our country.... The United States does and must assert its authority, wherever it once had power; for, if it relaxes one bit to pressure, it is gone." Sherman's superiors in Washington agreed with his action. "The course which you have pursued in removing rebel families from Atlanta," wrote chief of staff Henry Halleck, "is fully approved by the War Department."5

  Many Atlanta families had already fled the city, a few now opted to go north, and some managed to stay despite the order. A total of 1,644 adults, children, and servants officially registered to board Union railroad cars for the journey south to Rough and Ready, though the actual number involved was probably greater.'

  The Braumuller family was one of those that decided to head north, to Nashville, in search of family. Mrs. Braumuller's son described their departure from Atlanta, which took place under the supervision of Union troops. "Each family could have a fourth of a box car, they said. Freight cars were very small, not much larger than a wagon. Mother decided that she would try to save two pianos we had in the house, for these would be easier to convert into ready cash." She begged that she might have a whole car to move the pianos, admitting there was no use trying to save any of her other possessions. "The officers took the hint and provided the car, sending men to help move the bulky music boxes. By letting her go with them, the men could help themselves to the other valuables without any questions being asked."

  Another witness, Mary Gay, saw wagonloads of expensive furniture stolen by Federals being transferred to rail cars for shipment

  Atlantans fleeing south were also victimized. Crowds waiting for cars were told that theirs would be the last train out of Atlanta, but for a sufficient price a place might yet be found for them. Some paid as much as two hundred dollars-perhaps all they had-for their "free" ticket. Another ruse was to allow only part of a family to board before demanding the bribe, since everyone feared separation from loved ones. One Federal officer, identified only as "Captain S.," assured those departing that he would protect property left behind-only to sell it as soon as the train pulled out. This captain promised one woman that he would move into her empty house to keep an eye on its contents. The stolen furniture was quickly on a train headed north.

  A reporter from the New York Times was saddened by the sight of those waiting at the train depot, exiles who "cast many a long lingering look at their once happy home, which they were now about to abandon, perhaps forever.""

  Northern soldiers were approached by women trying to barter vegetables and even wild grapes they had gathered. "They will not take money but want bread or flour or meat," wrote an Indiana doctor. "They say that money would be worthless to them as there is no place that they would be able to buy anything with it. They tell some pitiful stories of starving children, and the worst is that they are true.""

  One refugee saw "aged grandmothers upon the verge of the grave, tender girls in the first bloom of young womanhood, and little babes not three days old in the arms of sick mothers," all homeless now and "thrown out upon the cold charity of the world.""'

  Sherman commandeered a house on Court House Square for his headquarters. With Atlanta now largely rid of its homeowners, other officers took what houses they wanted. Enlisted men had to content themselves with dismantling buildings and using the lumber to build shelters in squares and public parks. "The African Methodist Episcopal Church, built by the colored people with their hard earnings, was also demolished by our soldiers," reported a Northerner. The army's horses roamed city cemeteries."

  Chapter 17

  "Plundering Dreadfully

  from All Accounts"

  Hunter in the Shenandoah

  Maj. Gen. David Hunter, though a West Point graduate and professional soldier, demonstrated little ability as a Union military commander during the first two years of war. In late spring 1864 he launched a raid on Virginia's agriculturally productive Shenandoah Valley that proved beyond a doubt he was more than competent when combating unarmed civilians.

  On May 24, at the beginning of the operation, near Newtown a Federal wagon train loaded with supplies was captured by Confederate guerrillas under the command of Maj. Harry Gilmor,' and at least one U.S. Army sergeant was wounded. Hunter was furious, ordering the torching of houses in the neighborhood where his loss had occurred. "In case a train or a man is fired on by anyone behind our lines," wrote a member of his staff, "houses of Secessionists and their property are to be burned without mercy." One of the homes torched belonged to Rev. J. Wolff, admitted by the staff officer to be "a worthy, upright man." Another residence was rented by a Mrs. Wilson. Charged with "feeding and harboring" Confederates, she was arrested and her possessions were destroyed. Other homes along the route of the advancing army were burned if they were the suspected meeting places for Confederate guerrillas or near locations Federals had suffered casualties at their

  Hunter also ordered that "secession sympathizers" within a radius of ten miles from where army supplies were lost be made to pay "five times the value of such property." His troops were ordered to "seize and hold in close military custody the persons assessed until such payment shall have been made."'

  It was dangerous, too, for civilians to give inaccurate information to their enemy, as reported by one on Hunter's staff. "The General asked me to go into Woodstock to ascertain who the parties were that attempted to confuse our scouts yesterday as he wished to burn a few houses.""

  At Harrisonburg, the newspaper was immediately targeted by the invaders. "The office of the Rockingham Register was gutted," reported the same officer, "the press broken up, and the debris burned in the street, the rain falling on the heap of ashes."5

  Confederate lieutenant colonel John S. Mosby had his own way of dealing with U.S. Army house burners who could be individually and positively identified. One such arsonist was led to the ruins of the home he was responsible for torching and there executed. "Shot for house-burning," read the pl
acard placed on his back. "Mosby, then dispatched a letter to the Federal commander in the Valley," remembered one of his partisans, "which contained an account of this transaction, and a declaration that he would continue to have all house-burners executed who might fall into his hands."" It did no good.

  Hunter's soldiers entered Staunton on Monday, June 6, and "are plundering dreadfully from all accounts," wrote an officer.' The town would be occupied by Federals then liberated by Confederates twice over the next four days. While in possession of Staunton, Yankees burned the carriage factory, shoe factory, and stables; plundered stores; and pillaged homes. They invaded the office and smashed the press of the Vindicator. Staunton's other newspaper, the Spectator, suffered a similar fate, its type being scattered on the street. The city's firefighting equipment was destroyed. Estimates for damage done within the city limits would run as high as one million dollars.

  Mayor N. K. Trout was arrested, as was city councilman B. F. Points-the latter jailed for expressing amusement at Hunter's precipitous retreat the day before. George W. Fuller was accused of being a "spy" because he delivered letters to Southern soldiers." The troops of "Hen-roost Hunter," wrote the editor of the Vindicator a month later, "robbed the man of means and widow with her mite of whatever their larder contained.... Some two or three who had been suspected of sympathizing with the enemy and who, report says, claimed protection on this account, suffered as did others, their unionism not being able `to save their bacon.