June 17th.
Yesterday, and day before, boats were constantly arriving and troops embarking from here, destined for Vicksburg. There will be another fight, and of course it will fall. I wish Will was out of it; I don’t want him to die. I got the kindest, sweetest letter from Will when Miriam came from Greenwell. It was given to her by a guerrilla on the road who asked if she was not Miss Sarah Morgan.
Tuesday, 17th—It is very hot. Nothing of importance.
June 17 — To-day I went on the field where we fought on the 6th, and saw the very spot where our lamented Ashby fell.
To Mrs. Lyon.
Camp near Clear Creek, Miss., Tuesday, June 17, 186:2.—I went over to the 16th Regiment, which is located near Corinth, about four miles from here, and stayed all night with Sperry. He is perfectly healthy, and fleshier than I ever saw him. He expects every day to receive his commission as 2d Lieutenant from April 29th. His pay will be $105 per month from that date instead of $20, which he received before. He stands a chance of being Captain within sixty days. I also saw Colonel Bouck, of the 18th. Neither of these regiments can turn out two hundred well men. They have not been in any fight since the battle of Shiloh.
17th. Wrote to Brockway. Part of the Missouri expedition returned with a load of bacon. Tired horses and men. Issued some.
[Battle of Secessionville on James Island]
(To John Adams)
Headquarters 2d Division, James Island, June 17th, 1862.
My dear Uncle:
I write to impose a solemn duty upon you, which involves the lives of thousands of brave men.
Brig.-Gen. Benham is a native of the State of Conn., and I understand it is to his native state he owes his present position. There is only one way for the State to atone for so fatal a blunder — only one way to wipe out the obloquy the State deserves at putting such a man in power — and that is to give its weight to his immediate removal. Let there be no mercy shown to one who shows no mercy. He must be crushed at once, or we are all lost, and even as it is, God only knows whether his folly may not involve us in destruction before any action can be taken. I will not enumerate half the examples of imbecility he has shown, or the wickedness of which he has been guilty. The last act is too real. His folly has culminated in one damning enterprise which must make him eternally infamous.
You will learn from the steamer conveying this, of the shocking battle of the 16th. There will be a struggle to suppress the truth, to call fair names, and to shift the responsibility, but the blood of the murdered men cries out for vengeance. This is no rhetoric. It is solemn truth. The ill-fated enterprise to this island has been characterized by the grossest mismanagement, and the men — poor dumb creatures — have had to suffer privation, exposure, and death, where no excuse can be pleaded in extenuation.
On the night of the 15th, Genl. Benham assembled his officers in council. Generals Wright, Stevens and Williams were present. He unfolded to them his plan of taking the Enemy’s Battery by storm. It was in vain that the other officers entered their earnest protest against a needless work of slaughter. It was useless to suggest that his object could be effected in other ways. His decree was absolute that the work must be stormed in front — and for what? Because visions of another Donelson or Newberne had smothered in his breast every sentiment of mercy. A success would be but little gain to the country, but the éclat might make Benham a Major General. Men might die to win a needless victory, could only his foolish vanity be gratified.
His orders were obeyed, and the next morning’s work attests their folly. But even then all might not have been lost, had not his conduct in the field been marked by weakness, vacillation, and imbecility.
When the action was over, Genl. Benham tried to say that it was only a reconnoissance. If this be so, then let us have a General in command who can reconnoitre without the sacrifice of an eighth of the force engaged. 700 killed, wounded, and missing! Let the dead who died nobly have a voice, I say. Let the wounded lying on their beds of pain, plead their sufferings. Let those who lie in the prison houses of the enemy cry all shame, shame to a General who makes such a reconnoissance! We are growing weary of patriotism. We, who would have liked to have died to show our love to our country, begin to sicken at the thought our country loves us so little as to leave our fate to the control of a man already branded … It is as true as Holy Writ that our bravest men will never fight again with Benham in command.
Don’t be deceived by printed reports of what took place on the 16th. It was a terribly disastrous affair, and remember the author of it.
I wish the public safety would allow me to publish to all what I write you. I do not fear the consequences if it be shown boldly to Benham himself. But I beg of you to do what you can in this matter. Press it with Governor Buckingham. Get Dr. Grant to help you. Let the influential men help you, and for God’s sake act quick, or the army here is sacrificed, and we will begin to investigate too late.
I remain,
Affec’y. but sadly, Your nephew,
W. T. Lusk,
Capt. & A. D. C.
From Wikipedia:
(In June 1862), the (Federal) Army of the Southwest under Major General Samuel R. Curtis had been operating in the interior of Arkansas. Curtis believed that Confederate forces of the Trans-Mississippi Department were gathering to attack him. Fearing that he would be cut off, he requested that communications be established between his army and that on the Mississippi River. Either the Arkansas River or the White River would have served his purposes, but the Arkansas was too low for water transport, so an expedition was sent up the White River with intent to give Curtis the aid he had asked for. A single regiment, the 46th Indiana Volunteers, embarked in army transports; they were accompanied by two armored gunboats, Mound City and St. Louis, two unarmored gunboats, and an armed tug. On 13 June, the expedition entered the White River and proceeded uneventfully upstream for four more days.
With intent only to slow down the progress of the Union vessels and not to make a determined stand, the Confederates had set up a pair of batteries on the bluffs near St. Charles, Arkansas, some 80 miles (130 km) above the river mouth. The guns were taken from a gunboat which they had then scuttled in the middle of the stream as a further impediment. On 18 17 June, the Federal flotilla arrived at that point; the soldiers went ashore to attack the batteries from the land side, while the two armored gunboats came up the river, Mound City leading. Shots were exchanged between the gunboats and the shore batteries, with nothing exceptional until a chance shot from the upper battery happened to penetrate the casemate of the lead gunboat. The shot killed some men in its passage, but most of the damage it caused occurred when it hit the vessel’s steam drum. Hot steam immediately filled the entire boat, killing and scalding most of the crew. Those who could do so jumped overboard into the river, where Rebel sharpshooters shot them as they tried to swim to safety. By the time the carnage was over, 125 men were dead by the first shot, scalding, drowning, or being shot in the water. An additional 25 were injured by the steam. Among the wounded was Commander Kilty, who survived and later returned to service in the Navy, although he lost his left arm. Only 25 men of the entire crew escaped without major injury. Meanwhile, the soldiers had moved into position to assault the batteries, so the Confederates fled, leaving their wounded and their guns behind.
Despite the almost complete loss of her crew, Mound City had suffered only inconsequential damage that could soon be repaired. First Master John A. Duble of the gunboat Conestoga took temporary command in place of Commander Kilty. Replacements for the crew were taken from other vessels in the expedition, and they went on for another 65 miles (105 km). They then turned back without meeting the Army of the Southwest. Soon enough Curtis was able to move his army to Helena, Arkansas, where he was able to reestablish his communications without the support of the Gunboat Flotilla.
From Department of the Navy Naval History Center:
This action between Federal gunboats and Confederate shore batteries took place on 17 June 1862. USS Mound City was disabled by a shot that penetrated her steam drum, causing heavy casualties among her crew. Other U.S. ships present were the ironclad Saint Louis (seen in the right foreground) and “timberclads” Lexington and Conestoga. The gunboat in left center is one of the “timberclads.”
June 17th. Weather very threatening to-day. About 3 P. M. it became almost dark, but immediately afterwards cleared up without rain or wind; very curious. The firing on the picket line, always continuous; to-day it has been unusually severe, resulting in the death of a great many men, without advantage to either side. Colonel Zook was detailed this morning for twenty-four hours as general officer of the day in charge of picket lines. He took off his shoulder straps and wore ordinary soldier clothes in accordance with orders, as every officer exposing himself is sure to be shot. The works are finished in our front, and are strong and handsome and can never be taken by direct attack, that is certain. Everybody is joking now about “on to Richmond.” These works don’t look much like advancing, and from that point of view are a mistake. I forget whether I ever mentioned the best of all, camp beds. We never think now of using any other, and it is worth noting, even at the risk of doing so twice. Seth gets a barrel from the commissary department, takes off the hoops and loosens the staves; then he drives four crotches into the ground about five feet apart lengthways, and two feet across; places two long poles parallel to each other, resting on the crotches, and lays the barrel staves across them, when the bed is complete. We have two in our tents, covered with red blankets, which look very fine. Inverted cracker boxes, placed on sticks driven in the ground, make the best of tables, and are always to be had for the asking. Received letters and newspapers from home; how much pleasure it gives one to hear from civilization. Here there is nothing but pine trees and sand, not even a ditch or spring to relieve the dull monotony; where there is no water I soon grow dull and stupid. Made out to-day a record of the Fifty-seventh, from the date of its organization, for the War Department. Towards evening the enemy opened all his guns, and a lively bombardment followed; our guns replied, and the row was tremendous. The skirmish line increased its fire so earnestly, we thought certainly this time something was up; at 9 o’clock P. M. we were ordered to fall in, and soon afterwards marched to the works and stacked arms, just in rear of the breastworks manned by Burn’s brigade. The air was alive above us with shells, screeching and howling in their rapid flight. They all went over us and think did no harm to anybody. Remained all night, and at 6 A. M. returned to camp and went to sleep.
Abby Howland Woolsey to her brother.
8 Brevoort Place, June 17th.
My dear Charley: We had just been reading in the Times about the scare at White House when Georgy’s letter arrived. We have read it aloud over the breakfast table, and are now going to enclose it to Mary and Carry at Astoria, that they, too, may have the private version of the affair. It was a bold and very clever dash of the rebels; just what might have been expected, however. They are up to all sorts of thievish, daring things. . . . It would not have been out of place for you all to have been much more frightened than you profess to have been. Georgy’s letter, in fact, we presume, was prepared for home consumption. She always tries to “draw it mild” for our benefit ; is always having a lazy, lovely good time, perfectly well, and in the best of spirits, and as to the scenes of suffering about her, not caring a bit ; has to pinch herself, I dare say, to see that she isn’t stone—thinks she “hasn’t any heart,” etc., etc. Tell her, of course she hasn’t, or won’t have soon—it’s ossifying, that, or something kindred, is what all surgeons die of—suppressed emotion. Tell her we insist on her coming home for a few weeks; now that you are with Eliza, she has not that excuse for staying.—Eliza, of course, we cannot induce to leave, it would be useless to try. Tell Georgy her known imprudence in overdoing herself, her known obstinacy about precautionary and remedial measures, impel me to insist on her taking a northern trip and a little rest just now. . . . Mrs. Gibbons goes back to her Winchester hospital next Monday. I am going up to see her, hear some of her tales and offer what supplies we have on hand. She and her party were obliged to fly for their lives when the rebels drove Banks out, lost on the way their three trunks, containing all their clothing, and Mrs. G. was without a bonnet. They have been very busy sewing up a new outfit, and I hope won’t be interfered with again, though Jackson threatens another raid up the valley with 70,000 men as soon as the harvests are ripe. . . . I have saved our only piece of news till the last—the engagement of Pussy Wheeler; make Georgy guess who to. . . . It is Dr. Ceccarini, the Italian oculist, an accomplished man and skillful surgeon. . . . Mother says, “Tell Charley how glad I am always to get his letters, and tell him that when he cautions Georgy on the subject of health, to be sure to be prudent himself.” You are in a most useful and important place, and we would all rather have you there than in any part of our army.
June 17. [Okolona, Mississippi] —Last evening Judge Thornton heard that his wounded son would be up by the evening train. He, Miss G., and myself went down to the train, but he was not there. As we were going down a guard stopped us; he said the ladies could pass, but not Judge T; and as we could not go without him we were in quite a dilemma. The guard put us all right by telling Judge T. to go off the road, and round a tree which was near, as he had no jurisdiction over any place but the main road.
I intend leaving to-day for home. Mr. Fowler’s brother is much improved in health, and is able to be moved. I regret leaving my kind friends, and all of the patients. The Missourians have got to feel as if they were my brothers.
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