Stonewall Jackson Rounds Up Pacisfists and Unionists

April 2, 1862 (Wednesday)

Rude's Hill, looking northwest.

General Stonewall Jackson was rebuilding his army near Rude’s Hill, just north of New Market, in the Shenandoah Valley. Through this rebuilding, he received an influx of new conscripts, drafted into the Virginia militia and filtered into his Confederate army.

Many of these boys had no desire to fight and so Jackson had a slight mutiny on his hands. The conscription of Virginia men brought into Jackson’s family a wide variety of individuals. Mennonites, Quakers and adherents to other pacifistic religious orders were among them. A few days before the Battle of Kernstown, they had flatly refused to fight. Jackson solved this problem by making those adverse to killing their fellow man teamsters, cooks and laborers.

Rude's Hill looking north along the Valley Pike.

During this time after the battle, another group (or possibly a similar group) flatly refused to answer Jackson’s call. These men came from Rockingham County in the Upper Valley. Rather than fighting, they decided to go into hiding, taking off towards the remoteness of Swift Run Gap.1

This is where the story becomes fuzzy. Some historians, like James I. Robertson, claim that it was merely sixty mutineers. Others, like Peter Cozzens, in his book Shenandoah 1862, claim it to be 200. Cozzens also states that it was an “armed resistance.” Not only was it armed, but they supposedly put a levy on neighboring farms. These men apparently opposed the draft due to their Unionist views.

However, Jonas Smucker Hartzler, author of the 1905 book Mennonite Church History, seems to offer a different take (and perhaps an entirely different story). Hartzler relates that a group of seventy Mennonite men from Rockingham County gathered together with plans to cross the mountains into West Virginia [then western Virginia] and Ohio. There, they hoped to wait out the war and return to their homes after it was over.

Hartzler records that these seventy men were captured near Petersburg, [West Virginia] and taken to Staunton and then to Richmond, where they were confined in Libby Prison. Two were able to make their escape and fled back to the Valley to tell their story.2

From a Mennonite reenactment in the early 1900s.

It’s completely possible that Hartzler is talking about a different group of dissenters. His seventy Mennonites were captured at Petersburg, which is northwest of Swift Run Gap, where the participants in the “Rockbridge Rebellion” were reportedly captured.

There was also a smaller group of pacifists, numbering eighteen, who were captured in Moorefield, ten miles north of Petersburg. They were taken first to Mount Jackson and put to work as laborers. Finally, they marched them to Harrisonburg, the Rockingham County seat, and jailed them at the courthouse.

The book The Olive Branch of Peace and Good Will to Men by S. F. Sanger and D. Hays, published in 1907, tells the stories of both Mennonite parties using recollections of those who were captured.3

From a Mennonite reenactment in the early 1900s.

__________________

The Tale of Gillespie, Who Adored Jackson as Well as the Union

Jackson dispatched several companies to sniff out as many as 500 Unionists and pacifists, who had no desire to fight, most taking refuge in the mountains. Similar actions seemed to happen throughout the army’s time at Rude’s Hill.4

Harrisonburg Court House, where many prisoners were held.

In many of the tales, histories, and accounts of the roundups, the name “Gillespie” crops up again and again. This man, who seemed to be everywhere and only go by one name, was the supposed leader of the deserters.

Gillespie was actually Captain William Henry Gillespie, of Jackson’s staff. He had just graduated the Virginia Military Institute and was a favorite of his instructor, Major Jackson (later to become Stonewall Jackson). When Jackson and his army were headquartered in Winchester, Jackson called upon William, who had not yet joined the war effort. William’s father, Dr. James Lee Gillespie, was a Unionist and so it’s probable that his seventeen year old son was as well. When William reported to Jackson, he was told that he would be commissioned a lieutenant of engineers.

As time went by, as the army retreated from Winchester, advanced upon Kernstown and retreated again, the commission never came through. William inquired time and again, and finally, when they reached Rude’s Hill, Jackson, probably tired of the boy asking the same question over and over, said that it was being withheld due to his father’s Unionist leanings.

By this time, Dr. Gillespie had been arrested for being a Unionist, been released and then arrested again and was currently held in Orange Court House, from which he would soon escape into Union lines. Later, President Lincoln would personally request that the doctor, William’s father, be taken to his home in the Shenandoah Valley and protected.

Marker on Rude's Hill.

The way that William describes it, he simply went home and, being the good son, listened to his mother, who told him to “hide at home until the Union troops could occupy the Valley.” After his desertion, his commission to lieutenancy finally came through.5

Though Gillespie claimed after the war that he just went home, another soldier, Harry Gilmor, of Turner Ashby’s Cavalry, wrote just a year after the war (from notes taken in 1862) that the deserters were headed by “a man named Gillespie.” They were “armed with shotguns and squirrel rifles.” Gilmor’s company pursued Gillespie’s band, who fled to the mountains where the cavalry could not go, and took pot shots at the cavaliers until they left.

Unable to capture them, the cavalry returned to General Jackson, who then dispatched Lt. Col. John R. Jones of the 33rd Virginia, to capture whichever group made up the mutiny. Being from Rockingham County, Jones knew the area quite well. He took with him four companies of sharpshooters and two pieces of artillery.6

Thunder Castle Prison: "even Southerners fear this loathsome place".

“The deserters had mortified in the Blue Ridge,” related an elderly woman living nearby, “but that General Jackson sent a foot company and a critter company to ramshag the Blue Ridge and capture them.”

And ramshagged they were. Unable to coax them out with infantry or cavalry (the apparent “critters”), Lt. Col. Jones ordered the woods to be shelled with artillery. This “greatly increased the panic among the simple mountaineers.” Unable to further resist, many surrendered immediately.7

William Gillespie, called by Jackson’s topographer, Jedediah Hotchkiss, “a tigrous looking fellow,” evaded capture for another two weeks.8



  1. Stonewall Jackson by James I. Robertson, MacMillan Press, 1997. []
  2. Mennonite Church History by Jonas Smucker Hartzler, 1905. []
  3. If you are interested, the book is fully titled: The Olive Branch of Peace and Good Will to Men; Anti-War History of the Brethren and Mennonites, the Peace People of the South, During the Civil War, 1861-1865. This obscure little tome can be found online, here. The recollections of these two groups begin on page 61. []
  4. Greene County, Virginia: A Brief History by Donald D. Covey, History Press, 2007. []
  5. The Military History of the Virginia Military Institute from 1839 to 1865 by Jennings Cropper Wise, J. P. Bell, 1915. This is Gillespie’s entry in the VMI Roster Database. Also, you can read a bit more about William’s father here. []
  6. Four Years in the Saddle by Harry Gilmor, Harper & Bros., 1866. []
  7. Four Years in the Stonewall Brigade by John Overton Casler, 1906. []
  8. Make Me a Map of the Valley by Jedediah Hotchkiss, edited by Archie P. MacDonald, Southern Methodist University Press, 1973. []

Abolitionist Attacked in pro-Union Cincinnati

March 24, 1862 (Monday)

Pike's Opera House, Cincinnati, Ohio.

More than most other Northern cities, Cincinnati, Ohio had quite a bit to lose when it came to severing ties with its Southern contacts. Though Cincinnati sat just up the Ohio River from Louisville, a city that was technically still loyal to the Union, trading with any state in rebellion was strictly forbidden.

It was not that Cincinnati was a pro-Southern state. During the 1860 election, Southern Democrat John Breckenridge received a shabby 1% of the vote, while Lincoln won the plurality of votes, taking ten of the seventeen wards.

When Lincoln called for Ohio to provide 13,000 troops at the beginning of the war, Cincinnati herself could provide nearly that much. The city seemed to view itself not as pro-Southern or Northern, but as Western, Unionist and comfortable with the way things had been. Wishing to retain the status quo, the citizens were largely in favor of, or indifferent to, the institution of slavery, which could be seen right across the river in Kentucky.

And right across the river is exactly where most of Cincinnati’s residents wished to keep the slaves. If the slaves were emancipated, they feared that tens of thousands of freemen would cross the river and steal their jobs.1

Wendell Phillips, Abolitionist.

Measures were already being taken to make sure such a travesty did not happen. Whites in Cincinnati, mostly Irish and Germans, attacked free blacks throughout 1861 and 1862. They believed that the free blacks were enticing Kentucky’s slaves to escape, come to Cincinnati and take the low paying jobs away from the white immigrants.2 The city’s newspapers, conservative as they were, fueled this line of thinking.

It wasn’t, however, just a question of labor, it was absolutely a question of supremacy. At the start of the war, when the city’s black men wished to show their patriotism by organizing a militia unit, they were thwarted at every step by the white authorities. The group was, at first, disallowed to meet, and when they finally found a space to recruit black men for the Union, they were forced to remove the United States flag they had hung above the door. Blacks at another recruitment were told by police: “We want you damned niggers to keep out of this; this is a white man’s war.”3

This was the atmosphere that abolitionist Wendell Phillips found when he arrived in town on this date to give a speech at Pike’s Opera House. Phillips was famous not only for being anti-slavery, but for being pro-secession, believing that the Union could not win the war.4 Holding these views won him few friends in Cincinnati.

Note with Pike's Opera House upon it.

When Phillips took the stage at 8pm, he asked his audience three questions. First, he asked, how long is the war to last? Second, what will become of slavery? Lastly, what will become of the Union? When he next said that he had been an abolitionist for sixteen years, many in the crowd hissed.

As he continued, people from the balcony began lobbing rotten eggs at the podium, striking Phillips on his right side. He went on as if nothing had happened, the eggs, and even stones, falling faster about his feet.

Even when someone in the crowd hurled a paving stone at him, missing its mark only slightly, he remained focused upon his words, which were constantly being accented by boos and cat calls from the balcony. Upwards of 400 dissenters were becoming more and more enraged by Phillips’ speech, and it became clear that they were quickly devolving into a mob.

A rather unpleasant depiction of Phillips.

There were no police inside the building and but few supporters to hold back the throng. Several were injured in the melee that followed. Some of the ladies left their seats, as, for ten minutes, Phillips tried to make it through his address.

The jeering and hissing grew louder and rowdier, as they shouted, “Put him out,” “Tar and feather him,” and gave groans for the “nigger, Wendell Phillips.” Soon, the entire mob burst down the stairs into the middle aisle as one of their leaders yelled “to the stage!”

Somehow they were held back, but chairs and canes were thrown at Phillips, who was rushed off the stage by a few supporters.5

The mob took to the streets, but Phillips and his supporters were gone. The mayor, who was not quite a southern sympathizer, made no effort to suppress the crowd as they searched the area, calling for Phillips’ life.6

The next day, in a letter written to a friend, Phillips seemed to laugh it off. “The Cincinnati Opera House suggested Tremont Temple,” he wroterecalling similar riots in New England, “the rats of the West closely resembled those of the East. These and those alike nibble, gnaw – and run.7

Phillips delivering a speech in Boston.



  1. The Impact of the Civil War on Northern Kentucky and Cincinnati, 1861-1865 by Matthew Elrod, 2006. []
  2. On Jordan’s Banks: Emancipation and Its Aftermath in the Ohio River Valley by Darrel E. Bigham, University Press of Kentucky, 2006. []
  3. We are the Revolutionists: German-Speaking Immigrants & American Abolitionists after 1848 by Mischa Honeck, University of Georgia Press, 2011. []
  4. See Wendell Phillips’ speech in New Bedford, April 9, 1861. []
  5. Cincinnati Gazette, March 25, 1862. As well as the New York Times, March 25, 1862. []
  6. Centennial History of Cincinnati and Representative Citizens, Volume 1 by Charles Theodore Greve, 1904. []
  7. Wendell Phillips: The Agitator by William Carlos Martyn, Funk & Wagnalls Company, 1890. []

Stonewall Jackson and the Mennonites Who Could Not Be Made to Aim

March 21, 1862 (Friday)

This typical Shenandoah Valley family had one slave. Slaves accounted for only 10.5% of the middle Valley population.

It must have been surprising, at least curious, that an entire Federal division, poised to move up the Shenandoah Valley, faced with a mere 700 cavalry, did not pursue the much smaller Rebel force under Stonewall Jackson. After their minor scrap with Turner Ashby’s troopers near Strasburg, Union General Shields’ Division had retired all the way back to Winchester, over forty miles north of Jackson’s camp near Mount Jackson.

Ashby noted this and reported it to Jackson. Through hawkish, blustery rain, the messenger rode south along the Valley Turnpike.1

At Camp Buchanan, near Mount Jackson, the small army had received a number of reinforcements, swelling Jackson’s strength to around 4,000. There was, however, a problem.

Quakers from the Shenandoah Valley

During the era of the war, German immigrants were more associated with the North, through commanders like Sigel, Steinwehr, Schurtz and Schimelfenig. A full 7% of the Federal army was made up of Germans, coming especially from Unionist Missouri and Pennsylvania. However, in the Shenandoah Valley, there lived an enormous German population.

Jackson’s regiments, culled from the Valley, showed this population well. In the 10th Virginia, for example, 51% of the boys had German surnames. They came mostly from Warren, Rockingham, Shenandoah and Page Counties, the areas around where Jackson was currently camped. While the volunteers offered a glimpse into the Valley population, the new recruits, forced in from conscriptions, offered the best cross-section.

When new conscripts came from Rockingham, Shenandoah and Page Counties, with them came the young Mennonites, Dunkers, and Quakers – all pacifists, refusing war due to their religious conviction that Jesus Christ was the Prince of Peace, not of War. These men, of course, did not volunteer, but were rather forced against their will to join Jackson’s army.

Hopewell Friends Meeting House, just north of Winchester, Virginia.

These were also not newly-immigrated Germans. The pacifist sects had been a staple of the Shenandoah Valley since before the Revolutionary War. In fact, they were some of the first settlers in the Valley, arriving in the 1730s. At the start of that earlier conflict for independence, the peace-loving Germans were exempted from service. As the war progressed, they were required to enlist, but not to fight. Towards the end of the Revolution, their enlistment was still compulsory, but they were allowed to hire substitutes at their own expense.2

Jackson took a similar approach, respecting the religious convictions of his new soldiers. While he was not about to excuse them from the duty he believed they held to Virginia, he understood his predicament. Though he must have known of the pacifist population before this time, he first discovered it in his army when eighteen new recruits were caught trying to escape. Some, he assumed, would hire substitutes, but those who stayed had already claimed that they wouldn’t shoot. “They can be made to fire,” wrote Jackson wrote to Richmond, “but they can very easily take bad aim.”

John S. Coffman, son of the Mennonite bishop. John had to escape into Pennsylvania to avoid the draft.

It was here that Jackson became an adept politician, striving for a compromise everybody could stomach. To give his command “the highest degree of efficiency” and to secure “loyal feelings and co-operation,” Jackson decided to file the pacifist recruits into full companies of 100 men each and assign them various noncombatant jobs.

Jackson realized that the Germans were both “good teamsters and faithful to their promise” of loyalty to the Confederacy. They would be put to work as teamsters and would be used to fill various staff positions that did not require the issuing of arms.

This arrangement would “not only enable many volunteers to return to the ranks, but will also save many valuable horses and other public property in addition to arms.” Due to their honesty and variety of work, Jackson even mused that “officers for these companies would be a useless expense.”

Map of Quaker Meeting Houses in the Middle Shenandoah Valley.

Of course, if they did not do their jobs, he would be compelled “to have them drilled, so that in case circumstances should justify it arms may be given them.”3

Jackson may have assumed that the German Christians were loyal to Virginia, but he was probably intelligent enough to understand they were just as opposed to slavery as they were to war. Many outside of the close religious communities looked down upon the sects as abolitionists. While many of the newly-immigrated Germans in the North fought from the beginning to end slavery, the institution of human chattel had been opposed by the pacifistic orders since the 1700s.4

Beaver Creek Dunker Church

Like many people of the border states, the Mennonite Church was split on how to handle the war and the draft. While some of the younger men volunteered prior to conscription, others hid themselves in mountain camps or in basements for fear of being captured by Confederate patrols. The Mennonite elders, however, preached that one could not enter the military and still remain loyal to the Church. Interestingly enough, the sect also preached neutrality, officially siding with neither the North nor the South, even though their opposition to slavery was well known.5

With the issue of the pacifists solved (at least temporarily), towards evening, Jackson received Turner Ashby’s message that Union General Shields had withdrawn back to Winchester. Jackson realized what this meant – that the Federals were drawing units from the Shenandoah Valley to reinforce the main body of the Army of the Potomac. Though he could not know that the main body was en route to the Virginia Peninsula, he was otherwise spot on.

Back Creek Quaker Meeting House

This realization meant but one thing to Jackson. Less of the enemy in front of him meant more of the enemy in front of Richmond. Though forty miles away from the nearest Federals, he knew he had to do something to convince them to stick around for a little while longer.

Jackson resolved that, at dawn, his army would march north to engage the foe. It was here that the Shenandoah Valley and Stonewall Jackson became forever bound.6



  1. Stonewall Jackson by James I. Robertson. []
  2. The German Element of the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia
    by John Walter Wayland, 1907, p96, 122. []
  3. Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 12, Part 3, p835. []
  4. The German Element of the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia by John Walter Wayland, 1907, p128. []
  5. Mennonite Church History by Jonas Smucker Hartzler, Mennonite Book and Tract Society, 1905, p208-209. []
  6. Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 12, Part 1, p380-381. []

The Departing, Burning and Rescue of Fayetteville, Arkansas

February 23, 1862 (Sunday)

The Union Army of the Southwest was doing its job very well. After being hastily assembled in Rolla, Missouri, its commander, General Samuel Curtis, a West Point graduate with surprisingly little military experience, had General Sterling Price’s Rebel army on the run.

On the 12th, Price abandoned Springfield and Curtis followed without missing a beat, pushing the Confederates south into Arkansas. Once over the border, the Rebels were joined with General Ben McCulloch’s force, slowly bringing together General Earl Van Dorn’s Confederate Army of the West.

After a bit of a skirmish on the 17th, Curtis’ troops encamped for a much needed rest and resupply at Cross Hollow, roughly twenty miles north of Fayetteville.1

Before too long, the Rebels arrived in Fayetteville, putting as many miles between themselves and their Union foes as they could. They would not, however, be staying long. Fayetteville was the point of supply for McCullough’s force. He had no reason to believe that the Union troops would stop short of the town and prepared to evacuate it. Rather than have it fall into Union hands, McCullough literally threw open the cupboard doors and allowed his and Price’s retreating troops to take what they could get.

The town took to panic as the fear that anything that was not nailed down or taken would fall into Union hands and be destroyed. Plunder, thievery and looting, by soldiers and citizenry alike, was the rule rather than the exception.2

After Fayetteville was abandoned by the Rebels, General McCulloch sent his Louisiana cavalry back to set the town ablaze. They started first with the military buildings, still glutted with supplies. Then came the stables and flour mill.

Since the war had started, the former Female College had been used as an arsenal. This, too, was put to the torch. When faulty, but still volatile artillery shells began to explode, the dwellings nearby began to burn out of control. Some of the citizens tried to douse the fire, but it was too late.

In the act of trying to save their homes, several Confederate troopers rode into town and asked why the place was on fire. An irate and resentful householder raged upon them, cursing McCulloch and his pointless destruction. “God has rained down fire from heaven upon better men than those that did this!” screamed the now homeless man, left with little but ashes and a plot of blackened ground. Unsure of what to say, the soldiers left and rejoined the army.3

Price and McCulloch’s armies, combined to a total of 16,000 men, had moved to Boston Mountains, fifteen or so miles south of Fayetteville. They were, however, barely on speaking terms.

Meanwhile, back at the Union camp, two escaped slaves informed General Curtis about Fayetteville and the new location of the Rebel army. Though it was against his nature, Curtis decided not to give chase. They were 200 miles away from their base of supply in Rolla, and the surrounding lands had been picked clean by hungry Rebels.4

The entire Army of the Southwest needed to be refitted. Curtis ordered 800 horses for the artillery, 400 harnesses for the horses, and 10,000 pairs of trousers for the men, nearly a pair for every man in his army. That was also a concern. Curtis had too few men and too few guns. He requested 7,000 more of infantry, 3,000 additional cavalry, and four more batteries of artillery.

Though Curtis’ main body was staying put, he decided to send cavalry, under General Alexander Asboth, to Fayetteville. After taking the town, he was to select defensible high ground. Asboth was also to take control of the local printer, explaining that it would be needed to print orders when the rest of the army joined the cavalry.

After issuing the orders to Asboth, Curtis received a wire from General Halleck, his departmental commander in St. Louis. Halleck was basically fine with the cavalry occupying Fayetteville, but ordered that the bulk of the army should be in Bentonville. While Bentonville was northwest of his position at Cross Hollow, he fanned out his army to cover all the roads leading north from Fayetteville to Cross Hollow and Bentonville.5

On this date6, General Asboth’s cavalry entered the blackened remains of Fayetteville. They were first greeted by Rebel skirmishers who held the town, but were not too eager to keep it. The Union cavalry charged through the streets, as the Rebels scurried south for safer ground. A detachment pursued the Rebels, each side taking shots at the other, sometimes with bloody results. Union pickets patrolled the fords across the White River, seven miles south of town.

Asboth was convinced that, if reinforced with a couple infantry regiments, he could hold the town, imploring Curtis to allow him to do so. As for the printing office, it was destroyed, but they found a portable printing press that would do just as well.7

After things settled down a bit, Asboth met with Judge Jonas Tebbetts, a strident Union man. After a parlay, Tebbetts invited the General to dinner. Asboth graciously accepted the offer, only on the condition that York be allowed to dine with them at the table and share his food. York was not a teamster or body servant, but an incredibly huge St. Bernard who traveled with the cavalry.

The residents of Fayetteville were largely Unionist, and welcomed the Federal soldiers. Mrs. Tebbetts, though herself a Unionist, seemed less than amused by the commanding officer. Before they departed, several days later, General Asboth finished off her last jar of jelly without so much as offering anyone else a taste, except, perhaps, York.8



  1. Pea Ridge by William L. Shea & Earl J. Hess. []
  2. Borderland Rebellion by Elmo Ingenthron. []
  3. Pea Ridge and Prairie Grove: or, Scenes and Incidents of the War in Arkansas by William Baxter, Poe & Hitchcock, 1864. Mr. Baxter was living in Fayetteville when it was torched. []
  4. Pea Ridge by William L. Shea & Earl J. Hess. []
  5. Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 8, p562-563. []
  6. Yes, I was playing a sneaky little game of “let’s catch you up on stuff happening near Pea Ridge.” []
  7. Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 8, p69-70. []
  8. Pea Ridge by William L. Shea & Earl J. Hess. []

Halleck Orders All Rebel Bridge Burners to be Shot on Sight

December 22, 1861 (Sunday)

Like the Confederates in Eastern Tennessee, Union General Henry Halleck, commander of the Department of Missouri, was not going to allow his enemies to burn bridges and get away with it. The previous day, a colonel commanding an outpost in Montgomery County, eighty miles west of St. Louis, reported “that several parties of secessionists are gathering and committing depredations in Montgomery County, within 10 miles of us.”

The officer asked if he could take 100 men across the Missouri River to disperse them. Halleck ordered him to “send strong force to cross in the direction of Warrenton. Arrest all secessionists and bridge-burners.”1

During this period, Rebel General Sterling Price’s Special Orders No. 14 had been captured by Union scouts. It was probably in the pocket of one of the saboteurs: “You are hereby ordered to immediately cause to be destroyed all railroad bridges and telegraph wires in your vicinity. By command of Maj. Gen. S. Price.”2

On this date, the day after Halleck issued the order in Montgomery County, he took further action. He restated the order, urging swiftness, and ordered other outposts to arms.

He ordered General T. J. McKean at Jefferson City to protect the Northern Missouri Railroad and capture anyone involved in its destruction. He also wanted McKean to send a force to Fulton to break up a Rebel camp.3

Meanwhile, General John Pope warned Halleck of the prisoners he captured on his recent foray. “Many of the prisoners are the most dangerous men in this whole State,” cautioned the General, “and have been the most active and influential in fomenting disturbances.” Pope did not want to see these characters paroled and released back into the wilds of Missouri, and reminded Halleck that they should not be treated as prisoners of war, but rather as traitors.

This, along with the other reports, prompted Halleck to draft General Orders No. 32.

In it, Halleck asserted that insurgents were scattered throughout the northern counties disguised as peaceful citizens. These Rebels were currently burning bridges, destroying railroads and cutting telegraph lines.

“These men are guilty of the highest crime known to the code of war and the punishment is death,” promised Halleck. “Any one caught in the act will be immediately shot, and any one accused of this crime will be arrested and placed in close confinement until his case can be examined by a military commission and if found guilty he also will suffer death.”

Furthermore, if any “pretended Union man” had information concerning the saboteurs and did not tell the Federal authorities and help them to catch the insurgents, this person would also be considered an insurgent and arrested.

The officers commanding in the areas where the bridges, railroads and telegraph lines were damaged were to impress “the slaves of all secessionists in the vicinity and if necessary the secessionists themselves and their property.”

In closing, Halleck refused to have the Federal Government foot the bill for the repairs: “Hereafter the towns and counties in which such destruction of public property takes place will be made to pay the expenses of all repairs unless it be shown that the people of such towns or counties could not have prevented it on account of the superior force of the enemy.”4

With secessionist General Sterling Price retreating towards Springfield in the southwestern part of the state, Halleck would finally be able to focus upon the secessionists in the northern counties.



  1. Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 8, p453. []
  2. Official Records, Series 2, Vol. 1, p 238. []
  3. Official Records, Series 1, Vol. 8, p456-457. []
  4. Official Records, Series 2, Vol. 1, p236-237. []