Stonewall Jackson

The Spring of 1862 in the Shenandoah Valley was shaping up to be beautiful, and this quiet Sunday was no different. As the camp of Stonewall Jackson knelt in prayer near Mt. Solon, a very flustered and conflicted General Richard Ewell dropped by unannounced and without orders. This Sabbath would not be a simple day of praising the creator and kind Providence for either Jackson or Ewell.

Their commander, General Joe Johnston, had issued orders requiring Ewell, and strongly suggesting Jackson, leave the Valley. The orders were not conditional or discretionary. They were also not up to date, being written on May 13. On the other hand, General Robert E. Lee, military advisor to President Jefferson Davis, had issued his own orders on the 16th, allowing both Jackson and Ewell to storm down the Valley as far north as the Potomac River.

Johnston’s orders were outdated and so couldn’t reflect the changes in the Valley, while Lee’s took into account the depleted force of Union General Banks and contained what would become Lee’s trademark strategy of threatening Washington to relieve the pressure elsewhere. Besides, both Jackson and Ewell were hungry for a fight.

Jackson urged Ewell, each based thirty miles apart from the other, not to leave the Valley until he (Jackson) heard a response from Johnston to the telegraph he sent the previous day. Ewell, however, was still in the dark as to whatever it was that Jackson was planning. There was no doubt that they were both needed at the gates of Richmond, but if Jackson’s grand plan was about to come to fruition, Ewell was close enough to be a part of it. To hopefully dispel his confusion, he rode into Jackson’s camp, finding it a place of respite on the day of rest. At a time when every hour mattered, Jackson was taking the day off.

General Nathaniel Banks

After finding Jackson, they rode to an old mill to discuss the situation. The Union forces arrayed themselves around Jackson’s troops. In the east, General McDowell’s troops held Fredericksburg, as General Shield’s Division was somewhere near Warrenton, marching to join McDowell. To the north, Banks was digging in at Strasburg, while to the west, General Fremont held Franklin. With the combined forces of Jackson and Ewell, they outnumbered each individual Federal commander’s force (except McDowell’s). The Union troops were so spread out that with quick marches, Jackson and Ewell could defeat each in turn without the other coming to its rescue.

But then, that would technically be against orders. Jackson had telegraphed Johnston the night before, but there was no reply. Time, with the apparent exception of the Lord’s Day, was of the essence. Whether they were to leave the Valley for Richmond, or to storm down the Valley, they needed to do it immediately the next day. Johnston’s orders were out of date and Lee, who had no idea that Johnston had ordered Jackson and Ewell east, contradicted them. No further word had been heard from either and so, it seemed, they were at an impasse.

But Ewell had an idea. Since his men were in the Valley, they were technically under the direct command of Jackson, not Johnston. If Jackson gave the word, Ewell would move north towards Banks. This made much more sense than leaving the Valley to track down a moving General Shields. If both Ewell and Jackson moved, they could unite their forces near New Market. Two days later, they could be beating down Banks’ door at Strasburg.

Jackson took the burden off Ewell with the order stating “that as you are in the Valley District you constitute part of my command. Should you receive orders different from those sent from these headquarters, please advise me of the same at as early a period as practicable.” He then issued orders for Ewell to move to New Market, “unless you receive orders from a superior officer and of a date subsequent to the 16th instant.”

It was clear, they were disregarding Johnston’s orders (written on the 13th) and going with Lee’s (written on the 16th).

Rather huge (1.7mb) map detailing the approximate position and force of everybody mentioned today.

The Demand to Surrender Vicksburg

After leaving New Orleans at the mercy of General Benjamin Butler, Union Flag Officer David Farragut’s fleet steamed up the Mississippi River. Baton Rouge, the state capital of Louisiana, fell on the 7th after a bit of wrangling with an egotistic mayor. Five days later, Natchez, Mississippi met a similar fate. Having traveled nearly 280 water miles from New Orleans to Natchez, Farragut decided to push on another eighty to Vicksburg, the next heavily-defended Confederate city.

Farragut's flagship, the USS Hartford

Leaving much of the fleet near Natchez, Farragut ordered the USS Kennebec, Oneida, and several other vessels, north to reconnoiter the defenses. He would follow in a few days with the Hartford and some infantry. Around 11am on this date, the fleet got their first glimpse of the Rebel fortifications, 200 feet above the water.

Under a flag of truce, Union Commander Samuel Phillips Lee, in the name of Farragut and Butler, demanded “the surrender of Vicksburg and its defenses to the lawful authority of the United States, under which, private property and personal rights will be respected.”

While waiting for a reply, the Federals had a chance to take a long look at what they would be up against. Heavy artillery guarded the city to the south and north, 8,000 troops garrisoned its redoubts and a fleet of gunboats lingered nearby.

After the ship that delivered the message to Vicksburg returned, one of the heavy guns fired a shot across her bow. If that was not answer enough, just over an hour later, the replies from the city arrived.

“Regarding the surrender of the defenses,” flatly stated General M.L. Smith, commanding the Confederate forces, “I have to reply that having been ordered here to hold these defenses, it is my intention to do so as long as in my power.”

Union Naval Commander Samuel Phillips Lee

Vickburg’s Mayor Lindsay agreed, relating that while the city’s municipal authorities weren’t the ones who erected the defenses, “neither the municipal authorities nor the citizens will ever consent to a surrender of the city.”

Lastly, the military governor of Vicksburg, James L. Autrey, delivered a riposte laced with bravado and defiance. “I have to state that Mississippians don’t know, and refuse to learn, how to surrender to an enemy. If Commodore Farragut or Brigadier-General Butler can teach them, let them come and try.”

That was settled. Vicksburg was no Baton Rouge or Natchez. It was heavily defended, with fortifications so high that the ship-board artillery couldn’t be elevated enough to hit. They decided to anchor south of the city and await Flag Officer Farragut and the infantry.

General Irvin McDowell

Since his time in the Mexican War, General Irvin McDowell had done little more than sit behind a desk. That is, until the eruption of hostilities between North and South, at which time he was a major on General Winfield Scott’s staff. In need of officers, he was quickly raised three ranks to Brigadier-General, and led the Union forces at Manassas to a glorious and embarrassing defeat. Though his name was tarnished, he was placed in charge of the Army of the Potomac’s First Corps and, in an army that swelled to nearly 150,000, he commanded 41,000, many more than he had during the Battle of Manassas.

May of 1862 found the abrasive McDowell detached from the Army of the Potomac, much to the chagrin of its commander, General George McClellan, who had expected to have the 41,000 men of the First Corps with him for the campaign on the Virginia Peninsula. McClellan had grossly overestimated the Rebel forces arrayed before him at the gates of Richmond, doubling the enemy’s numbers to 160,000, and so called upon Lincoln time and again to send him reinforcements.

When detached from the Army of the Potomac, General McDowell was charged with protecting Washington. After Confederate General Joe Johnston moved the Army of Northern Virginia to the Peninsula to counter McClellan’s move, McDowell slid towards Fredericksburg, brushing aside only outposts and pickets on his march. Because his orders were for him to remain only on the defensive and not to cross the Rappahannock River, he stopped short of fully investing Fredericksburg, sending only a detachment to guard the town. To block his way farther south, the Rebels had a little over 10,000, but realized they couldn’t stop a crossing if one was attempted.

On this date, everything changed. After some coaxing from Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, Lincoln relented and gave McClellan back his First Corps, ordering McDowell to join the Army of the Potomac on the Peninsula.

General McClellan shall soon not need those binoculars to see his rightful First Corps!

The 41,000 men of the First Corps were not, however, just handed over to McClellan. McDowell was ordered to “move upon Richmond by the general route of the Richmond and Fredericksburg Railroad, cooperating with the forces under General McClellan….”

Still concerned about Washington’s safety, Lincoln ordered McDowell to always be “in such position as to cover the capital of the nation against a sudden dash of any large body of the rebel forces.”

While the main objective of McDowell’s Corps (protecting Washington) was essentially unchanged, Lincoln wanted to make sure that McClellan completely understood that McDowell’s Corps was not actually part of the Army of the Potomac.

After explaining the general idea, that McClellan extend his right to sooner meet with McDowell’s left, Lincoln broke the news: “At your earnest call for re-enforcements he is sent forward to co-operate in the reduction of Richmond, but charged, in attempting this, not to uncover the city of Washington; and you will give no order, either before or after your junction, which can put him out of position to cover this city.”

If he wasn’t clear enough, in closing, Lincoln stated that McDowell was to “retain the command of the Department of the Rappahannock and of the forces with which he moves forward.”

While it was true that McClellan wanted McDowell’s First Corps, he had requested them to come by water, rather than by land. Also, he expected to have full command of the 41,000, to do with as he pleased.

This caused other complications as well. The Naval Battle of Drewry’s Bluff, while a Union defeat, made it clear that Federal troops could be landed along the James River, ten miles below Richmond. Though he probably had no real intension of basing his operations along the James, he was now locked into a York River-based plan, as he had to extend across the York (technically, he had to cross the Pamunky, a main tributary) to meet with McDowell.

Map showing very approximate location of armies. At least the town names are on it, right?

There was another stipulation. McDowell was not to move until General Shields’ Division, coming from the Shenandoah Valley, reached him. Shields had been detached from General Banks, leaving the latter with only 9,000 men and Stonewall Jackson to contend with.

In order for all of this to work, Stonewall Jackson had to play nice and remain in the upper (southern) part of the Shenandoah Valley. This, however, was not in Jackson’s plan. Bolstered by General Robert E. Lee’s permission to attack north, down the Valley, to the Potomac River, Jackson had a mind to do just that. Lee wanted him to keep Banks in the Valley, but by threatening Washington, troops en route to the Peninsula, such as Shields, might be recalled. Of course, they had no way of knowing that McDowell’s force was about to receive a change of base, but the idea couldn’t have been too much of a surprise. Perhaps even McDowell would be called to the Shenandoah.

There was a slight hitch in this plan, however. Confederate General Richard Ewell, under the nominal command of Jackson, received a four-day-old order from their overall commander, General Joe Johnston. Jackson and Ewell were to unite and attack General Banks if he was still in the Valley, but if he had crossed the Blue Ridge and was on his way to join General McDowell at Fredericksburg, they were to come east.

The problem was that both things were true. Half of Banks’ Corps had crossed the Blue Ridge, while the other half remained in the Shenandoah Valley.

Ewell immediately forwarded Johnston’s dispatch to Jackson, encamped at Mount Solon, twenty miles southwest of Harrisonburg, the town where Jackson wanted his and Ewell’s forces to meet (Ewell and Jackson were roughly thirty miles apart at this point). Immediately after reading the out-dated message, Jackson sent a telegram to Johnston, explaining why his orders should be countermanded.

“I have been moving down the valley for the purpose of attacking Banks,” wrote Jackson, “but the withdrawal of General Ewell’s command will prevent my purpose being executed.” Jackson spelled out that he had planned to defeat Banks, as per General Lee’s orders, and then fall upon General Fremont’s Union troops near Franklin.

Though it was nearly insubordination to do so, Jackson told Ewell to “suspend the execution of the order for returning to the east until I receive an answer to my telegram.”

Both Ewell and Jackson knew that Johnston’s orders conflicted with those of General Lee’s. But which should be followed? Johnston was their commander, but Lee was President Davis’ military advisor. Listening to Jackson, Ewell did not move. But he needed more information. Jackson had kept him in the dark for too long. Ewell was second in command and deserved to have at least some inkling of what Jackson’s plans were, especially since it seemed that disobeying a direct order was, at least, on the table.

Without orders to do so, Ewell left his camp at Swift Run Gap and rode the thirty miles to Jackson at Mt. Solon. He rode through the night, arriving at dawn the next morning.

Over the past couple of weeks, researching and writing the CWDG has become a mentally exhausting chore from hell. I attribute this to the fact that I was in the midst of the Maryland Campaign. As many of you know, I’m a little over four months ahead of the game. So over the past two months, I covered the Seven Days Battles, the Northern Virginia Campaign, the Maryland Campaign, plus the Kentucky Invasion and the Iuka Campaign in the West.

Keeping up with the blog the way I have been has become completely unsustainable. I put three or more hours of research and writing into this each day and that wears on me. At the end of last week, I basically decided to stop. I was going to pick an event (maybe the canning of McClellan or the release of the Emancipation Proclamation) and wrap it all up.

But the more I thought about it, the more I didn’t want to do that. With some encouragement from my friends (especially Ryan), I’m going to do my best to tramp on.

This will mean, however, some changes.

First, my posts are meticulously annotated. I love that I do this, but it takes quite along time. What I’ve decided to do is list the sources at the end of the post, similar to the way that the New York Times guy doing the Civil War posts does. As for the Official Records, I’d still like to give the specific volume and page numbers.

Second, I’ve noticed that readership on weekends is less than half of what it is on weekdays. I’ve also noticed that most of the people who skip posts on the weekends don’t read them on Monday. In light of that, I believe I’m going to scale back on posts that will appear on Saturdays, Sundays and holidays. I’ll give a brief overview, of course, but will try to keep it under 400ish words (posts lately range from 1,000-1,300 words).

Lastly, I’ll probably be scaling back posts in general, especially when it comes to details. I love details. Growing up near Gettysburg, I’ve discovered that I wasn’t really interested in the Civil War as much as I was obsessed with Gettysburg. My favorite spot on the battlefield was Neil Avenue, my favorite action was the Battle of Hunterstown, followed by whatever was going on at Powell’s and Wolf’s Hills.

Details are my bread and butter. For example, I spent nearly thirty minutes trying to research whether Sterling Price actually wept on the battlefield at Iuka, or whether he did so after. This is ridiculous. Personally, I blame battlefield guides like Gary Adelman and Tim Smith and their obsession with minuscule and completely unimportant details that are, for me, endlessly fascinating and exciting.

Details are interesting (I’ve heard the Devil lives there). And so hopefully readers pitch some in via the comments section.

Though I’ll be making these changes now, you won’t actually see them for another four months.

This will hopefully give me some time to do other things, such as keep up with my other blog Hey I’m Over Here – a travel and photography blog that I do with Sarah about our treks around Washington and Oregon. There’s plenty of history here if you know where to look.

Thanks again for reading, commenting and supporting this overwhelming project of mine. I really appreciate it.

Jackson

General Stonewall Jackson, leading his army towards Harrisonburg, Virginia, had ordered General Richard Ewell to begin a move northward, down the Shenandoah Valley. His destination was to be the Federal troops under Nathaniel Banks, near Strasburg. After receiving the order, Ewell, already fairly disgruntled at Jackson, dragged his feet, figuring that “General Jackson’s views may change at any moment.”

Though bordering on insubordination, Ewell was correct. Jackson had given Ewell the order on the 14th, but by the next day, it was forgotten, as Jackson asked Ewell how soon he could get to Harrisonburg (westerly, rather than northerly), and if he could bring the two additional brigades that General Robert E. Lee had given him that were supposed to stay well east of the Shenandoah Valley.

Ewell, who had been itching for a fight, ordered General Branch, commanding the two brigades to pack up, leave Gordonsville, cross the Blue Ridge west to Luray. He was to bring nothing more than food and ammunition, not even tents.

Though a Confederate victory, the Battle of Drewy’s Bluff, was weighing heavily on General Lee’s mind. He realized that if Federal gunboats could come up the James River, eight miles from Richmond, there would be little reason that General McClellan couldn’t land troops nearby.

On this date, a day after the battle, Lee wrote Jackson one of the most important letters he ever received. Jackson believed that Banks’ entire force was falling back all the way to Winchester. Lee, however, believed (like, and because of, Ewell) that half of Banks’ command was heading east towards Fredericksburg.

Lee figured this meant that Banks couldn’t possibly stay in the Shanendoah Valley, and must be headed towards Fredericsburg or to the Peninsula to reinforce McClellan. “A successful blow struck at him would delay, if it does not prevent, his moving to either place,” explained Lee, before giving Jackson permission to use the two brigades sent to Ewell in the Valley.

With this came a warning: “But you will not, in any demonstration you may make in that direction, lose sight of the fact that it may become necessary for you to come to the support of General Johnston, and hold yourself in readiness to do so if required.”

Making it even clearer, Lee reiterated his open-ended instructions to Jackson. “Whatever movement you make against Banks do it speedily, and if successful drive him back toward the Potomac, and create the impression, as far as practicable, that you design threatening that line.”

At this point in time, Jackson still believed that Banks’ command was whole. Even so, he wanted to attack, and here was Lee giving him not only permission, but what amounted to almost an order to plow northward all the way to the Potomac.

Map with rather vague approximations of projected troop movements and positions.

But Banks’ command was not whole. The division under General Sheilds had been detached and was en route to Fredericksburg to join in with General McDowell’s First Corps. Both General McClellan and Secretary of War Edwin Stanton had been hounding the President to allow the First Corps to reinforce McClellan on the Peninsula.

In that light, for McClellan, things were looking up. Stanton informed the General that he would talk to Lincoln the next day.

If the Union First Corps was moved to the Peninsula, it would add 41,000 men to McClellan’s Army of the Potomac. There was little the Confederates could do to hold McDowell in place, which is why Lee warned Jackson that he might be called to the Peninsula at any moment.

It is also why Lee told Jackson to head north. If Jackson moved to the Potomac, it would threaten Washington, keeping reinforcements from McClellan and even possibly make Lincoln leech men from the main body to forcibly remove Jackson. This was a strategy that Lee would employ throughout the war.

Benjamin Butler Becomes the Beast

It had been nearly two weeks since Union General Benjamin Butler took control of New Orleans. Beginning with his proclamation of May 3, he kept the city under martial law and curtailed freedom of speech, disallowing any seccessionist banners or flags.

Though often remembered as a tyrant, at first, he seemed to have the city’s best interests at heart. He established a military court for violent crimes which “are punishable with death or imprisonment for a long term of ten years.”

Butler also made an offer to the planters, offering to pay them for their crops, which would then be used “for the benefit of the poor of this city.” Though he flatly refused to help slave owners hunt down their escaped slaves, he was otherwise doing his best to keep the general populus happy.

He realized that in the sweltering summer, just around the bend, disease would often crop up in the city. In an attempt at prevention, and convinced that filth was the reason for the diseases, he ordred New Orleans to be cleaned up. The garbage that had been piling up was to be removed and the sewers to be flushed daily.

The mayor of the city claimed that 300 additional workers had been hired, but General Butler didn’t buy it. In a vicious and scathing proclamation, he accused the city government and the wealthy of having no “regard to the starving poor, the working man, his wife and child.” Then, like a man ahead of his time, called upon the workingmen, asking, “how long will you uphold these flagrant wrongs and by inaction suffer yourselves to be made the serfs of these leaders?”

Butler seemed to be class-baiting, attempting to turn the working class against the ruling class. Afterall, it was the ruling class, the slave owners, who wanted this war. While the working class made up roughly 90% of the city’s population, it was the remaining 10% that held 90% of the wealth. And it was their influence that Butler needed.

Louisiana’s governor, Thomas Moore, penned a rebuttle, which was circulated throughout the city. Moore accused Butler of attempting to turn the poor against the rich because he (Butler) came “from a section of the country that has done more than any other to degrade and cheapen labor and reduce the laboring man to the condition of the slave.”

Butler, said Moore, was forgetting that “Southerners are a high-toned, chivalrous people….” Moore, part of the elite, was reminding the poor that, while they might be poor, at least they weren’t slaves.

General Butler blamed the local newspapers for printing and circulating the rebuttle and shut four of them down. Then, on the 15th, he crossed a huge line. Noticing that it was the women of the city who hurled the most insults at his soldiers, Butler ordered:

As the officers and soldiers of the United States have been subject to repeated insults from the women (calling themselves ladies) of New Orleans in return for the most scrupulous non-interference and courtesy on our part, it is ordered that hereafter when any female shall by word, gesture, or movement insult or show contempt for any officer or soldier of the United States she shall be regarded and held liable to be treated as a woman of the town plying her avocation.

If Butler was looking for something to undo all of the work he had done thus far in New Orleans, he had found it. Prior to the order, Butler was seen as a Yankee holding court over a Southern city. From here on out, he would be referred to as “The Beast.”

Drewry's Bluff

Drewry’s Bluff rose ninety feet above the James River. The small fort, eight miles away from Richmond, built by Virginia farmers in 1861 had been expanded to a veritable fortress with seven pieces of heavy artillery. When the Union Army of the Potomac began their campaign up the Virginia Peninsula, after the fall of Yorktown, the Confederates began to pay serious attention to the redoubt. Following the destruction of the CSS Virginia (Merrimac), the guns and men from the scuttled ship were transfered to Drewry’s Bluff, also known as Fort Darling.

This bluff and its seven guns were the last obstacle between the Union Naval fleet and the Confederate capital. Union Flag Officer Louis Goldsborough had dispatched several ships up the James River, with orders to “get up to Richmond, all with the least possible delay, and shell the city to a surrender.”

USS Galena

And so the USS Monitor, Galina, Naugatuck, Port Royal and Aroostook steamed up the James, pulling near to, but out of sight of, the Confederate battery at Drewry’s Bluff. They did not, however, go unnoticed. For bulk of their trek up the river, they had been peppered with musket fire from both shores. At times, the balls pierced the hull of the Port Royal, which returned the complement with their howitzer.

In further preparation for the coming Federal fleet, the Confederates sunk ships in the river, making passage nearly impossible. Also, the CSS Patrick Henry, a converted civilian steamer outfitted with heavy artillery, was held above the fort. In addition to the large armaments, rifle pits had been dug closer to the waterline to be occupied by sharpshooters. The whole affair was a conglomeration between the Confederate Navy, Army and Marines. Since most of the men were Marines, the overall command fell upon Commander Ebenezer Ferrand of the Navy, though General William Mahone had been called by General Robert E. Lee to take command with his brigade.

Gun on Drewry's Bluff

Around 7am, the Galina led the fleet, pulling in view of the Rebel works. Once close enough, the Confederate gunners opened up upon both the Galina and the Monitor. Through the hail, the Galina pulled into position, 600 yards off the battery, dropped anchor and replied with her guns upon the enemy. The Naugatuck, Port Royal and Aroostook, being all wooden vessels, anchored about twice as far away, hoping to lessen the blows certain to be rained upon them by the Confederate artillery.

As the Galina found her position, the Monitor tried to move in front of her, hoping to draw the enemy’s fire. While it more or less worked, it was quickly discovered that, being more suited for a ship-to-ship duel, was unable to elevate her guns to a high enough angle to hit the Rebel redoubt. The Monitor moved back downriver, towards the wooden ships, until she moved far enough away for her guns to finally come into range.

Bombardment of the Galena

Through the fight, it was quickly discovered that the newly-built Galina was not shot-proof. Commander John Rodgers reported that “balls came through, and many men were killed with fragments of her own iron.” Most of the shots that hit his ship ripped through the four-inch iron plating, but embedded themselves in the wooden hull. Her deck was most vulnerable to the Rebel shots falling from high above. Huge, gaping hopes were ripped through it, sending death to those below. Even the CSS Patrick Henry joined in the fray, sending an 8-inch solid shot through her bow port.

Though the Rebels focused their fire upon the Galina, the other ships were not forgotten. The Port Royal was struck once in the forward wheel and again below the waterline. With the last shot, she began to take on water and had excused herself from the fight. The Naugatuck came under severe fire from both the artillery and sharpshooters along the river as she moved into position. During the early part of the battle, her gun burst the first time it was fired and she was rendered useless.

Bombardment of the Union fleet.

Soon after the Patrick Henry delivered her blow, the Galina was nearly out of ammunition. Seeing that there was no possible way to overcome the Rebels at Drewry’s Bluff, Commander Rodgers called off the attack, ordering the ships to steam to their position of the previous night.

To the retreating Federals, the Rebels gave three hearty cheers as the ships pulled out of sight. Confederate casualties were light, with seven killed and eight wounded. The only Union fatalities were sustained aboard the Galina, with thirteen killed. Most of the fourteen wounded were also from the lead ship, though the Naugatuck and Port Royal also reported a few. Most of the ships sustained some damage, with the Galina carrying more than her share, being hit forty-four times and pierced at least eighteen.

It was not a complete loss to the Federals. The fact that they couldn’t simply steam up the river, past the bluff, due to the sunken ships in the water, also meant that the Rebels could not come down stream for the same reason. It was also noted that infantry troops could be landed within ten miles of Richmond, should General McClellan like to switch his base of operations from the York River to the James, something that must have seemed fairly unlikely to happen.

General George McClellan’s trudge up the Virginia Peninsula was slow going to be sure. He needed more troops, more ammunition and more time. A week prior, he had made one effort to cut off the Confederate retreat by throwing a couple divisions between the Army of Northern Virginia and their capital. The effort was made too late, and the Rebels had escaped.

Marching slowly forward, the Union Army of the Potomac was, on this date, between New Kent Court House and Cumberland, along the Pamunky River. Since the siege of Yorktown was broken on the 4th, McClellan’s army had traveled thirty miles, or roughly three miles per day.

General Joe Johnston, commanding the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia, had pulled back to Baltimore Crossroads, moving his left flank away from the Pamunky and the Federal gunboats commanding it. With the Rebels in a fine defensive position, McClellan had some more time to contemplate the situation.

Edwin Stanton

To Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, still traveling with the Army on the Peninsula, McClellan had told that he was going to attempt to cut off the Confederate retreat once again, by getting around their left flank with a move towards White House. The only problem was that he needed more men. Specifically, he needed General McDowell’s First Corps, now bulging with 41,000 men, in the vicinity of Fredericksburg. “No time will be lost in bringing about a decisive battle,” said McClellan to Stanton.

The reason he needed the extra men was explained fully in a letter to President Lincoln. “All my information from every source accessible to me establishes the fixed purpose of the rebels to defend Richmond against this army by offering us battle with all the troops they can collect from east, west, and south,” asserted McClellan.

Due to casualties and illnesses, McClellan warned Lincoln that he could not “bring into actual battle against the enemy more than 80,000 men at the utmost.” These 80,000 would not just be fighting the enemy that had been before him at Yorktown, but an entrenched “much larger force, perhaps double my numbers.”

Map showing very approximate positions of forces.

While he mused that the Rebels might simply abandon Richmond without a fight, he reasoned “it would be unwise, and even insane, for me to calculate upon anything but a stubborn and desperate resistance.”

In closing, McClellan “respectfully and earnestly” urged Lincoln to reinforce the Army of the Potomac “without delay by all the disposable troops of the Government.”

The day before Yorktown fell, McClellan had informed Lincoln that, according to his sources, the Confederates had 120,000 before him. Now, just over a week later, they might have as many as 160,000.

General Johnston’s Rebel army, while in a fine defensive position, was not even half as strong as 160,000. On this date, President Jefferson Davis and General Robert E. Lee rode the twenty or so miles from Richmond to “better understand his [Johnston's] plans and expectations.”

Throughout the day and evening, related Davis after the war, “a long conversation followed which was so inconclusive that it lasted until late in the night, so late that we remained until next morning.” The President and General were left somewhat baffled by the chat. Johnston’s plan, it seemed, amounted to little more than improving his lines and waiting for the Federals to attack.

Jackson Sort of Orders Ewell to Advance, but Also Might Change His Mind

Though Johnston was doing little more than waiting for McClellan to make a move, his mind wasn’t just occupied with the Peninsula. On the 13th, he had written to Generals Jackson and Ewell, in the Shenandoah Valley, that Jackson was to return to the heart of the Valley, unite with Ewell and track down Union General Banks, who was near Strasburg, roughly seventy miles away from Ewell, and upwards of 100 miles away from Jackson.

Yes, this is the same mape from the other day. The only differences are that Jackson is closer to Harrisonburg and Shields is closer to Fredericksburg.

Ewell had sent a message to Jackson, stating that he believed one of Banks’ two divisions was leaving the Valley. Jackson didn’t buy it and figured that Banks entire command was either retiring north to Winchester or moving south to link up with General Fremont’s command somewhere near Staunton. Jackson ordered Ewell to follow Banks if he was headed north.

Since he had been given no instructions on what to do if Banks moved south, Ewell prepared to head north. However, Ewell wasn’t jumping into it whole-heartedly. “General Jackson’s views may change at any moment,” wrote the General to one of his brigade commanders, “I won’t go too far under present instructions, as I may be wanted elsewhere.” As will be seen, Ewell was all the better for dragging his feet.

Robert Smalls was born a slave in Beaufort, South Carolina, moving to Charleston with his master when he was twelve. There, through being hired out to other slave owners, he was able to learn the art of navigating the water, and to finally become a seaman. In Charleston is where he found himself when Fort Sumter was bombarded and surrendered in April of 1861. The man who owned him, hired him out as a stevedore aboard the CSS Planter just as hostilities were getting underway.

The Planter, a speedy, 140-foot, shallow-draft steamer, had been mounted with two large naval guns, and used as a transport vessel, carrying up to 1,000 men, materials, and messages throughout Charleston Harbor and along the nearby coast.

For the past several weeks, the defenses of Charleston were being rearranged by General Roswell S. Ripley, military commander over the area. Specifically, the batteries on Cole’s Island were being moved to the Middle Ground Battery at Fort Ripley, placed upon a man-made island off Folly Island.

The CSS Planter

On May 12, the Planter, along with her white officers and crew of eight black men, was under orders to run to Cole’s Island, take aboard four pieces of artillery bound for Ripley. Since it was late in the day, the captain decided to tie up at the city’s Southern Wharf and deliver the guns the following day. Completely disobeying the order for all officers to stay aboard their ships, the Captain, Mate and Engineer decided they could get a better night sleep on shore, leaving the Planter under the command of her wheelman, the slave, Robert Smalls.

Over the past several months, the crew of the Planter, all slaves, had been batting around the idea of stealing the ship and gaining their freedom. Smalls took it upon himself to mastermind the plot, holding several meetings in his house while he and the rest of the crew worked out the details. For a slave to even hold the idea of commandeering a Confederate Naval vessel to obtain his freedom meant certain death if discovered. Once the plan was in action, the dangers grew exponentially, as they would have to steam unnoticed past the guns of Fort Sumter. However, when the ship’s Captain docked at South Wharf for the night, they saw their chance.

Smalls, and probably other crewmen, quietly left the ship to retrieve their families. Until it was time to make their run, they squirreled wives and children away on a ship in the North Atlantic Wharf. Though two of the crew backed out at the last minute, at 3am, Smalls, now the Captain he was always meant to be, ordered his men to bring the Planter up to steam and to run up the Confederate ensign.

A few of the crew spoke up, worried that someone might smell the smoke and think it was a fire, alerting the authorities who would break up their design before it even got underway. But all fears were for naught, as when the steam was up, Smalls pulled out of the berth and began his run towards the harbor, blowing the whistle, as was routine, to avoid suspicion. The ruse worked. A Confederate sentinel, not fifty yards away, saw the Planter leave the Wharf and thought nothing of it at all.

Once in the Harbor, he steamed towards North Atlantic Wharf to retrieve their families. After taking on board five women, three men and three children, they made for the sea. While running near Fort Johnson, their first obstacle, they blew the whistle to signal her passing. When the sound echoed across the silent water, Smalls prayed, “Oh Lord, we entrust ourselves into Thy hands.”

CSS Planter

The first fingers of yellow dawn had begun to edge their way into the eastern sky, illuminating the outline of Fort Sumter. The Planter would have to receive permission to pass by the fort. Smalls, hoping to complete the deception, replaced his own hat with the Captain’s and stood with his back towards to fort, hoping they wouldn’t realize that he was not a white man. He gave the signal – two long blasts, one short – and waited for Sumter’s reply. Like nothing was out of place, the reply came and the Planter was permitted to leave Charleston Harbor.

As she ran past Morris Island, Smalls could see the camp of a light artillery battery on the shore. Some stories have it that a watchman signaled the battery to try and stop the Planter, as after she cleared the range of the fort’s guns, it was obvious that she was headed towards the Federal Naval fleet.

Noticed or not (the Confederate reports in the Official Records make no mention of such notice), the Planter was indeed headed for the Northern Fleet. Lt. J.F. Nickels of the USS Onward spotted the mysterious steamer at sunrise.

Robert Smalls

“I immediately beat to quarters and sprung the ship around so as to enable me to bring her broadsides to bear,” reported Nickels, “and had so far succeeded as to bring the port guns to bear, when I discovered that the steamer, now rapidly approaching, had a white flag set at the fore.”

When the Planter pulled along side the Onward, Smalls explained the ordeal to Nickels, who came aboard the vessel, hauled down the white flag and ran up the flag of the United States.

The ship and her crew were delivered to Commander E. G. Parrott, aboard his flagship the USS Augusta. He decided to send the ship to Flag Officer Du Pont at Port Royal, entrusting Robert Smalls, “the very intelligent contraband who was in charge,” with passing along all the information he knew about the Confederate defenses of Charleston.

USS Planter

The Planter, Robert Smalls and crew, along with officers and a crew from the Augusta, made it to Port Royal and Flag Officer Du Pont before sunset. During the interview Smalls informed Du Pont that one of the heavy guns that he was carrying on board his ship had been in Fort Sumter during the April 1861 bombardment. The piece had been struck on the muzzle, but not badly damaged, by a Confederate shot during the bombardment.

Du Pont was so impressed with Smalls, describing him as “superior to any who has yet come into the lines, intelligent as many of them have been.” So impressed, that Du Pont insisted that he “continue to employ Robert as a pilot on board the Planter for the inland waters, with which he appears to be very familiar.”

Going one step farther, the Flag Officer believed that the Planter should be considered a prize, and that Smalls and his men should be compensated for her delivery.

Robert Smalls, Post-War.

Over the next couple of months, the Planter was appraised at the value of $9,168 (thought to be a very lowball figure by some). Half of that total was ordered by Congress to be given to Robert Smalls and his men. Smalls received $1,500 (he was later given an additional $5,000), while the other crew received $400. The additional male, picked up from the ship where the women and children were hidden, received $384. The remaining $100 was split between the two “unprotected women,” who had no relation to anyone aboard the Planter.

Smalls accepted the job with the Navy and continued to pilot the Planter, eventually becoming her Captain, taking home $150 per month. After the war, Smalls was elected to the South Carolina Constitutional Convention, and then to the State Legislature, where he introduced the Civil Rights bill. He was elected state Senator in 1872 and later became the Lt. Col. of the 3rd South Carolina State Militia. In 1875, he was elected to the US House of Representatives, a position he held until 1887, when he returned to Beaufort, South Carolina as the customs agent.

Stonewall Jackson’s oft-remembered Shenandoah Valley campaign rightly brings to the General much fame and admiration. But for those under this strange man, vexation and limitation were often counter-pieces to victory. Following Jackson’s victory at McDowell, the Union forces under Generals Schenck and Milroy retreated towards Franklin [in modern West Virginia], setting fire to the woods as they retired.

General Jackson

Jackson was afraid that the 5,000 Federals he bested with his 10,000 would link up with General John C. Fremont’s gathering force of roughly 11,000 in Western Virginia, which, in turn, would link up with General Banks’ Corps of 19,000. If Jackson was not careful, he could soon be tangling with Federals many times his number.

To stop Fremont from joining with Banks, Jackson sent his trusted topographer, Jedediah Hotchkiss, to obstruct all the roads that the latter could take to the former. Hotchkiss left Jackson on the 10th and spent the next day and a half with a detachment of cavalry by felling trees, rolling rocks and otherwise destroying good linking roads between the towns of Franklin and Harrisonburg.

As Jackson edged closer to the Federals at Franklin, General Richard Ewell held Swift Run Gap, Jackson’s former camp, with 8,000. Ewell arrived at the camp on May 7th, just after Jackson’s men departed. Since that time, Jackson had kept Ewell more or less in the dark, writing to him only once prior to the battle at McDowell. Ewell was indeed vexed and limited.

Union General Schenck

Previous to falling under Jackson’s command, Ewell was on the eastern side of the Blue Ridge Mountains, keeping an eye on the Federals gathering near Fredericksburg. After moving his entire force across the mountains to Swift Run Gap, General Robert E. Lee in Richmond gave Ewell two additional brigades with orders that they should remain on the eastern side.

As much as Ewell wanted to attack towards Fredericksburg, he was under orders from Jackson to remain in the Shenandoah Valley. If Ewell left for the east, Union General Banks could easily descend upon Jackson’s rear somewhere near Staunton or McDowell or Franklin – Ewell had no real idea where Jackson was.

Finally, on the 10th, Col. Turner Ashby of Jackson’s cavalry rode into Ewell’s camp to bring news of the victory. Ewell was elated. This meant, thought the General, that Jackson would be returning to the Shenandoah Valley and Ewell, with his two new brigades, could move against the Federals near Fredericksburg.

But things were not what they seemed. “I desire to follow the enemy as far as practicable to-day,” wrote Jackson to Ewell in a confusing letter probably delivered by Ashby on the 11th. “My troops are in advance. Should circumstances justify it, I will try, through God’s blessing, to get in Banks’ rear; and if I succeed in this I desire you to press him as far as may be consistent with your own safety should he fall back.”

General Richard Ewell

This dispatch did nothing to dispel Ewell’s bewilderment. While it more or less confirmed that his commander was near Franklin, nearly sixty miles west of Swift Run Gap, it gave no real clue as to what either General should do next. From a Union deserter once of Banks’ Corps, he learned even more.

One of General Banks’ two divisions, under General James Shields, was leaving the Shenandoah Valley with three days rations. It seemed to Ewell that they were moving towards Fredericksburg, now that Banks’ other division was digging in at Strausburg.

Ewell wanted nothing more than to attack Shields, but by order of Jackson and General Lee, he was to stay at Swift Run Gap until either Banks’ entire command left the Valley or Jackson returned. It didn’t appear that either would be happening any time soon.

On this date, Jackson had drawn up his forces before the Federals dug in around Franklin. Jackson could get no closer without actually attacking, which he had no plans to do. And so Jackson’s entire force took the day off for a call to worship. This was, surprisingly, not called for by Jackson, who only wished “to render thanks to Almighty God for having crowned our arms with success and to implore His continued favor.”

Major Robert Dabney

Jackson’s adjutant general, Major Robert Dabney, a Presbyterian minister, wrote the order, amplifying Jackson’s thanksgiving to a full blown, day long spiritual revival. Not that Jackson didn’t approve, of course. The General attended at least two impromptu divine worship services.

While Jackson prayed in front of his enemies, Ewell seemed to be seething with fury. To the Colonel of the 13th Virginia, the General blindly asked, “did it ever occur to you that General Jackson is crazy?” When the Colonel thought discretion the better part of valor, Ewell continued: “I tell you sir, he is as crazy as a March Hare! He has gone away, I don’t know where, and left me here with instructions to stay until he returns. But Banks’s whole army is advancing on me, and I have not the most remote idea where to communicate with General Jackson. I tell you, sir, he is crazy, and I will just march my division away from here. I do not mean to have it cut to pieces at the behest of a crazy man.”

Believing that Union General Shields was leaving the Valley for Fredericksburg, Ewell detached Captain Thomas Munford’s cavalry in pursuit. After receiving orders to burn bridges, blockade roads, feign attacks and basically to do anything he could to slow Shield’s progress, Munford dropped by the General’s headquarters around midnight. The Captain found Ewell in only a long white night shirt and remembered that “his bald head and long beard made him look more like a witch than a Major-General.”

The as-accurate-as-I-could-get map for today. Hopefully you like it better than Ewell liked his.

They rolled out a map on the floor, each on their hands and knees. As Ewell studied the map, he became more and more irate at Jackson, who had just sent him another message, informing him that he had captured some Union wagons. “This great wagon hunter is after a Dutchmen, an old fool!” exploded General Ewell. “General Lee at Richmond will have little use for wagons if all these people close in around him! We are left out here in the cold! Why, I could crush Shields before night if I could move from here!”

In closing, and probably as Munford was backing slowly away, Ewell added, “This man Jackson is certainly a crazy fool, an idiot!”

Naturally unknown to Ewell, as Jackson told almost nobody of his plans, Jackson’s main body was about to leave the Federals and move back into the Shenandoah Valley.

The CSS Virginia burning.

Well before dawn, the southeastern sky over Norfolk, Virginia burned a brilliant orange as Rebels set flames to ships, supplies and anything that would slow their flight to Richmond. The Federals had, the previous day, taken Norfolk, rendering the Naval Yard untenable. Many ships were sunk in the James River as obstacles to keep the Union fleet from steaming towards Richmond, but the dreaded CSS Virginia, once known as the USS Merrimack, was to be saved.

Flag Officer Josiah Tattnall, Confederate Naval Commander at Norfolk, had ordered that the Virginia‘s draft be lightened from twenty-one to eighteen feet so she could make it over the shallows. Her home now in flames, she was to dock at Harrison’s Landing, thirty-five miles away. His crew had been removing coal, armaments, and anything not absolutely essential for her survival.

CSS Virginia goes up.

Tattnall felt sick. The strongholds all around him were coming down. The batteries, once believed so strong, were simply abandoned. The Naval Yard, one of the first Union instillations captured in Virginia, was in ruins. General McClellan and his Union Army of the Potomac were moving (albeit slowly) towards Richmond, and the Federal fleet seemed poised to run there as well. Now, only the homeless CSS Virginia stood in their way. But even she would have to retreat, at least for a little while.

In the middle of the night, Tattnall was stirred awake with some bad news. The Virginia had been lightened to the needed eighteen feet, but it was not enough. In lightening her, the crew had made her unable to defend herself against the Federal troops lining each side of the James.

Tattnall flew into a rage, corning the pilot who discovered this ridiculous notion. The Flag Officer “demanded an explanation for this palpable deception.” The pilot tried to explain that the eighteen feet rule only applied when the winds were easterly, but for the past two days, the winds had been westerly. When the winds were westerly, Tattnall must have thought, the pilot did not know a hawk from a handsaw.

USRC Nagatuck (E.A. Stevens)

Losing no time, and disallowing his rage to endanger his crew, he determined to burn his dreaded CSS Virginia, rather than allow her to fall back into Union hands. As the commissioned officers gathered, they agreed to a man that the firing was necessary.

She was then pulled to the shore of Craney Island. After the men filed onto land, she was set ablaze. Through the first slivers of dawn, she burned for over an hour, the conflagration vanishing the ironclad, until the flames reached her magazine.

Aboard the USS Dakota, two and a half miles away from Craney Island, the sailors witnessed the fire and saw the explosion just before 5am. One of the Dakota‘s officers made his way to Flag Officer Louis Goldsborough’s flagship, the USS Minnesota, to inform him that the fearsome ship that kept him for so long from a sound sleep was no more. He had been prepared for a rematch between the Monitor and the Virginia, for another bloody fight between the two, now famous, ironclads, who had pounded each other to a draw two months before. But it was not to be.

Map of abandoned CS river defenses, plus Drewry's Bluff.

Goldsborough immediately ordered several ships, including the Monitor, up the James River. He also had a smaller tugboat steam to Sewell’s Point, recently a Confederate battery, to suss out what exactly was going on. When the ship landed and found the battery abandoned, they hoisted a United States flag over it. The same was repeated at Craney Island, but only after hauling down two enemy flags.

Flag Officer Goldsborough hardly contented himself with the capture of Norfolk and a couple of Rebel batteries. Of the several ships ordered forward, he specifically ordered the Monitor and the E.A. Stevens (earlier known as the USRC Nagatuck) to run up the James and “reduce all of the works of the enemy as they go along.” But even that wasn’t enough. With the Rebel works along the James all but nullified, Goldsborough saw no real reason why the two ironclads couldn’t “get up to Richmond, all with the least possible delay, and shell the city to a surrender.”

Looking towards Drewry's Bluff (1865ish).

Only one real obstacle remained between the Union Navy and the Confederate capital: Fort Darling. More commonly remembered at Drewry’s Bluff, this Rebel redoubt, eight miles from Richmond, loomed ninety feet above the river. It was held in a sharp bend and, though not fully completed, dominated the waterway.

To finish the fort, the crew from the destroyed Virginia would man the guns, many of which had been saved from their scuttled ship. When fully outfitted, Drewry’s Bluff would bring eight large guns to bear upon her adversaries. The enemy would come, but when they did, the men of Drewry’s Bluff would be waiting.

Union Flotilla reconnaissance towards Fort Pillow.

The Union campaigns in the Spring of 1862 had bogged down. Both Generals Henry Halleck and George McClellan’s offensives had the crawling feel of being stuck in large pits of tar. In the west, the Army of the Tennessee, Halleck commanding, was inching and creeping closer and closer to the Rebels hunkered down at Corinth, Mississippi. Three Federal armies had been combined for the offensive, funneling in troops from what had been three different theaters to the Tennessee River.

One of the armies pulled from their previous field was General John Pope’s Army of the Mississippi, operating along its namesake river. This left the Union flotilla of seven gunboats under Flag Officer Andrew Foote without infantry support. Before Pope had been called away, the fleet, plus the infantry had anchored above Fort Pillow, Tennessee, just out of the range of the Rebel guns.

Union Flotilla at Plum Run Bend.

Foote and Pope had constructed a plan to land the infantry above the fort, while the sixteen mortar boats and seven gunboats pounded away with their artillery. With Pope and his men gone, Foote could only put the fort under siege and hope for the best. He could not attack it, and, if it fell, he could not occupy it.

Fort Pillow was actually a five mile stretch of Confederate fortifications fifty miles south of the recently-taken Island No. 10. Containing over forty pieces of heavy artillery, this was the last formidable Mississippi River defense above Memphis. Amongst its weaponry, Fort Pillow was also protected by eight Confederate “cottonclads,” wooden ships, protected by compressed cotton, commanded by a former riverboat captain, James Edward Montgomery.

CSS General Bragg

During the early part of the siege, Foote’s health began to deteriorate and he was placed on a leave of absence. To take his place, the Navy sent Captain Charles Davis, who arrived on May 9. At first, things seemed to normal. In the morning of this date, a mortar boat, protected by the ironclad USS Cincinnati, were lazily lobbing shells towards the fort when an officer spotted a plume of black smoke coming up the river.

From around a bend came the Confederate River Defense Fleet, led by the CSS General Bragg. Captain Montgomery had his eyes on sinking the Cincinnati and taking the mortar boat for himself. While the Rebel ships were merely converted riverboats, outfitted with some artillery, they were also forged into rams. Being smaller, they were faster, and if they caught an enemy ship unawares, they had a decided advantage.

Battle at Plum Run Bend

The Cincinnati reacted slowly, trying to build up enough steam to move. She had made it to the middle of the river before the General Bragg smashed into her side. The Cincinnati replied with a broadside, but was soon hit again by the CSS General Sterling Price. She was now without a rudder.

To her rescue steamed the remaining six boats of the Union flotilla. As they arrived, they swarmed the Bragg, knocking her out of the action as another Rebel ship rammed the Cincinnati. The mortar boat managed to lightly toss up a shell or two above the Confederate fleet, exploding shreds of iron over the ships. The CSS General Van Dorn answered with her close-range artillery before ramming the USS Mound City, which had just been hit by the General Sumter, which had, itself, just rammed the Cincinnati, which was now sinking. The Mound City, also sinking, steamed towards the shore, but sank before reaching it.

Battle at Plum Run Bend from a 1862 Currier & Ives Lithograph.

The entire Union fleet had arrived and was ready to swat away the Rebel ships, when Captain Montgomery ordered his Confederate fleet to back off and return to the other side of Fort Pillow. The Confederate attack was fairly successful, sinking two ironclads and losing only one ship, but they didn’t get the mortar boat and the much stronger Federal fleet was still hovering above them. The dual loss of the Mound City and Cincinnati was only temporary, with the former being raised the next day and the latter two months later.

For a time, however, Fort Pillow, and thus Memphis, was still secure.

Norfolk Abandoned by Rebs, Seized by Federals

Norfolk Navy Yard in flames.

Though General McClellan’s move up the Virginia Peninsula was sluggish, it was still opportune enough to cause the Confederates to abandon their Navy Yard at Norfolk. The previous week, General Benjamin Huger, commanding several thousand troops around the city, began evacuating them on any ships that he could find. As their protection, the CSS Virginia (formerly the USS Merrimack) covered the escape with the Federals being none-the-wiser until the 8th.

Also that week, President Lincoln decided to drop in on the Peninsula to see how his investments were being handled by McClellan. Lincoln toured the area on the 7th, and determined that Norfolk was quite cut off from everything and could be taken without much loss. The next day, a few ships, including the new ironclad, Galena, attacked several points in the bay and on the James River. When the Rebels put up a stiff resistance, and when the CSS Virginia showed up, they backed down.

Union troops entering Norfolk.

After learning of the Confederate withdraw from Norfolk from a tugboat captain who had deserted his cause, Lincoln went ashore to see for himself where the Union troops were to be landed. After they were disembarked, the Secretary of the Treasure, Salmon P. Chase, who had accompanied the President, took joint command of the six thousand troops with General John Wool from Fortress Monroe.

All the while, Lincoln was rushing around on the boat, hurrying along the reinforcements. But there was little need. The Federal troops found only empty entrenchments and an empty city. Norfolk’s mayor, unlike the Mayor of New Orleans, formally surrendered his town to the invaders.

As happened elsewhere on the Peninsula, the Rebels had gotten away. But the loss of the Navy Yard, which had been put to the torch, meant that the CSS Virginia was homeless. That night, Flag Officer Josiah Tattnall, commander of the Confederate fleet, but mostly concerned with the Virginia, labored tirelessly with his crew to lighten her draft enough to make it over the shallows on the James River. Her new home was to be at Harrison’s Landing, thirty-five miles away. After just five hours, they had raised her three feet. This, hoped Tattnall, might be enough.

Mayor surrenders Norfolk to the Union.

Meanwhile, Union Flag Officer Louis Goldsborough caught not a wink of sleep as he tossed in his bed, worrying about the battle that he was sure would happen at dawn – the second meeting of the Monitor and Merrimack.