"We are ready and would go." - Part 4

The Black troops at Port Royal showed they could handle themselves in raids and skirmishes, but some still questioned if they could handle themselves in heavy combat.

In May and June 1863, Black and White Union regiments fought for the first time in major battles at Port Hudson and Milliken's Bend on the Mississippi River. Gen. Benjamin Butler's First Regiment Native Louisiana Guards were led by Black officers, including one 16-year-old lieutenant who was killed in action. Some of the White officers were surprised at how fiercely the Black troops fought. But Black soldiers were fighting for more than restoring the Union; they were fighting to liberate their people.

On July 18, 1863, Black soldiers soon got to prove their fighting ability even more dramatically. That was the day the 54th Massachusetts Infantry led the assault on Fort Wagner, a Confederate stronghold guarding the entrance to Charleston Harbor. (The battle was recreated in the movie “Glory” starring Denzel Washington.) The 54th Infantry Division was commanded by a 25-year-old White officer, Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, and was made up of runaway slaves and free Northern Black men including two of Frederick Douglass's sons.

Despite heavy artillery and rifle fire, the men made a furious charge on the Fort and engaged its Confederate defenders in brutal hand-to-hand combat. Unfortunately, the 54th was repelled by the Confederates and suffered 40% casualties. Col. Shaw was killed during the charge and was buried with his men. Reported widely in Northern newspapers, the story of the heroic actions of the 54th Massachusetts Infantry at Fort Wagner helped to change public opinion about Blacks serving in the Union Army.

"We are ready and would go." - Part 3

Before the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, escaped slaves were called “contrabands”.  (Dictionary definition: 1. illegal imports and exports; 2. illegal trade; 3. supplies forbidden to warring sides) In November 1861, when the Union Army occupied the islands off the coast of South Carolina, establishing Port Royal as its base of operations, many of these “contrabands” joined the Army as laborers, cooks, teamsters and servants.

In March 1862, Major General David Hunter took command of Port Royal. Hunter had fewer than 20,000 regular troops to defend this Union foothold in the South. He immediately began to recruit contrabands into a separate Black combat unit. Lincoln, however, continued to stand by his decision not to allow Black volunteers to serve as combat soldiers, so Hunter was not authorized to pay his Black troops. The regiment was disbanded.

Surprisingly, only a few months later Lincoln's new Secretary of War, Edwin M. Stanton, authorized the military governor at Port Royal to recruit contrabands to form a combat unit. Because Hunter had tried to experiment with Black troops without the authority of the government, he was not given command over the new unit. The governor, Brigadier General Rufus Saxton, was ordered to "arm, uniform, equip, and receive into the service of the United States such number of volunteers of African descent as you may deem expedient."

Gen. Saxton began to recruit and train a new regiment of Black South Carolina volunteers – the first Black military unit in the Union Army officially approved by the War Department. In November 1862, Gen. Saxton sent some of his Black soldiers with White officers to raid Confederate positions, destroy war supplies, and liberate slaves. Much to the surprise of some of their White officers, the first test of Black troops in combat were extraordinarily successful.

"We are ready and would go." - Part 2

During the early part of the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln opposed accepting blacks into the Union Army. He believed it would push Border States to join the Confederacy. However, in the second year of the war, Congress passed a law permitting Black men to enlist at a pay rate of $10 per month ($3 less than the pay of a White private). But Congress left it up to the President to determine the duties of Black volunteers. Lincoln decided that Black volunteers would not be trained as combat soldiers, only used as laborers. 

By the end of 1862, it was clear that the war was not going to end quickly, and there was a significant drop in the number of White volunteers. At the same time, Lincoln realized that once the war ended and the Union was restored, slavery could not continue. On January 1, 1863 he announced the Emancipation Proclamation and a change in war policy.

Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation liberated the slaves but also announced that Free Black volunteers would now be trained as combat soldiers. A Black regiment of escaped slaves serving on Union-occupied islands off the coast of South Carolina celebrated by spontaneously singing, "My Country 'tis of Thee.” The field commander of these troops, Colonel Thomas W. Higginson, later wrote, "Just think of it!—the first day they had ever had a country."

In the spring of 1863, the War Department organized the Bureau of Colored Troops. The bureau began a massive Army recruitment program aimed at free Blacks in the North and emancipated slaves in Union-held Southern territory. 

Coming next: Famous battles fought by regiments of Black soldiers.

"We are ready and would go." - Part 1

After the the Federal Government declared war on the Confederate states, Black men in the North wanted to join the Army in the fight to end slavery. Frederick Douglass spoke for them when he said, "We are ready and would go."

Most White Americans saw Black adults as childlike, lacking mental capacity and discipline. They believed slavery had made Black men dependent and irresponsible. These assumed that a Black man could never fight like a White soldier.  

Surprisingly, the Confederate government of Louisiana had formed a militia consisting of free Black men led by Black officers. But when Union Army Major General Benjamin Butler took New Orleans in the spring of 1862, this Confederate Black militia went to Butler and volunteered to join his forces. Butler transformed them into the First Regiment Native Louisiana Guards led by Black captains and lieutenants. Later he formed two more Black regiments commanded by White officers. These three regiments became the first units of Black troops in the Union Army. 

During the Civil War nearly 180,000 free Black men and escaped slaves volunteered to serve in the Union Army. Black soldiers, including more than a dozen Congressional Medal of Honor winners, fought in 449 battles. More than one-third of them died during the war.

A slave's escape from a Kentucky logging camp

Master Levi had been a good man as White men went, as guards on a work crew went, as men carrying weapons and the authority to use them went. Gideon couldn’t look him in the eyes. He felt he was betraying his friends, but there was nothing he could do for them. He hit Levi on the side of the head with the sharp rock he had slipped into his jacket pocket that morning.

Without a sound Levi fell to the side. Blood gushed from a jagged cut at his temple. Gideon squatted down and leaned over to see if he was still breathing. He hadn’t wanted to kill him, just knock him out. Crouching, he looked around. No one.

Master Levi had come with him into the deep brush after Gideon had doubled over complaining of cramps and loose bowels. It was his long-planned scheme as his best chance to escape. The next part was to run. Now he had to go, and go fast, before others noticed. He checked the sun again, just beginning to set in the west, low in the winter sky. He ran northeast through the deep woods, across the frozen earth and clumps of melting snow. He had a thin ragged jacket for warmth and old, ill-fitting boots on his feet. His shoulder ached where he had a perpetual pain from taking up the axe again only one day after he had dislocated it. He knew they’d be after him soon. He was afraid, but he was going.

After running a good distance, Gideon saw an immense rock jutting sideways out of the ground; he decided to hide under it until nightfall. He had a fear of wild animals – boar, fox, snakes, bears – but he knew he had to keep his courage in this crowded and fierce landscape. For a few moments he had a panicked desire for the cabin deep in the forest where he and the other men slept. He heard footsteps. Was it a man or an animal? He jumped up to run and slipped on a patch of frosty dead leaves. He bumped his head against the rock and had to choke back a cry of pain. About twenty feet away an elegant buck walked by, stepping carefully over the uneven ground. Gideon sat down and exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

Dusk was falling fast so he decided to move on. He got up and looked around, listening. All he could see were the trunks of trees, low limbs, and undergrowth with haphazard boulders among them. The only sound was a light rustling of pine needles in the tops of the evergreens. He jogged onward and downward; he knew the north side of the mountain sloped down to the river. He would have to wait until complete darkness to fix his course by the stars. He found a thicket, probably a deer’s shelter, and crawled inside. He’d wait another hour or so.

The forest at night was deathly quiet. It distressed him to be alone in the dark – and the silence. All his life he had lived in cabins shared with other boys and men, had heard the sound of work going on, axes against timber, long saws pulled back and forth across thick trunks, the rumblings and complaints of oxen and mules, soft singing voices in the evening, snoring and snorting sounds at night. He hugged himself against the cold, put his hands under his armpits, wiggled his frozen toes in the worn leather boots.

After a while, the moon rose, a small white sphere far off in the heavens. Gideon crept out of his cover and looked up between the dark, spiky spires. Moving among the age-old evergreens, the stars above were sharp points of light, the air cold and clean and scented by the forest. Where there was an opening in the treetops, he found the North Star and followed it.

Gideon walked on, shivering in the cold, afraid of everything: of men following him, of animals disturbed in their sleep, of going in the wrong direction, of his entire future. Tears sprouted in his eyes and he shook his head and coughed. A family of raccoons strutted from behind copsewood; he stopped in his tracks, holding his breath, listening. If anyone was hunting him in this black night, he didn’t think they were anywhere nearby – the little critters were confident, at home, not scurrying away from an intrusion. Getting his bearings again, he moved on. The forest was thinning and he could feel a cold wind coming through. He thought he smelled the river.

He walked from one standard to the next, following deer trails, or maybe old Shawnee hunting routes, moving steadily down hill. His feet were freezing and sore. He was sure he had blisters but didn’t want to check; it would be worse to inspect them and then try to put his boots on again. There was nothing he could do about any of it, not his aching shoulder, his frigid hands, or his throbbing feet. At least his legs were holding out.

Now it was more stumps than trees, more grass and shrub. The slope was still steep but in the distance he saw the moon reflected on black water. The river. The River Jordan. And on the other side, the soft glimmer of a few lights in the town. A Negro man lived there. He would take Gideon in. From then on, Gideon didn’t know what would happen, but he had heard tales. At least he wouldn’t be chopping down wooden beasts the rest of his life with no choice of where he laid his head or how much he got to eat.

He stood behind a giant oak near the riverbank. That was Ohio across the water. There should be a boat tied up at a small dock nearby. Keeping within the camouflage of his forest home, he walked up and down until he saw a rickety wood platform sticking out over the water. He looked around, then walked to the water’s edge and quickly dropped down the bank next to the dock. He saw the boat tied up loosely, drifting in the current. Gideon couldn’t swim. He waded into the water and shinnied up the piling to the top of the dock. Wrapping his arms around the post, he took hold of the rope that held the boat, pulling it closer in. He tied the rope around his waist and jumped back into the water where he believed he could still touch the bottom. He pulled the boat toward him and threw himself over the top. The oars were locked in place, the blades waiting in the hull.

Gideon had never rowed a boat, but he’d seen it done. He knew he should face the square end and row in the opposite direction. He floundered for a while, not keeping rhythm with his strokes, slapping the water with one oar, then the other. He must have been pulling harder on his left – his strong shoulder; he was rowing in a wide circle. Good Lord, help me.

God heard his prayer. After a few more inefficient strokes, Gideon got the oars moving together and the boat pointing in the right direction. The dock on the opposite side accommodated a raft big enough for horses and passengers with a roofed seating area in the middle of it. Gideon had been told to make sure he tied up the rowboat after he came across; it was meant to be used by other escaping slaves in the coming weeks or months.

He ducked as he let the small boat glide into the dark space under the dock. It was almost dawn. Keeping still, he listened for the sound of men starting work. He wrapped the line around a pole, jumped into the water and stayed pressed against the riverbank until he could claw his way through the mud to the top. He flipped his body onto the muddy grass, but stayed flat. He was soaked and shivering; his legs were trembling. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. Heavy clouds covered the sky, moving swiftly across the face of the waning moon. Gideon was thankful for a few more minutes of darkness.

From his prone position, he saw a man walking on the wide road that led from the town to the dock. He wasn’t carrying a gun. Probably worked on the ferry. Gideon thought, Should I get up and be seen for what I am, a filthy, wet, tired and terrified Negro escaped from across the river? Should I wait until the man gets here and tells me to stand up, identify myself, state my business? Or should I crawl like a dog and ask for mercy? He was frozen to the spot.

19th Century farming on a slave-holder farm in Maryland from "The Silence of Sorrowful Hours"

In contrast to the master’s house, the slave quarters were like a small village made up of several one-room cabins, a smoke house, a smithing barn, and a stable for five mules and two workhorses. The slaves, farm hands, and farm manager rose at 3:00 a.m. to feed, water, and harness the horses, milk the cows, and feed the pigs and poultry. Then they hauled wood for the stoves. Breakfast was at seven – beefsteak or pork, eggs, fried potatoes, fruit pie, hominy cakes, fritters, and coffee.

Planting and harvesting went on from April to October. The spring started with plowing, rolling, pull­ing up stumps, and burning refuse. They prepared the fields for sowing and spread manure over the plantings. Besides field work there were fence posts and rails to be fitted, gates to be maintained, stalls to be mucked, grain to be threshed, and apples to be dried or mashed to cider.

In July, hay and wheat were harvested using a mowing machine and reaper or cutting it down with scythes. The cut grains were raked together and taken to the barn where the wheat was shucked and sorted.  Bar­ley and rye were mowed by hand. September and October were the months to bring in the potatoes, corn, and beans. Oats were threshed and corn was husked. Then the fields were plowed up and the next season’s wheat crop was planted. 

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19th Century Farming in Pennsylvania from "The Silence of Sorrowful Hours"

The region where the Hoffmann farm stood was full of streams and ponds, protruding boulders, and rolling hills. Old Indian trails laced the valley. Many had been abandoned for decades and were overgrown and forgotten, but others had been widened into roads as settlers moved west. Not far away, there were iron ore, copper, and coal mines whose workers came from Ireland, Wales and England as well as Central and Eastern Europe and who brought Catholicism to the mostly Quaker and Lutheran communities.

Uncle Jonathan raised soybeans, hay, wheat, rye, and oats; he had pear, apple, and peach orchards. An ox, two Belgian draft horses, four quarter horses, and a mule did the work and got them where they needed to go. Three dairy cows, a dozen chickens, geese, ducks and pigs provided milk, cheese, eggs, and meat. Seasonal laborers were hired in the spring and fall and day workers when they were needed.

The farm’s stone and wood house was a hundred years old. The original part of the house was three stories; a summer kitchen and pantry had been added on some fifty years later. The big room at the rear of the house had a long wooden table that could seat ten people and was used for all their meals. The back porch was a recent addition; a part of it was partitioned off for the bath and laundry rooms. There was a well in the yard and an underground space by the barn where they stored ice.

19th century care for burns from "The Silence of Sorrowful Hours"

Marabella lived in Angelise’s cabin after she returned from the last mission with Gideon. For three days she was numb and in shock, then she was in great pain. Angelise cared for her night and day. She applied honey to prevent infection. For the pain, she used milk and comfrey root compresses or cold water mixed with vinegar. After about three weeks, she exposed the wounds to the air. The flesh oozed and then scabbed. Angelise told Marabella not to touch it. When the scabs started to dry up and could be removed without exposing an open wound, Angelise spread egg whites on the skin to prevent scarring.