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CHAPTER 1
On the Father of Waters
The courthouse property was filled on Saturday, July 26, 1862, with 20,000 sweating Old Northwest patriots, crammed together to hear the rousing speeches of their city leaders. All businesses in Chicago had closed down at noon so everyone could attend "The Great War Meeting." President Abraham Lincoln, a fellow Illinoisan, had called for 300,000 more volunteers. Major General George B. McClellan had failed in his march on Richmond; and Major Generals Ulysses S. Grant, William S. Rosecrans, and Don Carlos Buell had not made much progress in the West. The flames of war must be rekindled and the Union restored.
At this second war rally — the first "uprising" had been held five days ago — three platforms were set up around the perimeter of the public square. Chicago's most influential leaders were there. Politicians enjoyed the impromptu exposure. Members of the Board of Trade urged their families and friends to lend more financial support. Religious orators took the stage to pray for a speedy end to the war. Military officers on leave, like the colonel of the 8th Illinois Cavalry, were suddenly pulled up to a podium to give a battlefield perspective. The city's leaders were unified in their call for volunteers. They took turns addressing the crowd. Stephen Douglas would have been proud of his legacy. The response to simultaneous speeches from three stages created a dizzying swirl of emotions, spinning faster and faster like a white-foam whirlpool in the path of a surging rapid.
The crowd shifted and pressed closer to the center platform to hear Isaac N. Arnold, a United States Congressman and a close friend of Abraham Lincoln. His speech was interrupted with waves of applause that undulated across the throng. Arnold's deep voice boomed above the din: "Who shall pay the cost of this war? Let us quarter on the enemy, confiscate the property and free the slaves of rebels." The crowd responded with an earbursting cheer.
A band was seated behind Arnold on the platform. The musicians raised their instruments as a vocalist and his choir came on stage to sing a new war song. It had been written the day before by George F. Root, one of the United States' leading composers, who had been inspired while reading Lincoln's second call for volunteers. Two singers laureate had stopped by his store earlier to pick up something new to sing at today's rally. Jules G. Lumbard and his brother Frank practiced it once or twice and then took the music sheets with them to the meeting.
The audience quieted. Jules Lumbard's bass voice trembled as he started the song: "Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again, shouting the battle cry of freedom." Men raised their clenched fists in agreement. "We will rally from the hill side, we'll gather from the plain, shouting the battle cry of freedom." On stage, the choir, including Jules' brother Frank with his tenor voice, sang from their clean sheets of music, "The Union forever, hurrah, boys, hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the star; while we rally 'round the flag, boys, rally once again, shouting the battle cry of freedom."
The band settled into the rhythm of this new song. Jules Lumbard grew confident as he started the second verse: "We are springing to the call for three hundred thousand more." Women began to dab at their eyes with white-lace kerchiefs. What would happen to their husbands, sons, grandsons, and nephews who were still home? A few people in the audience joined the second chorus.
Jules Lumbard's voice resonated throughout the Court House Square as he began to sing the third verse: "We will welcome to our numbers this loyal, true and brave." His last verse rose to a crescendo — "So we're springing to the call from the East and from the West" — and sent a chill that pulsated throughout the hot, steaming crowd. Immigrants saw an opportunity to connect with their new country; and to use the high bounties, though denounced by the Chicago Tribune as "utterly wrong in principle," to feed their families. Young hometown men like Will Brown, who previously hesitated to join the fray, furrowed their brows as they contemplated whether to answer this urgent plea. In frenzied unison, thousands of men and women shouted the last refrain: "The Union forever; hurrah, boys, hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the star, while we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again; shouting the battle cry of freedom." The debut of a great American song reverberated through the streets as determined Chicagoans returned to their homes to think about how to respond to Lincoln's latest call. The popularity of Root's hastily penned song spread throughout the Union in the months that followed. After the Battle of Stones River, fought in December 1862, soldiers in the Army of the Cumberland began to sing it. "The Battle Cry of Freedom" was soon sung by Federal soldiers everywhere, "in camps, on the march, upon the battle field," and by their families and friends back home.
The businessmen in the Mercantile Association held a special "War Meeting" on Monday evening, July 28. They met in their business office at the corner of Lake and State streets above the Hibbard & Co. store. John Farwell presided as chairman. After much discussion, and still stirred by Saturday's motivational rally, the members decided to follow the lead of the Board of Trade. In a week their business associates had successfully filled the ranks of an artillery battery and infantry regiment. Although the Mercantile Association was new — and thus did not have the clout or resources of the 10-year-old commodity exchange — its members believed it was important to show support for the war effort.
The Mercantile Association voted to move forward with its new battery and, like the Board of Trade, pay for the company's equipment and additional bounties. Much discussion was given to arming their new artillerists with the "Coffee Mill Gun," a repeating rifle or early "machine gun" that had been demonstrated during the past few days at Michigan Park along the lake. It was doubtful, however, that enough of these innovative weapons could be procured in time. Charles G. Cooley was announced as the unit's captain. "Doggett Guards" was the tentative name given to his new battery.
Another city rally was held on August 1. Chicago's leaders hoped that the response to these calls for volunteers would be as prolific as the initial 1861 outpouring of support for the war. After Fort Sumter, so many volunteers had shown up at the recruiting offices that the rolls for the Garden City's first Civil War units were immediately filled — leaving the governor to worry about having too many volunteers.
Although Pat White was one of the most qualified men to join a Union battery in April 1861 — he had been a member of the prestigious Chicago Light Artillery in which his relative Ezra Taylor served as a lieutenant — the young Irishman opted not to do so because his newlywed sister needed help to care for their two siblings. Their father, Bryan White, unexpectedly died in 1856 and mother Catherine had just passed away in January. Pat, a six-foot, broad-shouldered Irishman, was born in County Sligo in 1832. Five years later, he immigrated with his family to St. Johns, Nova Scotia. In 1850, the White family moved to Chicago during a time when there was a steady influx of Irish exiles. Like Ezra Taylor, Pat White worked in the meat-packing industry as the war opened.
Voluntary militia organizations had been established in most major cities around the United States after the Mexican War. Elmer Ellsworth and his Zouaves, with their colorful uniforms patterned after those worn by France's elite North African troops, comprised the most famous Chicago unit before the Civil War. He and his infantrymen traveled around the country conducting exhibitions and bedazzling audiences with their drills and colorful attire. The Chicago Light Artillery was organized in 1854 under Captain James Smith as a successor to the Chicago Hussars and Light Artillery that had been formed seven years earlier. Ezra Taylor was the company's first lieutenant. Pat White joined in 1858. Despite having damaged fingers on his left hand (caused by a mishap while working in a Canadian sawmill), he earned "quite a reputation as 'A Number One'" with Smith's artillery militia, which was used to fire salutes at special occasions in the city (such as when the delegates for the Republican convention disembarked from trains on their way to nominate Abraham Lincoln to be president). In support of his sister, White kept his position as a butcher at Gordon S. Hubbard & Co. and resorted to taking the muddy back streets in Chicago to avoid answering questions about why he did not join his friends, who had left for Cairo in April 1861 as the Illinois Light Artillery, Battery A (also known as the Chicago Light Artillery, Company A).
Frustrated with his decision to stay at home, White went by the armory one night and saw 100 young men drilling with a bronze cannon. Knowing some of them, White offered to teach the new recruits how to handle the 6-pounder. Unable to bear it any longer, he joined the artillery unit, which became known as the Illinois Light Artillery, Battery B or Taylor's Battery (in honor of its captain, Ezra Taylor). Lieutenant Pat White "left for Cairo on the 4 of June, 1861," the day after Stephen A. Douglas died.
Deployed by Brigadier General Ulysses Grant with a section of Taylor's Battery, White saw his first action at Fredericktown, Missouri, when his artillery section was engaged in pursuit of Southern partisan commander M. Jeff Thompson. After the engagement on October 21, 1861, the commander of the Union forces, Colonel J. B. Plummer, sent for White and told him that "I saw service in the Mexican War but I must say I never saw guns better handled." He also submitted a commendation to Grant, praising White's "effectiveness." From that point on, White steadily earned the respect of the future general-in-chief.
On November 7, Taylor's Battery climbed off transports to assist Grant in driving Major General Leonidas Polk's Rebel troops out of Belmont, Missouri, across the Mississippi River from the Southern bastion at Columbus, Kentucky. Pat White's artillery section was placed at the front of Grant's line, to the left of Colonel John A. Logan and his 31st Illinois Infantry regiment, as the attack began. He and his men dueled with a battery from New Orleans as Brigadier General John A. McClernand's troops drove the enemy from his entrenchments. After premature celebrating, led by McClernand, a former congressman who would soon become a thorn in Grant's side, the Union troops had to fall back to their transports. White and his cannoneers covered the retreat. "I was nearly the last getting out," the Irishman wrote after the war. "I knew the rebels were after us so I placed a gun to protect us while loading. ... when all was aboard except this gun, the enemy came for us with a yell, so we gave them its contents and then ran it aboard and then used two guns on them from the bow of the boat. ... We returned to camp at Bird's Point. It was quite a sight to see our limber chest riddled with bullet holes." Colonel W. H. L. Wallace credited the work of White and the rest of Taylor's Battery with "saving our broken forces at Belmont from utter destruction."
Pat White remained in McClernand's division, which, as a part of Grant's command, advanced to Fort Donelson after the surrender of Fort Henry. On February 12, 1862, McClernand's Illinois troops were on the right of Grant's line. White participated in an artillery duel that day. During the ensuing darkness, the Union troops endured a frigid night without campfires, the novice soldiers now lamenting their decision to discard their heavy coats on the march from Fort Henry. Pat White recalled after the war that, "We could not build fires, as that would draw the enemy's attention, and to make matters worse, a driving storm of sleet set in toward morning. The enemy's pickets kept firing all night and the groans of the wounded, lying between the two armies, added to the terrors of that awful night." In the middle of the night, White "noticed some of the men who had blankets lying on the ground completely covered with snow and you would think they were dead if it was not for their breath like little puffs of steam." The next night was just as bad. McClernand's men, in retreating, had left their wounded comrades behind. White recalled, "We could here their cries all night and to make matters worse some were burned by the burning of the dead leaves and crust." The distraught lieutenant tried to sleep in a baggage wagon with Captain Ezra Taylor. However, "in a short time we had to get out as there was false alarm, caused by the icicles forming on the scrub oak trees trowing off by the wind, and the enemy thought we were chargeing their works so they opened fire all along their lines, in a short time our cloths were frozen on our backs."
After the Fort Donelson victory, Taylor's Battery moved with the army down the Tennessee River to Pittsburg Landing, which was to serve as a base in the campaign to capture the strategic railway terminus at Corinth, Mississippi. Grant, who had been temporarily sidelined by his superior, Major General Henry W. Halleck, returned to command the forces at Pittsburg Landing on March 17. Pat White and his artillerists were encamped in an open field just behind the front lines near Shiloh Church, a local landmark, on Saturday, April 5. At dawn the next day, the "sun arose beautifully." Taylor's men were finishing their breakfasts and preparing for a 9:00 a.m. inspection when the Southerners interrupted their plans with a surprise attack. Since his horses were already harnessed for that morning's inspection, White was asked around 7:30 a.m. to advance immediately to the right of Shiloh Church. Brigadier General William T. Sherman was on hand to witness the bravery of Pat White and his redlegs as they engaged in a hot artillery duel with the Fifth Company from New Orleans' Washington Artillery. The Louisiana artillerists had turned their blue "jackets inside out so that the gray lining would be on the outside." Walter Scates, one of the artillerists in Taylor's Battery, wrote about the start of the Shiloh battle to his father, who was a prominent judge in Chicago. "Soon we could see bayonets glistening through the trees on the opposite side of the ravine & then the rebels came down the hill on the double quick," Scates recounted. "Give them cannister!" shouted the Union commanders. After repelling the onrushing grayclad soldiers, the men in Taylor's Battery cheered. "Every cap went up into the air & we danced about like madmen. Major Taylor (now chief of artillery for Sherman) rode up just then & shouted 'Boys' I'm proud of you. You're doing gloriously."
Sherman — whom White described as "the coolest man I saw that day"— ordered Taylor's men to draw back at about 10:30 a.m., so they could replenish their ammunition chests. Scates wrote, "For over an hour we did some of the hardest work of our lives, our guns roaring incessantly & shot & shell plunging & bursting all over & around us." Falling back again, Taylor's Battery was showered with shot and shell for a half mile across an open field. Walter Scates recalled that "at one time I looked back & saw a shot strike the ground away from me & instantly I stooped just in time to save myself from being cut in two for it grazed my back." White would later count more than a dozen bullet holes in his powder-stained frock coat. His closest brush with death arrived in the form of a shell fragment that struck his side, shearing off his sword belt and ruining his sword.
After the maelstrom of Shiloh, Pat White returned to Chicago on a 20-day leave to recruit for his battery and recuperate from the intense campaigning in Tennessee. When his sister opened the door of their house to greet him, she saw his bullet-ridden coat and pants. Neighbors were ushered in to inspect the evidence of White's close calls. The revitalized Irishman was soon ready to return to the field. But not before he received a special gift from some of the city's prominent citizens on May 1. On the front page of the next day's Chicago Tribune, it was noted that Pat White "was the recipient of a sword, sash and belt, at the hands of his friends in this city, last evening." The embarrassed lieutenant was taken aback and could only stammer, "Gentlemen, I do not deserve this compliment, I am serving my country, to the utmost of my feeble ability, because I love it. I promise you that no act of mine shall ever bring disgrace upon the sword you have given me, nor shall it ever be yielded to an inferior in rank of the enemy's line."
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Chicago's Battery Boys"
by .
Copyright © 2007 Richard Brady Williams.
Excerpted by permission of Savas Beatie LLC.
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