Something for the weekend.  The New York Volunteer sung by Bobby Horton who has waged a one man campaign to bring Civil War music to modern audiences.  New York supplied more troops to the Union than any other state.  Some 400-460,000 New Yorkers wore Union blue during the War in 27 regiments of Cavalry, 3 regiments of United States Colored Troops, 15 regiments of artillery, 8 engineer regiments and an astounding 248 infantry regiments.  The New York Volunteers took a back seat to men from no other state in the Union in providing manpower to win the War.

An anti-climatic engagement the day after the decisive battle of Champion Hill, the battle is chiefly memorable because it deprived General Pemberton of 1751 men taken prisoners, and demonstrated that Pemberton’s Army of Mississippi had no further taste to meet the Army of the Tennessee in open field combat.  Pemberton’s force could hold Vicksburg for a time, and his men did that valiantly, but a mass sortie to break the siege simply was no longer within their power or will.  Here is Grant’s description of the engagement taken from his Personal Memoirs:

The advance division, Carr’s (McClernand’s corps), resumed the pursuit at half-past three A.M. on the 17th, followed closely by Osterhaus, McPherson bringing up the rear with his corps. As I expected, the enemy was found in position on the Big Black. The point was only six miles from that where my advance had rested for the night, and was reached at an early hour. Here the river makes a turn to the west, and has washed close up to the high land; the east side is a low bottom, sometimes overflowed at very high water, but was cleared and in cultivation. A bayou runs irregularly across this low land, the bottom of which, however, is above the surface of the Big Black at ordinary stages. When the river is full water runs through it, converting the point of land into an island. The bayou was grown up with timber, which the enemy had felled into the ditch. At this time there was a foot or two of water in it. The rebels had constructed a parapet along the inner bank of this bayou by using cotton bales from the plantation close by and throwing dirt over them. The whole was thoroughly commanded from the height west of the river. At the upper end of the bayou there was a strip of uncleared land which afforded a cover for a portion of our men. Carr’s division was deployed on our right, Lawler’s brigade forming his extreme right and reaching through these woods to the river above. Osterhaus’ division was deployed to the left of Carr and covered the enemy’s entire front. McPherson was in column on the road, the head close by, ready to come in wherever he could be of assistance.

While the troops were standing as here described an officer from Banks’ staff came up and presented me with a letter from General Halleck, dated the 11th of May. It had been sent by the way of New Orleans to Banks to be forwarded to me. It ordered me to return to Grand Gulf and to co-operate from there with Banks against Port Hudson, and then to return with our combined forces to besiege Vicksburg. I told the officer that the order came too late, and that Halleck would not give it now if he knew our position. The bearer of the dispatch insisted that I ought to obey the order, and was giving arguments to support his position when I heard great cheering to the right of our line and, looking in that direction, saw Lawler in his shirt sleeves leading a charge upon the enemy. I immediately mounted my horse and rode in the direction of the charge, and saw no more of the officer who delivered the dispatch; I think not even to this day.

The assault was successful. But little resistance was made. The enemy fled from the west bank of the river, burning the bridge behind him and leaving the men and guns on the east side to fall into our hands. Many tried to escape by swimming the river. Some succeeded and some were drowned in the attempt. Eighteen guns were captured and 1,751 prisoners. Our loss was 39 killed, 237 wounded and 3 missing. The enemy probably lost but few men except those captured and drowned. But for the successful and complete destruction of the bridge, I have but little doubt that we should have followed the enemy so closely as to prevent his occupying his defences around Vicksburg.

 As the bridge was destroyed and the river was high, new bridges had to be built. It was but little after nine o’clock A.M. when the capture took place. As soon as work could be commenced, orders were given for the construction of three bridges. One was taken charge of by Lieutenant Hains, of the Engineer Corps, one by General McPherson himself and one by General Ransom, a most gallant and intelligent volunteer officer. My recollection is that Hains built a raft bridge; McPherson a pontoon, using cotton bales in large numbers, for pontoons; and that Ransom felled trees on opposite banks of the river, cutting only on one side of the tree, so that they would fall with their tops interlacing in the river, without the trees being entirely severed from their stumps. A bridge was then made with these trees to support the roadway. Lumber was taken from buildings, cotton gins and wherever found, for this purpose. By eight o’clock in the morning of the 18th all three bridges were complete and the troops were crossing.

Sherman reached Bridgeport about noon of the 17th and found Blair with the pontoon train already there. A few of the enemy were intrenched on the west bank, but they made little resistance and soon surrendered. Two divisions were crossed that night and the third the following morning.

The decisive battle of the Vicksburg Campaign, and one of the decisive battles of the War, the battle of Champion Hill led to the siege of Vicksburg, and once it became a siege, with the Union able to bring endless reinforcements to reinforce Grant during the siege via the Mississippi, the fall of Vicksburg became merely a matter of time.  Pemberton with 22,000 men had planned to attempt to attack Union supply columns coming from Grand Gulf, south of Vicksburg, to Raymond, Mississippi.  Receiving repeated orders that he move on Clinton, Mississippi instead, he counter-marched and took up a defensive position against the advancing Federals at Champion Hill.

Here is Pemberton’s description of how the battle began, taken from his official report:

On the morning of the 16th, at about 6.30 o’clock, Col. Wirt Adams reported to me that his pickets were skirmishing with the enemy on the Raymond road some distance in our front. While in conversation with him, a courier arrived and handed me the following dispatch from General Johnston:

CANTON ROAD, TEN MILES FROM JACKSON, May 15, 1863-8.30 a.m.

Our being compelled to leave Jackson makes your plan impracticable. The only mode by which we can unite is by your moving directly to Clinton, informing me, that we may move to that point with about 6,000 troops. I have no means of estimating enemy’s force at Jackson. The principal officers here differ very widely, and I fear he will fortify if time is left him. Let me hear from you immediately. General Maxey was ordered back to Brookhaven. You probably have time to make him join you. Do so before he has time to move away.

I immediately directed a countermarch, or rather a retrograde movement, by reversing the column as it then stood, for the purpose of returning toward Edwards Depot to take the Brownsville road, and thence to proceed toward Clinton by a route north of the railroad. A written reply to General Johnston’s instructions, in which I notified him that the countermarch had been ordered and of the route I should take, was dispatched in haste, and without allowing myself sufficient time to take a copy.

Just as this reverse movement commenced, the enemy drove in Colonel Adams’ cavalry pickets, and opened with artillery at long range on the head of my column on the Raymond road. Not knowing whether this was an attack in force or simply an armed reconnaissance, and being anxious to obey the instructions of General Johnston, I directed the continuance of the movement, giving the necessary instructions for securing the safety of the wagon train. The demonstrations of the enemy soon becoming more serious, orders were sent to division commanders to form in line of battle on the cross-road from the Clinton to the Raymond road, Loring on the right, Bowen in the center, and Stevenson on the left. Major-General Stevenson was instructed to make the necessary dispositions for the protection of the trains then on the Clinton road and crossing Baker’s Creek. The line of battle was quickly formed, without any interference on the part of the enemy. The position selected was naturally a strong one, and all approaches from the front well covered. A short time after the formation of the line, Loring’s division was thrown back so as to cover the military road, it being reported that the enemy had appeared in that direction. The enemy made his first demonstration on our right, but after a lively artillery duel for an hour or more, this attack was relinquished, and a large force was thrown against our left, where skirmishing became heavy about 10 o’clock, and the battle began in earnest along Stevenson’s entire front about noon.

Grant described the beginning of the battle in his Personal Memoirs:

About five o’clock in the morning (16th) two men, who had been employed on the Jackson and Vicksburg railroad, were brought to me. They reported that they had passed through Pemberton’s army in the night, and that it was still marching east. They reported him to have eighty regiments of infantry and ten batteries; in all, about twenty-five thousand men. I had expected to leave Sherman at Jackson another day in order to complete his work; but getting the above information I sent him orders to move with all dispatch to Bolton, and to put one division with an ammunition train on the road at once, with directions to its commander to march with all possible speed until he came up to our rear. Within an hour after receiving this order Steele’s division was on the road. At the same time I dispatched to Blair, who was near Auburn, to move with all speed to Edward’s station. McClernand was directed to embrace Blair in his command for the present. Blair’s division was a part of the 15th army corps (Sherman’s); but as it was on its way to join its corps, it naturally struck our left first, now that we had faced about and were moving west. The 15th corps, when it got up, would be on our extreme right. McPherson was directed to get his trains out of the way of the troops, and to follow Hovey’s division as closely as possible. McClernand had two roads about three miles apart, converging at Edward’s station, over which to march his troops. Hovey’s division of his corps had the advance on a third road (the Clinton) still farther north. McClernand was directed to move Blair’s and A. J. Smith’s divisions by the southernmost of these roads, and Osterhaus and Carr by the middle road. Orders were to move cautiously with skirmishers to the front to feel for the enemy.

Smith’s division on the most southern road was the first to encounter the enemy’s pickets, who were speedily driven in. Osterhaus, on the middle road, hearing the firing, pushed his skirmishers forward, found the enemy’s pickets and forced them back to the main line. About the same time Hovey encountered the enemy on the northern or direct wagon road from Jackson to Vicksburg. McPherson was hastening up to join Hovey, but was embarrassed by Hovey’s trains occupying the roads. I was still back at Clinton. McPherson sent me word of the situation, and expressed the wish that I was up. By half-past seven I was on the road and proceeded rapidly to the front, ordering all trains that were in front of troops off the road. When I arrived Hovey’s skirmishing amounted almost to a battle.

McClernand was in person on the middle road and had a shorter distance to march to reach the enemy’s position than McPherson. I sent him word by a staff officer to push forward and attack. These orders were repeated several times without apparently expediting McClernand’s advance.

Champion’s Hill, where Pemberton had chosen his position to receive us, whether taken by accident or design, was well selected. It is one of the highest points in that section, and commanded all the ground in range. On the east side of the ridge, which is quite precipitous, is a ravine running first north, then westerly, terminating at Baker’s Creek. It was grown up thickly with large trees and undergrowth, making it difficult to penetrate with troops, even when not defended. The ridge occupied by the enemy terminated abruptly where the ravine turns westerly. The left of the enemy occupied the north end of this ridge. The Bolton and Edward’s station wagon-road turns almost due south at this point and ascends the ridge, which it follows for about a mile; then turning west, descends by a gentle declivity to Baker’s Creek, nearly a mile away. On the west side the slope of the ridge is gradual and is cultivated from near the summit to the creek. There was, when we were there, a narrow belt of timber near the summit west of the road.

From Raymond there is a direct road to Edward’s station, some three miles west of Champion’s Hill. There is one also to Bolton. From this latter road there is still another, leaving it about three and a half miles before reaching Bolton and leads direct to the same station. It was along these two roads that three divisions of McClernand’s corps, and Blair of Sherman’s, temporarily under McClernand, were moving. Hovey of McClernand’s command was with McPherson, farther north on the road from Bolton direct to Edward’s station. The middle road comes into the northern road at the point where the latter turns to the west and descends to Baker’s Creek; the southern road is still several miles south and does not intersect the others until it reaches Edward’s station. Pemberton’s lines covered all these roads, and faced east. Hovey’s line, when it first drove in the enemy’s pickets, was formed parallel to that of the enemy and confronted his left.

The battle was extremely hard fought, and the Union had the advantage in numbers, some 33,000 to 22,000.  However, as Grant made plain in his account of the battle, not all of his force was brought to bear:

The battle of Champion’s Hill lasted about four hours, hard fighting, preceded by two or three hours of skirmishing, some of which almost rose to the dignity of battle. Every man of Hovey’s division and of McPherson’s two divisions was engaged during the battle. No other part of my command was engaged at all, except that as described before. Osterhaus’s and A. J. Smith’s divisions had encountered the rebel advanced pickets as early as half-past seven. Their positions were admirable for advancing upon the enemy’s line. McClernand, with two divisions, was within a few miles of the battle-field long before noon and in easy hearing. I sent him repeated orders by staff officers fully competent to explain to him the situation. These traversed the wood separating us, without escort, and directed him to push forward; but he did not come. It is true, in front of McClernand there was a small force of the enemy and posted in a good position behind a ravine obstructing his advance; but if he had moved to the right by the road my staff officers had followed the enemy must either have fallen back or been cut off. Instead of this he sent orders to Hovey, who belonged to his corps, to join on to his right flank. Hovey was bearing the brunt of the battle at the time. To obey the order he would have had to pull out from the front of the enemy and march back as far as McClernand had to advance to get into battle and substantially over the same ground. Of course I did not permit Hovey to obey the order of his intermediate superior.

We had in this battle about 15,000 men absolutely engaged. This excludes those that did not get up, all of McClernand’s command except Hovey. Our loss was 410 killed, 1,844 wounded and 187 missing. Hovey alone lost 1,200 killed, wounded and missing — more than one-third of his division.

Had McClernand come up with reasonable promptness, or had I known the ground as I did afterwards, I cannot see how Pemberton could have escaped with any organized force. As it was he lost over three thousand killed and wounded and about three thousand captured in battle and in pursuit. Loring’s division, which was the right of Pemberton’s line, was cut off from the retreating army and never got back into Vicksburg. Pemberton himself fell back that night to the Big Black River. His troops did not stop before midnight and many of them left before the general retreat commenced, and no doubt a good part of them returned to their homes. Logan alone captured 1,300 prisoners and eleven guns. Hovey captured 300 under fire and about 700 in all, exclusive of 500 sick and wounded whom he paroled, thus making 1,200.

Pemberton in his report blamed vastly superior numbers for his loss:

Just at this time a column of the enemy were seen moving in front of our center toward the right. [John C.] Landis’ battery, of Bowen’s division, opened upon and soon broke this column, and compelled it to retire. I then directed Major-General Loring to move forward and crush the enemy in his front, and directed General Bowen to co-operate with him in the movement. Immediately on the receipt of my message, General Bowen rode up and announced his readiness to execute his part of the movement as soon as Major-General Loring should advance. No movement was made by Major-General Loring, he informing me that the enemy was too strongly posted to be attacked, but that he would seize the first opportunity to assault, if one should offer. The enemy still making strenuous efforts to turn Major-General Stevenson’s left flank, compelled him to make a similar movement toward the left, thus extending his own line and making a gap between his and Bowen’s divisions. General Bowen was ordered to keep this interval closed, and the same instructions were sent to General Loring in reference to the interval between his and General Bowen’s division.

General Stevenson having informed me that unless re-enforced he would be unable to resist the heavy and repeated attacks along his whole line, Bowen was ordered to send one brigade to his assistance, which was promptly brought forward under Col. F. M. Cockrell, and in a very short time his remaining brigade, under the command of Brig. Gen. Martin E. Green, was put in, and the two together, under their gallant leaders, charged the enemy, and for the time turned the tide of battle in our favor, again displaying the heroic courage which this veteran division has made conspicuous on so many stricken fields.

The enemy still continued to move troops from his left to his right, thus increasing his vastly superior forces against Stevenson’s and Bowen’s divisions. Feeling assured that there was no important force in his front, I dispatched several staff officers in rapid succession to Major-General Loring, ordering him to move all but one brigade (Tilghman’s, which was directed to hold the Raymond road and cover the bridge and ford at Baker’s Creek) to the left as rapidly as possible. To the first of these messages, sent about 2 p.m., answer was returned by Major-General Loring that the enemy was in strong force in his front, and endeavoring to flank him. Hearing no firing on the right, I repeated my orders to Major-General Loring, explained to him the condition of affairs on the left, and directed him to put his two left brigades into the fight as soon as possible. In the transmission of these various messages to and fro, over a distance of more than a mile, much valuable time was necessarily consumed, which the enemy did not fail to take advantage of.

About 4 p.m. a part of Stevenson’s division broke badly and fell back in great disorder, but were partially rallied by the strenuous exertions of myself and staff, and put back under their own officers into the fight, but observing that large numbers of men were abandoning the field on Stevenson’s left, deserting their comrades, who in this moment of greatest trial stood manfully at their posts, I rode up to General Stevenson, and informing him that I had repeatedly ordered two brigades of General Loring’s division to his assistance, and that I was momentarily expecting them, asked him whether he could hold his position; he replied that he could not; that he was fighting from 60,000 to 80,000 men. I then told him I would endeavor myself to find General Loring and hasten him up, and started immediately with that object. I presently met Brigadier-General Buford’s brigade, of Loring’s division, on the march and in rear of the right of Bowen’s division.

Colonel Cockrell, commanding the First Missouri Brigade, having in person some time previously urgently asked for re-enforcements, which (none of Loring’s troops having came up) I was then unable to give him, one regiment of Buford’s brigade was detached at once and directed to his support; the remainder of Buford’s brigade was moved as rapidly as possible to the assistance of General Stevenson.

Finding that the enemy’s vastly superior numbers were pressing all my forces engaged steadily back into old fields, where all advantages of position would be in his favor, I felt it to be too late to save the day, even should Brigadier-General Featherston’s brigade, of General Loring’s division, come up immediately. I could, however, learn nothing of General Loring’s whereabouts; several of my staff were in search of him, but it was not until after General Bowen had personally informed me that he could not hold his position longer, and not until after I had ordered the retreat, that General Loring, with Featherston’s brigade, moving, as I subsequently learned, by a country road which was considerably longer than the direct route, reached the position on the left known as Champion’s Hill, where he was forming line of battle when he received my order to cover the retreat.

Had the movement in support of the left been promptly made when first ordered, it is not improbable that I might have maintained my position, and it is possible the enemy might have been driven back, though his vastly superior and constantly increasing numbers would have rendered it necessary to withdraw during the night to save my communications with Vicksburg.

Confederate casualties were approximately 7500, one-third of their force.  Union losses were around 5,000.  After Champion Hill, Pemberton was in headlong retreat for Vicksburg.  Grant was moving in on the objective that had beckoned him for almost a year.

A first-rate video on Grant Wood’s American Gothic (1930).  One of the more famous pictures at the Art Institute in Chicago, I have long admired it.  Endlessly interpreted, the  picture lends itself to a Rorschach  type of test where what the viewer says about the painting says more about the interpreter than it does about the painting.

Whenever I look at it, I have always thought of Jonathan and Martha Kent, the fictional foster parents of Superman.  The date of the painting would have been when the future Superman would have been around 11 based on his original chronology.  The Kents would have been desperate to keep their beloved son, just beginning the mastery of his awesome powers, away from the notice of the World.  The figures in the painting seem to me to be keeping a great secret.  They look suspiciously at the viewer.  The shades on their house are drawn.  The averageness of the couple is belied by their desire to keep prying eyes away from that house.  At the same time there is nothing that gives any hint of evil about the man and woman.  They simply have something great that has been placed into their care and they wish to protect it from outsiders.

The association of the painting with the Superman saga is not original to me.  In Superman The Animated Series Mr. Mxyzptlk, the imp from another dimension who periodically torments Superman, turns Ma and Pa Kent into a facsimile of the painting.

One can imagine the encounter that led to the painting.

From the diary of Jonathan Kent:

April 1, 1930.  Too wet to do any field work.  Patched some fences and repaired some machinery.  About 10:00 AM a city feller had a flat in front of the house.  I helped him fix it and Martha brought out some cookies and lemon juice.  Feller’s name was Grant Wood, a painter from Iowa.  I was about to start dickering with him about painting the barn, a job I have always hated, when he explained that he was an artiste.  He said that he would like to paint me and Martha to pay us back for the help in fixing the flat and the food and drink.  I began to tell him that was not necessary, when Martha spoke up and said that she thought it was a grand idea.  I looked at her and she took me aside and said that it would make a great keepsake for Clark.  Clark of course was the whole problem when it came to strangers.  Now that he was eleven he knew not to do anything “odd” when other people were around, but there was always a risk.  Martha seemed determined, so I didn’t ague.  When that woman makes her mind up it would take the Lord God Almighty to change it.  Besides, I knew that mostly she wanted an excuse to get painted in that dress I bought her last Christmas, and she does look mighty fine in it.  Martha said she’d tell Clark to stay in the house, but but with his eyes of course that would not stop him from seeing everything that went on.

Martha put on her dress and came out, looking real pretty.  Wood said he wanted me to hold a pitchfork.  I almost told him to take a hike, guessing he wanted me to look like a hick, which is what I am I suppose.  Wood said he wanted me to hold the pitchfork so that people would know I was a farmer.  One look at my weathered face would tell them that, but Martha gave me a stern look and I picked up the durn pitchfork. 

Posing for a painter is hard work.  While he was drawing us, we had to stand still, and with all the bugs around that ain’t easy.  About an hour into this I saw smoke billowing from town and I knew what was going to happen next.  Expecting Clark to sit by when there are people who need help is like expecting a cow to give out chocolate milk.  He flew out from the house in a red and blue blur and blew out the house fire with his breath.  He then had the sense to stay away until Wood was gone.

Wood saw the red and blue streak, and Martha got worried and her eyes narrowed.  Me, I just looked straight ahead as if nothing was happening.  Wood asked what that was and I told him I hadn’t seen nothing.  Wood looked suspicious for a few seconds and then he shrugged and went back to his drawing.  Two hours later he was done and Martha and I were dog tired.  Martha asked him if he would like to stay for dinner, which I thought was carrying hospitality too far, but he said he had a meeting in Topeka and he needed to get back on the road.  He promised to send us a copy of the painting and I breathed easier after his car pulled out of sight.  Clark appeared out of nowhere, like usual.  He apologized and I told him that he was just trying to help people but we needed to be cautious.

Well that pretty much shot the day.  My old man, if he was still living, would have skinned me alive for wasting so much of a workday with a city slicker, but I bet Ma would have been like Martha, and would have gotten the old man to pose like I did today.  I’ll work extra hard tomorrow.

After crossing the Mississippi, Grant set about the process of isolating Vicksburg from the remainder of the Confederacy by seizing the capital of Mississippi, Jackson, defeating the Confederate forces there, and destroying the rail links with Vicksburg.  This would make it much more difficult for a Confederate force to attack his army once he put Vicksburg under siege.  It was a strategy that Johnston, who was in overall command of the theater of operations for the Confederacy lacked the resources to combat.  With 6,000 troops in Jackson, he decided to withdraw which he did on May 14th, after brief resistance. giving Grant a free hand to wreck the rail lines.

Johnston has been criticized for this decision since he could have quickly assembled a force of 15,000.  I think this criticism is misplaced.  Grant had sufficient numbers to keep Pemberton’s army isolated near Vicksburg, unable to cooperate with Johnston, while Grant could also bring up sufficient forces to pulverize Johnston if Johnston made a stand.  By retreating Johnston kept his forces intact and could hope that Grant would make a mistake that he could capitalize on.  Unfortunately for Johnston, Grant was on a roll with his performance for the remainder of the Vicksburg campaign being largely flawless, which we will see in future posts.

One of the odder incidents of World War II is the story of the training of US carrier pilots on the Great Lakes.  Confronted with the necessity of training massive numbers of carrier pilots, the Navy decided to do almost all of the initial training of carrier pilots where no enemy action was possible, on the Great Lakes.  Purchasing two coal burning paddle wheeler excusion vessels, the Navy converted them to the USS Sable and the USS Wolverine, training carriers.  The idea of training pilots on the Great Lakes was the brainchild of Commander Richard Whitehead who was stationed at the Naval Training Center 35 miles north of Chicago.  The USS Wolverine  operated out of Chicago and its flight operations, often conducted within sight of Chicago, frequently caused massive traffic jams on Lake Shore Drive due to the hordes of gawkers who turned out to witness the training.  Pilots on their way back to the carriers would often get frisky, buzzing the streets of Evanston, Illinois for example.

The snowy weather on the Great Lakes made for harsh training conditions half of the year, a benefit for pilots who would have to fly in all types of weather.

Some 17,800 pilots were carrier qualified on the Great Lakes carriers with approximately 116,000 landings aboard the two paddle wheeler carriers.  128 pilots were killed in training accidents, quite a good safety rate.

Today is Mother’s Day in the US, a time when we honor those women who go through the pains of pregnancy to bring us all into this life.  It all began with a feisty West Virginia mom, Ann Marie Jarvis.  Born in 1832, Ann Marie Reeves was the daughter of a Methodist minister who in 1843 was transferred to Phillipi in what would become West Virginia.  In 1850 she married Granville Jarvis, the son of a Baptist minister.  Together they would have eleven children, although tragically only four lived to adulthood, a not uncommon occurrence in those days when modern medicine was in its infancy.

A born reformer, in 1858 Ann Marie Jarvis founded in Western Virginia, Mothers Work Clubs that worked to improve sanitation, health and to care for indigent families.  During the Civil War she proclaimed the neutrality of her clubs, and they aided Union and Confederate soldiers alike, providing nurses to them during outbreaks of camp diseases like typhoid fever and measles, the great killer of soldiers during the War.

After the war she helped organize Mother’s Friendship Day in West Virginia to help heal the divisions of the War.  During the celebrations Union and Confederate veterans would participate and the bands would play both The Star Spangled Banner and Dixie.

This remarkable woman continued her good works throughout her life and died in 1905.  She often expressed a desire for a  day to honor all mothers.  After her death her daughter carried out her wishes by celebrating the first Mother’s Day in Grafton, West Virginia in 1907.  She headed a national campaign that culminated in President Wilson declaring Mother’s Day a national holiday in 1914.

The daughter of Ann Marie Jarvis,  Anna Marie Jarvis, grew to regret the commercialization of Mother’s Day.  She despised the habit of buying greeting cards for mothers as being a sign of people being too lazy to write a letter to their mothers.

 A printed card means nothing except that you are too lazy to write to the woman who has done more for you than anyone in the world. And candy! You take a box to Mother—and then eat most of it yourself. A pretty sentiment.

At the age of 84 she was arrested in 1948 for disturbing the peace while protesting the commercialization of Mother’s Day.

So I guess we should all take our mothers, if we are fortunate enough to still have them, out for a good meal today, and forget about the cards and the candy!

The gentlemen killed and the gentlemen died,
But she was the South’s incarnate pride
That mended the broken gentlemen
And sent them out to the war again,
That kept the house with the men away
And baked the bricks where there was no clay,
Made courage from terror and bread from bran
And propped the South on a swansdown fan
Through four long years of ruin and stress,
The pride–and the deadly bitterness.

Stephen Vincent Benet, John Brown’s Body

Something for the weekend.  Written in 1863 by Captain G. W. Alexander, The Southern Soldier Boy is a fitting tribute to the ragged warriors of the Confederacy who maintained an unequal struggle for four years and the women who loved and sustained them.  During the War it was popularized by actress Sally Partington, the toast of Richmond, who would sing the song as part of the play The Virginia Cavalier.  The above version is by Bobby Horton, who has waged a one man crusade to bring Civil War music to modern audiences.

Here is a version by Therese, a Swedish songtress, who does a superb job:

And here is Kathy Mattea’s unforgettable version:

“I have but to show him my design, and I know that if it can be done it will be done.  Straight as the needle to the pole he advances to the execution of my purpose.”

Robert E. Lee on Stonewall Jackson

Of Thomas Jonathan Jackson, nicknamed Stonewall by General Barnard Bee at the battle of Bull Run, it was said he lived by the New Testament and fought by the Old.  Certainly throughout his life he was a convinced Christian.  As a young man he would attend services of various Christian denominations.  In Mexico, during his service in the Mexican War, he attended mass, although he did not convert to Catholicism.  Instead he eventually became a Presbyterian.  His Bible was his constant companion, and he would often speak of God and theological matters in private conversation.

Jackson in his professional life was a soldier.  Just before the Civil War he was a professor of natural and experimental philosophy (science) and artillery instruction at the Virginia Military Institute.  As a teacher he made a good soldier.  His lectures were rather dry.  If his students seemed to fail to grasp a lecture, he would repeat it the next day, word for word.

His home life was a mixture of sorrow and joy.  His first wife died in childbirth along with their still-born son, a tragedy that would have crushed many a man less iron-willed than  Jackson.  His second marriage, like his first, was happy, but heartache also haunted it.  A daughter died shortly after birth in 1858.  A second daughter was born in 1862, Julia, shortly before Jackson’s own death in 1863.  His wife would spend a widowhood of 52 years, dedicated to raising their daughter, cherishing the memory of her husband, and helping destitute Confederate veterans.  For her good works she became known as the Widow of the Confederacy.  Their daughter Julia would marry and have children before her early death of typhoid fever at age 26.  Her two children had several children and there are many living descendants of Jackson.

He and his second wife established and taught a Sunday school for black slaves.  At the time it was against the law in Virginia to teach slaves to read, but apparently that is precisely what Jackson and his wife did.   One of the last letters he ever posted was his regular contribution he mailed off throughout the war for the financial support of the Sunday school for slaves he and his wife had founded.

During the war he rose to fame as Stonewall Jackson.  His Valley Campaign in 1862 in the Shenandoah Valley where he outmarched and outfought numerous Union armies, each larger than the force he led, is still studied in military academies around the world as a classic example of how a weaker force, using mobility and surprise, can defeat vastly superior forces.

His service under Lee established a military partnership that reached its culmination at Chancellorsville where Jackson led his corps around the Union right and into the rear of the Union army, leading to a stunning Confederate victory over an Army of the Potomac that outnumbered the Army of Northern Virginia more than two to one.

Jackson summed up his military philosophy succinctly:  Always mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy, if possible; and when you strike and overcome him, never let up in the pursuit so long as your men have strength to follow; for an army routed, if hotly pursued, becomes panic-stricken, and can then be destroyed by half their number. The other rule is, never fight against heavy odds, if by any possible maneuvering you can hurl your own force on only a part, and that the weakest part, of your enemy and crush it. Such tactics will win every time, and a small army may thus destroy a large one in detail, and repeated victory will make it invincible.

Completely fearless on the battlefield, Jackson assumed that God would determine his span of life and fear was useless as a result: Captain, my religious belief teaches me to feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time for my death. I do not concern myself about that, but to be always ready, no matter when it may overtake me.

At Chancellorsville, Jackson was shot accidentally by his own men.  As a result of his wounding Jackson’s left arm was amputated.  Lee learning of it, said that Jackson had lost his left arm, but that he had lost his right.

For a time it looked as if Jackson would recover, but infection, that great killer after any nineteenth century surgery, prevented that happy outcome.  He met the news of his inevitable death with Christian stoicism, bidding farewell to his tearful wife and infant daughter.  In his delirium towards the end he returned in his mind to the battlefields, shouting out commands.  At the very end, his voice grew calm and his face relaxed.  He then gave the last command he would ever utter in this life: “Let us cross over the  river, and rest under the shade of the trees.”

Peter Paul Cooney was born in County Roscommin, Ireland in 1822.  He went with his family to America at the age of 5.  Raised on a farm in Monroe, Michigan.  Studying at Notre Dame it was perhaps fated that he would become a Holy Cross priest, although he wasn’t ordained until the age of 37.  When the Civil War broke out Father Cooney was at Notre Dame.  Although at 39 he was rather old for a military chaplain, he enlisted in the 35th Indiana Infantry, nicknamed the First Indiana Irish, and served 44 months, the entire War, with the 35th.

In a regiment of brave mostly Irishmen, Father Cooney stood out.  After the battle of Murphreesboro the Colonel of the regiment, Bernard F. Mullen wrote:

To Father Cooney, our chaplain, too much praise cannot be given. Indifferent as to himself, he was deeply solicitous for the temporal comfort and spiritual welfare of us all. On the field he was cool and indifferent to danger, and in the name of the regiment I thank him for his kindness and laborious attention to the dead and dying.

After the battle of Nashville, Brigadier General Nathan Kimball summed up the chaplain:

Of Father Cooney, chaplain of the Thirty-fifth Indiana, I commend him as an example of the army chaplin; meek, pious, and brave as a lion, he worked with his brave regiment in the valley of the shadow of death, affording the ministrations of his holy religion to the wounded and dying, and giving words of encouragement to his fellow soldiers.

Before battles, Father Cooney would stand before the regiment, lead the men in prayer and give them mass absolution.  The commander of the Army of the Cumberland, Major General William S. Rosecrans, a fervent Catholic convert, was so taken by this that he ordered the Protestant chaplains in the Army to do likewise!

Father Cooney noted in his letters home to his brother that Protestant soldiers would often attend Mass, especially before a battle, and some of them converted.  He believed that the courage of Catholic soldiers in the Army helped break down prejudice against the Faith that some of their Protestant fellow soldiers had originally harbored.

I have been for the last two months very busy in preparing the men to complete their Easter duty, otherwise I would have written oftener, to you. Our division consists of about twelve thousand men and there are Catholics in every regiment. Protestants attend the sermons by thousands in the open field. I have baptized many of them and prejudice against to the Church is gone almost entirely.
A short time ago I baptized and gave his first Communion to the Major General commanding our division. He is now a most fervent catholic and his example is powerful over the men of his command. I have every assistance from him in anything that I require for the discharge of my duties. He is extremely kind to me.

In a book published during the War in 1864, Indiana’s Roll of Honor, the fondness of the troops for their chaplain was set forth in this vignette:

Around a blazing camp fire sat a few comrades smoking their “dudgheens,” (short pipes) and discussing strategy with all the intensity of Irish controversialists. Father Cooney came hurriedly along, evidently bent on a visit to some sick soldier. The little squad instantly rose to their feet with the hand to the cap. “Good evening, boys,” said the Father, with one of his pleasant smiles, and hurried towards the hospital. “There he goes,” said one of the group, “he’s always where he can do good, and niver idle. The likes iv him, God bless him, is not to be found betwixt here and the giant’s causeway.” ” Thrue for ye, Tim, by gorra; his match coud’nt be found iv ye thraveled from Dan to Barsheeba,” said his comrade. “He’ll be sayin his bades among the stars, whin many of his callin’ will be huntin’ a dhrop of wather in a very hot climate.” This last remark was received with a hearty acquiescence by the entire group. Rough and witty as it was, it expressed the feelings of the soldiers for their Chaplain.”

After the War Father Clooney served as a priest at South Bend, Waterton, Wisconsin and New Orleans.  He was briefly  Provincial Superior of the Order of the Holy Cross.  He died in 1905 and is buried at Notre Dame.