Category Archives: Uncategorized

James Farley Izard

Class of 1828
James F. Izard – son of Major-General George Izard. First Lieutenant of the 1st Dragoons, on the frontier and in the Black Hawk War; killed in the Second Seminole War at the Battle of the Withlacoochee River.
Birth: Feb. 28
Saint Augustine
St. Johns County
Florida, USA
Death: Mar. 5, 1836

James Farley Izard: Born 1811.

Military History. — Cadet at the Military Academy, July 1, 1824, to July 1, 1828, when he was graduated and promoted in the Army to
Bvt. Second Lieut. of Infantry, July 1, 1828.

Second Lieut., 2d Infantry, July 1, 1828.

Served: in garrison at Jefferson Barracks, Mo., 1828‑30, — and Ft. Niagara, N. Y., 1830‑31; on Topographical duty, Nov. 25, 1831, to June 18, 1832; in the “Black Hawk” War against the Sac Indians, 1832; on Topographical duty, Dec. 10, 1832, to Mar. 4, 1833; on frontier duty at Ft. Gibson, I. T., and on Expedition to Tow‑e‑ash Villages, 1834,
(First Lieut., 1st Dragoons, Mar. 4, 1833)

— and Ft. Gibson, I. T., 1834‑35; and in the Florida War against the Seminole Indians, 1835‑36, being engaged in the Skirmish at Camp Izard, Feb. 28, 1836, where he was Mortally Wounded, while commanding the advance guard, and directing his men “to keep their positions and lie close.”
Died of Wounds, Mar. 5, 1836, at Camp Izard, on the Withlacoochee River, Fla.: Aged 26.

Was the son of Major-General George Izard, who served in the war of 1812‑15, and was Governor of Arkansas Territory, 1825‑28.

Thayer’s Note:

a A tablet in the Old Cadet Chapel at West Point perpetuates his memory.
Saint Augustine National Cemetery
Saint Augustine
St. Johns County
Florida, USA
Plot: Memorial PyramidsLazar-grave

Class of 1828
James F. Izard – son of Major-General George Izard. First Lieutenant of the 1st Dragoons, on the frontier and in the Black Hawk War; killed in the Second Seminole War at the Battle of the Withlacoochee River.
Birth: Feb. 28
Saint Augustine
St. Johns County
Florida, USA
Death: Mar. 5, 1836

James Farley Izard: Born 1811.

Military History. — Cadet at the Military Academy, July 1, 1824, to July 1, 1828, when he was graduated and promoted in the Army to
Bvt. Second Lieut. of Infantry, July 1, 1828.

Second Lieut., 2d Infantry, July 1, 1828.

Served: in garrison at Jefferson Barracks, Mo., 1828‑30, — and Ft. Niagara, N. Y., 1830‑31; on Topographical duty, Nov. 25, 1831, to June 18, 1832; in the “Black Hawk” War against the Sac Indians, 1832; on Topographical duty, Dec. 10, 1832, to Mar. 4, 1833; on frontier duty at Ft. Gibson, I. T., and on Expedition to Tow‑e‑ash Villages, 1834,
(First Lieut., 1st Dragoons, Mar. 4, 1833)

— and Ft. Gibson, I. T., 1834‑35; and in the Florida War against the Seminole Indians, 1835‑36, being engaged in the Skirmish at Camp Izard, Feb. 28, 1836, where he was Mortally Wounded, while commanding the advance guard, and directing his men “to keep their positions and lie close.”
Died of Wounds, Mar. 5, 1836, at Camp Izard, on the Withlacoochee River, Fla.: Aged 26.

Saint Augustine National Cemetery
Saint Augustine
St. Johns County
Florida, USA
Plot: Memorial PyramidsLazar-grave

James F. Izard

Class of 1828
James F. Izard – son of Major-General George Izard. First Lieutenant of the 1st Dragoons, on the frontier and in the Black Hawk War; killed in the Second Seminole War at the Battle of the Withlacoochee River.
Birth: Feb. 28
Saint Augustine
St. Johns County
Florida, USA
Death: Mar. 5, 1836

Saint Augustine National Cemetery
Saint Augustine
St. Johns County
Florida, USA
Plot: Memorial PyramidsLazar-grave

Plan for Invasion of Japan

This is the invasion you would probably would have been a part of. Thanks Mr. Truman for sparing thousands of US lives.

Declassified plans for WW II invasion of Japan

Deep in the recesses of the National Archives in Washington, D.C., hidden for nearly four decades lie thousands of pages of yellowing and dusty documents stamped “Top Secret”. These documents, now declassified, are the plans for Operation Downfall, the invasion of Japan during World War II.

Only a few Americans in 1945 were aware of the elaborate plans that had been prepared for the Allied Invasion of the Japanese home islands. Even fewer today are aware of the defenses the Japanese had prepared to counter the invasion had it been launched. Operation Downfall was finalized during the spring and summer of 1945. It called for two massive military undertakings to be carried out in succession and aimed at the heart of the Japanese Empire.

In the first invasion – code named “Operation Olympic”- American combat troops would land on Japan by amphibious assault during the early morning hours of November 1, 1945 – 61 years ago. Fourteen combat divisions of soldiers and Marines would land on heavily fortified and defended Kyushu, the southernmost of the Japanese home islands, after an unprecedented naval and aerial bombardment.

The second invasion on March 1, 1946 – code named “Operation Coronet”- would send at least 22 divisions against 1 million Japanese defenders on the main island of Honshu and the Tokyo Plain. Its goal: the unconditional surrender of Japan.

With the exception of a part of the British Pacific Fleet, Operation Downfall was to be a strictly American operation. It called for using the entire Marine Corps, the entire Pacific Navy, elements of the 7th Army Air Force, the 8 Air Force (recently redeployed from Europe), 10th Air Force and the American Far Eastern Air Force. More than 1.5 million combat soldiers, with 3 million more in support or more than 40% of all servicemen still in uniform in 1945 – would be directly involved in the two amphibious assaults. Casualties were expected to be extremely heavy.

Admiral William Leahy estimated that there would be more than 250,000 Americans killed or wounded on Kyushu alone. General Charles Willoughby, chief of intelligence for General Douglas MacArthur, the Supreme Commander of the Southwest Pacific, estimated American casualties would be one million men by the fall of 1946. Willoughby’s own intelligence staff considered this to be a conservative estimate.

During the summer of 1945, America had little time to prepare for such an endeavor, but top military leaders were in almost unanimous agreement that an invasion was necessary.

While naval blockade and strategic bombing of Japan was considered to be useful, General MacArthur, for instance, did not believe a blockade would bring about an unconditional surrender. The advocates for invasion agreed that while a naval blockade chokes, it does not kill; and though strategic bombing might destroy cities, it leaves whole armies intact.

So on May 25, 1945, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, after extensive deliberation, issued to General MacArthur, Admiral Chester Nimitz, and Army Air Force General Henry Arnold, the top secret directive to proceed with the invasion of Kyushu. The target date was after the typhoon season.

President Truman approved the plans for the invasions July 24. Two days later, the United Nations issued the Potsdam Proclamation, which called upon Japan to surrender unconditionally or face total destruction. Three days later, the Japanese governmental news agency broadcast to the world that Japan would ignore the proclamation and would refuse to surrender. During this same period it was learned — via monitoring Japanese radio broadcasts — that Japan had closed all schools and mobilized its school children, was arming its civilian population and was fortifying caves and building underground defenses.

Operation Olympic called for a four pronged assault on Kyushu. Its purpose was to seize and control the southern one-third of that island and establish naval and air bases, to tighten the naval blockade of the home islands, to destroy units of the main Japanese army and to support the later invasion of the Tokyo Plain.

The preliminary invasion would begin October 27 when the 40th Infantry Division would land on a series of small islands west and southwest of Kyushu. At the same time, the 158th Regimental Combat Team would invade and occupy a small island 28 miles south of Kyushu. On these islands, seaplane bases would be established and radar would be set up to provide advance air warning for the invasion fleet, to serve as fighter direction centers for the carrier-based aircraft and to provide an emergency anchorage for the invasion fleet, should things not go well on the day of the invasion. As the invasion grew imminent, the massive firepower of the Navy – the Third and Fifth Fleets — would approach Japan. The Third Fleet, under Admiral William “Bull” Halsey, with its big guns and naval aircraft, would provide strategic support for the operation against Honshu and Hokkaido. Halsey’s fleet would be composed of battleships, heavy cruisers, destroyers, dozens of support ships and three fast carrier task groups. From these carriers, hundreds of Navy fighters, dive bombers and torpedo planes would hit targets all over the island of Honshu. The 3,000 ship Fifth Fleet, under Admiral Raymond Spruance, would carry the invasion troops.

Several days before the invasion, the battleships, heavy cruisers and destroyers would pour thousands of tons of high explosives into the target areas. They would not cease the bombardment until after the land forces had been launched. During the early morning hours of November 1, the invasion would begin. Thousands of soldiers and Marines would pour ashore on beaches all along the eastern, southeastern, southern and western coasts of Kyushu. Waves of
Helldivers, Dauntless dive bombers, Avengers, Corsairs, and Hellcats from 66 aircraft carriers would bomb, rocket and strafe enemy defenses, gun emplacements and troop concentrations along the beaches.

The Eastern Assault Force consisting of the 25th, 33rd, and 41st Infantry Divisions, would land near Miyaski, at beaches called Austin, Buick, Cadillac, Chevrolet, Chrysler, and Ford, and move inland to attempt to capture the city and its nearby airfield. The Southern Assault Force, consisting of the 1st Cavalry Division, the 43rd Division and Americal Division would land inside Ariake Bay at beaches labeled DeSoto, Dusenberg, Essex, Ford, and Franklin and attempt to capture Shibushi and the city of Kanoya and its airfield.

On the western shore of Kyushu, at beaches Pontiac, Reo, Rolls Royce, Saxon, Star, Studebaker, Stutz, Winston and Zephyr, the V Amphibious Corps would land the 2nd, 3rd, and 5th Marine Divisions, sending half of its force inland to Sendai and the other half to the port city of Kagoshima.

On November 4, the Reserve Force, consisting of the 81st and 98th Infantry Divisions and the 11th Airborne Division, after feigning an attack on the island of Shikoku, would be landed — if not needed elsewhere – near Kaimondake, near the southernmost tip of Kagoshima Bay, at the beaches designated Locomobile, Lincoln, LaSalle, Hupmobile, Moon, Mercedes, Maxwell, Overland, Oldsmobile, Packard, and Plymouth.

Olympic was not just a plan for invasion, but for conquest and occupation as well. It was expected to take four months to achieve its objective, with the three fresh American divisions per month to be landed in support of that operation if needed. If all went well with Olympic, Coronet would be launched March 1, 1946. Coronet would be twice the size of Olympic, with as many as 28 divisions landing on Honshu.

All along the coast east of Tokyo, the American 1st Army would land the 5th, 7th, 27th, 44th, 86th, and 96th Infantry Divisions, along with the 4th and 6th Marine Divisions.

At Sagami Bay, just south of Tokyo, the entire 8th and 10th Armies would strike north and east to clear the long western shore of Tokyo Bay and attempt to

go as far as Yokohama. The assault troops landing south of Tokyo would be the 4th, 6th, 8th, 24th, 31st, 37th, 38th, and 8th Infantry Divisions, along with the 13th and 20th Armored Divisions.

Following the initial assault, eight more divisions – the 2nd, 28th, 35th, 91st, 95th, 97th, and 104th Infantry Divisions and the 11th Airborne Division — would be landed. If additional troops were needed, as expected, other divisions redeployed from Europe and undergoing training in the United States would be shipped to Japan in what was hoped to be the final push.

Captured Japanese documents and post war interrogations of Japanese military leaders disclose that information concerning the number of Japanese planes available for the defense of the home islands was dangerously in error.

During the sea battle at Okinawa alone, Japanese Kamikaze aircraft sank 32 Allied ships and damaged more than 400 others. But during the summer of 1945, American top brass concluded that the Japanese had spent their air force since American bombers and fighters daily flew unmolested over Japan.

What the military leaders did not know was that by the end of July the Japanese had been saving all aircraft, fuel, and pilots in reserve, and had been feverishly building new planes for the decisive battle for their homeland.

As part of Ketsu -Go, the name for the plan to defend Japan — the Japanese were building 20 suicide takeoff strips in southern Kyushu with underground hangars. They also had 35 camouflaged airfields and nine seaplane bases.

On the night before the expected invasion, 50 Japanese seaplane bombers, 100 former carrier aircraft and 50 land based army planes were to be launched in a suicide attack on the fleet.

The Japanese had 58 more airfields in Korea, western Honshu and Shikoku, which also were to be used for massive suicide attacks.

Allied intelligence had established that the Japanese had no more than 2,500 aircraft of which they guessed 300 would be deployed in suicide attacks. In August 1945, however, unknown to Allied intelligence, the Japanese still had 5,651 army and 7,074 navy aircraft, for a total of 12,725 planes of all types. Every village had some type of aircraft manufacturing activity hidden in mines, railway tunnels, under viaducts and in basements of department stores, work was being done to construct new planes.

Additionally, the Japanese were building newer and more effective models of the Okka, a rocket-propelled bomb much like the German V-1, but flown by a suicide pilot.

When the invasion became imminent, Ketsu-Go called for a fourfold aerial plan of attack to destroy up to 800 Allied ships.

While Allied ships were approaching Japan, but still in the open seas, an initial force of 2,000 army and navy fighters were to fight to the death to control the skies over Kyushu. A second force of 330 navy combat pilots was to attack the main body of the task force to keep it from using its fire support and air cover to protect the troop carrying transports. While these two forces were engaged, a third force of 825 suicide planes was to hit the American transports.

As the invasion convoys approached their anchorages, another 2,000 suicide planes were to be launched in waves of 200 to 300, to be used in hour by hour attacks.

By mid-morning of the first day of the invasion, most of the American land-based aircraft would be forced to return to their bases, leaving the defense against the suicide planes to the carrier pilots and the shipboard gunners.

Carrier pilots crippled by fatigue would have to land time and time again to rearm and refuel. Guns would malfunction from the heat of continuous firing and ammunition would become scarce. Gun crews would be exhausted by nightfall, but still the waves of kamikaze would continue. With the fleet hovering off the beaches, all remaining Japanese aircraft would be committed to nonstop suicide attacks, which the Japanese hoped could be sustained for 10 days. The Japanese planned to coordinate their air strikes with attacks from the 40 remaining submarines from the Imperial Navy – some armed with Long Lance torpedoes with a range of 20 miles — when the invasion fleet was 180 miles off Kyushu.

The Imperial Navy had 23 destroyers and two cruisers which were operational. These ships were to be used to counterattack the American invasion. A number of the destroyers were to be beached at the last minute to be used as anti-invasion gun platforms.

Once offshore, the invasion fleet would be forced to defend not only against the attacks from the air, but would also be confronted with suicide attacks from sea. Japan had established a suicide naval attack unit of midget submarines, human torpedoes and exploding motorboats.

The goal of the Japanese was to shatter the invasion before the landing. The Japanese were convinced the Americans would back off or become so demoralized that they would then accept a less-than-unconditional surrender and a more honorable and face-saving end for the Japanese.

But as horrible as the battle of Japan would be off the beaches, it would be on Japanese soil that the American forces would face the most rugged and fanatical defense encountered during the war.

Throughout the island-hopping Pacific campaign, Allied troops had always out numbered the Japanese by 2 to 1 and sometimes 3 to 1. In Japan it would be different. By virtue of a combination of cunning, guesswork, and brilliant military reasoning, a number of Japan’s top military leaders were able to deduce, not only when, but where, the United States would land its first invasion forces.

Facing the 14 American divisions landing at Kyushu would be 14 Japanese divisions, 7 independent mixed brigades, 3 tank brigades and thousands of naval troops. On Kyushu the odds would be 3 to 2 in favor of the Japanese, with 790,000 enemy defenders against 550,000 Americans. This time the bulk of the Japanese defenders would not be the poorly trained and ill-equipped labor battalions that the Americans had faced in the earlier campaigns.

The Japanese defenders would be the hard core of the home army . These troops were well-fed and well equipped. They were familiar with the terrain,had stockpiles of arms and ammunition, and had developed an effective system of transportation and supply almost invisible from the air. Many of these Japanese troops were the elite of the army, and they were swollen with a fanatical fighting spirit.

Japan’s network of beach defenses consisted of offshore mines, thousands of suicide scuba divers attacking landing craft, and mines planted on the beaches. Coming ashore, the American Eastern amphibious assault forces at Miyazaki would face three Japanese divisions, and two others poised for counterattack. Awaiting the Southeastern attack force at Ariake Bay was an entire division and at least one mixed infantry brigade.

On the western shores of Kyushu, the Marines would face the most brutal opposition. Along the invasion beaches would be the three Japanese divisions,

a tank brigade, a mixed infantry brigade and an artillery command. Components of two divisions would also be poised to launch counterattacks.

If not needed to reinforce the primary landing beaches, the American Reserve Force would be landed at the base of Kagoshima Bay November 4, where they would be confronted by two mixed infantry brigades, parts of two infantry divisions and thousands of naval troops.

All along the invasion beaches, American troops would face coastal batteries, anti-landing obstacles and a network of heavily fortified pillboxes, bunkers,and underground fortresses. As Americans waded ashore, they would face intense artillery and mortar fire as they worked their way through concrete rubble and barbed-wire entanglements arranged to funnel them into the muzzles of these Japanese guns.

On the beaches and beyond would be hundreds of Japanese machine gun positions, beach mines, booby traps, trip-wire mines and sniper units. Suicide units concealed in “spider holes” would engage the troops as they passed nearby. In the heat of battle, Japanese infiltration units would be sent to reap havoc in the American lines by cutting phone and communication lines. Some of the Japanese troops would be in American uniform; English-speaking Japanese officers were assigned to break in on American radio traffic to call off artillery fire, to order retreats and to further confuse troops. Other infiltration with demolition charges strapped on their chests or backs would attempt to blow up American tanks, artillery pieces and ammunition stores as they were unloaded ashore.

Beyond the beaches were large artillery pieces situated to bring down a curtain of fire on the beach. Some of these large guns were mounted on railroad tracks running in and out of caves protected by concrete and steel.

The battle for Japan would be won by what Simon Bolivar Buckner, a lieutenant general in the Confederate army during the Civil War, had called “Prairie Dog Warfare.” This type of fighting was almost unknown to the ground troops in Europe and the Mediterranean. It was peculiar only to the soldiers and Marines who fought the Japanese on islands all over the Pacific — at Tarawa, Saipan, Iwo Jima and Okinawa.

Prairie Dog Warfare was a battle for yards, feet and sometimes inches. It was brutal, deadly and dangerous form of combat aimed at an underground, heavily fortified, non-retreating enemy.

In the mountains behind the Japanese beaches were underground networks of caves, bunkers, command posts and hospitals connected by miles of tunnels with dozens of entrances and exits. Some of these complexes could hold up to 1,000 troops.

In addition to the use of poison gas and bacteriological warfare (which the Japanese had experimented with), Japan mobilized its citizenry.

Had Olympic come about, the Japanese civilian population, inflamed by a national slogan – “One Hundred Million Will Die for the Emperor and Nation” – were prepared to fight to the death Twenty Eight Million Japanese had become a part of the National Volunteer Combat Force. They were armed with ancient rifles, lunge mines, satchel charges, Molotov cocktails and one-shot black powder mortars. Others were armed with swords, long bows, axes and bamboo spears. The civilian units were to be used in nighttime attacks, hit and run maneuvers, delaying actions and massive suicide charges at the weaker American positions.

At the early stage of the invasion, 1,000 Japanese and American soldiers would be dying every hour.

The invasion of Japan never became a reality because on August 6, 1945, an atomic bomb was exploded over Hiroshima. Three days later, a second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. Within days the war with Japan was at a close.

Had these bombs not been dropped and had the invasion been launched as scheduled, combat casualties in Japan would have been at a minimum of the tens of thousands. Every foot of Japanese soil would have been paid for by Japanese and American lives.

One can only guess at how many civilians would have committed suicide in their homes or in futile mass military attacks. In retrospect, the 1 million American men who were to be the casualties of the invasion were instead lucky enough to survive the war.

Intelligence studies and military estimates made 50 years ago, and not latter-day speculation, clearly indicate that the battle for Japan might well have resulted in the biggest blood-bath in the history of modern warfare.

Far worse would be what might have happened to Japan as a nation and as a culture. When the invasion came, it would have come after several months of fire bombing all of the remaining Japanese cities. The cost in human life that resulted from the two atomic blasts would be small in comparison to the total number of Japanese lives that would have been lost by this aerial devastation.

With American forces locked in combat in the south of Japan, little could have prevented the Soviet Union from marching into the northern half of the Japanese home islands. Japan today could be divided much like Korea and Germany.

The world was spared the cost of Operation Downfall, however, because Japan formally surrendered to the United Nations September 2, 1945, and World War II was over.

The aircraft carriers, cruisers and transport ships scheduled to carry the invasion troops to Japan, ferried home American troops in a gigantic operation called Magic Carpet.

In the fall of 1945, in the aftermath of the war, few people concerned themselves with the invasion plans. Following the surrender, the classified documents, maps, diagrams and appendices for Operation Downfall were packed away in boxes and eventually stored at the National Archives. These plans that called for the invasion of Japan paint a vivid description of what might have been one of the most horrible campaigns in the history of man. The fact that the story of the invasion of Japan is locked up in the National Archives and is not told in our history books is something for which all Americans can be thankful.
I had the distinct privilege of being assigned as later commander of the 8090th PACUSA detach, 20th AAF, and one of the personal pilots of then Brig General Fred Irving USMA 17 when he was commanding general of Western Pacific Base Command. We had a brand new C-46F tail number 8546. It was different from the rest of the C-46 line in that it was equipped with Hamilton Hydromatic props whereas the others had Curtis electrics. On one of the many flights we had 14 Generals and Admirals aboard on an inspection trip to Saipan and Tinian. Notable aboard was General Thomas C. Handy, who had signed the operational order to drop the atomic bombs on Japan. President Truman’s orders were verbal. He never signed an order to drop the bombs.

On this particular flight, about half way from Guam to Tinian, a full Colonel (General Handy’s aide) came up forward and told me that General Handy would like to come up and look around. I told him, “Hell yes, he can fly the airplane if he wants to, sir”.

He came up and sat in the copilot’s seat, put on the headset and we started chatting. I asked him if he ever regretted dropping the bombs. His answer was, “Certainly not. We saved a million lives on both sides by doing it.. It was the right thing to do”.

I never forgot that trip and the honor of being able to talk to General Handy. I was a Lt at the time. A postscript about General Irving; he was one of the finest gentleman I ever met. He was the oldest living graduate of West Point when he passed on at 100+.

He was one of three Generals who had the honor of being both the “Supe” and “Com” of West Point. I think the other gentleman were BG Sladen, class of 1890 and BG Stewart, Class of 1896.

I am very happy the invasion never came off because if it had I don’t think I would be writing this today. We were to provide air support for the boots on the ground guys. The small arms fire would have been devastating and lethal as hell to fly through… Just think what it would have been like on the ground…..

***As I have mentioned to many, had Truman not dropped the A-bombs on Hiroshima & Nagasaki, I would not be here. Any of you who had fathers serving in the military in 1945 probably wouln’t be here either. For all of the historical “second guessers” who try to indict America & Truman as criminals for dropping the bombs, this proves their ignorance.

What If? Army-Navy Game Proceeds Go To Charity

The year was 1930. It was a time of national despair with sweeping changes for the future occurring amidst the seemingly unfathomable chaos of the present. Sorting out our own ongoing changes and crisis, in looking back, perhaps there are events and lessons we might benefit from (if not merely relate to!) today.

In 1930, West Point – Annapolis relations were at best strained. The already great spectacle known as the Army-Navy Game had not been played for two years; not because of war, or economic woes (the Great Depression)…but over differences in player eligibility.

However, over the next three years, these two venerated institutions, whose very existence was predicated on serving the nation, resolved to come together for a worthy cause and in so doing played that annual game of football the nation had so come to cherish – for Charity! Could or should it be done again? Why not? 

(*It is understood that Army Navy game profits “…relieves the taxpayer from supporting the athletic programs at the two institutions.” – however, it is assumed, a portion of the proceeds might be earmarked for charity….)

Why not make a pledge for next year and perhaps for years afterward….until those who gave their all these last twelve years, are guaranteed the treatment and care they deserve?  Why not add to the game’s tradition a “noble cause.”  A cause worthy of the men and women our young cadets and midshipmen will someday have the privilege and honor to lead.

Who to benefit? I would leave it to AAA and NAA to determine the exact charities – perhaps to specified worthy charities under the Combined Federal Campaign umbrella…other ideas?..The Wounded Warrior Project?  The Special Operations Warrior Fund?  Event driven Disaster Relief ?

It can be done…it has been done.  AAA/NAA?

ArmyFB_1930_CappyWells-PAO_by WestbrookPegler_BuffaloCourierExpress_Nov211930










Note – charitable contributions from the game date back even earlier

Our History – Navy-Marine Corps Relief Society

Initial funding came from the proceeds of the 1903 ArmyNavy Football Game held at Franklin Field, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In its first year, the Society gave 

Caveat – As stated in1955  – “Commercially, the game is a bonanza for the two academies. They will split the $540,000 in gate receipts (at $6 a seat) and the additional $125,000 for the TV and radio rights. The concessionaire, whose 600 vendors will hawk 150,000 hot dogs, 100,000 cups of coffee and 100,000 hot chocolates, 20,000 candy bars, 25,000 bags of peanuts, 20,000 pennants and badges, 10,000 corsages and 50,000 rain capes, adds another $40,000 to the kitty. Each academy can expect to clear about $300,000 for this one game, and it is this profit which relieves the taxpayer from supporting the athletic programs at the two institutions.”*

* This is understood – but again, some proceeds might be earmarked for charity….





k-ring1962Battalion Staff and Cadet Companies E1, F1, G1 and H1 US Signal Corps Photo

President Kennedy Trooping the Line May 1962

Most college graduates when asked who gave their graduation address and what did they say do not have any recollection. Well, for some unknown reason, I have a copy of the White House press release of President Kennedy’s remarks to us. Each time I read them they become more timeless. Inasmuch as we just passed the 36th anniversary of our graduation, I’m sending JFK’s remarks in their entirety. I have no idea how this came into my possession, but I thought you all might like a copy of it.

Provided by Len Butler to Jim Malley

Graduation Address by President John F. Kennedy
to the Class of 1962
US Military Academy
(As delivered, Wednesday, 6 June 1962)

General Westmoreland, General Lemnitzer, Mr. Secretary, General Decker, General Taylor, members of the graduating class and their parents, gentlemen: I want to express my appreciation for your generous invitation to come to this graduating class. I am sure that all of you who sit here today realize, particularly in view of the song we just heard, that you are part of a long tradition stretching back to the earliest days of this country’s history, and that where you sit sat once, some of the most celebrated names in our nation’s history, and also some who are not so well known, but who, on 100 different battlefields in many wars involving every generation of this nation’s history, have given very clear evidence of their commitment to their country.

So that I know you feel a sense of pride in being part of that tradition, and as a citizen of the United States, as well as President, I want to express our high regard to all of you in appreciation for what you are doing and what you will do for our country in the days ahead.

I would also like to announce at this time that as Commander-in-Chief I am exercising my privilege of directing the Secretary of the Army and the Superintendent of West Point to remit all existing confinements and other cadet punishments, and I hope that it will be possible to carry this out for the day.

General Westmoreland was slightly pained to hear that this was impending in view of the fact that one cadet, who I am confident will someday be the head of the Army, has just been remitted for eight months, and is about to be released. But I am glad to have the opportunity to participate in the advancement of his military career.

My own confinement goes for another two and a half years, and I may ask for it to be extended instead of remitted.

I want to say that I wish all of you, the graduates, success. While I say that, I am not unmindful of the fact that two graduates of this Academy have reached the White House, and neither was a member of my party. Until I am more certain that this trend will be broken, I wish that all of you will be generals and not Commanders-in-Chief.

I want to say that I am sure you recognize that your schooling is only interrupted by today’s occasion and not ended, because the demands that will be made upon you in the service of your country in the coming months and years will be really more pressing, and in many ways more burdensome, as well as more challenging, than ever before in our history. I know that many of you may feel, and many of our citizens may feel that in these days of the nuclear age, when war may last in its final form a day or two or three days before much of the world is burned up, that your service to your country will be only standing and waiting. Nothing, of course, could be further from the truth. I am sure that many Americans believe that the days before World War II were the golden age when the stars were falling on all the graduates of West Point, that that was the golden time of service, and that you have moved into a period where military service, while vital, is not as challenging as it was then. Nothing could be further from the truth. The fact of the matter is that the period just ahead in the next decade will offer more opportunities for service to the graduates of this Academy than ever before in the history of the United States, because all around the world, in countries which are heavily engaged in the maintenance of their freedom, graduates of this Academy are heavily involved; whether it is in Vietnam or in Laos or in Thailand, whether it is a military advisory group in Iran, whether it is a military attache’ in some Latin American country during a difficult and challenging period, whether it is the commander of our troops in South Korea — the burdens that will be placed upon you when you fill those positions as you must inevitably, will require more from you than ever before in our history. The graduates of West Point, the Naval Academy, and the Air Academy in the next ten years will have the greatest opportunity for the defense of freedom than this Academy’s graduates have ever had, and I am sure that the Joint Chiefs of Staff endorse that view, knowing as they do and I do, the heavy burdens that are required of this Academy’s graduates every day. General Tucker in Laos, or General Harkins in Viet Nam, and a dozen others, who hold key and significant positions, involving the security of the United States and the defense of freedom — you are going to follow in their footsteps and I must say that I think that you will be privileged in the years ahead to find yourselves so heavily involved in the great interests of this country.

Therefore, I hope that you realize – and I hope every American realizes – how much we depend upon you. Your strictly military responsibilities, therefore, will require a versatility and an adaptability never before required in either war or peace. They may involve the command and control of modern nuclear weapons and modern delivery systems, so complex that only a few scientists can understand their operation, so devastating that their inadvertent use would be of world wide concern, but so new that their employment and their effects have never been tested in combat conditions.

On the other hand, your responsibilities may involve the command of more traditional forces, but in less traditional roles. Men risking their lives, not as combatants, but as instructors or advisors, or as symbols of our nation’s commitments. The fact that the United States is not directly at war in these areas in no way diminishes the skill and the courage that will be required, the service to our country which is rendered or the pain of the casualties which are suffered.

To cite one final example of the range of responsibilities that will fall upon you, you may hold a position of command with our special forces, forces which are too unconventional to be called conventional, forces which are growing in number and importance and significance, for we now know that it is wholly misleading to call this the “nuclear age”, or to say that our security rests only on the doctrine of massive retaliation.

Korea has not been the only battle ground since the end of the Second World War. Men have fought and died in Malaya, in Greece, in the Philippines, in Algeria and Cuba, and Cyprus and almost continuously on the Indo-Chinese Peninsula. No nuclear weapons have been fired. No massive nuclear retaliation has been considered appropriate. This is another type of war, new in its intensity, ancient in its origin – war by guerrillas, subversives, insurgents, assassins, war by ambush instead of by combat; by infiltration instead of aggression, seeking victory by eroding and exhausting the enemy instead of engaging him. It is a form of warfare uniquely adapted to what has been strangely called “wars of liberation”, to undermine the efforts of new and poor countries to maintain the freedom that they have finally achieved. It preys on economic unrest and ethnic conflicts. It requires in those situations where we must counter it, and these are the kinds of challenges that will be before us in the next decade if freedom is to be saved, a whole new kind of strategy, a wholly different kind of force, and therefore a new and wholly different kind of military training.

But I have spoken thus far only of the military challenges which your education must prepare you for. The non-military problems which you will face will also be most demanding, diplomatic, political and economic. In the years ahead, some of you will serve as advisors to foreign aid missions or even to foreign governments. Some will negotiate terms of a cease-fire with broad political as well as military ramifications. Some of you will go to the far corners of the earth, and to the far reaches of space. Some of you will sit in the highest councils of the Pentagon. Others will hold delicate command posts which are international in character. Still others will advise on plans to abolish arms instead of using them to abolish others. Whatever your position, the scope of your decisions will not be confined to the traditional tenets of military competence and training. You will need to know and understand not only the foreign policy of the United States, but the foreign policy of all countries scattered around the world who 20 years ago were the most distant names to us. You will need to give orders in different tongues, and read maps by different systems. You will be involved in economic judgments which most economists would hesitate to make. At what point, for example, does military aid become burdensome to a country and make its freedom endangered rather than helping to secure it. To what extent can the gold and dollar cost of our overseas deployments be offset by foreign procurement? Or at what stage can a new weapons system be considered sufficiently advanced to justify large dollar appropriations?

In many countries, your posture and performance will provide the local population with the only evidence of what our country is really like. In other countries, your military mission, its advice and action, will play a key role in determining those people will remain free. You will need to understand the importance of military power and also the limits of military power, to decide what arms should be used to fight and when they should be used to prevent a fight, to determine what represents our vital interests and what interests are only marginal.

Above all, you will have a responsibility to deter war as well as to fight it. For the basic problems facing the world today are not susceptible of a final military solution. While we will long require the services and admire the dedication and commitment of the fighting men of this country, neither our strategy nor our psychology as a nation, and certainly not our economy, must become permanently dependent upon an ever-increasing military establishment.

Our forces, therefore, must fulfill a broader role as a complement to our diplomacy, as an arm of our diplomacy, as a deterrent to our adversaries, and as a symbol to our allies of our determination to support them.

That is why this Academy has seen its curriculum grow and expand in dimension, in substance and in difficulty. That is why you cannot possibly have crowded into these four busy years all of the knowledge and all of the range of experience which you must bring to these subtle and delicate tasks which I have described, and that is why you will go to school year after year so you can serve this country to the best of your ability and your talent.

To talk of such talent and effort raises in the minds, I am sure, of everyone, and the minds of all of our countrymen, why – why should men such as you, able to master the complex arts of science, mathematics, language, economy, and all the rest devote their lives to a military career, with all of its risks and hardships? Why should their families be expected to make the personal and financial sacrifices that a military career inevitably brings with it? When there is a visible enemy to fight in open combat, the answer is not so difficult. Many serve, all applaud, and the tide of patriotism runs high. But when there is a long, slow struggle, with no immediate visible foe, your choice will seem hard indeed. And you will recall, I am sure, the lines found in an old century box in Gibraltar, “God and the soldier all men adore, in time of trouble and no more; for when war is over and all things righted, God is neglected and the old soldier slighted.”

But you have one satisfaction, however difficult those days may be: when you are asked by a President of the United States or by any other American what you are doing for your country, no man’s answer will be clearer than your own. And that moral motivation which brought you here in the first place is part of your training here as well. West Point was not built to produce technical experts alone. It was built to produce men committed to the defense of their country, leaders of men who understand the great stakes which are involved, leaders who can be entrusted with the heavy responsibility which modern weapons and the fight for freedom entail, leaders who can inspire in their men the same sense of obligation to duty which you bring to it.

There is no single slogan that you can repeat to yourself in hard days or give to those who may be associated with you. In times past, a simple phrase, “55-40 or fight”, or “to make the world safe for democracy” – all that was enough. But the times, the weapons and the issues are now more complicated than ever.

Eighteen years ago today, Ernie Pyle, describing those tens of thousands of young men who crossed the “ageless and indifferent” sea of the English Channel, searched in vain for a word to describe what they were fighting for. And finally he concluded that they were at least fighting for each other.

You and I leave here today to meet our separate responsibilities, to protect our nation’s vital interests by peaceful means if possible, by resolute action if necessary, and we go forth confident of support and success because we know that we are working and fighting for each other and for all those men and women all over the globe who are determined to be free.

I asked earlier this month if anyone knew who was the beneficiary of the amnesty granted by President Kennedy at our graduation in 1962. In his remarks the President mentioned that someone in the class had recently been punished and was being relieved of a great load due to the amnesty that the President was granting.

I received replies from two individuals. Charlie (“C.O.”) Bennett of Company M-2 thought he might have been the person but in a second message to me remembered that he was finished with his punishment prior to graduation.

Sam (“Sammy”) Steele told me that his roommate, Charlie (“Bud”) Merriam of Company C-2 was probably the person, as he had been caught off post about a week before graduation and was serving punishment when we were graduated.

That’s all I know so, by default it looks like Charlie Merriam was the classmate who could thank President Kennedy for allowing him to graduate in a timely manner.

In our Register of Graduates it shows that Charlie Merriam retired in 1988 as a Lieutenant Colonel.

Larry D. Smith, Company K-1

AOG – Graduates KIA 1812 – 1900










Class of 1960


Scott I brought this over from Rev9 – I am moving my up dates to this page as it is really outdated

Note – In the listing, the Class of 1917 graduated April 1917, the Class of 1918 graduated August 1917 and the Class of 1919 graduated June of 1918. There is also an error

Film – very basic -The St. Mihiel Drive September 1918 United States First Army

Association of Graduates Reports

Listing of Officers 1900 – 1950

Authorization for travel to Europe for Families

Recipients of the DSC WWI

Class of 1886

3141 Col Betram Tracy Clayton QMC N0. 3141 KIA May 30, 1918 DSC
The bomb dropped by a German aviator killed at the same time several other officers.

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Army Greats Sports Cartoons – Football


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James Hoop Dickey

No. 4396 Class of 1905. Colonel Dickey had charge of liaison between 69th Inf. Bde. and Division, and through his courage and coolness he was able to keep the detachment together. He was wounded by a fragment of a shell which struck him just below the right shoulder, and died from wounds received September’ 27, 1918, in the Battle of the Meuse-Argonne. Aged 35 ‘years.
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West Point Graduates Killed in Action – Vietnam

Dog Tags of the some 58,220 Americans we lost in Vietnam


The dog tags of the more than 58,000 service men and women who died in the Vietnam War, were hung from the ceiling of the National Vietnam Veterans Art Museum in Chicago on Veterans Day, November 11, 2010. The 10-by-40-foot sculpture, entitled Above & Beyond, was designed by Ned Broderick and Richard Stein.

Class of 1950

“Charles L. Butler”

17764 Killed in Action June 21, 1972 in An Loc, Viet Nam

“Carl Berg Mitchell”

17450 Killed in Action 14 January 1964

Cully was posthumously awarded the nation’s second highest medal for valor, the Air Force Cross, – the citation read:

“Major Carl B. Mitchell distinguished himself by extraordinary heroism during low-level flight operations against heavily defended enemy positions. Despite heavy machine gun fire, which repeatedly struck his aircraft, Major Mitchell aggressively continued his efforts to locate and destroy the machine gun installations until his badly damaged aircraft crashed and burned.”

“Bobby Gene Vinson”

17575 Missing in Action in Vietnam on 24 Apr 1968

Probably his most notable football feats were a 98-yard intercepted pass return in 1948 and a 92-yard kickoff return for a touchdown in the 1949 Army-Navy game. He was number one in the plebe class in physical aptitude and could take on the best heavyweights in boxing and wrestling.

In Korea flew 100 combat missions in FA-84s the same way he played football – with 100% commitment, 100% fearless.

Class of 1952

Joseph Clair Austin

Class of 1954

“Rox Shain” His fighter went down and Rox was never recovered. In the ’54 Game Rox was yanked off the Cadet Train as it pulled into Philly, was suited up and his resultant odd kick off style resulted in a Navy fumble which was recovered by Army.

Class of 1956

“Donald Walter Holleder”

Don Holleder

Class of 1959

Ralph Robert Wensinger

Class of 1962

Mike Casp

Mike Crabtree

Glen arranged for some 20 of us at the Advance Coarse to fly up to West Point to be with Mike when he was interned.

Bob Dickinson

Bob Fuellhart

Ed Krukowski

Frank Reasoner

Turk Griffith

Bill Whitehead

Class of 1963

“Larry Britten”

West Point Graduates Killed in Action – Civil War

Confederate and Union Solders in early 1900s union

It is all ended – happily ended – ended as never in all the records of the world’s bloody adventures was civic strife ended. If the souls of men thrill at the names of fields and leaders, how vastly more thrilling that we conquered ourselves-that today men of the Grand Army and Confederate Veterans meet on common ground, actuated by the motive of love for our common country. “By the banks of the inland river, Where the fleets of iron have fled; Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver Asleep are the ranks of the dead. From the silence of sorrowful hours The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers, Alike for the friend and the foe. No more shall the war-cry sever, Or the winding river run red; They banish our anger forever When they laurel the graves of our dead.” Cadets and serving Officers faced a difficult situation as talk of Secession increased. The 30 page document “Secession – – A Crack in the Long Gray Line” provides an understanding of what they faced. Lee believed that the Union would cease to exist if Virginia was not part of it; therefore, he was not actually fighting against the United States. Similarly, Alabama native John Pelham, Class of 1861, believed he was not planning to fight against the true United States. In late February 1861, Cadet Pelham wrote to his brother’s wife that: You need not be afraid of hurting my Southern feelings by respecting the Stars and Stripes. Although I am a most ultra Secessionist, I am still proud of the American flag and would fight harder and longer to tear the Stars and Stripes from every N~sthern battlement than for any other cause.


Fort Sumter

Several Civil War Photos are at

Union Armies

In the East Army of the Potomac, the principal army in the Eastern Theater, commanded by George B. McClellan, Ambrose E. Burnside, Joseph Hooker, and George G. Meade.

Bloody Lane Antietam



Dunker Church -Antietam.jpg

Dunker Church Antietam

McClellan Antietam.jpg

McClellan at Antietam

Class of 1822   Joseph,Mansfield,1822,,Alumni,287-1822,9/18/1862,DOD: 09/18/1862 Place: Antietam A-59 Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA

Class of 1861 “Alonzo Hersford Cushing” “Alonzo Hersford Cushing” – Commanding 110 men with 6 cannons withstood the 2 hour Confederate bombardment which left him with only 2 guns which he pushed forward to meet the 13,000 Confederate Infantry. Helped to stand by his Sergeant, he was killed directing his guns. Cushing to receive the Medal of Honor 2014. to receive Medal of honor&f=false

Confederate prisomers at Gettysburg.jpg

Confederate Prisoners at Gettysburg

Devil's Den below.jpg

Overlooking Devil’s Den Gettysburg

Devil's Den- gettysburg.jpg

Devil’s Den Gettysburg


Federal Headquarters Gettysburg

L-R  Barlow, Birney, Gibbon, Hancock seated - all wounded at Gettysburg.jpg


Army of the James, Virginia Peninsula, 1864-65, commanded by Benjamin Butler and Edward Ord.

Army of the Shenandoah, Shenandoah Valley, David Hunter, Philip Sheridan, and Horatio G. Wright.



Class of 1863 John R Meigs Army of Virginia, John Pope for the Northern Virginia Campaign.

In the West Army of the Tennessee, Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, Georgia, and the Carolinas; commanded by Ulysses S. Grant, William T. Sherman, James B. McPherson, and Oliver O. Howard.GenSherman William T Sherman Army of the Cumberland, Tennessee, and later Georgia, commanded by William S. Rosecrans and George Henry Thomas.

Army of Georgia, March to the Sea and the Carolinas commanded by Henry W. Slocum.

Army of the Gulf, around Gulf of Mexico, commanded by Benjamin Butler, Nathaniel P. Banks, and Edward Canby.

Army of the Mississippi, Mississippi River, under John Pope and William S. Rosecrans in 1862; under John A. McClernand in 1863.

Army of the Ohio, Kentucky and later Tennessee and Georgia, commanded by Don Carlos Buell, Ambrose E. Burnside, John G. Foster, and John M. Schofield.

Western Territories Class of 1859 Roderic Stone Infantry, frontier duty in New Mexico; killed in the Battle of Valverde in the War between the States, fighting for the Union. Class of 1860 “Lyman Mishler” Killed Valverde NM fighting for the Union (attached McRae’s Battery) 21 Feb 1962

Confederate Armies

In the East Army of Northern Virginia – Joseph E. Johnston, Gustavus W. Smith, Robert E. Lee Gen-JosephEJohnson copy Joseph E. Johnston Class of 1847

R.E. Lee.jpg

R E Lee

Ambrose Powell Hill 1847, remembered as A P Hill, his Division made extraordinary march and ferocious attack at Antietam, securing Lee’s Right Flank. Killed 3/2/1865 when Grant broke Lee’s defenses at Petersburg as Hill attempted to rally his Corps. Southern Lore has it that both Jackson and Lee called for Hill on their death beds, with Lee saying “Tell Hill he must come up”. Camp A P Hill, Va. Honors him.

burnside-bridgeConfederate dead Hagerston Rd Antietam.jpg

Confederate Hagerston Rd Antietam

Jackson’s Valley Campaign

Army of the Northwest Robert S. Garnett, Henry R. Jackson, William W. Loring, Edward Johnson

Army of the Peninsula John B. Magruder, Daniel H. Hill Army of the Potomac P. G. T. Beauregard, Joseph E. Johnston

Army of the Valley (also known as Second Corps, Army of Northern Virginia) Jubal Early Army of the Kanawha (Western Virginia – early in the war) Henry A. Wise, John B. Floyd, Robert E. Lee

In The West Army of Mississippi  March 1862 – November 1862: P. G. T. Beauregard, Albert Sidney Johnston, Braxton Bragg, William J. Hardee, Leonidas Polk, (also known as the Army of the Mississippi;

Redesignated Army of Tennessee on November 20, 1862) December 1862 – July 1863: John C. Pemberton, Earl Van Dorn, (1863) William W. Loring (also known as Army of Vicksburg) July 1863 – June 1864: William J. Hardee, Leonidas Polk, William W. Loring (also known as the Army of the Mississippi; redesignated III Corps, Army of Tennessee in May 1864, but continued to use its old name) Army of Tennessee Braxton Bragg, Samuel Gibbs French, William J. Hardee, Daniel H. Hill, John Bell Hood, Joseph E. Johnston, Richard Taylor

Gen-JosephEJohnson copyJoseph E. Johnston Army of Kentucky Edmund Kirby Smith (Eventually commander of all forces West of the Mississippi) Army of Central Kentucky Simon B. Buckner, Albert Sidney Johnston Army of Missouri Sterling Price Army of Middle Tennessee John C. Breckinridge Army of Western Louisiana Richard Taylor, Edmund Kirby Smith Army of Arkansas Sterling Price, Edmund Kirby Smith Army of the Trans-Mississippi Thomas C. Hindman, Theophilus Holmes, Edmund Kirby Smith James Longstreet’s Corps

The Far West confederate-west Army of the West Earl Van Dorn Class of 1849 James,McIntosh,1849,,Alumni,1449-1849,1/7/1862,”DOD: 01/07/1862 Place: Pea Ridge, AR Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 34″ Army of New Mexico Henry H. Sibley

Photos not sorted

 Major General Henry Heth.jpg

Major General Henry Heath



General Longstreet.gif

James Longstreet – Lee’s War Horse

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Longstreet’s Home

Lee and Grant.jpg


Not sorted

Dixon,Miles,1824,,Alumni,387-1824,9/16/1862,DOD: 09/16/1862 Place: Harper’s Ferry Notified by: Burial: Cause: DOW Obit: Age: 58 Albert,Johnston,1826,,Alumni,436-1826,4/6/1862,DOD: 04/06/1862 Place: Shiloh Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 59 Leonidas,Polk,1827,,Alumni,477-1827,6/14/1864,”DOD: 06/14/1864 Place: Pine Mountain, GA Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 58 ” Seneca,Simmons,1834,,Alumni,771-1834,6/30/1862,DOD: 06/30/1862 Place: Glendale Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 53 Lloyd,Tilghman,1836,,Alumni,887-1836,5/16/1863,”DOD: 05/16/1863 Place: Baker’s Creek, MS Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: ” Robert,Jones,1837,,Alumni,903-1837,5/31/1862,DOD: 05/31/1862 Place: Fair Oaks Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 46 John,Sedgwick,1837,,Alumni,914-1837,5/9/1864,DOD: 05/09/1864 Place: Spottsylvania Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 50 William,Walker,1837,,Alumni,936-1837,7/22/1864,”DOD: 07/22/1864 Place: Atlanta, GA Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 47 ” Thomas,Williams,1837,,Alumni,902-1837,8/5/1862,”DOD: 08/05/1862 Place: Baton Rouge, LA Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 47″ Isaac,Stevens,1839,,Alumni,986-1839,9/1/1862,DOD: 09/01/1862 Place: Chantilly Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 44 Reuben,Campbell,1840,,Alumni,1043-1840,6/27/1862,DOD: 06/27/1862 Place: Gaines Mill Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 44 Stephen,Captenter,1840,,Alumni,1051-1840,12/31/1862,DOD: 12/31/1862 Place: Stone River Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 44 Julius,Garesche,1841,,Alumni,1074-1841,12/31/1862,DOD: 12/31/1862 Place: Stone River Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 42 Robert,Garnett,1841,,Alumni,1085-1841,7/13/1861,DOD: 07/13/1861 Place: Carrick’s Ford Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 41 Richard,Garnett,1841,,Alumni,1087-1841,7/3/1863,DOD: 07/03/1863 Place: Gettysburg Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 44 Nathaniel,Lyon,1841,,Alumni,1069-1841,8/10/1861,DOD: 08/10/1861 Place: Wilson’s Creek Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 42 Francis,Thomas,1844,,Alumni,1211-1844,7/21/1861,DOD: 07/21/1861 Place: Bull Run Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 37 Alexander,Hays,1844,,Alumni,1225-1844,5/5/1864,DOD: 05/05/1864 Place: At Wilderness Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 44 David,Russell,1845,,Alumni,1268-1845,9/19/1864,”DOD: 09/19/1864 Place: Opequan, VI Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 42 ” William,Whiting,1845,,Alumni,1231-1845,3/10/1865,DOD: 03/10/1865 Place: Governor’s Island Notified by: Burial: Cause: POW-DOW Obit: Age: 40 Jesse,Reno,1846,,Alumni,1279-1846,9/14/1862,DOD: 09/14/1862 Place: South Mountain Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 39 Otis,Tillinghast,1847,,Alumni,1343-1847,7/23/1861,DOD: 07/23/1861 Place: Bull Run Notified by: Burial: Cause: DOW Obit: Age: 38 William,Jones,1848,,Alumni,1378-1848,6/5/1864,”DOD: 06/05/1864 Place: Piedmont, VA Notified by: Burial: Cause: KIA Obit: Age: 40 ”



16th SC battle flag


1900 Va Confederates

a soldier







Battery D, 5th U S Artillery in action at Fredericksburg copy

Battery D, 5th U S Artillery in action at Fredericksburg

Benson's battery - Fair Oaks or 7 Pines

Benson’s battery – Fair Oaks or 7 Pines


Bloody Lane – Confederate dead

Braxton Bragg

Braxton Bragg



Burford :Reynolds Gettysburg

Burford /Reynolds Gettysburg






Chamberlin Gettysburg

Civil War Deserter 2

Civil War Deserter

Civil War Profiles

civilwar troops

US Troops


Civil War Female Soldier

Confed generals

Confederate dead

Confederate Dead

Confederate dead - 6th Maine penetrated Fredericksburg

Confederate dead – 6th Maine penetrated Fredericksburg

Confederate prisoners Belle Plain. Va

Confederate prisoners Belle Plain. Va

Confederates - Frederick md

Confederates – Frederick Md



Cushing – Cadet






Devil's Den 10

Devil’s Den

Donated for scrap WWII

Donated for scrap WWII

Federal troops

Federal Troops


Federal HQ Gettysburg


From Little Round Top

From little Round Top

G B Bee

General Bee

Gen Meades Hq several days after Picketts Charge

Gen Meade’s Hq several days after Picketts Charge

Gen Philip Sheridan

Gen Philip Sheridan

GeorgeMeade         georgemeade

General Meade



Gettysburg-devils den

Devil’s Den



Harrison Landing 1862

Harrison’s Landing

I won a battle once. It was awful.

I won a battle once. It was awful.

Joe Hooker

Joe Hooker




John Pelham – “The Gallant Pelham”



Joe Hooker


Robert E Lee

LRT and Devil's Den

Little Round Top

Longstreet Memorial Gettysburg

Longstreet Monument Gettysburg




A breakdown of the ten finest commanders of the greatest–and bloodiest–war in American history.

The American Civil War is a source of great fascination to millions of military aficionados. More Americans died in this conflict than any other American has engaged in, before or since. Many of the soldiers who served and the men who led them were amateurs, products of the State Militia system. As is often the case, Americans rose to the challenge, learning on the job the grim lessons of battle.
The Civil War produced many examples of leadership, both wretched and inspiring. It is not surprising that America’s greatest conflict produced some of its best generals. Of these, most worth graduates of the United States Military Academy at West Point (or of some other equivalent) and had served at least some time as officers in the “Regular” Army. One of the finest commanders was a gifted amateur, a born military genius who found his calling in the cauldron of conflict.
Here is a breakdown of the top ten:
10. Jubal Early, CSA 1404951

Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
“Old Jube” to his soldiers, the peppery-tempered Confederate lieutenant general commanded Jackson’s Second Corp late in the war. He learned his trade as one of Jackson’s Brigade and Division commanders, and Early resembled his brilliant commander in dash and his penchant for rapid maneuver. During the three-day Battle of Gettysburg, Early’s division occupied York, Pennsylvania—the largest Northern town to fall to the Rebels during the war. In 1864 he led the last Confederate invasion of the North, reaching the defenses of Washington. Unable to break the defenses, he withdrew to Virginia, commenting, “We haven’t taken Washington, but we scared Abe Lincoln like hell!”


9. George Gordon Meade, Union


Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons. George Meade is pictured with his staff, fourth from the right.
Nicknamed “Old Snapping Turtle,” Meade seldom gets much credit as a commander, despite defeating the great Robert E. Lee at Gettysburg, the decisive battle of the war. Though a West Point graduate and veteran of the Mexican War, Meade returned to service during the Civil War as a “captain of volunteers.” The move retarded Meade’s promotion progress, and he had to serve in lesser positions throughout the war while less capable men (George B. McClellan, Ambrose Burnside, Joseph Hooker) took their turns commanding the Army of the Potomac. A successful and aggressive brigade and division commander, Meade distinguished himself at the Second Battle of Bull Run and the Battle of South Mountain. At Antietam, he replaced the wounded Hooker before being wounded himself. At Fredericksburg, his division made the only breakthrough in the Confederate line; but his successful penetration went unsupported and ultimately failed. He was rewarded, however, with a corps command. His V Corps was held in strategic reserve during the Battle of Chancellorsville, a blunder Meade later criticized Hooker for. When Hooker resigned days before Gettysburg, Meade was tapped to command the Army of the Potomac after four senior generals turned President Abraham Lincoln down. With no time to organize his staff or to assert his authority over Hooker’s subordinates (particularly the troublesome Major General Daniel Sickles, commanding III Corps), he found himself in command of the Union forces at the greatest battle of the Civil War. At Gettysburg, Meade showed sound judgment in his choice of terrain. Despite disobedience by Sickles, Meade held his position for three days, allowing Lee’s army to break itself against the Union’s strong positions. Meade was criticized after the battle for not pursing Lee’s retreating army more aggressively, but this can partially be explained by the loss of so many men during the battle (some 23,000 killed, wounded or missing), and the lack of support of his chief of staff, a Hooker appointee. Meade served the rest of the war commanding the Army of the Potomac, but under the direct supervision of Ulysses S. Grant, who came east to take command of all Union forces.

8. James Longstreet


Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
Lee’s “Old War Horse,” Longstreet was the anvil upon which the Union forces so often broke (or were hammered). A master of conducting attack or defense in forested terrain, he devised novel approaches at both Chickamauga and the Wilderness. Longstreet was known for his calm temperament in the midst of battle, a rare gift. At Gettysburg he famously disagreed with Lee about the place and conduct of the battle; he was, arguably, correct in his assessments. Longstreet’s flanking attack at the Battle of the Wilderness rolled up Union General Winfield S. Hancock’s Second Corps “like a wet blanket.” Only Longstreet’s accidental wounding, which brought the attack to a halt, saved Grant’s army from severe defeat.

7. George Henry Thomas


Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
Known as “the Rock of Chickamauga” and “Pap Thomas” to his men, Thomas won the Union’s first key victory at the Battle of Mills Spring in January 1862. He “earned his spurs” at the Battle of Chickamauga, where Thomas held on in the center while his army’s commander fled the field; Thomas’ stubborn refusal to retreat saved the Union army that day and earned him his sobriquet, “the Rock of Chickamauga.” After William T. Sherman detached his army to “march to the sea,” Thomas was tasked with defending Tennessee from John Bell Hood’s Confederate Army of Tennessee. He attacked and annihilated Hood’s forces at the Battle of Nashville, securing the Tennessee and Union victory in the Western Theater.

6. Philip Sheridan


Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
Grant’s chief cavalry commander, Sheridan was known for his energy and aggressiveness. He first earned distinction and came to Grant’s attention in the West. Brought to the Eastern Theater to command Grant’s Cavalry Corps, Sheridan proved ideally suited to his new role. In May ’64 he relentlessly pursed Jeb Stuart’s cavalry to destruction at Yellow Tavern, where Stuart was mortally wounded. In response to Early’s raid on Washington, Sheridan defeated Early and scourged the Shenandoah Valley, presaging the scorched earth tactics in Sherman’s famous March to the Sea. In 1865 Sheridan’s unrelenting pursuit of Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox. Grant summed up his service thus: “I believe General Sheridan has no superior as a general, either living or dead, and perhaps not an equal.”

5. Nathan Bedford Forrest1404966

Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
“The Wizard of the Saddle,” Forrest was not only the finest cavalry commander that America ever produced, he was a first-rate practitioner of mobile warfare and combined arms. His rapidly moving strike forces were composed of cavalry/mounted infantry, supported by batteries of horse artillery. A gifted military genius, Forrest had no formal military education, enlisting as a private at the start of the war. A very wealthy man, he soon raised his own force of cavalry, which under his leadership soon became the most feared force in the Western Theater (and he the most feared commander of the war). Throughout the war, Forrest is credited with killing, personally with his own hands, 30 enemy soldiers, the most ever by an American general. When asked after the war what the secret to his success was, Forrest responded, “By getting there first with the most men.” (Not, as often quoted, “Git thar firstest with the mostest!”) His operations are more reminiscent of a 20th century panzer leader, such as Heinz Guderian or Erwin Rommel, than of any commander of his age.

4. Ulysses S. Grant


Photo credit: Getty Images
The man who did more than any to win the war, it may surprise many that U.S. Grant doesn’t either head this list or come in second place. However, Grant’s virtues were not that of a great general so much as a resolute and fearless “manager” of war. Unlike the cautious George McClellan, Grant was a “fighting general” who lost little sleep concerning the enemy’s plans. After taking a terrible beating the first day at Shiloh, Sherman remarked, “Well, Grant, we’ve had the devil’s own day, haven’t we?” Grant looked up. “Yes,” he replied, puffing on his cigar; “Yes. Lick ’em tomorrow, though”. After a string of victories in the West, Lincoln, promoted Grant to lieutenant general—a position in the American Army previously held only be George Washington and Winfield Scott—and brought him east to take command. (When first warned about Grant’s heavy drinking, Lincoln is said to have responded, “Find out what he drinks and send my other commanders a case!”) Over the next year, Grant proved relentless and unflappable, using his superiority in numbers and equipment to hammer Lee in ways his predecessors had failed. Unmoved by casualties, Grant continued to press Lee till the latter was forced to surrender at Appomattox Courthouse.

3. William T. Sherman


Photo credit: Library of Congress and Wikimedia Commons
The melancholy and cerebral Sherman emerged during the Civil War as perhaps the most hated (by southerners) and admired general of the war. His March to the Sea and scorched earth policy broke the economic back of the Confederacy, destroying its will to fight on. Sherman was a practitioner of maneuver warfare in contrast different his friend and superior U.S. Grant. Prone to deep bouts of depression, Sherman would later say, “Grant stood by me when I was crazy, and I stood by him when he was drunk, and now we stand by each other.” When Grant was sent east to take over that theater, Sherman took his place as commander in the Western Theater. Cutting himself and his army loose from their dependence on railheads for supply, he invaded Georgia in the spring of 1864. Living off the land, his “foot cavalry” continuously outmaneuvered his opponents and threatened multiple objectives, preventing Confederate forces from concentrating sufficient forces to stop him. Sherman was an early proponent of what in the 20th century came to be called “total war” (which he, himself, termed “hard war”). His strategy of destroying the economic heart of the south, as much as Grant’s pugnacious campaign of relentlessly pummeling Lee, led to the South’s eventual defeat. He is the only man to have twice received the thanks of Congress during the war, and is arguably the best strategist of the Civil War.

2. Robert E. Lee


Perhaps America’s most respected general, “Marse Robert” had already obtained legendary status as America’s greatest living soldier prior the outbreak of the Civil War. He played only a minor role till June 1862, when General Joe Johnston was wounded, resulting in Lee taking command of the Army of Northern Virginia. During the Peninsula Campaign, Lee’s relentless aggressive and audacious tactics drove George B. McClellan’s Army of the Potomac from the gates of Richmond in the Seven Days Battles. Despite heavy casualties in the process, Lee’s counter-offensive turned the tide and won him the devotion of his army. Within 90 days of taking command, Lee had driven McClellan off the peninsula, and the battle lines had moved from 6 miles outside Richmond to 20 miles outside Washington. During these two years, Lee invaded the north twice, keeping the Union forces on the defensive. In the final seasons of the Civil War, Lee employed a tenacious defensive strategy against a superior Union long after the point where a lesser general would have been defeated.

1. Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson


Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
The eccentric Jackson was an instructor at Virginia Military Institute when the war broke out. Assembling a force at Harper’s Ferry (which became the famous “Stonewall Brigade”) Jackson joined the Confederate forces at First Bull Run. Here he became the hero of the day, earning his nickname. Jackson’s finest hour came when a Union army invaded the valley in the spring of 1862. In what came to be called the Valley Campaign, Jackson conducted a series of brilliant operations of surprise and maneuver, covering 46 miles in 48 days and winning five significant victories. In the process, his 17,000 men defeated a combined force of 60,000 Union troops. He joined Lee for the Seven Day’s Battle, beginning a partnership that was one of the great ones of the war (second only to Grant and Sherman). In the battles and campaigns that followed, Jackson’s corps was Lee’s hammer, while Longstreet’s was the anvil. The strategy proved especially fruitful at Second Manassas and at Antietam. In May of 1863, Union General Joseph Hooker crossed the Rapidan River to the west of the Confederate army opposite Fredericksburg. Leaving Longstreet to hold that position, Lee marched west. Jackson was tasked with driving rapidly south through the dense forest, below the Union forces around Chancellorsville. As the sun was low in the western sky on May 2, Jackson’s Corps unexpectedly attacked from that direction. The Union forces were caught completely by surprise, and only the fall of darkness prevented the route of Hooker’s entire army. While conducting a reconnaissance that evening beyond his pickets, Jackson was accidentally fired upon and wounded by his own sentries. His wounded left arm was amputated, leading Lee to comment, “General Jackson has lost his left arm; but I have lost my right.” The wound turned gangrenous, and Jackson died in bed on May 10, 1863. His death deprived Lee of his best Corps commander, the best general of the war on either side. Had he lived to fight at Gettysburg a month later, the outcome of that battle may have been very different.
Barry C. Jacobsen is a former Green Beret and the publisher of The Deadliest Blogger.


Civil War Horses

At the start of the war, the North had about 3.4 million horses; the Confederacy had about 1.7 million, and there were distinctions in their suitability for service. The horses in the North were primarily farm animals and were better suited for moving equipment; those in the South were bred for riding and racing, so the Confederacy was better prepared to build a cavalry. More than one million horses and mules died during the course of the war.
Today’s military officers would marvel at the thought of having to provide 26 pounds of fuel per day to their “modes of transportation” but that was the reality of the 1860s. Horses needed 14 pounds of hay and 12 pounds of grain each day.
When instructing his troops. Major General William T. Sherman said: “Every opportunity at a halt during a march should be taken advantage of to cut grass, wheat, or oats and extraordinary care should be taken of the horses upon which everything depends.”
While staying in one location might have provided the soldiers with the time to gather food for the animals, the truth was that the armies frequently picked an area clean, and wagons that should have been traveling back and forth carrying additional provisions were frequently seized to be used for other purposes. By 1864, Union artillery horses in some locations were living on only five pounds of grain per day.
At the start of any skirmish, horses were often targeted first. Both sides understood that picking off horses left the opposing side with no way to move artillery and supplies. At Ream’s Station (Virginia) in August 1864, the Tenth Massachusetts Battery had positioned themselves behind a temporary barricade, but they left their thirty horses exposed. Within moments, only two of these horses were still standing.
Massachusetts soldier Charles Francis Adams wrote to his mother on May 12, 1863. It describes the magnitude of what was happening to the animals:
“The air of Virginia is literally burdened today with the stench of dead horses, federal and confederate. You pass them on every road and find them in every field, while from their carrions you can follow the march of every army that moves.”

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Union Gun

Union Prisoners.jpg

Union Prisoners

This is war. The man in the foreground will never use his right arm again. Never again will the man on the litter jump or run. It is sudden, the transition from marching bravely at morning on two sound legs, grasping your rifle in two sturdy arms, to lying at nightfall under a tree with a member forever gone. But it is war. The usual treatment of an ordinary wound during the Civil War consisted in shaving the part if necessary and washing it with warm water and a sponge. Asepsis was not yet understood. The sponge, used on any and all cases indiscriminately, soon became infected. Gross foreign bodies were removed and the wound probed by instruments which were never sterilized and usually remained continuing sources of infection. The wound was usually protected by dressings of lint, the scrapings of which from cotton cloth by hand rendered its infection certain. Cloth or cotton compresses dipped in cold water were often used as dressings. Some surgeons used ointments spread on muslin. Flaxseed or bread poultices were often employed. In fact nearly every measure taken for the relief of the wounded was, through the irony of Fate and ignorance of infection, largely contributory in increasing the very suffering it was desired to prevent.

John Buford at Gettysburg

Defense In Depth
”John Buford’s First Day Defense at the Battle of Gettysburg”
The following is a brief description of John Buford’s actions on the first day at Gettysburg.  It was presented  in a Civil War chatroom one evening by Eric Whittenburg, author of “Gettysburg’s Forgotten Cavalry Battles” and John Buford’s biographer.  Since chatrooms do not lend themselves to large posts, it was presented in small increments over the course of about a half hour.  For ease of reading it has been reformatted into the form you see here,   However, very little changes were made and what you see is basically as it was presented to the group.
The concept that John Buford employed in the initial defense of Gettysburg is called a “defense in depth”. The theory behind a defense in depth is for the defending force to select a position far from the point that it ultimately wants to defend, so that there is a place to fall back to. A delaying action is fought, with the idea of slowly making a fighting withdrawal. The defending force makes use of the terrain to delay the enemy’s advance.
        Buford recognized the good high ground to the south and east of the town square and elected to fight a defense in depth to hold it until the infantry could come up. Buford had been consulting with John Reynolds in Emmitsburg on the way to Gettysburg on June 30, and knew how close the infantry was. He would defend the town from the west and north. Gamble on the west side, and Devin on the north. 
        Buford set up his videttes on an arc seven miles long. Gamble’s farthest post was four miles from the town square, Devin’s six. The idea of videttes is to serve as an early warning system. They make contact with the enemy, fire warning shots, delay as long a possible, and then fall back to the next chosen defensive position.  Gamble covered an arc from the Fairfield Road to the Mummasburg Road. Devin covered the Carlisle, Harrisburg and York Roads. The next fall back position from the west was Herr’s Ridge (which combines with Belmont School House Ridge), and then finally, the main line of battle was atop McPherson Ridge. 
        The vidette line of Gamble’s brigade was manned by about 275 men. The farthest post was atop Knoxlyn Ridge at the Whisler blacksmith shop. Vidette posts were typically manned by three or four men, and commanded by a non-com. This particular one was commanded by Sgt. Levi Shaffer of the 8th Illinois Cavalry.  Lt. Marcellus Jones of the 8th Illinois commanded the regiment’s vidette line. Early on the morning of July 1, Sgt. Shaffer spotted billowing clouds of dust arising along the Chambersburg Pike, indicating the movement of a large body of men. Shaffer called for Jones. Jones watched for a moment, borrowed Shaffer’s Sharps carbine, rested it on a fence post, and squeezed off the first shot of the Battle of Gettysburg. Fired at a range of about 700 yards, it hit nothing. Instead, it sent up the alarm among Heth’s advancing infantry. Soon, more shots rang out along the vidette line. It was about 6 a.m. Word was sent back to Buford to let him know that the Confederates had begun to advance. While he sent for Calef’s artillery, the surprised Confederates stopped and began to deploy into line of battle, a process that took nearly two full hours. Just by firing a few shots that hit nothing, Buford bought two hours’ time. In the meantime, Buford sent messengers to Reynolds to try to hurry the infantry to Gettysburg.
        In the meantime, the videttes fell back to Herr’s Ridge. There, along with about 500 others of Gamble’s brigade (total strength, about 750), they made a stand for the better part of an hour. Remember, too, that effective strength had to be reduced by 25% due to the fact that one in every four men was given task of holding horses. So, the actual strength was about 450. They stood there for about 45 minutes.  Meanwhile, Calef’s three sections of artillery deployed along McPherson’s Ridge. Two sections (4 guns) deployed on the Chambersburg Pike and the other two about four hundred yards away, near the spot where Reynolds fell. The idea was to disperse the guns to create the illusion that Buford actually had more than 6 pieces of artillery at his disposal.
        The Confederates, after driving Gamble off Herr’s Ridge, then got caught in the valley created by Willoughby Run. They came under heavy fire there, and it took time for them to regroup and begin to advance up the western slope of McPherson’s Ridge. By this time, it was nearly 9:15. Buford had already bought more than three hours’ time by his stand. However, he grew worried, as there was still no sign of the advance of Reynolds’ infantry. He went up the cupola of the Seminary to search for the head of Reynolds’ column, worried–he realized that it was just a matter of time before he had to pull back or he ran out of ammo.  As McPherson’s Ridge was the chosen spot for the defensive stand, Buford deployed all of Gamble’s brigade there, as well as a regiment of Devin’s, positioned to the north of the railroad cut. There, they stood for about an hour before the Confederates began pressing them back, both by flanking the position and because Gamble’s men were running out of ammunition.
        As things looked most desperate, Buford’s signal officer, Lt. Aaron B. Jerome, spotted the advance of Reynolds’ column, and reported it to Buford. Buford ascended the cupola again, saw it himself, and said, “Good, now we can hold the place.” He sent a messenger to Reynolds, who spurred ahead to meet with Buford. Reynolds called out, “What goes, John?” Buford characteristically replied, “The Devil’s to pay!” and pointed out the advancing Confederate infantry. Reynolds then asked whether Buford could hold, to which the cavalryman responded, “I reckon so.” Buford then came down, and he and Reynolds conferred and rode out to the front to see the situation.
        Reynolds then sent his staff officer, Capt. Stephen Minot Weld, to Meade with a sitrep, wherein Reynolds said, “Tell the General that we will hold the heights to the south of the town, and that I will barricade the streets of the town if necessary.” Weld rode off to report. In the meantime, Reynolds gave orders for his infantry, led by Doubleday’s division, to come up at the double-quick, which they did, advancing across the fields on the oblique.   As Gamble’s men were running out of ammunition, the infantry came up, and Gamble’s tired troopers opened ranks to make room for them to come into line. After being relieved, Gamble’s troopers took up a position on the Union left. The men of the 3rd Indiana Cavalry refused to leave the line of battle, holding a position next to the Iron Brigade.  Meanwhile, Joe Davis was pressing Devin back. Since Devin had only a regiment and a half atop the ridge, their position was more desperate. Reynolds responded by calling up John Robinson’s division, which arrived just in the nick of time, just before Devin’s guys ran out of ammunition.
        This was a perfectly planned and perfectly executed defense in depth, executed with perfect dragoon tactics. If one reads the manual for this sort of thing, what Buford did was by the letter of the book.

This research paper studies the operational leadership of
Confederate cavalry General Nathan Bedford Forrest at the
tactical level of combat and presents some lessons learned for
the modern warfare commander in the context of doctrinal
publications such as Army Field Manual 100-5. Forrest’s greatest
victory at the Battle of Brice’s Cross Roads is examined as a
case study which exemplifies many of his innovations and tactics
in the art of maneuver warfare and operational leadership.
A paper submitted to the Faculty of the Naval War College in
partial satisfaction of the requirements of the Department of
operations. The contents of this paper reflect my own personal views and
are not necessarily endorsed by the Naval War College or the
Department of the Navy.
by John R. Sanders
Captain, U.S. Navy




Nelly M Chase.jpg
A soldier in the general hospital at Fredericksburg, a day or two after the battle in December, 1862, wrote as follows:
Having lost my right arm on last Saturday, on that fatal “Inclined plane” in front of Fredericksburg, I am obliged to employ an amanuensis to relieve my brain, which under the stimulus of some reactionary fever, must find legitimate work, or it will go off into all sorts of phantasies, or, perhaps, fall into a melancholy mood not at all productive of “healing by first intention,” as the doctors call a speedy cure. I don’t know what I can do better than to set down some of my experiences, which, I doubt not, are unfortunately or fortunately, as the case may be, similar to those of hundreds of my fellow-victims. It matters not to what particular regiment I belong, seeing that it is a Philadelphia regiment, and not altogether unknown to fame. Strange as it may seem, my recollections of Saturday, until four o’clock in the afternoon, are confused and indistinct. I remember well enough of being roused before daylight, from a very profound sleep upon the sidewalk in Fredericksburg by the sudden boom of cannon, and that, at short intervals, the firing continued began to betoken close quarters, and the air seemed to groan in unison as in the agony of an elemental dissolution.
Column after column of marching men went past in all the buoyancy of high hope, courage in their hearts, and determination in every lineament of their faces. Following every regiment were the litter-bearers, with their ready stretchers jauntily slung upon their shoulders; and I remember well of calculating in my own mind the chances of each man for an exit from the front upon one of those humane inventions.
By and by the litter-bearers returned, burdened with mangled, bleeding men, and from the great numbers carried off I calculated the stubborness of the resistance to our advance to Richmond. I was not excited; I was not fearful; I was simply apathetic, while awaiting the order to advance. At last it came–clear and distinct, but not loud, the words came:–”Attention, Battalion!” Instantly the line closed with a steady straight front, and every man stood erect with suspended breath for the next command. Nor did we wait long. “Battalion right face, forward, quick, march!” and we were off.
Forward we went until we cleared the streets of the town and arrived opposite the batteries on the hill on our left, when at the command, “By the left flank, march!” we changed our direction to the front, and faced the fire before us, advanced to the lines of the brigade that preceded us from town; but soon the smoke obscured the view of everything, save the flashes of the batteries before us, and the sparkle of the musketry in the dim sulphurous twilight of the battle, until the receding lines, in falling back, produced a mingled mass of retreating and advancing men. “Steady men,–forward!” rang out the voice of our commander; and disentangled from the retreating fugitives, we steadily bore on until we neared the batteries, and with a cheer we sprang forward, but that instant a line of fire leaped out from behind a stone wall close in our front, and–I don’t remember anything more about it. My next recollections were of a confused and mixed character; one moment I would seem perfectly conscious of something, the next of nothing. Then I would imagine I was at home, and half asleep, while all the house was astir with some past or anticipated catastrophe with which I was in some way connected. All was dark, and a great load seemed to press me down and glue me to the ground in spite of all my efforts to rise.
I could hear voices, but none familiar and but one that seemed spoken by human kind, or had a human chord of sympathy in it. Then I felt something force open my jaws, and some fluid trickle into my throat, which I managed to swallow to prevent strangling, and it still trickled down, and I still painfully swallowed, hoping, praying that it would stop; but it did not until I recognized that it was some strong spirit that I was taking and that I was becoming more able to swallow it. All this time I could hear the kind voice encouraging me, also some cold unsympathizing voices; but I could not distinguish what they said. Only by the tone could I tell the sympathetic from the unsympathetic. At last I distinguished the words, in part, of one who said, “It’s no use working with him. He’s dying now.” Quietly, but ho, so earnestly and sympathizingly the kind voice replied, “No, doctor, he is not dying; he is coming to life; he will live if we don’t give him up; this hurt of his head wont amount to anything if we can get him warmed up; don’t you see he has been nearly frozen to death, while faint from loss of blood; but he is coming on finely, and by and by you can take off his arm, and the man may get well. Who knows but he has a mother or a sister to love him, and thank you or me some day for a son or brother saved.”
Yes, I was saved; I understood it all now; I remembered the battle and my state, its doubtless consequence, and, for the sake of that dear mother and sister so strangely invoked, with an effort I succeeded in opening my eyes once more to the light of the sun on earth. At first the light confused me, but soon I could distinguish three surgeons beside me, looking at me with some curiosity, if not interest. On the opposite side, as I lay on the ground, in a large tent, kneeled a woman, who, with her left hand, supported my head, while with her right she held a spoon, with which, at short intervals, she dipped the warm fluid from a cup held by a mere boy-soldier, who seemed her special attendant.
I tried to speak, but could not, and she merely shook her head to discourage my efforts, and, turning to her attendant, said:–”Now, Johnny, the beef soup,” and in a minute the soup was substituted for the toddy, and I gradually felt life and the love of it returning. After further effort to look about me, I saw that there was a basin of water beside me, with a sponge in it, and from the blood on the lady’s hands, I inferred what I afterwards learned to be the truth, that she had been engaged in washing the blood from my head and face, when she discovered that what had seemed on a superficial view to be a most desperate wound of the head, including the skull, was but a mere scalp wound, which bled profusely, and doubtless made a most unpromising case for surgery at first view–a view very natural indeed, taking into consideration the state of my stupor. Gradually I recovered strength, until after sufficient reaction, my shattered arm was amputated, and I am doing as well as could be expected. I was, it seems, struck both in the head and arm by pieces of the same projectile, whatever it may have been, and lay senseless on the field till late in the night, when I was found by some humane litter-bearers, and carried to the city; and then, before being dressed, was put into an ambulance and carried over here, where, among the hundreds similarly brought, I was necessarily obliged to await my turn and thank God when my turn did come I fell into good hands–a woman’s hands at that. In that place even in the roar and din and carnage of battle, was found a woman with a heart to dare danger and sympathize with the battle-strucken, and sense and skill and experience enough to make her a treasure beyond all price. May the choicest blessings of Heaven be hers in all time to come! I have since observed her in her ministrations here, and she does indeed, seem gifted in a most wonderful degree for scenes like this, or else a hard school of suffering has made her the strange woman she is. To the wounded she is all sympathy and kindness, but let any one not a patient attempt familiarity, even in jest, and her black eyes flash such an indignant rebuke as is hardly equalled by her cool cutting rejoinder. More than one shoulder-strapped puppy has had occasion to rue the time he intruded his remarks upon her. I have learned that she has been in the army ever since the war broke out, nursing the sick and wounded, and “ever in front.” Hospitals in the rear are no place for her.
Dr. McDonald, of the Seventy-ninth New York Volunteers, the Surgeon in charge here, has placed her in charge of the supplies and stores, and most efficiently does she deal them out. Many a “poor wounded soldier” would lack his timely stimulant, soup or delicacies, if she did not pass through the tents at all hours of the day and night, for they say she seldom sleeps. Dr. McDonald has known her long as the matron of the One Hundredth Pennsylvania, or as it is better known the Roundhead Regiment which has been in South Carolina with the Seventy-ninth New York Regiment, and is still with it in the same division and he informs me that, on that fatal day of Gen. Benham’s defeat, on James Island, she performed incredible labors just as she does here. And yet she has never been a paid nurse. She is a member of her regiment,” she says, and it is only because it does not require her services that she works for others.
For all the labors, and privations, and sufferings of her campaigning life she receives no pay; she draws her rations as a private soldier, and the private soldiers who know her almost worship her.
I overheard one say to-day, that he would kill, as he would kill a dog, the man who would dare insult her, even in thought; and I believe it. War produces great developments of character, and Miss Nellie M. Chase is a most notable instance of it. She is not yet twenty-four years old, but in experience as a nurse or hospital matron, on the battle-field, I think she has no living equal. She may not thank me for this notice of her great services: I don’t think she will, for she dislikes notoriety, and never mingles in the “society of the army,” nor permits intimacies nor attentions from any but those who have adopted her and protected her. But the world has a right to know its heroines, as well as its heroes, and hers is a name that must at least be known as widely as that of the veteran regiment of which she is a member.
But gratitude for life preserved, has led me from my way, and I return to it to state my further experience of “wounded and in general hospital,” as the next tri-monthly report of my regiment will have me accounted for. We are placed in large “hospital tents,” in a secluded valley near Falmouth Station, and receive all the care and attention that such accommodations admit; but, without doubt a “cold snap” would soon “reduce the number of inmates” to less than a moiety of their present “muster.”

The Last Salute of the Army of Northern Virginia
The following is an article which provides General Joshua Chamberlain’s comments and memories concerning the Army of Northern Virginia’s Surrender at Appomattox.

The Last Salute Of The Army Of Northern Virginia.
From the Boston Journal, May, 1901
Details of the Surrender of General Lee at Appomattox Courthouse, April 9th, 1865.

By General J. L. Chamberlain.

It is an astounding fact that among the thousands of official documents bearing upon the Civil war in the National Archives at Washington there is absolutely nothing dealing with one of the most dramatic features of the great four years’ internal struggle–the actual ceremonies attendant upon the formal surrender by General Lee’s army of all Confederate property in their possession at Appomattox Courthouse thirty-six years ago.

When General Lee surrendered to General Grant, April 9th, 1865, the war was virtually over, but of the details of the surrender, the pathetic sadness on the one side, the jubilant satisfaction on the other, and, more particularly of the precise arrangements, the mode of procedure and the Northern army officer whose duty it became to take charge of the rebel arms and the rebel battleflags as they were given up–of all this our official war records tell not a word.

Why this is so the chief actor in the closing scene of the bloody drama, General Joshua L. Chamberlain, of Brunswick, Me., set forth in a pithy sentence to a Boston Journal writer the other night: “The war was over when Lee signed the terms of surrender, and with the closing of the war all official record-writing ceased.”

And just as it is true that there are no official records bearing upon this notable surrender scene, so also is it true that there are no official records describing the really remarkable disbandment of the Southern military and its departure in fragments for home. Only recently, in fact, has this matter been treated of, and that by a magazine almost four decades after the event!

Truly, some of the most absorbing history is, in the minting, slow quite beyond belief. Passing strange it seems almost that upon a writer of a generation which has no intimate connection with the Civil war should devolve the not unpleasant, nor in the light of facts, ill-timed, task of setting down in complete detail that story which long ago should have had a full official telling.

In that great national tragedy of the Civil war there has been for years much effort, always in a more or less unostentatious and secretive way, to eliminate the merit which was due to prominent actors. It has been said recurrently that officers other than the actual one who commanded on the impressive occasion, and, to cite one case, a general officer, who, from 1863, was never connected with the Army of the Potomac, was frequently banqueted and toasted as the soldier who received the surrender of General Robert E. Lee. This was, to be sure, an unfair acceptance, but it was accepted in silence, and even at later times assented to in subsequent remarks. But, be it said, such pretense of merit deserves and surely ought to receive the censure of every loyal comrade.

The man who did command the Union soldiery that stood immovable for hours near Appomattox Courthouse on that eventful day while Rebel arms and colors nodded “conquered” has never sounded in public or in private his own acclaim. Major-General Joshua L. Chamberlain, of Maine, he was in the old days, and still he bears that honorable title.

As a conspicuous New Englander whose life has been an integral part of the educational history of his beloved Pine Tree State, which he has represented as Governor as one of the legislators, as President of Bowdoin College, and particularly as a soldier, his long and eventful life has come to be well known to the people of the entire country–his life excepting that part he played in the last act of the war.

This is somewhat in detail the entire story as summarized by General Chamberlain:

“The Battle of Five Forks, which occurred on the 1st of April, 1865, served to prove to General Grant the fact which General ‘Phil’ Sheridan had advanced that the cutting of railroad lines between Petersburg and the South had made exceedingly difficult, if not practically impossible, the provisioning of the Confederate army, and that the departure of that command and its march toward Lynchburg might soon be expected.

“The victory of Fire Forks was so complete in every way as to wholly paralyze General Lee’s plan for further delay, and it is not too much to say that the decision was at once made for the western movement of the Army of Northern Virginia toward a new supply base.

The battle of Sailor’s Creek, with Ewell’s surrender, and that of Farmville, followed quickly after, the Confederates being hard pressed on their left flank, and for them there was little rest owing to the continual hounding by Sheridan’s forces which seemed quite eager for constant combat.

“The Fifth Army Corps had been detailed to work with Sheridan’s cavalry division. The subsequent relief of General Warren is a matter of history, which there is no need of repeating.

“General Griffin succeeded to command, and aided by the 6th, the 2d, and portions of the Army of the James, with other corps as fast as they could get to the scene, the military movements of that time form some of the most absorbing chapters of the Civil War which history has placed on record. Since the approach to Appomattox–for a hundred miles or more along this stream there had been terrible fighting–brought the head of each army very frequently in view, the strange spectacle of one army pressing with all energy in pursuit, while its antagonist was using its best efforts to get away and reach its delayed base of supplies, was presented to both sides.

“On the terrible march to Appomattox Courthouse the Federal troops were ever shrouded in smoke and dust, and the rattle of firearms and the heavy roar of artillery told plainly of the intense scene which threatened to bring on yet one more general engagement.

“Then came a moment which to me, at least, was more thrilling than any that had gone before. As we were hurrying on in response to Sheridan’s hastily scribbled note for aid, an orderly with still another command from ‘Little Phil’ came upon our bedraggled column, that of the 1st Division of the Fifth Army Corps, just as we were passing a road leading into the woods. In the name of Sheridan I was ordered to turn aside from the column of march, without waiting for orders through the regular channels, and to get to his relief.

“The orderly said in a voice of greatest excitement that the Confederate infantry was pressing upon Sheridan with a weight so terrible that his cavalry alone could not long oppose it.

“I turned instantly into the side road by which the messenger had come, and took up the ‘double-quick,’ having spared just time enough to send to General Gregory an order to follow me with his brigade.

“In good season we reached the field where the fight was going on. Our cavalry had even then been driven to the very verge of the field by the old ‘Stonewall’ Corps. Swinging rapidly into action the first line was sent forward in partial skirmish order, followed by the main lines, the 1st and 2d brigades. Once, for some unknown reason, I was ordered back, but in the impetuosity of youth and the heat of conflict, I pushed on, for it seemed to me to be a momentous hour. We fought like demons across that field and up that bristling hill. They told us we would expose ourselves to the full fire of the Confederate artillery once we gained the crest, but push on we did, past the stone wall behind which the ‘Stonewall Corps’ had hidden, driving them back to the crest of the ridge, down over it, and away.

“We were gathering our forces for a last final dash upon the enemy. From the summit of the hill we could see on the opposite ridge a full mile across the valley the dark blotches of the Confederate infantry drawn up in line of battle; the blocks of cavalry further to our right, and lower down more cavalry, detached, running hither and thither as if uncertain just what to do.

“In the valley, where flowed the now narrow Appomattox, along whose banks we had fought for weary miles, was a perfect swarm of moving men, animals, and wagons, wandering apparently aimlessly about, without definite precision. The river sides were trodden to a muck by the nervous mass. It was a picture which words can scarce describe.

“As we looked from our position we saw of a sudden a couple of men ride out from the extreme left of the Confederate line, and even as we looked the glorious white of a flag of truce met our vision. At that time, having routed the Confederate forces on the hill, my brigade was left alone by Sheridan’s cavalry, which had gone to the right to take the enemy in the flank.

“I was on the right of the line as we stood at the crest of the hill. Near by us was the red Maltese cross of the Hospital Corps, and straight toward this the two riders, one with the white flag, came.

“When the men arrived, the one who carried the flag drew up before me, and, saluting with a rather stiff air–it was a strained occasion –informed me that he had been sent to beg a cessation of hostilities until General Lee could be heard from. Lee was even then said to be making a wide detour in the hope of attacking our forces from the rear. The officer who bore the flag was a member of the Confederate General Gordon’s staff, but the message came to me in the name of General Longstreet.

“At that time the command had devolved upon General Ord, and I informed the officer with the flag–which was, by the way, a towel of such cleanliness that I was then, as now, amazed that such a one could be found in the entire Rebel army–that he must needs proceed along to our left, where General Ord was stationed. With another abjectedly stiff salute the officer with his milk-white banner galloped away down our line.

“It was subsequently learned that General Ord was situated some distance away at my left with his troops of the Army of the James, comprising Gibbon’s Second Army Corps and a division of the Twenty-fifth Army Corps. His line quite stretched across the Lynchburg road, or ‘pike,’ as we called it then.

“Well, as I have said, the flag of truce was sent to Ord, and not long afterward came the command to cease firing. The truce lasted until 4 o’clock that afternoon. At that time our troops had just barely resumed the positions they had originally occupied when the flag came in. They were expecting momentarily to be attacked again, and were well prepared, yes, eager, for a continuance of the battle.

“And just then the glad news came that General Lee had surrendered. Shortly after that we saw pass before us that sturdy Rebel leader, accompanied by an orderly. He was dressed in the brilliant trappings of a Confederate army officer, and looked every inch the soldier that he was. A few moments after that our own beloved leader, General Grant, also accompanied by an orderly, came riding by. How different he was in appearance from the conquered hero. The one gay with the trappings of his army, the other wearing an open blouse, a slouch hat, trousers tucked into heavy, mud-stained boots, and with only the four tarnished golden stars to indicate his office! They passed us by and went to the house where were arranged the final terms of surrender. That work done neither leader staid long with his command, the one hurrying one way, the other another.

“That night we slept as we had not slept in four years. There was, of course, a great deal of unrestrained jubilation, but it did not call for much of that to be a sufficiency, and before long the camp over which peace after strife had settled was sleeping with no fear of a night alarm. We awoke next morning to find the Confederates peering down into our faces, and involuntarily reached for our arms, but once the recollections of the previous day’s stirring events came crowding back to mind, all fear fled, and the boys in blue were soon commingling freely with the boys in gray, exchanging compliments, pipes, tobacco, knives and souvenirs.”

In the last days of fighting, which ended in Lee’s surrender, General Chamberlain was wounded twice. That his service was gallant in the extreme may be judged when it is told that both General Sheridan and General Grant commended him personally. This the General cared to dwell on but little. But when it came to describing the final scenes of the war, the gray-haired army leader grew ardent with enthusiasm for his subject:

Appomattox Court House
McLean House (Library of Congress)
“On that night, the l0th of April, in 1865, I was commanding the 5th Army Corps,” he said. “It was just about midnight when a message came to me to report to headquarters.

“I went thither directly and found assembled in the tent two of the three senior officers whom General Grant had selected to superintend the paroles and to look after the transfer of property and to attend to the final details of General Lee’s surrender. These were General Griffin of the 5th Army Corps and General Gibbon of the 24th. The other commissioner, General Merritt of the cavalry, was not there. The articles of capitulation had been signed previously and it had come to the mere matter of formally settling the details of the surrender. The two officers told me that General Lee had started for Richmond, and that our leader, General Grant, was well on his way to his own headquarters at City Point, so called, in Virginia. I was also told that General Grant had decided to have a formal ceremony with a parade at the time of laying down of arms. A representative body of Union troops was to be drawn up in battle array at Appomattox Courthouse, and past this Northern delegation were to march the entire Confederate Army, both officers and men, with their arms and colors, exactly as in actual service, and to lay down these arms and colors, as well as whatever other property belonged to the Rebel army, before our men.

“I was told, furthermore, that General Grant had appointed me to take charge of this parade and to receive the formal surrender of the guns and flags. Pursuant to these orders, I drew up my brigade at the courthouse along the highway leading to Lynchburg. This was very early on the morning of the 12th of April.

“The Confederates were stationed on the hill beyond the valley and my brigade, the 3rd, had a position across that valley on another hill, so that each body of soldiers could see the other. My men were all veterans, the brigade being that which had fired the first shot at Yorktown at the beginning of the war. Their banners were inscribed with all the battles of the army of the Potomac from the first clear through the long list down to the last.

“In the course of those four eventful years the makeup of the brigade had naturally changed considerably, for there had been not alone changes of men, but consolidations of regiments as well. Yet the prestige of that history made a remarkably strong esprit du corps.

“In that Third Brigade line there were regiments representing the States of Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, and Pennsylvania, regiments which had been through the entire war. The Bay State veterans had the right of line down the village street. This was the 32d Massachusetts Regiment, with some members of the 9th, 18th, and 22d Regiments. Next in order came the First Maine Sharpshooters, the 20th Regiment, and some of the 2d. There were also the First Michigan Sharpshooters, the 1st and 16th Regiments, and some men of the 4th. Pennsylvania was represented by the 83d, the 91st, the 118th, and the 155th. In the other two brigades were: First Brigade, 198th Pennsylvania, and 185th New York; in the Second Brigade, the 187th, 188th, and 189th New York.

“The First and Second Brigades were with me then, because I had previously commanded them and they had been very courteously sent me at my request by my corps and division commanders.

“The arrangement of the soldiery was as follows: The Third Brigade on one side of the street in line of battle; the Second, known as Gregory’s, in the rear, and across the street, facing the Third; the First Brigade also in line of battle.

“Having thus formed, the brigades standing at ‘order arms,’ the head of the Confederate column, General Gordon in command, and the old ‘Stonewall’ Jackson Brigade leading, started down into the valley which lay between us, and approached our lines. With my staff I was on the extreme right of the line, mounted on horseback, and in a position nearest the Rebel solders who were approaching our right.

“Ah, but it was a most impressive sight, a most striking picture, to see that whole army in motion to lay down the symbols of war and strife, that army which had fought for four terrible years after a fashion but infrequently known in war.

“At such a time and under such conditions I thought it eminently fitting to show some token of our feeling, and I therefore instructed my subordinate officers to come to the position of ‘salute’ in the manual of arms as each body of the Confederates passed before us.

“It was not a ‘present arms,’ however, not a ‘present,’ which then as now was the highest possible honor to be paid even to a president. It was the ‘carry arms,’ as it was then known, with musket held by the right hand and perpendicular to the shoulder. I may best describe it as a marching salute in review.

“When General Gordon came opposite me I had the bugle blown and the entire line came to ‘attention,’ preparatory to executing this movement of the manual successively and by regiments as Gordon’s columns should pass before our front, each in turn.

“The General was riding in advance of his troops, his chin drooped to his breast, downhearted and dejected in appearance almost beyond description. At the sound of that machine like snap of arms, however, General Gordon started, caught in a moment its significance, and instantly assumed the finest attitude of a soldier. He wheeled his horse facing me, touching him gently with the spur, so that the animal slightly reared, and as he wheeled, horse and rider made one motion, the horse’s head swung down with a graceful bow, and General Gordon dropped his swordpoint to his toe in salutation.

“By word of mouth General Gordon sent back orders to the rear that his own troops take the same position of the manual in the march past as did our line. That was done, and a truly imposing sight was the mutual salutation and farewell.

“At a distance of possibly twelve feet from our line, the Confederates halted and turned face towards us. Their lines were formed with the greatest care, with every officer in his appointed position, and thereupon began the formality of surrender.

“Bayonets were affixed to muskets, arms stacked, and cartridge boxes unslung and hung upon the stacks. Then, slowly and with a reluctance that was appealingly pathetic, the torn and tattered battleflags were either leaned against the stacks or laid upon the ground. The emotion of the conquered soldiery was really sad to witness. Some of the men who had carried and followed those ragged standards through the four long years of strife, rushed, regardless of all discipline, from the ranks, bent about their old flags, and pressed them to their lips with burning tears.

“And it can well be imagined, too, that there was no lack of emotion on our side, but the Union men were held steady in their lines, without the least show of demonstration by word or by motion. There was, though, a twitching of the muscles of their faces, and, be it said, their battle-bronzed cheeks were not altogether dry. Our men felt the import of the occasion, and realized fully how they would have been affected if defeat and surrender had been their lot after such a fearful struggle.

“Nearly an entire day was necessary for that vast parade to pass. About 27,000 stands of arms were laid down, with something like a hundred battleflags; cartridges were destroyed, and the arms loaded on cars and sent off to Wilmington.

“Every token of armed hostility was laid aside by the defeated men. No officer surrendered his side arms or horse, if private property, only Confederate property being required, according to the terms of surrender, dated April 9, 1865, and stating that all arms, artillery, and public property were to be packed and stacked and turned over to the officer duly appointed to receive them.

“And right here I wish to correct again that statement so often attributed to me, to the effect that I have said I received from the hands of General Lee on that day his sword. Only recently, at a banquet in Newtown, glass., of the Katahdin Club, composed of sons and daughters of my own beloved State, it was said in press dispatches that a letter had been read front me in which I made the claim that I had received Lee’s sword. I never did make that claim even, as I never did receive that sword.

“As I have said, no Confederate officer was required or even asked to surrender his side arms if they were his personal property. As a matter of fact, General Lee never gave up his sword, although, if I am not mistaken, there was some conference between General Grant and some of the members of his staff upon that very subject just before the final surrender. I was not present at that conference, however, and only know of it by hearsay.

“But, as I was saying, every token of armed hostility having been laid aside, and the men having given their words of honor that they would never serve again against the flag, they were free to go whither they would and as best they could. In the meantime our army had been supplying them with rations. On the next morning, however, the morning of the 13th, we could see the men, singly or in squads, making their way slowly into the distance, in whichever direction was nearest home, and by nightfall we were left there at Appomattox Courthouse lonesome and alone.”

Source: Southern Historical Society Papers, Vol. XXXII, Richmond, Va., January -December. 1904.


1962 Track

Gary Brown – Captain

A Harvard pamphlet published for a duel (Harvard vs. Army) indoor meet, dated 3 Feb ’62 shows Ed holding the Academy record in the 60 yd dash at 6.2 seconds set in 1960. Almaguer, McGinnis, McAniff, and Garwick hold the indoor Mile relay record at 3:16.9 (1961)

Ed Sprague

Ed Sprague

Ted Benz and John Jones

Army Navy 1961?

61 Mile Relay Team?

Jerry Garwick and Bob Holeman with Stop Watch

Gary Brown

Pete King

Football and Track with a Monogram in both Sports Yearling and Cow Year, and Army A in Football Firstie Year.

75 Bill Yost, 73 Bob Odd, 11 Pete King, 45 George Kirschenbauer, 58 Dick Buckner, 65 Harry Miller, 64 Al Vanderbush, 56 Ozzie Oswandel, 40 Russ DeVries, 94 Bob DeVries, 61 Jerry Clements

59 Season Quarterbacks, Tom Blanda on the left, Pete King on the Right and Army’s Quarterback Joe Caldwell Class of 1960 whose name still appears in the record book after all these years.