Campbell County Men of the 23rd Ky. Infantry at Pickett’s Mill

As I posted recently, I unexpectedly found information significant to my research, specifically stories about the 23rd Kentucky Infantry, in which almost 180 Campbell County men had enlisted. I learned about its role in the Battle of Pickett’s Mill, Georgia on May 27, 1864, thanks to the second part of David Powell’s Atlanta Campaign series. I also realized that Ambrose Bierce had been with William Hazen's brigade that included the 23rd Kentucky and that his essay, The Crime at Pickett's Mill, discussed action and reactions that the men of the 23rd had seen and experienced that day.

In this post, I examine Bierce's observations along with two 1890s accounts of this fight from officers in the 23rd, stories I only found by reading that book. These stories help me better understand what the Campbell County men in the regiment experienced and witnessed as they offer more battlefield specifics of the unit’s service than I have seen elsewhere. (A review of my records indicates that 64 Campbell County men remained in the unit by this point in the war. Two men were assigned to the 5th Kentucky, who was also in Hazen's brigade at the time, and one was a clerk at brigade headquarters. One was working as a division wagoner and three were on duty with the pioneer /engineering corps, while one more was in the ambulance corps. One man was serving as a regimental quartermaster. Records for others do not show definitively if the men were still with the regiment at the time, so the exact number who actually carried rifles into the fight is uncertain.  

I also came across a pair of postwar books that add context to this story.

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On December 17, 1896, 1st Lieutenant Arnold Bradley, who had served in company C of the 23rd, published his recollections of Pickett's Mill in the National Tribune. Much of what he describes is likely similar to what the Campbell County men (a few in company C, but most in companies B, D, E, F, G, and I) saw and experienced.

On May 27, 1864, the 23rd marched towards the enemy. Bradley noted that companies in other nearby regiments used a bugler to signal to the men which way to go, his instrument creating "a perfect din of sounds.”

They marched through the woods, “over brush and logs until about 4 o’clock in the evening, when, crossing a small creek, we halted. A few scattering shots came from the front.” 

Unfortunately, this movement did not surprise the enemy, as the Rebels were “informed by our bugles the direction we had taken.” 

Along the way, Bradley found an opportunity to fill his canteen with water, a much-valued commodity: “All soldiers looked out for that necessary article before going into battle.” 

As he did so, Generals Oliver Howard and William Hazen passed closely by, speaking to each other. The nosy lieutenant eavesdropped and heard Howard tell his subordinate, “General, you will have to charge and storm the enemy’s flank, if you sacrifice your brigade.”

Being part of that brigade, Bradley was naturally alarmed by this and rushed to his fellow sergeants in the company to report the intelligence he had gathered. Their orders soon came - “Fix bayonets! Charge bayonets! Forward - Double-quick - March!”

Bierce sheds light on the mindset of these men at this moment as they headed towards combat. "It is seldom, indeed, that a subordinate officer knows anything about the disposition of the enemy’s forces—except that it is unaimable—or precisely whom he is fighting. As to the rank and file, they can know nothing more of the matter than the arms they carry. They hardly know what troops are upon their own right or left the length of a regiment away. If it is a cloudy day they are ignorant even of the points of the compass." They were simply obeying orders, marching toward whatever destiny awaited them.

In general, the author noted, "a soldier’s knowledge of what is going on about him is coterminous with his official relation to it and his personal connection with it; what is going on in front of him he does not know at all until he learns it afterward."

Bradley's report continued. “Away we went through the timber, up a hill, over a fence to an open field, down to a ravine, up another hill to another fence.”

National Tribune Dec. 17, 1896

It was a dangerous task. “Many brave comrades fell before reaching the second fence. What a shower of bullets met us! We fought each other through that fence.”

A bullet struck Bradley. Soon another slammed against his gun, rendering it inoperable, but saving his life. He did what became routine for soldiers during the war: “I picked up a dead comrade’s gun” and kept firing. 

The fight took its toll. “Our line was considerably thinned by this time.” Bradley noticed that he and his colleagues were on the extreme left of the Union line, their flank dangerously at risk of Confederate attack. He did observe other Unionists on the field, but “so far in our rear that they were no protection.”

Bradley and two others followed advice they had heard General Howard give: “Take good aim, and be sure you do good execution.” 

The 23rd Kentucky neared the enemy. The Rebels placed rocks and other obstacles in and around the fence, hoping they would provide some protection, but initially did not seem to notice the bluecoats nearing them.

They did not remain oblivious much longer. Their men were not “showing their heads any longer,” so, Bradley wrote, “we made up a squad and charged.” Here, Bradley “saw enough there to make my blood run cold; plenty of dead men, with a very lively line behind them. We hastily fired into them and hastily retreated; not before they shot the most of our squad.”

The Rebels offered their own attack: “Some of them got over the fence and were making their way under the brow of the hill we occupied, so as to gain our rear.”

Bradley now “notified Capt. Tifft (Claudius Tifft, a resident of Newport, Campbell County and the captain of company H) of our danger, he being occupied in encouraging what few men were left. He went with me to the left, and very cooly focused a pair of fieldglasses to his eyes, with which he overlooked the crawling rebels.”

"’Lower your glasses Captain; don't you see them, not 25 feet from you?’ I said.”

“Before he got the range with the glasses they fired at us. One of the balls penetrated the Captain's knee. It made him spin around on one leg, but failed to down him. The wounded man showed an unusual amount of nerve and grit. He replaced the glasses.”

"Can I help you? I asked.”

"No; go tell Lieut. Whiting to take charge of the company."

“That day ended the Captain's military campaigns. He crawled away from the enemy and made his escape. We never net again until 31 years after, when I had the pleasure of shaking his hand at Capt. Wm. Mundy's office, Louisville, Ky. I was so overcome with feeling that I was unable to speak to him for minutes. He was blind. Kind relatives had assisted him all the way from Sanborn, Iowa, to the State he once so nobly defended and represent in the struggles.”

Claudius Tifft late in life from ancestry.com

 The contest did not grow any easier. “Our ammunition supply was about exhausted.  We had already emptied our own and the dead comrades' cartridge boxes.”

A panic ensued as someone nearby yelling at others to retreat. “The command was repeated by those having authority. Most of our regimental survivors rallied around our colors in the hands of Serg's Henry. He leisurely rolled up the flag around the pole, after which we started."

(Bierce's account contradicted this version: “No command to fall back was given, none could have been heard. Man by man, the survivors withdrew at will, sifting through the trees into the cover of the ravines, among the wounded who could drag themselves back; among the skulkers whom nothing could have dragged forward.” Perhaps Bradley’s proximity to his fellow soldiers enabled him to hear something Bierce could not. Another thought is that maybe one of them misremembered such a detail.)

Bradley continued: “There were hardly enough able-bodied men left in the regiment to look after the wounded,” who were near the creek where Bradley had gathered water earlier. “Our troubles had not yet ended for that day. The enemy commenced shelling our wounded. Several shells exploded right among them.” 

The remaining soldiers quickly moved most of their injured comrades to a safer place, behind a larger hill, “more protected from the artillery.” (A handful of Campbell County soldiers were wounded on this field. Were they among those moved to safety?)

“Darkness soon after spread her black wings over the mournful sight of wounded and dying soldiers.”

From  https://civilwartalk.com/threads/picketts-mill.195452/ 

Another perspective of this fight comes from the memory of Sergeant Gregory McDermott, who published his story in the National Tribune of October 28, 1897, less than a year after Bradley’s account. Perhaps reading that one inspired him to record his own observations for posterity.

Sergeant McDermott was in the 23rd’s company I, which originally included 16 of the Campbell Countians I’m studying, at least before attrition took its toll. It appears that 8 of the county's men were still with the company, but one was under arrest at the time and another was with the engineering/pioneer corps.) 

He described how the 23rd moved forward on May 25th to connect with General Joseph Hooker’s XX Corps. They were too far behind to reach their colleagues that night, so they "camped where we were, in the mud and slush."

The next day, they continued to advance, their skirmishers leading the way. "We arrived in front of a large open field" where these veterans quickly noticed that "the Johnnies had already a strong line of earthworks." McDermott and his fellow soldiers quickly began "digging some for our own protection," finishing their own strong position by nightfall.

As they awoke the next morning, May 27th, they did not immediately see combat, and were, instead, "enjoying ourselves the best we knew how,” probably eating breakfast and perhaps reading or writing letters to or from home.

This tranquility ended soon enough. Generals William T. Sherman, Oliver O. Howard (commander of the XIV corps, including the 23rd Kentucky), David Stanley, and Thomas Wood (commander of that corps third division and the 23rd Kentucky) arrived in camp to take a peek at the enemy's works and determine how to proceed.

"It wasn't long before we were ordered to fall in." They did so and moved towards their left, but it was not easy. "The country we were passing over was wild. The underbrush was very thick. Nothing could be seen ahead. It was like groping in the darkness," a more detailed version that agreed with Bradley's.

McDermott noted one other issue that Bradley had also observed. A nearby bugler sounded his horn as a guide, but it was not necessarily a welcome one. "We objected to it on account of it attracting the Johnnies’ shells so often, for every now and then one would burst over head, breaking the branches of the trees and causing a scattering.”

They struggled through the brush, dodging enemy missiles and tramping onward for four miles before halting, at which point skirmishing began with "our boys driving straight ahead; then we moved forward in line-of-battle down through the woods.”

The intensity of the gunfire picked up, then "came a hurrah, and away we went," headed directly to their awaiting foe until coming "to a rail fence down in a hollow at the edge of a clearing of about 15 acres." After a brief pause, they climbed the fence and crossed into the clearing from where they charged "up a slight rise, into a hollow, up the hill to the top.”

The Rebels stopped behind another fence on the opposite side of the field while the attackers kept up their approach until arriving at the same barrier. Crossbars in the fence slowed the Confederate men from crossing it to attack the Yankees. McDermott and his colleagues then "drove them into the woods."

Nearby high ground provided the Confederates an effective position for their line, and they took advantage of it by "firing from that bluff at us on our left and did a great deal of damage to our front and our right."

The 23rd returned fire as long as they could but soon had used up all its ammunition and found it necessary to fall back as no help from other Union brigades had arrived and the Rebels were "giving it to us on all sides."

The regiment retreated to the other end of the field where the men assumed a prone position, but to no avail. "A lot of the boys were killed and wounded in the clearing and close to the fence.” How many Campbell County soldiers were among this group?

Sergeant McDermott then described his own wounding and the aid he received, including from a fellow member of the regiment who found him and carried him on his back until the enemy came too close and the good Samaritan had to put him down for both men’s safety.

He asserted that the men of Wood's division had been “hurled into that slaughter-pen” and that Hazen’s brigade was “almost destroyed." after Hazen had heard his division commander Wood inform Howard:

Bierce detailed a specific incident he had witnessed as the fighting wound down, this one involving the 23rd, which was on the left of Hazen's line.  "The left of our short line had fought at the corner of a cornfield, the fence along the right side of which was parallel to the direction of our retreat. As the disorganized groups fell back along this fence on the wooded side, they were attacked by a flanking force of the enemy moving through the field in a direction nearly parallel with what had been our front. This force, I infer from General Johnston’s account, consisted of the brigade of General Lowry, or two Arkansas regiments under Colonel Baucum. I had been sent by General Hazen to that point and arrived in time to witness this formidable movement. But already our retreating men, in obedience to their officers, their courage and their instinct of self-preservation, had formed along the fence and opened fire. The apparently slight advantage of the imperfect cover and the open range worked its customary miracle: the assault, a singularly spiritless one, considering the advantages it promised and that it was made by an organized and victorious force against a broken and retreating one, was checked."

Hazen reported his brigade had been “withdrawn for this attack from a position in the line where for forty-eight hours it had been very actively engaged. Many felt that this imposed on us an additional service of very great severity out of our turn. General Wood's report shows that he protested stubbornly. In a conversation with General Howard, our corps commander, when we were given the advance, he said to me that he had selected the force he thought gave the greatest promise of succeeding in the work in hand. Hazen had also heard Wood tell Howard: “We will put in Hazen and see what success he has.” (Hazen p. 256)

This proved to be a difficult and deadly fight for these soldiers, one forever ingrained in their minds, but did their superiors understand or appreciate their struggles?

Robert Kimberly, a resident of Dayton, Campbell County in the postwar years, served as a Lieutenant Colonel and brevet Brigadier General of the 41st Ohio Infantry. While living in Dayton, he co-authored a history of his regiment. Like the 23rd, the 41st had been in Hazen’s Brigade at Pickett’s Mill, though on the right side of the Union line while the 23rd was on the left. In addition to his specific comments about the 41st’s experiences he wrote: “It is a fact worth notice, that while the Confederate reports of the Atlanta campaign minutely record the Pickett's Mill battle as one of the most prominent and important events of the campaign, Gen. Sherman's memoirs wholly ignore the action.” (Kimberly p. 87)

Hazen made a similar observation in his book. This battle “is scarcely noticed in any of the reports of the Union commanders, and is ignored by Sherman in his memoirs." (Hazen p. 256)

Bierce stated it with obvious disapproval: “Buried in the official reports of the victors there are indeed imperfect accounts of the engagement: the vanquished have not thought it expedient to relate it. It is ignored by General Sherman in his memoirs, yet Sherman ordered it. General Howard wrote an account of the campaign of which it was an incident, and dismissed it in a single sentence; yet General Howard planned it, and it was fought as an isolated and independent action under his eye.”

Sherman also left this engagement out of his campaign reports, but the men remembered it well and realized how all too real it was. The hard-fought contest on overgrown, hilly ground cost the Yankees about 1,600. Perhaps Sherman or others felt that this figure was minor compared to other battles, but these losses were real to the men on the field.

Another theory is that Sherman was embarrassed by this defeat and simply denied it happened.

Hazen, however, knew and acknowledged what his men had face, calling Pickett's Mill "the most fierce, bloody and persistent assault of the Atlanta campaign." (Hazen p. 256)

According to Kimberly, “Sometime afterward, when the army had passed on toward Atlanta, several of these trenches were opened, that certain bodies might be rescued, for friends in the North. Union and Confederate were found piled together, and none could be identified.” (Kimberly p. 87)

The Campbell County men were not immune to the fates of war, of course. Two died here, while seven others were wounded and three more captured.  The two fatalities, George H. Morgan of company D  and Jerry Rose of company E, both have headstones in Marietta National Cemetery, so their remains were identified.

This fight, though relatively small and not greatly known did matter. It had “delayed Sherman’s progress; when his forces emerged from the wilderness, they were no closer to Atlanta than they had been almost two weeks earlier. The real significance of the battle was that it marked the beginning of trench warfare.”

The details on what the soldiers of the 23rd Kentucky witnessed and the challenges they faced in this battle are unlike anything else I have found; they fascinate me. 

Knowing these men fought in several deadly battles and knowing specifics of what they experienced therein are two different matters. Obviously, other contests differed from this one, but this does provide an example of their wartime adventures. It is far more than I had seen before.

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(I must add the usual disclaimer that these (except Bierce's account) were written more than 30 years after the battle, so it is reasonable to wonder about the accuracy of all the details, but the overall stories are likely at least reasonable versions of what happened on that ground on May 27, 1864. Kimberly and/or Hazen may have still had copies of period reports that added accuracy to their writings. Perhaps Bradley and/or McDermott had kept a wartime journal.)

Books cited:

Kimbery, Robert L. and Holloway, Ephraim S. The Forty-First Ohio Veteran Volunter Infantry in the War of the Rebellion 1861 - 1865. 1897 W.R. Smellie, Printer and Publisher. Cleveland, Ohio

Hazen, William Babcock. A Narrative of Military Service 1885 Ticknor and Company, Boston

What I Unexpectedly Learned About the 23rd Kentucky Infantry

Like what I presume virtually all Civil War students or enthusiasts do, I read about the Civil War to learn more about it and hopefully, enjoy some good writing. Sometimes, however, books take readers in unexpected directions. Such an instance for me occurred while reading volume 2 of David Powell's series on the Atlanta Campaign (see my thoughts on it here), a work that pleasantly surprised me by including details that apply to my own research, information unlike anything I had seen previously.

A few years ago, when I began my project exploring Campbell County, Kentucky in the Civil War, I started my research by identifying soldiers from the area, focusing on their individual lives and service. One of my first finds was that more than 150 of these men had enlisted in the 23rd Kentucky Infantry. I was caught off-guard to see so many names in one unit, but it was a good early discovery, a sign that I would find more information than I expected at the time.

Since then, any mention of the 23rd grabs my attention, but while I try to maintain a basic understanding of the unit’s record, I honestly spend much more effort looking into the individual soldiers than on the details of battles and military maneuvering.

The 23rd marched and fought in most of the largest fights and campaigns in the Western Theater of the war, from their reserve role in Thomas Crittenden's II Corps at Perryville, to active fighting at Stones River, Chickamauga, and the Atlanta Campaign, plus involvement with the Tullahoma Campaign, a difficult task despite the lack of bloodshed during it. As I continued to read about these fights and campaigns, I never really saw any especially memorable descriptions of their work. They fought and suffered casualties in various battles but usually came off as supporting players in most battles (though maybe I’m still missing something about another fight.)

Eventually I learned about the fight at Brown’s Ferry, Tennessee in October of 1863, where the Federals began to work to get more supplies to their troops in Chattanooga. The 23rd took a leading part in this battle, with some of its soldiers being the first men to land on the Confederate-held western bank of the Tennessee River. This lesser-known contest was a Union success, allowing the opening of what was quickly dubbed the "Cracker Line." Until now, I took that contest as being their most notable action, but some fighting on Georgia soil may change that view.

In chapter 8 of this book, Powell explores the Battle of Pickett’s Mill on May 27, 1864. I was not familiar with the details of this contest, but perhaps that lack of knowledge left me more excited when I learned that the 23rd (in William Hazen’s brigade of Thomas Woods’ division of the IV Army Corps commanded by Oliver Howard) was among the Federal units at the front of this fight. This work gives a terrific recap of this fight, painting a picture of what a tough contest it was and the many challenges the men, including in the 23rd, faced.

From battlefields.org

I started dog-earing the pages in this chapter, so now that section of my book is full of bent corners, but I don’t care. I certainly will re-read that chapter, maybe soon.

Additionally, I had never before realized that Ambrose Bierce’s The Crime at Pickett’s Mill was about the action Hazen’s men, including the 23rd, saw. I guess I had not read it since I started paying attention to the 23rd. His essay must be the most literary account of any of the 23rd’s fighting from the entire war. I have not seen any regimental history of the 23rd, or even any writings by local soldiers describing their work. Heck, even Spared & Shared appears to have nothing from the regiment, so Bierce’s essay is a nice perspective to have.

More good fortune soon fell into my lap in the shape of a pair of National Tribune stories written by members of the 23rd. (I also have an article from that newspaper about the regiment at Chickamauga, written by the same lieutenant who authored one of these reports. It is quite long, so I’ll have to re-read it.

I planned to discuss these accounts in this post, but that will take quite a bit of space, so I’ll make a separate post. Combined with Powell's work and Bierce’s account, I stumbled upon intriguing new information for my research. (And I do know that here is a book concerning this battle, a new title now on my list of future acquisitions.)

I would not have seen any of these details had I not read this book. I certainly did not expect to find information relevant to my project in a book on the Atlanta Campaign. Discoveries like this are one of the joys of reading. You never know what you might find.

Tenant Association: One Family’s Civil War Experience

One surprise of my current research into local Civil War soldiers has been the dozens of examples of families having multiple members in the war. Most of these, of course, are of the families’ sons enlisting, but I have also found instances of fathers and sons fighting in the war. Among these were the Tenants, father Raleigh and son John Solomon.*

Raleigh Tenant was born in Monongalia County, Virginia (now West Virginia) sometime around 1817 to 1819.

 

By the early 1840s, he had relocated to Campbell County, Kentucky, where he married Rebecca Miller in Alexandria on October 19, 1843.

 

In 1850, the family, including John and his sister, lived in Covington, in neighboring Kenton County, where Raleigh labored as a blacksmith, his same career ten years later when the Tenants were back in southern Campbell County, living in the  Tebbatts Crossroads area. Five children were in the household, including John Solomon, who had attended school in the last year.

 

On April 12, 1861, Confederate troops fired on Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, igniting the Civil War. John Solomon was only 14 or 15 years old, but Raleigh was an adult, and almost eight months later decided to fight for his country.

 

On December 7, 1861, he joined company G of the 23rd Kentucky Infantry as a private, signing up at the Newport Barracks for a three-year term. Listed as 43 years old, he was 5 feet 6¾ inches tall and had a light complexion. His eyes were blue, his hair dark brown, and he worked as a blacksmith.

 

The 23rd Kentucky had recruited heavily in Newport and throughout the Campbell County region and signed up dozens of men from the area. It saw action at battles and campaigns like Stones River, Tullahoma, Chickamauga, Chattanooga, Atlanta, and more throughout the war’s western theater.

 

By July of 1862, Raleigh must have found military life unbearable, as he left the unit at Columbia, Kentucky, without permission, though by December he was in Munfordville, in the process of returning to the regiment (perhaps obtaining new equipment and seeking transportation to the unit as it marched in a campaign that ended at the Battle of Stones River). His paperwork does not record the punishment he received for his time away, but it surely included at least the loss of pay.

 

Raleigh did make his return to the regiment, which late in 1863 was among the U.S. forces in action in a bloody battle in Chickamauga, Georgia, the largest fight in the war's western theater. 

After the Confederates won that battle in mid-September, U.S. forces retreated to Chattanooga. During this time, the Federals reorganized the army, after which the 23rd ended up in William B. Hazen’s 2nd Brigade in Thomas Wood’s 3rd Division of Gordon Granger’s 4th Corps, all in the Army of the Cumberland commanded by George Thomas. 

From the American Battlefield Trust

As this happened, the Confederates laid siege to the city and their enemy within it. General U.S. Grant, now in charge of western U.S. forces, arrived in the region, and approved of General William “Baldy” Smith’s plan to create a route, eventually termed the “cracker line,” to supply the men inside the city. Some members of the 23rd played a role in the opening of that supply line during the fight at Brown’s Ferry, Tennessee on October 27.

 

Almost a month later, the Federals earned another victory at Lookout Mountain on November 24, before the next day, when “more than 50,000 Union soldiers stormed” up “the seemingly impregnable Confederate position on Missionary Ridge” during a “daring - and unauthorized - attack…against Bragg’s main position," which went a long way to improving the army’s "spirit and sense of pride."

The Federals had just defeated “one of the Confederacy’s two major armies,” and gained full possession of “the “Gateway to the Lower South.”

                                                                

          From the Library of Congress

This crucial result may have been “the death knell of the Confederacy," as reportedly described by one Rebel officer. Chattanooga later served as the key staging area and for William Sherman’s 1864 campaign for Atlanta, in which the 23rd Kentucky also fought.

Raleigh, however received did not participate in that adventure as he had received a mortal gunshot wound in his head at Missionary Ridge on the 25th, just one of 5,824 Union casualties of that engagement.

He owned two flannel shirts and one blanket, all of which had been sent back to his grieving widow in Campbell County. He was buried in what became Chattanooga National Cemetery.

Courtesy findagrave memorial 2996115

His son John Solomon Tenant was born in Campbell County in November of 1846.

 

He joined a different regiment that had also recruited heavily locally, the 53rd Kentucky Mounted Infantry. He signed up for company F of that unit on October 20, 1864, in Newport, and mustered in four days later for a one-year term. He was a bit shorter than his father, at 5 feet 4 inches tall, had gray eyes, and light-colored hair. His complexion was described as ruddy. Farming was his job.

 

His father’s death the previous year obviously did not prevent him from entering the war and perhaps even motivated him to fight, either to honor his father’s memory or to avenge his death. His mother’s feelings on his decision to enlist would be interesting to know. Did she approve or disapprove of it? How worried was she about her son?

 

The 53rd had formed in the autumn of 1864, too late to be part of most of the war’s most famous battles and campaigns, but did perform guard duty throughout Kentucky, combated Confederate guerrillas, and took part in George Stoneman’s December 1864 raid into southwestern Virginia to attack a Confederate salt depot at Saltville. As a “mounted infantry” regiment, it grnerslly traveled on horseback like cavalry, but fought dismounted like infantry. 

In this campaign, the 53rd served under Brigadier General Stephen G. Burbridge, the most notorious and controversial figure in Civil War Kentucky due to his aggressive threats and actions against Confederate irregular fighters and citizens as commander of the District of Kentucky from June of 1864 until February of 1865. His time in that position earned the description "Reign of Terror," and won him the nickname of "the Butcher." (A 2021 book concerning his legacy is entitled The Most Hated Man in Kentucky. I have an e-copy of it that I need to read one of these days.)

Even 50 years after the war, his name aroused ill feelings, such as when he was blamed for the executions of  Jefferson McGraw and William Francis Corbin, who had been arrested for recruiting for the Confederacy in northern Pendleton County, near the Campbell County border, just a few miles from where the Tenants lived in 1860. Ambrose Burnside was in command of the Department of Ohio, with his office located in Cincinnati, just north of where these men were captured (about an hour in modern times) and his General Order #38 led to their arrest and punishment, yet, in 1914, when the Basil Duke Chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy erected a monument to McGraw's memory in Flagg Spring Church Cemetery in southern Campbell County, near where the arrests had occurred, that group listed Burbridge's name instead of Burnside's. Whether this was a mistake of memory, or an intentional slight of the hated Butcher is unclear. On one hand, this was half-a-century after the war, so memories certainly falter over such a long timeframe, but the UDC existed at lest partially to help remember the war, though perhaps not objectively, so they should have been familiar with the basic facts of the incident, especially in preparing a monument. These women may have felt that using Burbridge’s name as some kind of boogeyman to be feared or avoided would further their perspectives on the war by reminding people of a Union commander who had so harassed their ancestors and others throughout the state. This organization generally  adopted the “Lost Cause” interpretation of the war. Per the previous link, this way of remembering the war “sought to counter northern perspectives by reframing the war in a way that restored white southern honor.” Reminding people of Burbridge’s controversial actions supported this narrative by showing the supposed lack of honor of a prominent Confederate enemy who had supported emancipation of slaves and the use of African American men as soldiers. Was this monument just a toy in a game of memory?

The Kentucky Post of August 4 and October 8 of that year reported on the decision to create the small monument and covered the ceremony but made no mention of the blatant error now literally engraved in stone.

Civil War historian Darryl Smith explored and discussed this story in 2022, offering his perspective about how and why such an obvious mistake occurred.

      Author's photo. Another view is here.

(In a side note, prolific Civil War author Erik Wittenberg wrote a blog entry which discussed the potential consequences of these two executions, as the both sides threatened further retaliation, during which Rooney Lee, son of Confederate General Robert E. Lee, became a potential victim of this deadly game, before calmer minds miraculously prevailed. Yes, even the story of two obscure Confederate operatives arrested in a rural area (near where I grew up) far from the major military and political fronts of the war eventually reached such high levels.)

The 53rd Kentucky did suffer casualties during the campaign to Saltville and John Solomon may have been among them. No record mentions a specific illness or injury he suffered, but he was “sent back with prisoners” after a December 12 Union victory at the Battle of Kingsport, TN., near the border of Tennessee and Virginia. 

These Rebel captives had formerly served under the late Confederate General John H. Morgan, a man whose name was especially well-known in the Kentucky and Tennessee region during the war, feared by many Unionists, but beloved by Confederates. He had been killed in September, so his trusted brother-in-law Duke Basil took command of the troops, but Duke was hospitalized at this time, so Morgan’s brother Dick led the remaining raiders in this defeat and was among those the bluecoats captured.

As for John Solomon, for some reason, likely an unrecorded illness or injury, a doctor or other official took advantage of the transfer of prisoners back to Kentucky to send him with them instead of keeping him with the army where he would have consumed the medicines, food, and other resources the fighting men needed, especially in enemy territory. (The rest of the raid went well for the Federals who ended up damaging the Confederate salt works and knocking them out of action for months.)                                                           

Once back in the Bluegrass State, he spent the first two months of 1865 in the Main Street U.S.A. General Hospital in Covington, the city where his family had resided in 1850. This hospital was the “largest and longest-operating military hospital” in its city, having opened just before the bloody Battle of Shiloh. It held 300 beds and remained in operation until June 1865.¹ 

 Main St. General Hospital, courtesy fortwright.com

Whether his mother knew of his condition is uncertain, but, once again, her thoughts would be compelling to know since she had already lost her husband in the war, but her Don lived and returned to his regiment.

As he was discharged from the army on September 15, 1865, in Louisville, John Solomon owed the government 95 cents for a cartridge box, belt, belt plate, and a gun sling that he had lost and an additional $5.60 for clothing he had received while in service.

 He returned to civilian life, and fifteen years after the war worked as a farmer, supporting his family that included his wife Angelique, and their son. They had moved west and were now residing in Effingham County, Illinois, where John Solomon remained for the rest of his years, including 1900, when the family now boasted three children. That decade’s census showed that the couple had been married for 25 years, though their oldest child was born in 1873, so they may have wed about that time.

 

The Tenants and two adult children shared a house in the same area in 1910.

 

John Solomon died on April 22, 1911, and was buried in Effingham County’s Loy Chapel Cemetery.

Courtesy findagrave memorial 24159929

Rebecca Tenant, John Solomon’s mother, and the grieving widow of Raleigh, did apply for and receive a widow’s pension (on paperwork which frequently referred to her late spouse as “Rolla.”)

 In applying for that money to help her continue with life (the pension started at $8.00 monthly and was still at that level at least until at least 1883, though it eventually increased to $12.00), she naturally needed to have various forms completed, and even had to sign the Oath of Allegiance to the U.S. Government, a form usually used for captured Confederate soldiers or civilians suspected of supporting the Confederacy.

It began with a short paragraph explaining who needed to take this pledge, including one line applicable to Rebecca: “This oath is required from pensioners once, (on the first payment to new ones,) who are native-born, or have been naturalized.”

The actual oath followed on this typed form, but the word “Swear” was handwritten on a blank line instead of being typed like the rest. What else the document creators thought could fill that space with a different meaning is uncertain. 

I, Rebecca Tennant, a pensioner of the United States, do solemnly swear that I will support, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, whether domestic or foreign, and that I will bear true faith, allegiance and loyalty to the same, and ordinance, resolution, or law of any State Convention or Legislature to the contrary notwithstanding; and, further, that I do this with a full determination, pledge, and purpose, without any mental reservation or evasion whatsoever; and, further, that I will well and faithfully perform all the duties which may be required of me by law. So help me God.

She signed this by making her mark on June 3, 1867.

 She continued to live in the Grant’s Lick area. In 1870, she was a housekeeper with three children at home, but not John Solomon, and a decade later was a farmer and her only housemate was a domestic servant named Minerva Hill. Why her son had moved to Illinois instead of staying with his widowed mother in 1870 is not recorded. Did he just want to get on with his life as an adult and raise his own family, or had mother and son fallen out over something, perhaps his enlistment? Another possibility is that he did return to stay with her during some of the years between the end of the war and the 1870 census, then moved on amicably. No matter what happened, both parties apparently fared well in the postwar decades.

In 1890 she was listed as Raleigh’s (or Rally’s) widow on the Veteran’s Schedule, still in Grant’s Lick, and an 1892 tax list on the Campbell County Genweb local genealogy site reported that she owned 54 acres of land, worth $1,000 in Grant’s Lick.

Pension documents show that her name was removed from the pension list as of February 1900 because she had recently died, perhaps late in 1899, though no specific date was listed. Her burial place is unknown and may not even have a marker.

Hundreds of thousands of men were killed during the war, and many more fell ill but somehow survived. Virtually all of these warriors, on both sides, had families and friends who grieved for their loss or prayed for their recovery. The Tenant family of Campbell County was just one example of what families throughout the land experienced. 

*Differing versions of the names of the father, son, and mother exist in various records. For the sake of consistency, I am using "Tenant” (instead of Tennant) for their last name, Raleigh (in place of several other phonetic variations) for the father, and “John Solomon” for the son. “Rebecca” is the standard spelling of the wife/mother’s name, so I use it.

¹Tenkotte, Paul A. (editor) and Claypool, James C. (Editor). The Encyclopedia of Northern Kentucky. University Press of Kentucky. 2009 p. 195.