Mount Zion Church Field Hospital - Artist Feels Forelone
I just finished a drawing that I started back in August (which is not too terribly long, for me.) It’s titled: The Angels of Mount Zion. The scene depicts the Mount Zion Christian Church and yard carpeted with wounded soldiers in the aftermath of the battle of Richmond, Kentucky. The church is still there and has some battle damage still visible to this day! Also prominent in the scene are the people of Richmond and Madison County, who helped care for the wounded after the armies moved on.

The story behind the story:
This idea for the drawing has been with me for a long time and I actually started illustrating it way back in 1994-95. The first drawing, done in marker and color pencil, was almost completed but was unfortunately “lost” along with all my color pencils one day when I accidentally left it at the office (in an ordinary, unmarked cardboard sleeve) over the weekend. It was possibly the lowest blow I’ve ever suffered as an artist and am still haunted by the whereabouts and fate of this previous unfinished drawing. I was so wrecked by this incident that it took me several months to begin illustrating again. I always intended to someday “recreate” this subject in the same medium, but could never bring myself to piece all the elements of the scene back together (as I had also lost all my rough copies and reference materials with the drawing.)

Rewinding back to 1994, there was a day when I was working on this drawing at the office. Diane Thompson had her camera with her and needed to use up a roll of film, so I held up my unfinished drawing and she took a couple pictures. When the prints were developed, the images were not very clear or sharp enough to use for any reproduction purposes and so I stuck them in my drawer and forgot about them. Occasionally, I would come across these pictures and wonder about the “lost” drawing. Upon finding these pictures again a couple years ago, I had a momentary lapse of genius. Photoshop!!! Yes, Photoshop is exactly what was needed to bring this small, grainy and blurry image back to life! Since Photoshop did not exist (in my world) back in 1995, it never occurred to me that I could recreate this scene. Much thanks to Diane for snapping those pictures!!!

After scanning the picture and bringing out the details, I had a decent reference picture to work from once again and eventually decided to redraw the scene.
This time, my first step was to sketch the scene in charcoal and pastels, much like some of the other sketches that I have produced in recent times (particularly at re-enactments.) Since I have already sketched a battle scene (below) of Richmond (at a re-enactment several years ago), I thought it would be nice to have a different subject to compliment the battle scene. A week before the 2009 battle re-enactment at Richmond, I started this drawing and worked on it at the event, setting up an easel and even working from the actual location in the church front yard on Sunday (as services were being held.)

Now, prints of these drawings are being sold by the “Battle of Richmond Association” (BORA) to help raise funds for preservation and are sold in the “new” battlefield museum. The drawing that depicts the battle, was also reproduced on a battlefield interpretive marker (below) that was added to the park last year.
The Union Triumphant in the Valley!! Rebel Attack at Dawn Surprises the Union!! Sheridan's Counter Attack Destroys Confederate Army and Drives Rebels Out of the Shenandoah!!

Jim Hoffmann aka Theodore Davis

(The following dispatch has been received just today from the pages of The Boston Journal)

I was returning to the Army in Virginia having spent a brief period of convalescence at home after months of hard campaigning with the Army of the Potomac when I encountered a staff officer of the Army of the Shenandoah making a similar journey out of Philadelphia. This happy chance resulted in an invitation to visit that army and thus allowed me to witness the latest and greatest success of that army in the valley so long fought over.

In the event, we made a part of the journey in the company of that Army’s commander himself, Major-General Phil Sheridan. However, as General Sheridan would pause in Winchester, the scene of his decisive victory only a month before over Jubal Early, and meet there with members of his staff, I decided to press on to the Army’s camps further up the valley near Middletown, Virginia. This brought our small party into the camps late on the 18th, the evening before the great Rebel attack that would attempt to destroy this now victorious Army.

I was invited to be a guest in the camp with the 43rd New York of the 3rd Brigade, Second Division, Sixth Army Corps, of the Army of the Shenandoah. This veteran regiment had been reduced by hard service to a battalion and was temporarily commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Buffington, an Ohio man. As late in the day as it was when I arrived I could see how far the camps extended up the valley from where the 43d New York was located, but had little further opportunity to explore and visit as I was invited to join the officers’ mess which was just sitting down to their evening meal.

With the riches of the Shenandoah Valley at their disposal to supplement the issued rations, the army ate well even in field. Combined with its recent victories in the field, the resulting good and even high spirits were also amply evidenced. As my hosts and I settled down to our post-repast tobacco, we could hear the evidence of these good spirits as many of the Army’s campfires played host to uniformed choruses performing church hymns or songs of a more militant soldierly nature. The nearest company campfire was presided over by First Sergeant Lynes, who led his companions as they energetically worked their way through several familiar melodies while occasionally individuals would attempt to instruct their comrades in newer or less familiar songs.

As one might think under the influence of such riches and the recent successes against the Rebels, the mood of the army was good and almost lighthearted that evening. The officers recounted how a number of men were catching up with the army and rejoining their units either after convalescence or detached service. One company in the 43d was particularly welcomed that very day as the prodigal son, being by report a rather reprobate private soldier who has been repeatedly in trouble with the army authorities since the first battle of the war at Bull Run. He was a good soldier who had even risen to the rank of Sergeant before his vices overwhelmed his ambitions. Nevertheless, he remained popular with his messmates and comrades and thus his surprising return to the ranks was celebrated as a good omen.

Having had a hard day of travel to reach the Army, I retired early to the cot and tent offered for my use by the officers of the 43d and passed as reasonably comfortable a night in the field as I had since the war began. However, I was awakened in the predawn not by the sound of the drum calling for musicians are even by reveille but rather by the noise of battle to the near south of our camp and to the sound of men rushing by our camp having themselves quite evidently been rousted from their beds by a Rebel attack before dawn.

Our own regiment was rising from slumber all around me and the brigade could be heard moving in admittedly confused earnest. The tent in which I had passed the night happened to be on the company street of one particular company with which I ended up spending this day of battle. Captain Hane and his Lieutenant, an older Irishman and veteran soldier named Towey, were calmly forming their company in preparation to fall in with the rest of the battalion. A quick glance was enough to determine that the company was a mix of veterans and fresh fish, new recruits, for whom this might well be their first action. Although their anxiety was evidenced on many a visage, these young men were steadied by the example of the surrounding veterans and remained attentive to their duty as the company assembled. The Second Sergeant and a Corporal could be seen watching the approaching battle in order to warn their officers and comrades and avoid the calamity that had apparently befallen the men of the Nineteenth Corps as they lay sleeping.

I realized as I watched the battalion quickly forming that I had actually seen Col Buffington and his battalion drilling the day before as I arrived in camp. Clearly, he was not an officer to neglect his duties or to allow even the veterans to forget the hard learned lessons of this war. With this thought I determined that whatever might befall the Army, I would stick with the 43d New York and share their fate as I could see no better alternative amidst the confusion, murder, and mayhem threatening to engulf the Union cause this morning. Accordingly, I took station with the officers and other file closers as we marched along while trying also not to get in their way.

We quickly found ourselves marching hurriedly towards the main highway that passes through the Valley, alongside of which the Army had been camped and which was now flooded with fleeing soldiers from other regiments, divisions, and corps already shattered by the Rebel surprise. The 43d took position as the left wing of a new Union line being formed by the Sixth Corps as a light rain fell on the field. Being the end of the line gave us the impression for a short while that we were the only formed Union battalion anywhere on the field, though as the rainy mist cleared away the rest of the division marched into position to our right.

Behind us I could make out a line of guns which I presumed to be our own since from that position they would quickly have destroyed us if they were Rebels. Off to our left at some distance, I could see a group of Rebel cavalry pushing forward beyond our position. While they appeared intent upon opening the road to Winchester for their Army, their advance also threatened our own position but I could already see Union cavalry moving to oppose them thus checkmating any threat these mounted Rebels might pose to the 43d New York, its division, and corps. As the battalion and the others beyond receive the order to load, we could hear but not yet see the Rebels advancing. It may seem curious to those who have never been on a battlefield but there is a distinctive difference between the sounds of an advancing and formed unit and those of a disorganized fleeing mob that is easily recognized by the veteran soldier. Some of the Fresh Fish began calling out to the fleeing Union men, but for the most part the veterans hushed them having seen too many battles to think themselves immune to surprise and panic at dawn.

Soon we could see the Rebel skirmishers coming within range as they began to pepper our lines, though to little effect at this distance. Still farther beyond them, we can make out several masses of Rebel infantry in close formation moving to our right to face the rest of our corps. Some of them turned to advance on our own position and the two sides began to exchange volleys followed by the order to ‘fire at will.’ The morning became a blur of activity, noise, and motion as Colonel Buffington continually maneuvered his battalion to prevent the Rebels from flanking our line. From my position behind the line of battle it appeared that casualties during this time were light on both sides as the repeated movements and maneuvers prevented the soldiers from accurately firing over the seemingly ever changing range. Nevertheless, we were clearly giving ground to the greater number of rebels pressing our position and frequently threatening to move behind our line of which we were the flank, there being no feature of ground or terrain here to aid our battalion. Much of this morning passed in a confusion of maneuver and fire and noise as the Sixth Corps struggled to hold and maintain a position behind which the rest of the Army could rally and reform. It is impossible to recount for the reader the step by step actions of this hard fought struggle. Suffice to say that as Sixth Corps finally grabbed hold and dug in its heels, the Army was a good six miles north of the forward positions held just that morning and the army’s camps were in the hands of the enemy.

Armies being onto a traveling city, it is not surprising that even amid the clangor of battle rumors were sweeping the field. “Sheridan has abandoned us…Sheridan is in Washington city…Sheridan is on the field…” all most accurately translated into a universal question of “Where is Sheridan? When will he get here?” Finally at about midday General Sheridan appeared before us waving his hat in his hand as he rode along the line. His dramatic and timely appearance on the field was greeted by cheers from the entire assemblage and bodies of men and formed units were seen in the distance to hear these calls and reverse their direction of march to return to the field and the fray. From this moment the Army of the Shenandoah began its inexorable and unstoppable advance upon the beleaguering Rebels. It was now their turn to face away from their foe and seek safety in a location not threatened by either our bayonets or our muskets and cannon. On the field at large the tide of battle turned after General Sheridan’s ride along his Army’s lines. If the Rebels did not recognize this from the shouts of salute from the Army of Shenandoah that greeted him, they soon realized it from the determined advance of that army against their own lines. With Sheridan on the field this army refused to accept defeat.

General Sheridan quickly ordered some changes in his lines, having been on the field in fact for almost two hours inspecting its situation. Then he ordered the Army to advance. Colonel Buffington turned to Major Herzog, Captain Hane, and his other company commanders and ordered the battalion forward. It took the Army less time to retake the field than it took for the Rebels to capture it. Rebel division after division was broken and driven off by the advancing wave of Union soldiers.

This is not to say that as the day progressed the fighting was not intense. The lines of Union and Rebel soldiers continued to maneuver for advantage and at one or more times the 43d New York was compelled to withdraw when left too fully exposed to Rebel fire as the two armies even became intermingled. The popular malingerer who had returned to the battalion day before was seen to fall wounded during one of these events and was helped by two comrades under the guidance of Lieutenant Towey as the battalion was forced back.

When a Rebel unit appeared willing to resist a little longer, the Colonel ordered the men of the 43d to fight “Indian style” and to lie down and wait for the Rebel volley to pass over their heads. Then as soon as these shots were fired, up leapt the 43d and charged at the Rebels to close with them before they could reload. Several regiments in succession broke and joined the growing general flight of the Rebel army. Towards the end of the engagement, one Rebel battalion simply surrendered to the onrushing men of the 43d, accepting imprisonment rather than attempting to further contest the day.

Lest the reader think that this victory was easily or cheaply won, the six regiments and battalions of the Third Brigade to which the 43d belonged would report a total of 225 casualties at this battle – 37 killed, 172 wounded, and 16 missing. The commander of the 3d Brigade, General Bidwell was killed while the commander of the Sixth Corps, Brigadier-General Ricketts was wounded. CCC

(Reported by Charles Carleton, Army Correspondent, The Boston Journal)

Robert A. Mosher
The Military Philosopher
Atlanta Campaign 2009

I am back from the Atlanta Campaign Reenactment of 2009 and very glad to have attended this one. Speaking for myself, I was quite thrilled to find battlefield props (supply wagons, cotton bales, cannons, gun limbers, dead horses, a farm house and even a segment of railroad tracks) scattered across the landscape. This is pure eye candy for artists and photographers, looking for that extra piece of information to include in their work, providing the common subject matter that was seen on so many battlefields of the war. Oh yes, the trenches and earthworks added considerably to the visual delights of this reenactment battlefield of gently rolling hills and swales, interspersed with clumps of trees and a creek cutting through the low ground. Water and wood were within easy access and plentiful. Bags of ice were also available for only $2. Somebody down there in Hampton, GA has put in some extra thought and time to build a battlefield made for re-enactors. There were a large number of sutlers and concessions as well. I personally counted and estimated about 250 infantry, 15 cavalry, 6 guns of artillery for the federals and at least equal numbers for the confederate cavalry and artillery with perhaps 325 infantry. While these numbers are not as great as desired, the battlefield was the perfect layout and size to accommodate these low numbers and still allow compact areas of action and visibility.

      The Labor Day weekend event (Sept. 4-6) coincided with a NASCAR race that was about 5 miles distant at the Atlanta Motor Speedway. It had been mentioned (I'm told) on the Civil War Re-enactor's Forum (website) that this race was going to ruin the whole civil war event and it would be too noisy and crowded to be worth attending. When I was informed of this, I thought maybe I had signed up for a weekend of disappointment and frustration, but was still not sure what to expect, so I made the trip to Atlanta anyway. I'd like to inform those pessimist's who polluted the cyber space with their skeptical views and preconceived ideas of gloom and doom for this event, that there was only the usual traffic flow around this area and that no race was held at the Speedway until 7:30 Sunday evening. AFTER everyone had left the civil war reenactment. I even went out late Saturday afternoon/evening to fill my car with gas and had no trouble with any traffic. I must say, I did hear the distant whine of race cars (practicing or qualifying I suppose) early Saturday afternoon for a few hours, but it sounded more like a ghostly moan of spirits beyond the horizon, adding to the eerie din of battle. That was all I heard the entire weekend. Actually, the jet planes taking off at the nearby airport were more annoying than anything else, but what can you do... shoot them down with blanks?

I was able to camp with federal 8th TN/9th KY Infantry, (1st Battalion) and was pretty much located at the heart of the union camp. I was very fortunate to be camping among some really interesting and nice folks who were very friendly and accommodating to any of my needs. The main battles of the weekend were fought against the ever present and abundant insurgencies of Fire Ants, popping up in swarms and overrunning haversacks and food supplies. I thank all of you who made my weekend a comfortable and enjoyable experience.

 I did manage to make several battle sketches and also worked on a larger charcoal sketch on my easel in camp. I was prevented from sketching outside early Saturday morning because of some very light on and off sprinkles of rain. The highlight for me was the final battle that was fought on Sunday afternoon. This was the confederate attack made by Gen. Hood's army east of Atlanta near the Troup-Hurt House and against the federal trenches and fortified positions. The federal line was shaped much like the fish-hook lines at Gettysburg, where the enemy tried to wrap around the flanks of the federal position and break the line.
 
I was able to find a large pile of earth to stand (and later kneel) on while the battle swirled around me. The enemy was practically coming from all sides, and groups of our men were frequently marching, running and plugging gaps all about the area, to prevent being overrun or outflanked. I spent most of this action on the dirt pile just to the right of a battery of artillery placed in the yard of a farm house. This battery kept up a constant fire on the enemy assaults throughout the entire battle and only stopped when they ran out of ammunition.

The action was heating up in this area and I soon vacated the elevated position for the trenches along the crest of the ridge in front of the farm house. As I peered over the earthworks, the peculiar whizzing and buzzing sound of bullets sounded as if they were passing within inches from my head, causing me to flinch and tuck my head into my shoulders. One soldier from the US 8th Tennessee was laughing at me and saying, “keep your head down Harper’s Weekly, the lead’s flying thick”! (I think he was hoping I would survive the battle to sketch his portrait later.) I occupied a place in the trench where it made an abrupt bend, diverting at almost a 90 degree turn behind the farm house. This area was somewhat vacant and in between the federal regiments that occupied this part of the line. More alarming, was the confederate infantry that seemed to be massed across from us at this point were now moving straight for this weak point. I scrambled over the edge and rolled out toward the rear, falling back to a second defense line that was now being prepared. It was at that point when the confederate infantry breached the union line near the house and poured over the works. It seemed as if all was lost and nothing would check their advance, for all the artillery pieces had been abandoned and the steady stream of blue was swarming to the rear.
 
Fortunately, a company of union troops armed with Henry repeating rifles were ordered to make a stand at this secondary defense line and poured in a withering fire that stunned the confederate advance and gave the breathless federals time to reform and make a counter attack. Initially, this counter attack was launched in desperate piece meal assaults, uncoordinated, and repulsed with heavy loss to the federals. As the union command and staff stood nearby (off to my left) motioning and shouting all units forward to take the hill to our immediate front, an entire regiment off to my right front was casually walking back to the rear, their colonel ordering them to reform below the hill, seemingly oblivious to the orders and shouts of the officers to my left. The result was hard to watch as the men who had gone forward to my left were unprotected on their right flank and shot down in droves.
 
Unfortunately, this type of thing happens in almost every engagement, where the fog of war and heat of battle can wreck the best made plans. However, this regiment would eventually redeem itself and was instrumental in taking back the position on the hill. Once this had been accomplished, the rebels had no reserves to exploit their gains and were forced to grudgingly give back all the ground they had taken. Upon returning to the top of the hill, the dead were strewn so thickly on the ground, one could have walked all the way across the other side of the field simply by stepping on the bodies of the fallen. The carnage and debris of battle cannot be properly understood or comprehended while standing amidst this fearful slaughter of humanity. Heads, arms , legs, entrails, and any part of the human body can be found littered about the field with horses, cattle, guns, swords, belts, buckles, hats, shoes, clothes, blankets, haversacks, crates, drums, bugles, canteens, wagons, cannons, bibles, food, playing cards, ammunition and anything else one could possibly carry into battle.
 
It is September of 1864, and the south is bleeding to death, but not dead yet. I will continue to report and sketch this war so that the people may be able to see and understand the great cost it has put upon our nation, and that we may yearn to never take up arms against each other ever again. Only time and history will determine weather this war was worth fighting. At this point, I hope to god that is so.
 
Faithfully yours,
Theodore R. Davis, Harper’s Weekly
a.k.a. Jim Hoffmann
 

Fort Morgan Report

Dear Sirs,
I was able to make the long and difficult journey down to the Gulf of Mexico and witness the federal capture of Fort Morgan, Alabama from confederate forces after a short siege and the previous naval engagement of the battle of Mobile Bay.

On August 5th, during the brief but spirited fight of the federal naval squadron steaming past Fort Morgan, the lead ironclad monitor, USS Tecumseh, struck an electronic torpedo device with fearful results, ripping her hull open and capsizing. The ironclad sank within 25 seconds. Only about 5 crew members made it out before she went under with 93 men trapped inside. What a cruel fate those poor souls met. I shutter to think of their last desperate moments in the dark chaos and panic to reach the ladder as she filled up with the sea! It was a tragic event that marred the otherwise brilliant success of the US Navy in the battle for Mobile Bay. Admiral Farragut ran the rest of the naval squadron past the fort and torpedoes with only minimal damage and easily subdued the opposing rebel vessels in the bay.

The Union army operations were equally commendable as they besieged Fort Morgan. The rebels in the fort held out as long as they could with honorable courage, but the federal navy had already succeeded in passing the fort on the 5th, and it's usefulness to the rebels was obsolete. They were persuaded to surrender the garrison without further bloodshed on August 23.

Much to my surprise, I discovered a familiar acquaintance of mine at the gates of Fort Morgan. Collodion photographer Wendell Decker was busy producing his ambrotypes (glass plate images) for the victorious federal soldiers to send home to their families and loved ones. I have sketched him once before in old Kentucky earlier in the war. He does a fine job with his craft and is always a pleasure to visit with.

I made several sketches of these events and have included them with this report. I hope you will find them as useful interpretation and able to provide visual details of the events witnessed by this author in the previous weeks of August, 1864.

Your most obedient servant,
Theodore R. Davis, a.k.a. Jim Hoffmann
Harper's Weekly