A STORM OF HUMAN PASSION
Excerpts from the Civil War Memoir of Erastus Winters
Enlisted in the 50th Ohio, company “K.” Enlisted at Camp Dennison, Cincinnati, Oh, in 1862 at age 19. Served as a Corporal in the Company. Saw action in Kentucky, Tennessee, and Georgia. Captured at the Battle of Franklin. Prisoner of war at Cahaba prison, Ala. Survivor of the “Sultana” explosion. Penned his memoir in 1905 under the title, Serving Uncle Sam in the 50th Ohio, published by Fred Rowe of the Christian Leader.
Winters’ military service was typical of many who served during the war. He was not a courageous officer or a daring hero but, in his memoir, he allows one to see the average infantry soldier experience: excitement at enlistment, boredom in camp, pranks and escapades with comrades in arms, dust and drudgery on march, nervous at the first signs of the enemy, reflections of fear and courage in battle, facing death and capture with an understated fatalism and even a touch of humor, sorrow and sympathy in the loss of respected officers and friends. Scattered throughout his memoir is a sense of spirituality which pricked his conscience in wrongdoing and yet, sustained him in trials. His memoir is built out of letters sent home during the war, his own memories, and a review of battle and campaign accounts as found in General Jacob D. Cox’s History of the Atlanta campaign and a monograph of the Battle of Franklin.
Once a very rare book, it has been brought back into print, now published under the title, A Buckeye in the 50th Ohio 1862-1865.
“Father was a Drum Major in the War of 1812. He was at heart a strong Republican, and voted for the lamented Lincoln both terms that he was elected President. He was a great friend of the colored race, and considered slavery a great evil.
My parents confessed Christ and became Christians under the preaching of Elder Love Jamison at the Old White Oak Church of Christ in the early years of the Reformation. Father served as an elder a number of years. – p. 1
My brother, Asa Winters, volunteered in the 69th Indiana Regiment and was killed at the Battle of Richmond, Ky., in 1862. Another brother, Francis Winters, volunteered in Company “E,” 189th O.V. I. He returned safe. – p. 1-2
I was the youngest son. At the age of 17, I confessed Christ, and became a Christian, under the preaching of Elder William Patterson, at White Oak Church. – p.2
Ah! But those were exciting times, and little did the people think at the beginning that four years of cruel, bloody war was to follow. Brother was to meet brother on the field of battle; each contending and battling for the cause he thought was right; one clothed in blue, and battling under the Stars and Stripes, that represented what our forefathers fought for – a United Country; the other, clothed in Gray, marching and battling under the Stars and Bars that represented the Southern States that had withdrawn from the Union, and wished to form a separate government of their own. Both equally determined and equally brave; both willing to leave their pleasant homes and friends and suffer privations on the march, and if need be, offer up their lives, a willing sacrifice on the field for battle for the cause they thought was just and right. Oh! What suffering and misery and heartaches were endured in those eventful four years; not only in the Northland, but also in the Southland. Pen can never describe, or tongue express, nor can the brush of the artist paint the anguish and suffering that was endured by the soldiers on the march through heat and cold. p.5
People of the North would hardly know a war was going on if they did not miss those who are in the service; but down here, the war has been brought right to their doors, where they cannot only see but feel its blighting influence. p. 75
June 30th, 1864. With General Sherman’s army. Atlanta Campaign.
The 50th Regiment is now in the front line, and has been for about ten days. We are lying behind a good line of rifle pits, and about three hundred yards in front is the Confederate line of works, while between, are the two lines of skirmishers, who keep up almost continuous musket fire on each other, and I write this with the minnie balls whizzing over my head. It becomes monotonous at times. The rebs had church out in our front last night. We could hear them preaching, singing, and praying. p.- 86-87
Company “K” was deployed in front as skirmishers. We had been sent out to hunt rebels, but as the musket balls began to whistle around us, and strike those fences, I began to feel as though I had not lost any rebs that I was particular about locating just then. As we had been sent out to find the rebs, and we had located them, our duty for the occasion was performed, and we were ordered to return to camp. These little noisy skirmishes were of almost daily occurrence on the flanks of the army during this campaign and while there was a certain amount of danger attached to them at all times, yet we managed to extract a good deal of sport out of them sometimes. They afforded us very good exercise for our bodies, and kept our sowbelly and hardtack well settled, besides Uncle Sam expected us to be doing something to earn our sixteen dollars per month, and I sincerely believe that I voice the minds of all who were engaged in that campaign, when I say we earned every dollar of it. – p. 90 - 92
July 19th, 1864. South of the Chattahoochee River, Georgia. Within 14 miles of Atlanta.
As usual with us, we are in the woods and bushes, and can’t see what’s going on only in our own company and brigade. – p.92
August 10th, 1864. On the Firing Line, near the Macon Railroad, Southwest of Atlanta.
August 8th the 50th were all on the skirmish line, and pushed the rebs back about two miles, Colonel Elsner gallantly leading the regiment, but in the last charge we made, where the Colonel wanted to drive the enemy from some buildings, we had just started to yell, when the brave Colonel fell, shot in the head by a Minnie ball. He died instantly, but we went on, and drove the enemy from those buildings, and away beyond them. Our rifle pits where we are now are not over two hundred yards from the rebel rifle pits. We are so close we have to change the pickets after night; our brigade has just finished the thirty-third line of breastworks since we have come to the front. I am getting tired of this unceasing pop, pop, popping of the pickets, and boom, boom, boom of the artillery, and the crash of the bursting shells. It’s the same thing over every day. When and how will it end? is a question we often ask ourselves. Ah, well! All good and bad things must end sometime. We are sure we are in the right, and we know the right will conquer in the end, and the end must come sooner or later. The day that Colonel Elsner was killed, the 8th day of August, I was 21 years of age. It was a rather sad birthday for me – but such is life. – p. 100
September 28th 1864, Decatur, Georga.
Decatur has been a nice little place. I say ‘has been,’ for now it shows it has had rough treatment. Soldiers have been around and through it so much, it is pretty badly battered up, the same as Atlanta. It seems like a shame to see so much property destroyed, but such is war. The country that the armies have marched and fought over will show the effects of it for years after the war is over. – p. 107
November 30th, 1864. Battle of Franklin, Tennessee.
I had stood and watched the rebs form into line for the charge; had seen Mitchell’s two guns come in, and was now watching those two brigades in front; saw the smoke of their muskets as they fired into the faces of the advancing enemy. Saw them break for our lines with the grey coats right among them. From then on till they reached our lines it was a confused mass of blue and grey, in a mad rush for our lines. Rebel flags and Union flags were fluttering in the breeze; rebel officers were waving their swords and calling their men to come on. Away on our left the ball had already opened; the crash of musketry and boom of artillery and bursting shells could be plainly heard above the yelling of the hordes on our front. But now, see, they have reached our lines; they swarm through the works on the pike, and over the works on top of us, Yank and reb together. I heard Lieutenant Pine say: ‘Boys, we have got to get out of here.’ A glance shows me the colors going back; I think its time for me to go, but ah! I am too late; a big Johnnie Reb, with musket pointed at me, that looks as large to my eyes as a twelve-pound cannon, says: ‘Yank, I’ll take care of you,’ so that settles the business for me. I was a prisoner of war in the power of a mere handful of the enemy, while within a stone’s throw of me were hundreds of my friends and comrades, and yet I could not get to them. – p. 123
March to Prison.
When I look back through the years to that memorable march from Columbia, Tennessee to Cherokee, Alabama, through the mud, snow and rain in the bleak month of December, 1864, I wonder how I ever kept up in my place in the ranks. Then too, the exposure of riding on platform cars from Cherokee to Corinth that bitter cold night – it was certainly trying on the nerves. But I was in the heyday of youth, and was in the best of health. Coupled with this, I felt our cause was just and right, and never for a moment doubted but what we would conquer in the end. A something in me seemed to say: ‘Do not give up; do not despair; bear your burdens bravely; keep in good heart and spirits; you shall yet be welcomed back into the family circle. Put your trust in God; do not let these trials overwhelm you; your life is in God’s hands, and is safe.’ – p. 137
Experience as a prisoner of war in Cahaba prison, near Birmingham, Alabama. Crowded quarters, poor rations, even flooding of the Alabama river, were part of the conditions faced in the winter of 1864-65.
“Pouder (fellow Company K soldier and prisoner) and I were now fortunate enough to get a good dry bunk to sleep on, and we used it most of the day, passing the hours reading the New Testament, for I had a copy of the Scriptures during all my imprisonment, and read it over a number of times and found much comfort in it.” – p. 154
Winters and his fellow prisoners were released from Cahaba prison March 13th, 1865. They were taken to Union lines and paroled on March 21st near Vicksburg, Mississippi.
March, 29th, 1865, near Vicksburg, Miss.
“I am thankful that a kind and watchful Heavenly Father has spared my life thus far, though surrounded by many dangers and exposed to many hardships. First, I was threatened with death from powder and ball; second, was nearly frozen to death; third, was nearly marched to death; fourth, nearly starved to death; and fifthly, was kept in prison nearly a week with the water standing knee deep over the entire inside of the prison; yet out of all these dangers, trials, and tribulations the good Lord delivered me. All honor, thanksgiving and praise be to His name. (Italics in original). – p. 161
“Surely if there is a place of future punishment, and the Bible teaches me there is, and I believe it with all my heart, then those who were the cause of so much suffering and death in those awful days, will someday receive their just reward in full measure, shaken down and running over. I have no hard feelings against the Confederate soldier, who met us face to face on the field of battle, and fought us bravely for what he thought was right. I can meet the old gray-headed veteran now who wore the grey, and grasp him by the hand without a thought of bitterness or malice or hatred in my heart, but never while I live can I forget the treatment we received from their leaders in those cruel, deadly prisons in the South. – p. 163
24th April, 1865. Journey home on board the Sultana steamboat.
“Some twenty-three hundred of us were put aboard the steamer Sultana . . .
Here were men that had been in prison from four months to two years; had suffered from cold, hunger, disease and exposure of all kinds, and their poor, weak bodies had been preyed upon by vermin. But now for the time being, all those things were forgotten. We were on our way home, and this took full possession of our minds, crowding out all thoughts of danger, disaster or suffering.
We did not leave the wharf at Memphis until after midnight, so it was morning of April 27th when we left there and steamed across the river to a coal barge or barges, and stopped to take on coal. It was nearing the hour of three in the morning, and the Sultana had reached a point some eight or ten miles above Memphis . . .
No danger was anticipated, and without any warning being given, all at once a terrific crash occurred; one of the boilers had given way with a noise those who chanced to be awake said, resembled the discharge of a battery of artillery. All was confusion. Pandemonium reigned supreme. The boat took fire immediately, and as it lit up the scene I could see that the surrounding water was rapidly being filled up with a struggling mass of men, that were now jumping overboard to escape the fast increasing flames. – p. 167
And now once more in my life, I had reached a point where my boasted courage and nerve forsook me. I knew I could not swim, and thinking I would never reach that plank again, all thoughts of being saved left me, and for a few brief moments, while I was under the water, I lost hope and the thought flashed through my mind that this was the end, and that the time had come when I must yield up my life.
But what is this that my head has come in contact with? I reach out my hand and grasp it. Thank God, its that blessed old stage plank. My courage revives, hope once more fills my breast; I place my trust in the Heavenly Father, and by his mercy, and through his power, I will yet reach a place of safety. I struggle on, I lose hope no more; I become more rational, and act with more deliberation. I beg my comrades to be more quiet, and though the plank was turned over a number of times, I always managed to retain my hold on it. – p. 168
The official report of the lives lost at the time was near sixteen hundred, and as quite a number died after being taken to the hospitals, no doubt the loss was fully sixteen hundred if not more. – p. 172
I was slightly scalded on face, neck, hands, feet, and left arm; others were scalded so much was worse than I . . .” p. 175
Winters survived the War, was discharged from the Army on May 11, 1865. He made it home to his parents, brother, and sisters on May 22, 1865.
“In the forty years that have come and gone since the great Civil War came to a close the writer has witnessed many changes. He has lived in an age when many improvements have been made. Inventions after inventions have come to the front, until we are almost forced to conclude that there is nothing so hidden but what the ingenuity of man will search it out and compel it to do his bidding.
And I sometimes wonder if this great success, this great prosperity that we, as a nation, are now enjoying, will not prove our ruin. Will we in our pride, haughtiness and selfishness, forget the All-wise God who rules over the destinies of nations? Will we not in our mad race for prominence and riches neglect to render to Him that homage which is His due, and will it not cause Him to bring a curse upon us?
God help us to be more humble in his sight, and not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think.” – p. 186