It’s been a LONG time since I was this angry about something. I received this press release from the CWPT today:

DEVELOPERS ILLEGALLY BULLDOZE NATIONAL PARK SERVICE LAND AT HARPERS FERRY

Since 1919, the nonpartisan NPCA has been the leading voice of the American people in protecting and enhancing our National Park System. NPCA, its 325,000 members, and partners work together to protect the park system and preserve our nation’s natural, historical, and cultural heritage for generations to come.

This is an outrage that almost defies description. I can only hope that these bastards are prosecuted and that the financial penalty HURTS and is not merely a slap on the wrist.

If you’re as angry about this as I am, please send an e-mail to Interior Secretary Kempthorne at exsec@ios.doi.gov.

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With his express permission, here is the pertinent portion of the letter from Dave Gaddy:

By e-mail I also wrote of the composition of the Kilpatrick-Dahlgren columns, seeing evidence of “task-organization” that seemed so modern to me. For example, the assignment of men from the BMI, headed by Capt. McEntee, one of the (if not the) top men of Sharpe’s organization; the assignment of two signal officers (which should have entailed a small team of accompanying signal specialists each); engineers, pioneers, commissaries, quartermasters, etc., plus “specialized equipment” for raiders, such as oakum, turpentine, and torpedoes/mines—placed under control of signal officers. I do appreciate your desire not to be drawn into a detailed examination of the raid itself. But, for example, Ed Fishel’s acolyte, Feis [Grant’s Secret Service] (304 n38) identifies “at least” eight BMI “employees” as accompanying the raiders—Capt McEntee plus two with Kilpatrick and five with Dahlgren. The latter include Hogan (Lt., 1st Ind Cav) and Swisher, whom you refer to as Dahlgren’s guides [Chapter 11, pp. 28, which I’ll ref here as 11-28, and 35, more or less], but their relationship with BMI may reveal another dimension to the origin and composition of the raid.

What I’m pressing is the level of “who knew what,” who sketched the concept, who authorized it, who allowed (or directed) Dahlgren’s involvement, etc., which are treated in 11-4, 5 and elsewhere. In a commentary (“Reflections on Come Retribution”) published in the Winter 1989 issue (Vol. III, No. 4) of The International Journal of Intelligence and Counter-Intelligence, 567-573, I stressed our discovery of the covert executive-level authorization and funding of secret service activities in the CSA and suggested that it perhaps followed a familiar USA model, namely, that Congress appropriated (starting with Geo. Washington) a “privy purse” to be disbursed at the direction of the President, by his executive agent, the Secretary of State, to the mission agent (say, Secretary of War, for further relay down the line). This provided “executive deniability” for the President and offered two or more cabinet level officials who could “take the fall” if something went wrong. After the publication of CR, James O. Hall directed my attention to proof that the US did follow that model, namely, a Lincoln authorization to Seward to advance “secret service” funds to Meigs for a mission to Pensacola. (This continued until the creation of CIA in 1947 and the deniability aspect disappeared when Eisenhower “’fessed up” to U2 overflights of the Soviet Union.) Sorry for the long-winded digression. My point is that too much behind the story of the raid (talk about foreshadowing the Son Tay Raid in Viet Nam!) smacks of White House secrecy and drew me later to the George/Wistar argument, perhaps stemming from Lincoln’s interview with senior escapees from Richmond. I find it difficult to stop (or start) with Stanton. Wily Mr. Lincoln and his SecWar were as adept at covering their tracks as were Davis and Benjamin. Ditto Butler. (I confess that the psychological complexity of Stanton gives me fits.) There seem to be traces of prior PYA thinking (e.g., Kilpatrick’s acceptance and possible setting-up of Dahlgren as fall guy or sponsored hero), ex post facto cover-up (e.g., the disappearance of the Dahlgren papers originals), and promulgation of the heroic patriot “take.” (That there was genuine concern for the plight of brave men in prison I do not doubt, and I cannot read Adm Dahlgren’s grief-stricken writing unmoved.) I write this for your information: I think you have done an excellent job of finding your trail through the mine-field. This may or may not strengthen your conviction here and there.

Here’s what I find intriguing about his analysis. First, and foremost, there seems little reason to have sent so many BMI guys–including the very best of them–unless there was something more to this than meets the eye. I was not aware that Hogan and Swisher were BMI guys–I understood that Martin Hogan, a lieutenant in the 1st Indiana Cavalry, was simply Dahlgren’s favorite scout, with whom he had worked previously. I must admit that this does cause me to reassess some of my thinking on this issue.

I also find some of his analysis–specifically that part which addresses the conspiracy aspects of this–somewhat persuasive, although I tend not to be much of a believer in conspiracy theories. In point of fact, I normally don’t buy into conspiracy theories.

To clarify one thing he mentions: the “George/Wistar” reference is to an extremely interesting article by Joseph George, Jr., “‘Black Flag Warfare’: Lincoln and the Raids Against Richmond and Jefferson Davis.” The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, Vol. 115, No. 3 (July 1991): 291-318. The article by George was the one that first tipped me off to the Wistar expedition.

I am still not persuaded by Dave, although I’m looking at his theory a bit more closely than I did previously. I am going to include this same discussion (cleaned up just a bit) in one of the endnotes to the manuscript because I consider it to be well-reasoned and worthy of inclusion. I remain convinced that Lincoln himself had no knowledge but that the order may well have come from Stanton.

And, as reader Bill Bergen pointed out in a comment to last night’s post, it remains entirely possible–and perhaps even probable–that Kilpatrick and/or Dahlgren were cowboying here, and that nobody beside them knew.

What’s clear is that we will never know the answer to this mystery. It remains a fascinating and terribly perplexing question that will probably continue to tantalize me for the rest of my life.

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Those of you who read this blog regularly know that I’ve spent a lot of time–and a lot of words here–discussing the question of what Lincoln knew and when he knew it with respect to the Kilpatrick-Dahlgren Raid, and specifically, whether Lincoln knew of and approved of a plan to kidnap and assassinate Jefferson Davis and his cabinet, as certain papers found on Dahlgren’s body suggested.

A couple of weeks ago, I posted the working draft of my take on this question here, and the next night, I supplemented that post with additional thoughts on the same question. Between these two posts, I laid out my thoughts on this topic in great detail, and figured that I had, at long last, tiptoed tuft to tuft across this particular morass. I was ready to move on.

I sent the working drafts of those portions of the manuscript that dealt with the Kilpatrick-Dahlgren Raid, including the appendix, which addresses the validity of the Dahlgren Papers themselves, to David W. Gaddy, one of the three authors of Come Retribution, a book-length study of the Lincoln Assassination. This book postulates that the Lincoln assassination actually was ordered and carried out by the Confederate secret service, in part to avenge the Kilpatrick-Dahlgren Raid.

Dave Gaddy is a former intelligence officer, and he is quite knowledgeable about these events. Consequently, I thought I would get his thoughts on the working draft. I got much more than I bargained for in doing so. When Dave wrote me back, he laid out an entirely new angle on this for me that spells out a somewhat persuasive argument that Lincoln not only knew, he actually ordered the kidnapping and execution of Davis and his ministers.

To borrow a line from Michael Corleone, just when I thought that I was out they pull me back in.

Dave’s thoughtful letter to me prompted me to reassess some of thinking on this whole question. I’m still not entirely convinced that Lincoln knew, but I’m leaning a bit more in that direction than I had previously. I’m getting ready to go back and see about revising my take on these events once more. If Dave gives me permission to do so, I will post his letter here.

This question hovers over any biography of Ulric Dahlgren like the sword of Damocles. Much as I would love to duck this question altogether, it simply has to be addressed by anyone attemptin to tell the story of this young man’s life. There is no way around it, and I can’t think of any single question about the Late Unpleasantness that has in turn intrigued me and driven me crazy more than this one has over the years I’ve wrestled with it.

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A special thanks to Mike Koepke and to Tom Churchill at Touch the Elbow for their kind words about our shameless self-promotion of our book on Stuart’s Ride. Thanks for noticing, and thanks also for the kind words.

And Tom, thanks also for your kind words about this blog. It’s good therapy for me. 🙂

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Time for another installment in my periodic series on forgotten cavalrymen.

Born on March 8, 1836, Matthew Calbraith Butler came from a prominent Greenville, SC family. His grandfather and father were U. S. Congressmen, his uncle was a U. S. Senator from South Carolina, and his mother was related to Commodore Matthew C. Perry and to War of 1812 naval hero Admiral Oliver Hazard Perry. His wife was the daughter of South Carolina Governor Francis W. Pickens, and was related to Sen. John C. Calhoun. He was educated at South Carolina College (now the University of South Carolina), and had no formal military training at all.

Butler became a lawyer, and was elected to the South Carolina legislature in 1860. He resigned his elected office with the coming of war in 1861. Butler received a commission as captain in the cavalry detachment of the Hampton Legion, where he first became acquainted with, and eventually became the protege of, Wade Hampton. Butler then received a promotion to colonel of the 2nd South Carolina Cavalry in August 1862; Hampton’s younger brother Frank was the regiment’s lieutenant colonel. He led his regiment in action at Second Bull Run, Antietam, and Stuart’s Second Ride Around McClellan in October 1862. He was fearless. “It used to be said his skin glanced bullets,” wrote one of his troopers, “and that it required a twelve-pounder to carry away [his foot].”

At the June 9, 1863 Battle of Brandy Station, Butler’s regiment of South Carolians, fighting mostly alone, held off an entire division of Union cavalry for much of the day. However, while Butler was conferring with Capt. Will Farley, one of Stuart’s favorite scouts, a well-aimed shot by Union horse artillery killed Farley, Butler’s horse, and carried Butler’s foot clean off. For most men, losing a foot would have ended their military career, but not Butler.

In September 1863, Butler returned to duty, with a fresh promotion to brigadier general. He was sent to South Carolina, where he assumed command of a newly-formed brigade of mounted infantry. In the spring of 1864, that brigade joined Hampton’s division, and it bore the brunt of the brutal fighting at Haw’s Shop on May 28, 1864, and then at Trevilian Station on June 11-12. By then, with Stuart dead, Hampton was in command of the Confederate cavalry by virtue of seniority, and as senior brigadier, Butler took command of Hampton’s division. In that capacity, he was magnificent at Trevilian Station, prompting Hampton to say, “Butler’s defense at Trevilian was never surpassed.”

In recognition of his fine service, he was promoted to major general in September 1864, assuming permanent command of Hampton’s division. When Hampton went to South Carolina in 1865 to try to defend his home state against William T. Sherman’s invaders, he brought Butler’s division with him. Butler performed good service during the Carolinas Campaign, and was with Joseph E. Johnston’s army when it surrendered at Bennett Place in April 1865. “From the fall of Columbia to the surrender of Johnston at Durham, Butler was ever at the front, harassing and impeding Sherman’s advance,” recalled one of his staff officers.

After the war, Butler, now dead broke after losing everything during the war, resumed his law practice and his political career. “I was twenty-nine years old, with one leg gone, a wife and three children to support, with seventy slaves emancipated, a debt of $15,000, and in my pocket, $1.75,” he recalled years later. Butler was elected to the South Carolina legislature again in 1866, and made an unsuccessful run for lieutenant governor in 1870. He served three terms in the United States Senate from 1877 to 1895, serving alongside his old mentor Hampton, although the two old horse soldiers eventually had a falling out.

After losing the Democratic nomination for Senator in 1895, Butler resumed practicing law, although this time in Washington, D. C. In 1898, with the coming of the Spanish-American War, Butler, along with several other former Confederate cavalry generals, donned the blue uniform of the United States Army, accepting a commission as a major general of volunteers at the age of 62. With his disability, Butler never commanded troops in the field, but he served ably in supervising the evacuation of Spanish troops from Cuba after the American victory.

He then returned to his home in Edgefield, SC, and practiced law again until his death in Columbia, SC on April 14, 1909. He was buried in Willow Brook Cemetery in Edgefield. He and his old mentor, Hampton, never repaired their relationship before Hampton’s death at age 84 in 1902.

Butler was a fine soldier, especially considering that he had no formal training. Butler, recalled one eyewitness, “showed no emotion as he scanned the field of battle” armed with only a silver riding crop, calmly taking in the situation and carefully planning his response. One observer noted of him, “so fine was his courage, so unshaken his nerve, that, if he realized the danger, he scorned it and his chiseled face never so handsome as when cold-set for battle, never showed if or not his soul was in tumult.” Butler was the sort of leader who sat his horse quietly while shot and shell stormed around him and other men ran for shelter.

His men loved his common touch. “Often did I see him after the fatiguing events of the day lying upon the ground with no shelter but the vaulted sky above, sharing the hardships with his men, ever hopeful, ever ready to lead his sadly diminished ranks where an effective blow might be struck,” remembered one of his soldiers three decades after the war. By 1865, Butler was known as “Hampton’s Right Bower,” a proud title indeed.

I first became familiar with Butler’s often overlooked service in the Civil War during my study of the Battle of Trevilian Station. The more I learned about Butler’s magnificent defense on both days at Trevilian Station, the more impressed I was. Butler was a fine soldier who deserves more attention and more recognition than he has received.

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In the never-ending hope of selling more books, J. D. Petruzzi and I have developed a web site to try to sell copies of our book on Stuart’s Ride. Please check out our new web site.

Of course, the site exists for one reason: shameless self-promotion. 🙂

Having said that, it was just launched yesterday, and the content for it is still being developed. Please check back regularly.

And thanks for tolerating our shameless self-promotion.

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I’m often asked why I continue to write books about the Civil War. Surely, they say, with the thousands of books that have been written on the subject, what could possibly be left to cover?

The answer, amazingly enough, is plenty. I’ve always tried to choose topics that others don’t. Take a look at my studies of Sheridan’s Trevilian Raid or the Battle of Monroe’s Crossroads if you need examples of what I mean here. From my perspective, the more obscure, the better. There are, of course, exceptions: our forthcoming book on Stuart’s ride during the Gettysburg Campaign is a topic that has been covered previously, but we’ve brought a completely different approach to the subject that will set our book apart from any other treatment of it.

There are a surprising number of major gaps in the body of literature. Although the world most assuredly does not need yet another book on Pickett’s Charge, there are significant holes in the modern coverage of the war that definitely need to be filled. Here are a couple of examples.

The most notable example I can come up with is one that’s been discussed here before, the lack of a really detailed study of the Petersburg Campaign of 1864 and 1865. This campaign lasted nearly ten months, and saw brutal, hard-fought combat. Andy Trudeau’s The Last Citadel is the only book devoted to the entire campaign, but at 514 pages, it obviously does not go into real depth on any single aspect of it. Dick Sommers wrote his mammoth book Richmond Redeemed in 1981, but it covers only Grant’s fifth offensive in the summer of 1864. Will Green’s Breaking the Backbone of the Confederacy deals only with the breakout from Petersburg in April 1865. H. E. Howard has published a number of volumes dealing with small pieces of the campaign, usually of uneven quality, that deal with small bits and pieces of the campaign such as Ream’s Station, the Wilson-Kautz Raid, Globe Tavern, etc. However, other than Andy Trudeau’s book, there is no true study of the campaign. This is a gap that must be filled. I remain hopeful that a scholar of Gordon Rhea’s caliber will step up and write a series of books on the campaign that will document it as well as Gordon documented the 1864 Overland Campaign.

Jubal Early’s Valley Campaign encompassed the months of July-November 1864. However, no published history of the campaign has covered the first two months of the campaign in any detail. Jeff Wert’s fine book From Winchester to Cedar Creek really covers the fighting between Sheridan and Early and does not cover the early phase of the campaign in any detail. Tom Lewis’ The Guns of Cedar Creek likewise gives this period short shrift.

I just finished reading the second half of Scott Patchan’s landmark study on the first portion of Early’s Valley Campaign. Patchan deserves every bit of the praise that this book will generate. He’s covered this period in exhaustive detail, giving the best account of the Second Battle of Kernstown–the critical event of this period–yet written. He likewise touches on the burning of Chambersburg and the resulting crushing defeat of McCausland’s cavalry at Moorefield a couple of days later yet tackled. This book fills a gap that has remained unfilled for far too long, and Scott is to be commended for doing such a fine job of it.

His work is a fine example of the sort of works that are still out there, just begging to be written. So long as works of this caliber touch on these neglected portions of the Civil War, the health of its scholarship will remain robust. However, once we fall back on publishing nothing but the 79th book on Pickett’s Charge with nothing new being added, then there will be no reason to go on. At that moment, I will lament both the state of scholarship, as well as the overwhelming lack of interest in anything new among the consuming public.

Kudos to Scott. Keep up the good work, Scott. I’m eagerly looking forward to seeing this one in print.

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I surprised myself and finished incorporating the letters into the final three chapters of the manuscript tonight and sent them off to the publisher. It is, at long, long last, finally and truly finished.

I know I’ve said this before, but the feeling is almost beyond description. I’ve been working on this for more than 12 years, and knowing that it is finally really and truly finished is beyond my words’ ability to describe.

Thanks for tolerating my constant ranting about this, but it’s been quite an adventure, and it’s finally time to move on.

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I’ve spent the last three evenings working on incorporating the letters into the manuscript of my regimental history of the 6th Pennsylvania Cavalry. I’m making good progress–even better than expected. I’m up to the eve of Grant’s 1864 Overland Campaign–the Army of the Potomac is about to break its winter camp and take the field. That means that I am through 8 of the 12 chapters. I doubt I will finish tomorrow night, but I will definitely have it finished over the weekend and then, I can, at long last, put this thing to rest.

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Time for just a bit of shameless self-promotion.

J. D. Petruzzi and I have been informed by our publisher, Ted Savas, that our new book on Stuart’s Ride to Gettysburg will be available just after September 1. We also plan to have a Special Gettysburg Edition, limited to only 100, individually numbered and signed by J. D., me, and hopefully, Mark Grimsley (who wrote the Foreword). Shortly we’ll release details on how folks can get hold of one of those babies.

J. D. and I are also putting together a website devoted to the book. Information on that to come.

Please see the Savas-Beatie web site for additional information on the book.

Personally, I’m eager to see it in print after all of these years of working on it. I first got interested in Stuart’s Ride and the associated controversy nearly 15 years ago, early in my intensive study of Civil War cavalry operations, and I started gathering material almost immediately, and I spent the better part of those 15 years researching it and mulling things over. J. D. apparently was doing the same thing, and when we put our heads together, this book resulted. We hope you’re as pleased with it as we are.

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