Southern Storm (72 page)

The provost men piled into the
Swan.
There was a melancholy leave taking between one officer and his black servant, who promised to look after the white man’s family until he could return. When the little steamer at last pushed away from the city wharf, it seemed to one
soldier as if they were departing a world of flame. There were small fires at various places along the shore, as well as several large ones. Pieces of the bridge were drifting past; “some were still linked together and were burning fiercely. Others were floating down the river like huge torches.” The soldiers found their eyes watery and “weary with looking at the flames, which the river, like a huge mirror, reflected from beneath. The men were subdued in spirit, quiet in voice and sad at heart.”

“We rushed to the pontoon bridge just in time to see our end swinging off in the river,” recollected Sergeant Hunt of the 102nd New York. “Then with my little command still intact I ran to the foot of East Bay street, to a large mill filled with flour and meal, which was being stolen, left a guard there and hurried back to the Custom[s] House just in time to assist Gen. Geary in raising ‘Old Glory.’”

Close at hand was the 137th New York. “We entered the city just at break of day,” wrote Charles Engle of the regiment. “We found the streets filled with men women children and negroes. All seamed pleasd to see us.” After dispatching detachments to various trouble spots, Brigadier General Geary assembled as much of Barnum’s brigade as remained at City Hall, where, reported one officer, “he took formal possession of the city, complimenting our brave brigade and its courteous and thorough commander in a fine speech, and soon after Col. H. A. Barnum addressed the brigade in a neat and appropriate speech.” It was a colorful affair, for waving over the heads of those assembled, their folds flapping in the strong southwest breeze, was “every flag of the brigade,” recalled another New Yorker.

Rear Admiral Dahlgren returned from a conversation with the bridge crew of the
Harvest Moon
to let Major General Sherman know that the weather was such that the pilot did not feel confident trying to cross the sandbar into Ossabaw Sound. It would be much safer, he argued, to turn into the coast sooner at Tybee Roads, there to follow an inland passage taking them south. Dahlgren had concurred, so that was the decision. It would be a less dangerous journey, but also a slower one. Sherman expressed no anxiety.

Behind Barnum’s brigade came the rest of Brigadier General Geary’s division. “We passed through the city amid the shouts and cheers of the colored people and not a few of the white citizens of both sexes, welcomed us by waving white handkerchiefs and many seemed much pleased to see the old Stars and Stripes again,” commented an Ohio man in the First Brigade. The Federal arrival was announced in dramatic fashion in the Elizabeth Basinger household, when her black maid burst into the room. “Oh, Miss! Oh, Miss Lizzie!” she said, her words in a tumble, “de Yankees is come, dey is as tick as bees, dey is so many on horses and de horse’s tails is stannin out right straight, you just come look out de winder.”

Watching from the window of her father’s home off Lafayette Square was twenty-four-year-old Fanny Cohen, who chose this day to begin keeping a journal. The one flag-raising by the Yankee troops that she observed left her underwhelmed. In her opinion, the response of the Federals to their banner was “three very orderly and unimpulsive cheers.”

Among those who fled Savannah with Hardee’s garrison were the editors of the town’s two newspapers: the
Savannah Republican,
and the
Savannah Morning News
. The
Republican
’s editor had the foresight to anticipate the circumstances, so the December 21 sheet contained his bittersweet editorial, which read in part: “By the fortunes of war we pass today under the authority of the Federal military forces. The evacuation of Savannah by the Confederate army, which took place last night, left the gates to the city open…. It behooves all to keep within their homes until Gen. Sherman shall have organized a provost system and such police as will insure safety in persons as well as property.”

A ten-man squad from the 29th Ohio made its way out along the river to the eastern edge of the city, where they took possession of Fort Jackson, still smoking from fires set by the departing Rebel garrison. The Ohio boys, said one, raised “the old flag on that fort once more.” Behind them several hundred more Federals were coming to complete the job.
Peering across to the South Carolina shore, the soldiers could observe the hulking menace of the CSS
Savannah.
Once the ironclad’s captain observed the U.S. flag flying, he ordered several rounds fired. Ironically, this was the only time in the entire war that Fort Jackson came under direct attack.

The Rebel warship was observed from downtown Savannah by Major J. A. Reynolds, chief of the Twentieth Corps artillery, who wasn’t averse to picking a fight with the iron-sided vessel. Reynolds ordered forward Captain Thomas S. Sloan’s Battery E, Pennsylvania Light Artillery, which, he reported, “took position on the lower end of Bay street and opened fire on her.” When the
Savannah
tried to return the favor, its gunners found they couldn’t sufficiently elevate their cannon to reach the nuisance. Major Reynolds was certain that Sloan’s battery scored some hits, though the
Savannah
’s commander did not report any.

As word of Savannah’s evacuation raced along the Union lines, soldiers from the other three corps found excuses to come into town. A Wisconsin man in the Seventeenth Corps admitted that he and his comrades “tried to behave ourselves, but the poultry, flour, molasses &c that lay in our way caused us to take considerable…. A woman, laughingly pointing to our plunder, exclaimed ‘You have more to eat than we.’”

Iowans from the Fifteenth Corps passed through one of the sections yet to be visited by provost guards. An infantryman noted that “the white women and negroes and our soldiers seemed intent on cleaning the stores of everything but the officers are doing their best to stop it.” Pennsylvania troops of the Fourteenth Corps found a more secure area of town. “The people of Savannah seemed to be satisfied with this change of military rulers,” said Captain William S. McCaskey. “They seem to like ‘the Yankees’ reasonably well; fed most of our boys during our short visit; giving them their dinners with a cheering welcome. They are not so blind as not to know the advantages to be gained under the shadow of the old flag.”

For hour after hour, the
Harvest Moon
picked its way along the scramble of creeks, small rivers, and twisting streams through swamps that
were collectively termed “the inland passage.” It didn’t seem that things could get any worse, but they did late in the afternoon when, as Rear Admiral Dahlgren noted, “the channel was so narrow and winding that the
Harvest Moon
stuck fast.” They were in Romney Marsh, maybe four miles from Ossabaw Sound and the Ogeechee River. This close to the end of his journey, Sherman at last expressed his impatience, so the decision was made to use the admiral’s barge to continue the trip.

In the decade or so before the war began, John W. Geary amassed a strong résumé in civil administration, serving as San Francisco’s first mayor and later as governor of the Kansas Territory. It wasn’t random chance that placed his division with the most direct access to the city. No sooner had Geary reported his presence in Savannah than Major General Slocum put him in charge of maintaining order. “My eventful career is still upon its everlasting whirl,” Geary bragged to his wife in a letter in which he referred to himself as “
Commandante
of the City.”

Orders issued today began the process of governance. Savannah was divided into five subdistricts, with units assigned to each. Patrols were established to “protect all peaceable persons and public and private property, quell all disturbances, arresting all disorderly persons and turning them over to the…provost guard…. Every officer of the command is enjoined to put forth the most strenuous efforts to establish and maintain perfect order and subordination.”

This wasn’t always achieved. A squad of Indiana infantry came upon civilians scrapping among themselves over loot from a sacked warehouse. “I saw some fights between the women, and the air became sulphurous from the curses,” said an amused Hoosier. “Our soldiers stood in groups taking in the scene. When a fight occurred among the Amazons, they would cheer and encourage the weaker ones, and despite the roughness of the scene would get some enjoyment out of it.”

It was growing dark before Rear Admiral Dahlgren’s barge, whose soggy passengers included Major General Sherman, nosed out of Romney Marsh into Ossabaw Sound. Not long afterward a steamer was sighted, signaled, then drew alongside. It was the army tug
Red Legs,
whose crew bubbled with the amazing news that Savannah had
been evacuated by the Confederates and was now occupied by Federal troops. A message they were carrying from Sherman’s aide Dayton confirmed matters.

There was no more time to be lost. Transferring to the
Red Legs,
Sherman ordered it to take him to Cheves’ Rice Mill.

This was another stressful day for Colonel Carmen, with his men holding on to their small patch of South Carolina real estate. Early this morning he observed a detail from the 58th Indiana setting up a pontoon bridge linking his beachhead to Argyle Island. Instead of reinforcements, Carmen received orders to pull his brigade back to the Georgia mainland. The withdrawal was fraught with difficulties. The wind was high and the tides treacherous, slowing everything to a crawl. Then, rather than standing back to watch them go, the Rebels who had kept Carmen’s little foray pinned in place began pressing his lines. “A great danger soon threatened us,” declared a New Yorker, “for we were only a mile from the
pike
upon which the whole Rebel army were marching out.” For a time matters appeared so grim that the Union officer was mentally prepared to count his casualties in the hundreds,
but after sunset the enemy’s efforts ceased. It was nearing midnight when, as Carmen recollected, “the last man crossed safely to Argyle Island and my campaign in [the] So[uth] Car[olina] Rice Swamps ended.”

Time had run out for the CSS
Savannah.
Unable to sortie because no one could clear a path through “friendly” minefields, the warship had been granted a short reprieve from destruction on the night of December 20 solely to prevent the Federals from quickly repairing the floating bridge. As long as a Rebel force held Screven’s Ferry at the head of the Union Causeway, the ironclad’s crew had an escape route. Not long after sunset, the
Savannah
’s captain was told that the soldiers guarding Screven’s would be withdrawn at 8:00
P.M
. Thirty minutes before that time, the captain followed his crew in a boat carrying them to shore. Then the Screven’s Ferry wharf was fired, taking with it the little steamer
Firefly
, which was lashed alongside. Behind them, in the bowels of the warship, sparks sputtered as a slow fuse burned toward carefully stacked charges. At 11:30
P.M
. flame and gunpowder met. “It lit the heavens for miles,” said one refugee sailor. “We could see to pick up a pin where we were and the noise was awful.” A Union soldier across the river thought “it made a fearful and tremendous explosion.”

T
HURSDAY
, D
ECEMBER
22, 1864

Major General Sherman’s headquarters party reached Fort McAllister before midnight, but had to stew until the ebb tide had sufficiently diminished to allow the tug
Red Legs
to continue to Cheves’ Rice Mill. Someone had the presence of mind to use the signal tower near the fort to inform the mill station that Sherman was on his way, so horses were waiting when the General landed at 2:30
A.M
. A slow ride in the dark brought everyone to headquarters, where breakfast was served while tents were struck and baggage packed. Finally, at 7:00
A.M
., Major General Sherman mounted to lead the way into Savannah.

While significant steps had been taken to preserve order in the city there was still room for improvement. An Illinois soldier taking a stroll
this morning observed others getting into “grocery cellars where there was molasses, lard &c and the poor whites and Negroes were helping themselves as well, grabbing and dipping in pails, getting the molasses and lard over each other. It was grand fun. In one place…they got it on the floor almost ankle deep.” “The boys got plenty of tobacco,” added an Illinoisan. “The citizens went for plunder as hard if not worse than the soldiers.” “The rebels left everything in the stores,” exclaimed an officer, “and, of course, the boys rigged themselves out.”