Ozaukee County's
War History
by Daniel E. McGinley

as extracted from THE PORT WASHINGTON STAR
November 21, 1896



The Ozaukee Rifles
Chapter 21

On Dec. 20th, 1864, at Savannah, Ga., the following named non-veterans of the Ozaukee Rifles were mustered out of the service, their terms of enlistment having expired: Peter Beckus, Jerome Case, Richard Kershaw, Wm. H. Pawlett, Joseph Johann and Taxter W. Shaw. Alex B. Hunt, another non-veteran of the Rifles, had been captured by the rebels while out foraging, during the march and instead of being mustered out at the expiration of his term, was sent to a another prison-pen. He survived the war, came back to Wisconsin, and was living in Michigan a few years ago. Richard Kershaw died at Waubeka, this county, shortly after the war. Peter Beckus is living somewhere in the south. ěJackî Case and Wall Davis are living in Minnesota, Case having had the misfortune to lose an arm since the war. Wm. H. Pawlett is living in Milwaukee, Joe Johann in Chicago, Geo. W. Hedding in Michigan, and ěTackî Shaw in California. In the latter part of 1863, Chas. W. Brott, then in hospital at Evansville, Ind., was discharged for disability, and now lives at Flintville, Wis.

Patrick Keogh, Henry Thomas and Wm. W. Coleman being still absent on account of wounds received near Atlanta, Ga., but fifteen of the original 104 members of the Rifles were left to take part in the campaigns of 1865. They were Sergt. John P. McGinley; corporals Thos. E. Wildman, Stewart Daniels, and Dennis Mangin; and privates James Wilson No. 1, Nic Colling, Ogden Tomlinson, Thomas Murphy, Pat. Walsh No. 2, David A. Porter, Henry C. Ramsey, Mansel Barnes, James H. Rooney, Louis Wert and Philander (ěStubî) Watkins. Ogden Tomlinson was on detached service at corps headquarters and Pat. Walsh at the division commissarys. When starting on the Carolina command the infantry guards at the corps headquarters, a part of whose duty was to forage supplies for the general and his staff, Stewart Daniels and Thomas Murphy were the regularly detailed foragers for the company and good ones they were. Dave Porter was a ěmule whacker,î or teamster in the wagon train. This left but nine of the Rifles in the ranks, and as Henry C. Ramsey was mustered out at the expiration of his term, April 5, 1865, there were but eight of the Rifles in the ranks at the close of the war.

Pausing at Savannah but long enough to reclothe his army, and to give it a short rest, Sherman started on his wonderful Carolina campaign, a campaign before which all other campaigns of the war sink into significance when we consider the difficulties surmounted, the suffering and heroism of the rank and file and the prodigious results. To inaugurate the campaign and at the same time to threaten Charleston, S.C., our corps was ordered to proceed by water to Beaufort, S.C., and from thence make a lodgement on the Savannah & Charleston railroad at or near Pocotaligo Station, some twenty miles from Charleston, and there feign an advancement on that city while we prepared for a long march northward. On Jan. 8, 1865 our division marched down to Fort Thunderbolt, which stood on the south side of the river several miles below Savannah, and during the 9th embarked, ěhorse, foot artillery and wagons,î on steamers of various sizes and descriptions. That evening we steamed down the river, but there being a heavy sea outside, we anchored in the river until morning.

On the 10th we got under way again and passing Fort Pulaski, which loomed up gloomy and threatening at the mouth of the river, we found ourselves out on the broad Atlantic and riding its great billows to the discontent of our stomaches, for in short order sea-sickness had a grip on nearly every soldier on board. Passing the great supply depot at Hilton Head, we steamed through a great fleet of vessels which was riding at anchor in the outer bay. There was nearly every kind of a craft in that immense fleet. There were old-fashioned wooden men-of-war, ironclads and monitors, great bulky merchantmen, whalers, iron and wooden passenger steamers, sloops, ships, schooners, brigs, yachts, smacks, tugs, etc. There were perhaps 200 sail and it made one of the grandest sights of the war. The most of them were laden with supplies for our army, and were waiting for an opportunity to deliver their cargoes.

Turning northward we reached Beaufort that evening, where we disembarked, and marching through the quaint little old town encamped a mile or two west of it. Beaufort is situated on Beaufort island, one of the many islands on the South Carolina coast, and is in the midst of a great oyster region, and at the time of which I write, the oyster trade seemed to be the principal business of the town. That a great many oysters had been taken from their native beds and brought into the little city was evident from the facts that the streets were made of oyster shells and the quays or docks were built of shells and cement. It is needless to say that our boys had oysters to their heartsí content while we remained near Beaufort.

The weather at this time was balmy and beautiful, the camp was clean and dry and we had plenty of rations and oysters, but one great drawback to pleasure at this place was the great scarcity of good water. In a few days, our whole corps was encamped on the island, and the scenes in and around the town as the vessels lined up along the docks and unloaded supplies for the troops, while long trains of wagons loaded from the piles on the docks and in the warehouses, were stirring and busy ones.

Gen. Foster with several thousand colored troops had spent nearly two years in trying to secure a footing on the mainland, which was separated from the island by a narrow but deep channel bordered by a wide marsh. A causeway had been built across the marsh and a wooden bridge spanned the channel, but the enemy had destroyed the bridge and had thrown up fortifications where the causeway joined the mainland, which were manned by infantry and artillery. But when we were ready to advance, it took our brigade two hours to force a crossing and to capture the fortifications, and the next day, Jan. 15th, we were in possession of Pocotaligo and the railroad.

Gen. Sherman joined our corps at Pocotaligo, and the vessels running into some of the channels that ran far out into the country on that coast, landed supplies not far from our camp. The weather now turned very cold, and the north-east wind blowing in gales laden with cold rain from the ocean, cut our thinly clad forms to the bone, and as firewood was scarce, caused much suffering in our camps. But all the while we kept loading our trains, drawing clothing and otherwise preparing for the hard march before us, while at the same time large forces of troops reconnoitered the country in the direction of Charleston, whose big guns could be heard booming across the twenty miles of marshy country that intervened between that city and our encampment.

In the meantime, the other corps of our army left Savannah and entered South Carolina by land, but heavy rains set in and delayed the progress a great deal. By the last of the month, we had our wagons loaded and the other corps having arrived within supporting distance, the great march began on the morning of February 1st.

In this campaign as in the march to the sea, Gen. O. O. Howard commanded the Army of the Tennessee, Gen. F. P. Blair our 17th corps, Gen. M. D. Leggett our division, and Col. Cassius Fairchild our brigade. Major Wm. F. Dawes had commanded our regiment from Atlanta to Savannah where he was mustered out on account of the expiration of his term of service, and Capt. Joseph Craig commanded the regiment in the Carolina campaign.

Starting early on Feb. 1st our corps took a road leading north on the right bank of the Salkiehatchie river, which was there bordered by great marshes and swamps then flooded and impassible. Perhaps never in the history of man did a larger army, encumbered by great trains of artillery and wagons, start on a march in which greater natural difficulties had to be overcome than did Shermanís on that eventful 1st of February, 1865. The route would be difficult to traverse in the best of weather and the most favorable conditions, but to attempt it in mid-winter with its rains and floods, and in the face of a brave, skillful and strong enemy was a daring and herculean task.

But Gen. Sherman had such implicit faith in the courage, skill and endurance of his troops that he did not hesitate to lead them into such a campaign; and his soldiers believing that their great leader would undertake no impossibilities and had prepared for all emergencies, entered willingly into the campaign and marched hopefully forward, trusting that the movement be successful, and that the long looked-for and hoped-for dawn of peace was near at hand.

As we advanced, the rain fell heavily and steadily and the air was very cold, and had it not been for the pitch pine which predominated on the highlands and which burned so readily, wet or dry, our sufferings would have been intense. Every small stream had overflown its banks until it became a river, and every swamp had been turned into a lake but still the rain continued. The sandy soil became thoroughly saturated by the rain, formed great beds of quicksand which no horse, mule, wagon or cannon could cross without assistance; but willing hands were always ready to render aid, and the column marched steadily forward.

On Feb. 3rd, our leading division, the 1st reached Rivers Bridge where our corps had been ordered to cross the Salkiehatchie, driving a force of rebel cavalry before it. But when our boys reached the swamp, a mile in width, that bordered the river at this place, they found it was flooded to the depth of three feet above the causeway. Nothing daunted, our boys formed their lines of battle and boldly plunged into the icy flood and fought their way to the river in the center, when they found that the bridge was gone, and a strong force of infantry and artillery was entrenched on the further side of the swamp. The rebel artillery opened upon our boys in the water, but the thick timber of the swamp afforded them a little protection and our batteries, stationed on the eastern shore, managed to get the range of the enemy's position and made it quite warm for them. Thus the battle continued all that day and night and a part of the next day many of our boys being killed or wounded. The suffering of those poor fellows who had to stand in that icy flood would be hard to describe or realize. The battle was a unique one, it being probably the only battle of the war in which a large majority of the contestants stood waist deep in water. Our division was not engaged further than to act as a support to the division in the water.