The Life and Civil
War Service of Captain John M. Turnbull
We have paid a
visit to the 36th Illinois Volunteer Infantry before, when I wrote
about John Shook and the unique message that’s carved upon his obelisk a few
miles to the east of Monmouth. It’s time
to focus on another member of Company C.; a man who served in a leadership
capacity. Captain John M. Turnbull
resided in Warren rather than Knox County, but still well within the bounds of readership
that’s currently covered by the Register
Mail.
John was born in Xenia, Ohio on July
23rd, 1833, to David and Nancy Turnbull. The family claimed a proud Scot heritage;
John’s grandfather having travelled from Scotland to seek a better life in
America. The year John was born, John’s
parents moved west from Ohio. They
established a homestead 6 miles northwest of Monmouth, and there young John
grew up and began to prepare for life as a farmer. He married Miss Anna Orr of Washington, Iowa
in 1854, and local records exist that show that his son Ralph was baptized in
1856 and daughters Mary Emma and Clara Orr in 1857 and 1859 respectively, all at
the Sugar Tree Grove Presbyterian Church.
As a family man, John
was reluctant to go off to war and leave his wife and young children behind,
but after the disastrous rout of the Union army at the Battle of Bull run, he
resolved to do his part to save the Union from being split asunder, and
enlisted in Monmouth on August 18th, 1861. Assigned to Company C. he was mustered in as
a 2nd Lieutenant at Camp Hammond, in Aurora, Illinois where the
regiment was organized. Nicholas
Greusel was elected by the men to serve
as their Colonel.
Once the
organization and election of officers was completed, the regiment was sent by
rail to St. Louis. There they were issued some outdated old muskets and sent on
their way to Rolla, Missouri. They would
make camp there until the middle of January of 1862, drilling constantly enough
to disillusion the most ardent patriot and pulling their share of camp and
guard duty. The only break in their
monotonous schedule was the occasional scouting expeditions that were sent out.\
The 36th
Illinois was ordered south to Springfield, Missouri on the 14th of
January. From Springfield they moved
next to Bentonville, Arkansas, and then
to Leetown, where they successfully engaged and defeated a small rebel force. The next battle they were led into was that
of Pea Ridge, on the 6th and 7th of March. During that hard fought engagement Company C.
witnessed a shell kill John H. Harris and another tear the arm from William
Gibson. Gibson started to search for
the hospital by himself. Colonel
Greusel ran over to him and asked if he
could send someone to help him to the rear.
Young Gibson turned to his Colonel and said “No Colonel. The men are needed here. I can find my way there alone.” Colonel Greusel shook his head in admiration
of the man’s grit as he tottered toward the rear to seek medical aid. The boys in blue beat back General Sterling
Price’s army, which even included an Indian detachment led (one might better
say “somewhat held in check”) by General Albert Pike.
After a short
rest in Keitsville, Missouri, Captain Turnbull moved his men out and after
skirting the Ozark Mountains, finally arrived at Cape Girardeau on May 22nd. From there they were moved to Corinth,
Mississippi, and from there to Rienzi, where they camped until September. During this time Company C. was detached from
the 36th and placed under the command of Phil Sheridan, who had
command of a brigade. He put Turnbull
and his men to work in numerous scouting expeditions. Sheridan was a different kind of leader, and
a welcome change from previous commanders such as Generals Buell and Gilbert,
who bent over backwards so as not to irritate the citizens of the south. This became a bone of contention when it came
to “foraging,” which in military terms meant “living off the land.” In practice it meant that no smokehouse,
henhouse. orchard or garden was safe from the hungry hordes of the boys in
blue. The 36th had become
adept at circumventing General Gilbert’s concern for the supporters of treason
and often found ingenious was to supplement their diet from the woeful army
fare. This example of “foraging” was
taken from the Regimental History of the 36th.
When on the march near Crab Orchard, some of
the 36th boys killed 20 or 30 fat sheep, belonging to a native
Kentuckian, and after dark threw the pelts into the camp of the 73rd
Illinois Regiment. Now the 73rd
had been gotten by the Methodists of Illinois, and included many preachers and
members of the Methodist church, who revolted at the very idea of molesting the
hen-houses and sheep-folds of Kentucky.
Complaint was made to General Gilbert of the theft and a search
instituted among the camps. The finding
of the hides was sufficient evidence of guilt, and that good, pious soul,
Colonel Jaques, was given the alternative of producing the culprits or being
himself punished, and in default of the former he was obliged to walk behind
the regiment by order of General Gilbert.
One hot day, while on the march through Kentucky, the 24th
Wisconsin Regiment, seeing two empty ambulances, stowed them full of their
knapsacks. Shortly after, General
Gilbert discovered the knapsacks and ordered them thrown out. The 24th, being ahead of the
ambulances, knew nothing of this, but marched on. The 36th, being next in the rear
of the ambulances, some of the men gobbled the knapsacks and contents, threw
away their own ragged garments and donned the brand-new wearing apparel of the
24th. They not only
appropriated the clothes, but the knapsacks which were marked “24th
Wisconsin.” The 36th boys
wandered wherever they wished, appropriating the contents of smokehouses,
henhouses, etc. At once the plundered
owners hurried to General Gilbert to complain against the 24th
Wisconsin. The General was furious- he
ordered the 24th to halt and had the roll called. All were present and accounted for. Three times the regiment was halted in a day
and none were found absent from the ranks.
General Gilbert was puzzled indeed.
The secret did not get out for some time, and then under other leaders
it was recounted as a “fine trick.”
When the above story
was told at an officer’s dinner given by General Rosecrans in Nashville,
Colonel Larabee of the 24th added to the tales of the 36th
foraging prowess. He said that he’d had
a new pair of riding gloves go missing immediately after a visit from the 36ths
Colonel Greusel. In their place was left an old, worn out
pair scarcely fit to be handled except with a pair of tongs. He declared that the whole regiment, officers
included, were nothing but a den of thieves.
This didn’t
matter to Phil Sheridan. He believed in
taking from the country whatever was needed by the army, instructing his
quartermaster to give receipts for what they took, to be adjusted afterwards if
the party could prove their loyalty.
Sheridan’s care and concern for the men won him their affection. One night after a long march serves as an
example. When some of the boys from the
36th, who had been ordered to stand guard at Sheridan’s headquarters
arrived, the Colonel came out and said “Boys, I know that you are very
tired; you may go to your quarters; we
will take care of ourselves tonight.”
Sheridan earned the
men’s respect, but he kept them active as well.
The 36th travelled to Cincinnati, to Louisville, and then
participated in the hard-fought, yet indecisive battle of Perryville. From there it was a race against the Rebels
to see who could advance to and occupy Nashville first. The Union troops seized the initiative and
took the State Capitol. The regiment
remained in Nashville until the day after Christmas, when they moved south,
encountering the Rebels in a fierce two day fight at Stone’s River. This was the fight in which Private John
Shook, the focus of an earlier article, received his fatal wound. Company C. suffered 2 other fatalities and
approximately 15 wounded, including Captain Turnbull, who was slightly wounded
in the chest by a glancing ball. The
severity of the fighting that the 36th saw that day can best be
described by this report filed by Captain Olson.
On the morning of December 31st,
soon after daylight, the enemy advanced in strong force from the timber beyond
the cotton-field opposite our right.
They came diagonally across the field, and upon reaching the front of
the hill made a left half-wheel, coming up directly in front of us. When the enemy had advanced up the hill
sufficiently to be in sight, Col. Greusel ordered the regiment to fire, which
was promptly obeyed. We engaged the
enemy at short range, the lines being not over ten rods apart. After a few rounds the regiment supporting us
on the right gave way. In this manner we
fought for nearly half an hour, when Colonel Greusel ordered the regiment to
charge. The enemy fled in great
confusion across the cotton-field into the woods opposite our left, leaving
many of their dead and wounded upon the field….. A fresh brigade of the enemy advanced from
the direction that the first had come, and in splendid order. We opened fire on them with terrific effect. Again the regiment on our right gave way and
we were again left without support. In
this condition we fought until our ammunition was exhausted and the enemy had
entirely flanked us on our right. At
this juncture Major Miller ordered the regiment to fall back.
Both armies rested for a day, licking
their wounds, then went at it again. At
the end of the second day of battle, the Union troops held the field, claiming
a victory because Bragg and the rebels decided to retreat. In reality, both sides suffered heavily
losses, and the result of the fighting could more accurately be called a
stalemate.
In the aftermath
of battle there is the treating of wounds, the burial of the dead, and the
letters to next of kin that will plunge a homefront family into grief. The following is an excerpt from a letter
that Captain Turnbull sat down to write on January. 17th, 1863 to
the family of James Elder.
“It becomes my painful duty to announce to
you the death of your son James. You
will doubtless ere this have heard of his death thru the public prints, and I
will not particularize more than to say that he was killed on the morning of
the 31st of Dec.’62 in the terrific fight in which our regiment was
engaged in that day. He was shot early
in the engagement and lived but a few moments.
We were so closely pressed by our enemies that we were obliged to leave
the field, leaving our dead and wounded in their possession, and it was two or
three days before we retook the ground.
As soon as this was done details were made to bury our dead. Being the only officer then with the company,
I could not go myself to assist, but some of our best men were sent, and our 36
dead were all buried with all the tenderness and care that could under the
circumstances be given…….I cannot close without bearing testimony with regard
to James as a soldier and a man beloved by his tentmates, esteemed by his Co.
commander and respected by the whole Company.
His loss is deeply felt here, and in
closing I would desire to extend my sympathies to you-his bereaved parents,
expressing the hope that our loss is HIS eternal gain. Respectfully Yours, John M Turnbull.
After the battle the regiment took to
camp on the edge of Stone River, where they remained until the middle of
June. After this 5 month respite the men
were ready and eager to set out again.
They were part of the Tullahoma Campaign, a masterful bit of maneuver
engineered by General Rosecrans, where General Bragg’s Confederate army was
driven out of middle Tennessee. After
the Battle of Stone River, Captain Turnbull was detailed to staff duties under
General Frank T. Sherman. He was
assigned as Brigade Inspector, 1st
Brigade, 2nd Division, 4th A.C., acting in this
capacity for the remainder of his service.
He was serving in this capacity when Bragg turned on the Union forces
and lashed out at them in the area of a little creek called Chickamauga.
The battle began
in earnest on Saturday, September 19th, and although both armies
fought hard, neither seized an appreciable advantage. On Sunday
morning the 36th was moved with the rest of their brigade to
a position near General Rosecran’s headquarters, the Widow Glenn’s house. A thick fog enveloped the battlefield. While the boys were eating breakfast, General
Rosecrans came up to encourage the men.
Bubbling with excited nervous energy, he said “Boys. I never fight
Sundays, but if they begin it we will end it.”
The men sat
around, ready at a moment’s word to grab their weapons and act as
soldiers. During this lull before the
storm that everyone feared was coming, some members of an adjacent regiment who
had seen hard fighting the day before came over and told the boys of the 36th
that it was “the hottest place they had ever been in.” General William Haines Lytle was nearby. A man beloved by his troops (his officers had
recently presented him with a jeweled Maltese Cross as a token of their esteem
for him), he was a lawyer, a legislator and an accomplished poet. His “Anthony and Cleopatra” was widely quoted
and admired and seized upon by many young men for declamation exercises.
As soon as
General Lytle got his brigade into place near the Widow Glenn’s, he called John
Turnbull over, who was serving as his aide.
General Lytle told him that he was certain that a great battle would be
fought, and that he was equally certain that he would not survive it. He said “Turnbull, I want you to stay with me
today. I will have my orders carried by
others, and I want you to stay with me.”
John Turnbull
replied “General, if that is your wish, while I live and you live we shall be
together.”
It wasn’t long
after the General’s foreboding request that the battle erupted. Turnbull was sent forward to the skirmish
line set up by Captain Bross of the 88th. Upon reaching the left of the line, which
rested just in the edge of the woods, he found that there was a gap between it
and the troops on the left. General Wood
had been ordered by General Rosecrans to “close up on Reynolds and support
him.” Just as Wood moved his troops out
of the line to comply with orders, the Confederates launched an assault at the
very point in the Union line that had been vacated. Turnbull had spotted this tactical error, and
moved forward on his own to reconnoiter the ground that had been left
vacant. To his chagrin and horror he
heard orders being given and troops massing.
Returning quickly to his own lines, he ordered some nearby skirmishers
to face to the left and move into the woods.
It was not nearly enough men to stop an assault; strictly a stopgap
measure. He then returned as fast as his
horse could carry him to the brigade, which he found being moved further out of
position by one of General Rosecrans’ staff officers. When he reached General Lytle, Turnbull
launched a vociferous protest against the movement of the troops that the staff
officer was undertaking; he told General Lytle that the men should be ordered
into a line of battle; that the enemy was close to their front and that if they
failed to do so soon they would have to form into line under fire. General Lytle summoned Rosecrans’ staff
officer, who laughed and said that he had just come from the front, he noticed
nothing amiss, and then insinuated that Turnbull was scared. Something was happening though. Soon wounded and demoralized men began to
stream past them. It was the first line
which had been hastily assembled to stand against the onrushing Confederates. A second makeshift line gave way as
well. Soon the rebel troops advanced
close enough to unloose a terrific volley against the few men who still stood
between them and victory. Turnbull
turned to say something to the cocksure staff officer who had so blithely
dismissed his fears only to see him galloping rapidly toward the rear.
General Lytle
took charge. He immediately ordered the
men and officers in his vicinity to “form into line.” It was a desperate stand. The brave bluecoats who stood against the
oncoming horde, who, sensing victory were screaming their spine-chilling rebel yell, were taking heavy casualties. Due to the obstruction of a battery of
artillery, forming an effective line of defense was being hampered. General Lytle turned to John Turnbull and
ordered him to expedite the formation of a line of defense as quickly as possible. Captain Turnbull hesitated, and looked at
him. The General adamantly said “go!” Understanding
that the general’s orders superseded the pact that he’d made to stay with him
throughout the battle, John Turnbull saluted
him and turned to execute his instructions.
Directing the
artillery to the rear, Turnbull led the hastily organized line to the brow of a
hill, where they saw clearly the dire circumstances that they had to face. Down the slope of the hill and across the
field there was a moving mass of enemy soldiers coming toward them. The Union troops knuckled down, resolving to
hold them off for as long as they could.
Meanwhile,
General Lytle made a conspicuous target on horseback as he fronted his
brigade. Riding up in front of the 36th,
he praised its gallant conduct. Then he
drew his sword close by the regimental colors and was about to give an order
when he was struck in the head with a bullet.
The General fell from his horse and collapsed into the arms of an
aide. The riderless horse galloped
toward the rear, demoralizing his men, who knew what the sight probably
meant. General Lytle remained conscious
enough to urge his men to leave him; that he was mortally hurt, but not until
the enemy was almost upon them did they obey his request, and by that time the
General was close to death. The Rebels,
recognizing the man and honoring him as a brave foe, posted a guard around his
body.
Eventually the
onslaught of enemy troops proved too much for the stalwart defenders. The column which had rushed to the field
fifteen minutes earlier with 370 men had lost half that number. As the Rebels swarmed both their flanks and
pressed forward as well, the order was given to fall back. The surviving defenders did so in good order,
but soon it dawned on them that this was a disastrous defeat. Some of the men gave up any hopes of making
any further stand against the oncoming tide of Rebel soldiers and simply turned
and ran. Reaching the next ridge and
clambering up it, they found General Sheridan and Captain Turnbull riding up
and down, begging the men to halt, stand firm and form yet another line. Turnbull had already had his horse shot under
him, had seen General Lytle’s riderless horse gallop past him, and then the
whole line give way. He made haste to
grab another mount, then made his way to the ridge to help Sheridan rally what
troops they could. When he had gathered
about a hundred men, Sheridan complimented him on the job he was doing and
ordered him to collar and attempt to rally every straggler. As Sheridan galloped away, he was heard
exhorting the men. “Oh my men. Won’t you make a stand here!” (The regimental history of the 36th
was written by a chaplain. I suspect
Phil Sheridan’s language was more profane and less flowery than that
quoted).
Eventually
Sheridan had rallied the remnants of the defeated Union army on a high ridge
near a crossroad. There they held the
road and allowed their ambulances and wounded men that had been brought away
from the battlefield to continue on to Chattanooga. From there they followed the ridge and
eventually joined General Thomas and his men, where they formed a formidable
enough defense to blunt the last of the Rebel assaults and save what was left
of General Rosecrans’ army. Captain John
Turnbull, by helping to rally a couple hundred men, proved in no small measure
to be instrumental in making the stand that saved the army. The 36th had suffered heavy losses
during the battle though. Company C. was
no exception, losing 17 men, including 9 taken prisoner by the enemy.
After the Battle
of Chickamauga, Captain Turnbull, with his command, fell back to Rossville and
then into Chattanooga, it being his duty to withdraw the last of the
pickets. He later averred that he was
the last man to leave Rossville. He
remained in Chattanooga until his regiment was recalled to the field below
Missionary Ridge. On November 26th,
1863, the Battle of Missionary Ridge took place. The 36th was part of the charge
that was ordered in the hope of relieving the center of the line in order to take
some of the pressure off General Sherman’s troops. The orders were issued to take the rifle pits
at the foot of the ridge, by, if possible, the skirmish line. John Turnbull was directed by his Colonel to
be ready at the firing of a signal and to communicate that information to the
picket line.
“I shall never forget,” he said, “the change of countenance exhibited by
those men as they received the order and nerved themselves for the
conflict. They seemed to me like men who
understood fully what was required of them, and that nothing but death would
hinder them from carrying out the order.”
It was, indeed, a
daunting task. They would be charging
across a plain a half mile wide with 60 guns raining artillery shells upon
them. Then, if they were bold and
fortunate enough to drive the Confederate defenders out of the rifle pits,
where would they be? At the foot of a
hill some 400 feet high with the defenders at the top hurling a barrage of shot and shell
upon them.
When the signal
was fired, the men moved forward. It was
a wonderful sight; a charge near two miles long that was watched with a mixture
of awe, admiration and concern, not only by the Union commanders, but by the
Confederate troops and command dug in at the top of the ridge.
After the rifle
pits were successfully carried it became evident that something more must be
done. With such a storm of metal falling
thickly upon them, it was obvious that they couldn’t hold their present
position. They had to either advance or
retreat. No instructions from their
commanders were forthcoming, so almost as one mind the officers and the men in
the rifle pits took it upon themselves to do the impossible. They began to clamber up the 400 foot ridge.
Says Turnbull, “The officers of the field and line, and the
boys, they were the generals ordering the advance. In other words, I think it was a necessity
understood alike by officers and men, and acted on at once. The movement along the line was almost
simultaneous, yet I believe that our brigade was the first to start, and it was
done without any particular order as to lines or military movement. The crest of the ridge was now the objective
point, and they started for it.”
Turnbull’s
account continues, “I had come forward
with the skirmish line, instead of returning and taking my place with the
brigade staff. I now joined Colonel
Sherman, ready for further duty, and after accompanying him partway up the
ridge, was ordered back by him to the first line of works to urge forward my
troops that might be there, to assist in the grand struggle to the top of the
ridge. I did so, and on reaching the
rifle pit, found it to be full of troops, protecting themselves from enemy fire
the best they could. Just at that time
two staff officers rode up and asked for Colonel Sherman. I pointed to where he was, and told him that
he was leading his command up the ridge.
One of them told me that he belonged to General Granger’s staff; that he
was sent to say that the movement beyond the front line of works was contrary
to orders, and asked me to communicate this to Col. Sherman. I declined to receive a verbal order from
him, saying that he must communicate with the Brigade Commander himself, as I
was now under orders from my commander that looked as though we intended to see
the top of the ridge. I then began in
good earnest the task of urging forward laggards (and I will say right here
that I did not find a 36th man among them). On looking up the ridge I became
alarmed. The column had assumed a
pyramidal or sugar loaf form. The
brigade flags, I believe the colors of every regiment in the brigade, were
grouped together and were in ADVANCE of the lines. I urged the men forward to help place the
colors on the ridge, and was meeting with only tolerable success, when General
Sheridan, who had taken in the situation, dashed forward on his black charger
to the foot of the ridge, dismounted, threw his cape to his orderly, and
running forward among us, shouted “Boys, We’re going to take the ridge. Forward and help your comrades!” That settled the question, and there was no
soldier who was not wounded or in some way disabled, that did not make every
effort to be among the first to reach the top of the ridge.”
The defenders
couldn’t depress their artillery enough to use it against the Yankees climbing
the ridge. On they came, as irreversible
a wave of assault as the Rebs had been at Chickamauga. The Rebs , in desperation, even tried rolling
stones down upon them, but as the bluecoats began to clamber to the top of the
ridge they began to turn and run. The
finest battery of guns in the Southern Army, including the Lady Buckner and the
Lady Breckinridge, were captured, quickly turned and fired upon the retreating
Confederates. Braxton Bragg, the Rebel
commander, barely escaped capture as the men stormed his headquarters.
The victorious
bluecoats were wild with jubilation.
Soon General Sheridan appeared, mounted on his black horse. The boys gathered round him and greeted him
with “How do you like this, General?”
“Hooray for Sheridan!” A few minutes
later the prickly old martinet of a Corps Commander, General Gordon Granger,
reached the top of the ridge. A couple
of the more exuberant boys ran up to him and yelled “What do you think of this,
General?” “I think you disobeyed orders,
you damned rascals,” was his churlish reply.
Any wonder why Sheridan was loved by his men, and Granger despised?
Captain John
Turnbull shared his recollections from his ascent of the ridge. “The
timber on the side of the ridge had been cut down and formed a kind of
abattis. Some of the Rebels, on
retreating, stopped about two-thirds of the way up the ridge, and determined to
sell their lives as dearly as possible.
The 36th color guard lay down to rest behind a log, having
gotten too far ahead of the troops. On
commencing to rise, the Sergeant in charge saw a man with a musket leveled on
them only a short distance away. “Lie
down,” he whispered sharply to the boys.
They did so, and he coolly laid his musket over the log in front of
him. “Now,” he said. “Show him your knapsack.” The color-bearer, who had a full one on his
back, rose carefully on all fours, exposing only his knapsack. The Sergeant’s gun went off. “Lie down again,” he ordered. He reloaded.
“Do that again,” the Sergeant said.
The color-bearer did so, and the Sergeant’s gun went off again. “Now,” he said. “We can go.”
One of the boys fished out a Mississippi Captain among the logs. He had his bayonet fixed and was calling upon
the Captain to surrender. The Captain
was jumping first one way and then another, saying “call an officer.” The soldier responded, “I’m officer enough
for you; surrender or I will put the bayonet through you.” I was passing along and I said that I would
receive his sword. He very quickly gave
it to me, remarking that we were certainly very rough on prisoners. I answered that the soldier ought to have put the bayonet through him. “Why Sir,” said he. “What do you mean? I have had prisoners in my charge and never
treated them in that way.” “Then,” said
I, “take off that overcoat you have stripped from one of our shivering, wounded
comrades at Chickamauga.” The poor
fellow threw it off quickly, saying that we attacked them so suddenly that he
forgot to take it off. I made him take
the coat with him to the rear, and suggested that he trade it for a blanket.”
Despite the daring assault under heavy
fire that ended with victory on Missionary Ridge, the 36th got off
relatively lightly. Company C. only
suffered 3 dead and 5 wounded. In the
aftermath of the battle the boys claimed that the 36th was the first
regiment to get their flag to the top of the ridge. It was an honor that other regiments hotly
claimed as well. To grant it to one
regiment hardly detracts from the heroism of all the brave Yankees who ascended
that formidable obstacle.
Two days after
the battle, the regiment was ordered to Knoxville as part of the command sent
to relieve General Burnside. By the time
they arrived on December 6th, Longstreet and the Confederate force
had withdrawn. They then were sent to
Blaine’s Cross Roads, where the members of the regiment were veteranized and
shipped to Chattanooga, then sent home for well-earned furloughs. After the men returned from their respite in
Illinois with their families, they went to camp in Cleveland, Tennessee briefly
before they were shipped out on May 3rd, 1864 to accompany General
William Tecumseh Sherman’s Atlanta Campaign.
Captain Turnbull saw action at Rocky Face Ridge, and then at Reseca,
where Company C. saw four more of their comrades wounded. The dance of maneuver between wily old Joe
Johnston’s army and resolute old “Cump” Sherman moved next to Adairsville. An erroneous assumption by Union command
ordered the 36th forward as a skirmish line in what the brass
thought would be a rear-guard action.
Instead, it was discovered that they were facing an entire division of
infantry, as well as cavalry and artillery.
Captain Turnbull, still serving on the brigade staff, left a vivid
account of that day’s fighting as well.
“General O.O.Howard, our Corps Commander,
was in constant communication with the front, and told us that his orders were
to reach Adairsville that day, and he wanted us to do it. Early in the afternoon, our boys came in
sight of a rebel wagon train and were in high glee, passing it closely, when
all at once, on passing through a belt of woods, they came upon a heavy line of
infantry, protected by good, substantial earthworks, with at least one battery
in prominent position. The enemy’s line
covered more than our front and seemed strong at all points. They opened a serious fire on our thin line,
and our men had to lie down and protect themselves as best they could; many
being shot while lying down, on parts of the line that were most exposed. This was particularly true of part of the 24th
Wisconsin line. After seeing and
appreciating the situation, I reported to the Brigade Commander, Col. Frank T.
Sherman, and asked leave to withdraw portions of the line that were most
exposed to the enemy’s merciless fire, to a less exposed position. Col. Sherman said “Let us see General
Howard.” He was near and we went over to
him and reported. The General seemed
nervous and irritable and showed plainly that he did not believe the
report. He replied by saying “Your
Brigade must move forward. We are to go
on to Adairsville tonight. If you do not
do it, I will move my troops by the flank right through your lines.” He then asked “What force do you think you
have in your front.” I replied, “At
least a division of infantry and several thousand cavalry.” The General replied sharply, “That is not
true. I have information through my scouts
every few minutes and you have only part of a brigade of mounted cavalry in
your front. Your brigade must move
forward.” Stung to the quick by this
charge of cowardice on my part, I replied by saying that if the general would
accompany me or send a staff officer to the front with me, I would very soon
convince him that the report was correct.
He did not see it proper to comply with my request, which was probably
just as well, for I was in the humor to have taken him where it was HOT. I went forward again and inspected the lines,
finding no change except that the ranks of our boys were being thinned without
their having any opportunity to retaliate.
Hurt by the thought that the Commanding General would not give them
proper support, I again appealed to Colonel Sherman to be allowed to retire the
line in the more exposed parts, but he thought that under the circumstances
that it would not do. I then returned to
the lines and longed for night to come to stop the carnage.”
Night came, and during that lull in
the action reinforcements were brought up, and eventually the Rebels fell back
and Howard’s men moved into Adairsville, but it had been a sharp fight;
needless casualties were incurred because of General Howard’s impatience to
move forward and his unwillingness to trust the judgment of some of his
subordinates.
Eventually, if a
soldier keeps putting himself in harm’s way, he’s going to take a bullet. At Dallas and New Hope Church, both
destinations putting them closer to Atlanta, the regiment saw some heavy fighting. Captain Turnbull’s account begins with the
men hearing firing ahead of them; they soon realized that General Joseph Hooker
and his men were tangling with the enemy.
The division that the 36th was in was ordered forward to support
him. The men arrived and formed in line
of battle until dark, when firing ceased.
Given the brigade’s close proximity to the enemy, Captain Turnbull
assisted in placement of the troops and then returned to the Brigade
Headquarters, where he was still serving in a staff officer’s capacity. After conferring with Generals Wagner and
Kimball, Turnbull laid down in the rain and tried to sleep. Given the pelting rain and the sodden ground,
he met with little success, and he probably was relieved when he was roused to
go out and look at the deployment of the troops again. Lieutenant Jackson of the 88th
Illinois, another staff officer, volunteered to accompany him. Let Captain John Turnbull’s own words tell
the rest of the story…
We went to the right of our picket line and
asked one of the men standing picket what there was on our front. He replied, “Rebels.” I said, “Are you sure they are Rebels? They might be our own men.” His answer was, “No, I can hear them throwing
up works quietly, and we will find out who is there as soon as it is
daylight.” Just at this juncture a
soldier came up from the rear, who, after being halted by the picket, was asked
what he wanted. “I want to go to my
regiment,” was the reply. “Where is your
regiment?” “In front.” He was
asked what regiment, brigade and division he belonged to, and gave correctly,
as we had been informed, the troops we had relieved. I said to him, “My good fellow, you have lost
your bearings. You have lain down and
had a sleep, and while you were sleeping your regiment has moved to the
rear.” Somewhat exasperated with going
to the rear to take a nap, he swore that he “knew what he was doing” and wanted
to pass through to his regiment. I then
said to the picket, “Let him pass through.”
As soon as he had passed, Jackson said, “Turnbull, that man knows what
he is about. Let us go out with
him. You know our orders.” I replied, “I know the orders of the General,
and I also know that there are Rebels in our front, but as you have asked to accompany
me to the front, I can do no less than comply with the request.”
We started, and with my usual caution I
requested Jackson to keep a few paces to my left while we moved forward
quietly, keeping our eyes on our comrade in search of his regiment. Presently I saw him stop. I did so, and signaled Jackson. On looking past our stranger I could see
another man a few steps to his right and front.
I could also see some bags or works thrown up, and imagined I ought to
be able to tell which side of those works the man was standing on. The clouds had broken up somewhat, and the
moon shone faintly through the tree tops.
In my anxiety to trace the outline of the object, I unconsciously
stepped out of the shadow of the tree by which I had been standing, and very
soon saw the gleam of a musket as the soldier was bringing it to aim, followed
quickly by a flash---and I was wounded.
My friend, who was in search of his regiment, convinced that it was not
THERE, made good time to the rear.
Jackson, brave and fearless to a fault, had, unnoticed by me, slipped
over to my side, and simultaneous with the report of the Rebel musket,
exclaimed, “My God, Turnbull, I am wounded,” and he too wisely started for the
rear. Seeing at once the situation in
which I was placed, I unhooked my sabre (a cavalry one) from the belt, which
served me as a cane and enabled me to stand, took a look at the person that had
shot me, grasped my revolver, and then concluded as I was BETWEEN the picket
lines and would certainly draw the fire from our own men as well as the foe,
that “discretion was the better half of valor,” quietly returned it to the
holster and hobbled back to our lines.
On reaching our picket line Jackson was very surprised to find me
wounded as he had not suspected it when he left me.”
Jackson and Turnbull reached the
brigade headquarters and assured General
Kimball that they could state positively that there were Rebel troops near
their front, as they were both wounded by them.
After being examined by the regimental surgeon, both Jackson and
Turnbull were placed on the same horse and escorted to Division Headquarters by
General Kimball. General Newton, the
acting Division Commander, said that he would not assume the responsibility of
adjusting the battle lines to meet the enemy threat. Disheartened that their report was being
ignored and by this time suffering greatly from their wounds, they started to
the rear to look for a place to lie down.
They ran into the Division Commander, O.O.Howard, who recognized Turnbull
and Jackson. Upon hearing their report,
and remembering what happened the previous time when he ignored Turnbull’s
intelligence, he put his spurs to his horse and moved swiftly to the front to
address the matter himself. Meanwhile,
Jackson and Turnbull had finally found a refuge. Upon examination their wounds were discovered
to have been made by the contents of an old U.S Army cartridge, a round ball
and three buckshots; one buckshot having hit the finger on Jackson’s right
hand, another penetrating his groin, and the third passing almost through
Turnbull’s left knee—the large ball passing between the two men, clipping
Captain John’s clothing in the front and jackson’s in the rear.
Lying in their
shelter they took stock of their situation.
There was no hospital near them.
Their comrades were on the march and they were situated 20 miles from
the nearest railroad. Jackson’s wound in
the groin caused great concern, and Turnbull had pretty much resigned himself
to the fact after examining his wound, that his leg would have to be
amputated. What kept the two men from
becoming despondent were the kindnesses shown to them by their comrades as they
marched passed. They never wanted for
fresh water, and their Commissary Sergeant walked a mile to get them a canteen
of something that he thought the men might like better. Whiskey.
Despite the regard shown them by the troopers that passed them, they
spent a tolerable but uncomfortable night before an ambulance was sent for them
in the morning. They were carefully
tended to when they arrived at the Field Hospital. Jackson got a “twenty days home” furlough to
recover, and Captain John Turnbull’s war was over. Yes, they had to take off his leg. The date was May 26th, 1864.
After twelve days
of recuperation, he was removed to the hospital at Ackworth. While he was there he heard of the assault on
Kennesaw Mountain and of the Union repulse that was accompanied with heavy
casualties. While at Ackworth John’s
father arrived and took him home. In
October, having learned to use his crutches well enough to get around halfway
decently, John Turnbull resolved to see his old comrades again. He travelled to the front, meeting up with
and accompanying his regiment into Atlanta.
There he tendered his resignation and was mustered out of the service on
November 4th.
Shortly after
John Turnbull’s return to Monmouth he was appointed to the position as
Postmaster of Warren County, no doubt in recognition of his service during the
war and as a faithful member of the Republican party, the party in power. Before the work made it through the proper
channels to be signed by President Lincoln, the Great Emancipator was
assassinated. Thus his commission was
signed by President Andrew Johnson. In
1866 President Johnson attempted to remove him from the position for “offensive
partisanship, “ but during the impeachment trial of the President, the Senate
refused to approve the appointment of Dr. B. A. Griffith, the man chosen by
President Johnson to replace Turnbull, and re-instated John M. Turnbull as
Postmaster. He would hold the position
until the election of Grover Cleveland in 1887.
During his tenure
as Postmaster there was some controversy as to where the post office would be
situated. According to the January 4th
Monmouth Review, Abner Clark and
Chauncey Harding had a vested interest as to where the Post Office would be
situated. Chauncey had offered the land
for a nominal three or four hundred dollars a year in rent. The paper stated the $25,000 would be
allocated to erect a fireproof office, and insinuated that since Congressman A.
C. Harding would get the bill through to allocated these funds, and since he
and Chauncey would control the funds, that of course money would stick to the
hands of the Hardings. The article went
on to cast aspersions upon Congressman Harding’s character, and insinuated that
John M. Turnbull was removed as Postmaster because he stood in the way of these
manipulations.
In 1867 John
Turnbull ran for Mayor of Monmouth, going up against George Babcock. Some of the issues that voters were concerned
about were placement of sidewalks in town and collection of delinquent sidewalk
taxes, and Negro suffrage. Turnbull won
the mayoral race with 379 votes to
Babcock’s 280.
Captain Turnbull
resigned his mayoral post the next day.
What exactly prompted this has been the subject of some debate. Lisa Adams addresses this question in a paper
written for William Urban’s historiography class in Monmouth College. She comes to the conclusion that President
Johnson informed Turnbull that he could not simultaneously hold both the
positions of Postmaster and Mayor. He
chose to remain in the more secure post as Postmaster rather than serve in the
2 year elected office of Mayor.
In 1887 President Cleveland removed the
Republican Turnbull to give the Postmaster’s position to a deserving
Democrat. The fact that he’d lost a leg
in the service of his country bore less weight to those who made the decision
than callous political expediency.
Turnbull then engaged in real estate and
insurance business and gave attention to pension claims as well. In 1888 he served as a delegate from Monmouth
to the Republican Convention in Chicago.
In 1901 during a Republican
administration he was appointed as “registrar in the grain office of the
railroad and warehouse commission by Governor Fifer. He also held a variety of other positions
toward the end of his life, including police magistrate, town clerk and Justice
of the Peace. His name had been put
forward a number of times as a Republican candidate for Congress, but he never
could be induced to launch an active campaign for the position.
John M. Turnbull
lost his wife Anna in 1888. In 1892 he
married Miss Hattie A. Edwards. She bore
him a son, John M. Turnbull Jr. That
same year he witnessed the marriage of his daughter Callie, who chose to be
married at his home. In 1908 he is
listed as an attendee of the reunion of the survivors of the 36th
Illinois. In the program he is listed as
“Major” John M. Turnbull.
The Civil War
veteran and active citizen enjoyed over 20 years with his second wife until his
demise at the age of 79 on May 25th, 1913. For those of you interested in finding the
gravesite of this Civil War patriot, he’s buried in the Glendale section of the
city’s Monmouth Cemetery. He is buried
near the bottom of the hill that has the mausoleum situated upon its crest. As you stand in front of his modest monument,
take a moment to reflect upon the heroism that he witnessed, the battles that
he experienced and how much national and local history that he played a role in. In the “Soldier’s and Patriot’s Biographical
Album of Warren County, Illinois” he is awarded the glowing tribute that “there was no soldier who took part in
the late war who returned for a better record for devotion to the cause and
gallant conduct in the field of battle.”
Bibliography
“History of the 36th Regiment, Illinois
Volunteers” by L. G. Bennett and William M. Haigh. An invaluable source of anecdotes. Most of the 1st person accounts
that I used of John Turnbull’s came from this volume. My thanks to the Glen Ellyn Library, who
supplied it via inter-library loan, after some churlish library employee in
Geneseo refused interlibrary access to their copy.
“Rootsweb World Connect Project” Pat Thomas Gedcom… John M.
Turnbull.
“William Haines Lytle” Wikipedia entry.
“Captain” John M. Turnbull, 1867- Shortest Mayorship Ever in
Monmouth” Lisa Adams
“Historical and Biographical Record of Monmouth and Warren
County, Illinois, 1927
“Generals in Blue “Ezra Warner
“Soldiers and Patriots Biographical Album of Warren County,
Illinois, 1886
“David and Isabella Elder and Those Who Came After Them”
“36th Regiment Illinois Volunteers Reunion”
My thanks to John D. Turnbull who took time from his busy
schedule to discuss his family history with me.
Thanks to the information he provided I was able to find Captain
Turnbull’s gravesite.
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