Friday, July 25, 2014

He Was Used as a Human Shield



Dr. John Hood and the Legacy he left in Galesburg    

     It’s funny sometimes how leads to articles drop in one’s lap.  My interest in Dr. John Hood was piqued thanks to a recent article in the Galesburg Register-Mail about the gorgeous home that is located on 545 North Prairie Street.  Tom Wilson mentioned in the article that Dr. Hood was a veteran of the Civil War, had been incarcerated in Libby Prison, and jumped off a train in an attempt to reach the Union lines.  This roused my curiosity.  I wanted to learn more about Dr. Hood and his Civil War experiences.

     John Hood was born in Washington County, Illinois on November 17th, 1838.  His father was Archibald Hood, a native of South, Carolina, one of the many of Scotch Irish descent who settled in the upper Carolina region.  These were independent folk, not the type to be trifled with as Patrick Ferguson and the Tories he led found to their dismay at their disastrous defeat at King’s Mountain during the American Revolution.  John’s father travelled to Illinois at about the age of 30, lured as were so many others by the stories of the cheap and fertile farmland available there, eventually settling in Sparta, Illinois.

       From his boyhood young John was earmarked by his father for the ministry, but the young man balked at his father’s plans for his life.  He went to the University of Indiana with the goal of pursuing a career in law and politics instead.  He graduated in 1862 and immediately enlisted in the Union army as a Lieutenant in Company F of the 80th Illinois Infantry, being mustered in at Centralia, Illinois. He participated in the bloody battle of Perryville, in Kentucky, where both the division and brigade commanders were killed, as well as a number of line officers.   On the death of Capt. Jones, John Hood was promoted to that rank to take his place, effective April 30th, 1863. 

     In March of 1863, Union General William S. Rosecrans came up with a plan for a mounted brigade of men to make a raid across northern Alabama into northwest Georgia.  The object of the raid would be to strike the Western & Atlantic Railroad, an important Confederate supply artery.  The 80th Illinois, John Hood’s regiment, was among the 1700 troops chosen to be part of this expedition that was to be under the command of Colonel Abel Streight.    Remember this number, 1700, and contrast it with the number of men that Nathan Bedford Forrest would later bring against them.

     Lacking enough adequate horses for the planned foray into Alabama, some lackwit quartermaster came up with the idea to use mules for transportation.  Sure, they could be readily procured from rural yet shrewd Tennessee farmers, but a mule is a temperamental creature, and to make things worse, many of those bought or appropriated for the mission were unbroken, old, or incapable of bearing the burden of a rider for great distances.  The lack of adequate mounts had a negative effect on Union morale, as no doubt did the ridicule of the southern farmers that the men had to endure, or the insults of their opponents, who referred to Streight’s men as “the Jackass Brigade.”

     Once underway, the expedition encountered more problems.  The night that the expedition embarked, a stampede scattered 400 of the brigade’s mules into the surrounding countryside, causing a delay as Streight had to halt his command to wait for replacement mules.  Once underway, a heavy thunderstorm made the muddy Alabama roads virtually impassible, forcing another delay.  During this halt Colonel Streight met with General Grenville Dodge, who assured Streight that he  had driven Confederate General Nathan Bedford Forrest’s command to the north, opening up a way for Streight’s “Jackass Brigade” to continue their raid unmolested.

     General Dodge was mistaken.  Forrest was well aware of the whereabouts of Streight’s men and easily maneuvering his men past General Dodge’s force, he relentlessly drove his command to intercept them.  Sniping at their flanks and rear, Forrest’s expert use of his command dogged Streight to the point where he dared not stop to rest his weary men and mules.  Giving Forrest the slip was impossible.  The “Wizard of the Saddle’s” scouts later boasted that they could hear the constant braying of Streight’s mules from 2 miles away.

     Streight had to deal with unfriendly locals as well.  At one crucial point during his raid, a 16 year old girl, Emma Sansom,  guided Forrest and his men to a ford which allowed them to gain a march on the beleaguered Federals.  At another point the residents of Rome, Georgia repelled the raiders attempt to capture a bridge crucial to their escape hopes, after ferryman John Wisdom, enraged at the wanton destruction of his ferry, the source of his livelihood, by the Union raiders, raced 67 miles to warn the Georgia residents of the approaching Union troops.  His warning gave them time to gather and initiate the defense that held the bridge.  By the time they reached Cedar Bluff many of Streight’s men were on foot, their exhausted mules having given out.  To make matters worse, much of their ammunition had gotten wet and was useless.  Forrest and his 500 men (yes, only 500) took up positions surrounding Streight’s men, and ordered the Union commander to surrender.  During negotiations Forrest used every trick he could come up with to convince the Union commander that he was outnumbered.  Ruses included having his artillery hauled round the Union position in circles, using a ridge and hills in order to mask their movement to delude Streight into believing that they were many different units.  The Union commander finally agreed to surrender, convinced by the visual ruse that Forrest had orchestrated that he faced a numerically superior foe.

     When Forrest’s small division came out after the surrender was negotiated, Streight was incensed at the trick that had been played upon him.  He angrily demanded that his men be allowed to renege on the agreement so that they could prove their mettle in a fair fight.  Needless to say, Forrest refused the request.  Already becoming almost a mythic figure as a commander, the man who would eventually have 30 horses shot out from under him, and who would kill the same number of men in one to one combat; his outwitting of Colonel Streight only added to his rapidly growing legend.

     Defeat proved especially bitter for the soldiers of the 1st Alabama, men who had risked their families and homes; everything they held dear basically, because they elected to defend the Union despite their State’s decision to secede.  Forrest soon paroled the privates and the non-commissioned officers, not having the resources to feed them or the men to guard them, but the officers, well-trained leaders, one hundred and three in number, which included Captain John Hood, were reasoned to be too valuable to the Union cause to parole.  They were to be held as prisoners until such a time when the Confederate leaders hoped that they could be exchanged for badly needed prisoners to rebuild the thinning rebel ranks.  Young John Hood’s prison experiences and his postwar life will encompass the other two thirds of this article.

     After being captured with Abel Streight’s command, John Hood and the 102 officers that the rebels opted not to parole were taken to the infamous Libby Prison, an old tobacco barn that had been converted to a holding pen for captured Union officers.  He spent nearly a year there.  This structure was three stories high, with the second and third stories designated as inmate holding areas.  The basement once boasted a kitchen at its eastern end which at one time early in the prison’s history was used by the inmates, but an infestation of rats and the tendency of the basement to be subject to flooding led to the abandonment of that section of the warehouse/prison.  The abandoned area became known as “rat hell.”  With time to reflect upon his life, his situation and the religious upbringing that he had, he found himself pondering his spiritual welfare.  Later in his life Hood said that while enduring his miserable existence in Libby Prison he first received the call to enter the ministry.

    A group of Union officers discovered that by removing a stove and chipping their way into an adjoining chimney, that they could access “rat hell,” the floor of which was covered with two feet of straw.  This straw was a godsend for both covering earth that had been dug out as the men began to laboriously tunnel toward freedom.  It also covered the mouth of the tunnel.  The hundreds of rats that made this area their home were a constant nuisance, finding their way into the tunnel, crawling over the men digging in the tunnels and basically displaying no fear of the men who had invaded their sanctuary.  The only advantage to the soldiers was that the presence of the horde of filthy rodents that had taken residence there discouraged searches through that area.  The guards tended to shun it.  After 17 days of digging by three different shifts of men, they finally succeeded in tunneling through to a 50 foot vacant lot near the prison, emerging beneath a tobacco shed.

     109 Men used that tunnel to make an escape from Libby Prison.  John Hood was not one of them.  The escape of the Yankee prisoners though impacted his situation in that moves were made to address the overcrowding of the prison and to make it more secure.  Captain Hood was one of the officers who was removed and sent further south.

     Macon, Georgia became his next place of confinement, but events in Charleston, South Carolina were stirring that would impact Captain Hood’s life.  Confederate Major General Samuel Jones had been assigned to command of the city.  Despite Mexican War experience, service at the Rebel victory at First Manassas, and the responsibility of commanding a brigade in both Florida and Virginia, Jones had earned a reputation for being difficult to work with.  He questioned his superiors, at times disregarding their order, and was loathe to relinquish troops that he had command of when ordered to send them to areas where they were desperately needed.  After arguing with General Robert E. Lee about such issues, he was relieved of his Virginia command and sent to Charleston.

     By the time General Jones arrived at his new command, the city had suffered eight months of intermittent bombardment.  The streets were pockmarked with shell craters and many of the buildings had sustained serious damage.  Jones wanted the shelling to cease, and finally decided to take a drastic measure to do so.  On June 1st, 1864, he requested permission from General Braxton Bragg, Jefferson Davis’ military advisor by this time, to have 50 Federal prisoners sent to him to be “confined in parts of the city still occupied by civilians, but under the enemy’s fire.”  General Jones’ request was approved, and orders were issued to pull that number of prisoners from Camp Oglethorpe in Macon, to bring them to Charleston.  They arrived on June 12th.

     The Charleston Mercury took a great deal of pleasure in reporting the plight of the unlucky 50 high ranking Yankees, besides Captain Hood, a collection of officers that included 5 brigadier generals.  “These prisoners, we understand, will be furnished with comfortable quarters in that portion of the city most exposed to enemy fire.  The commanding officer on Morris Island will be duly notified of the fact of their presence in the shelled district, and if his batteries still continue at their wanton and barbarous work, it will be at the peril of the captive officers.”

      General Jones officially notified General Foster, the commander of the Union force that was besieging the city, of his actions.  Foster replied angrily that Charleston was a legitimate target given that it had munitions factories and wharves to unload supplies that could make it into the harbor past the Union blockade.  General Foster said that ‘to destroy these means of continuing the war is therefore our object and duty.  You seek to defeat this effort, not by honorable means, but by placing unarmed and helpless men under our fire.”

     This war of words escalated with Jones responding that “I cannot but regard the desultory firing on this city, which you dignify by the name ‘Bombardment’, from its commencement to this hour, as anti-Christian, inhuman, and utterly indefensible by any law, human or divine.”  Clearly Jones had his dander up, and he wasn’t about to back down or show any sympathy to the Union officers that he was callously exposing to danger.

     General Foster responded by bringing 50 Rebel prisoners to a place of incarceration on Morris Island, just in front of the Federal batteries, placing an equal number of the enemy in harm’s way.  Federal officials were made aware of the stalemate, and an understanding had just about been reached to exchange both sets of prisoners to eliminate the impasse, when Sherman’s thrust in Georgia threatened the Infamous prison camp at Andersonville and authorities there sent hundreds of prisoners to Charleston for safekeeping.  This despite General Samuel Jones’ objection that it was both "inconvenient and unsafe.”

     The Union commander became upset and angry when he heard of the new influx of prisoners into the city, believing that they were sent there to serve as more human shields.  A stockade was built in front of Battery Wagner, and 600 Confederate officers were shipped in from Fort Delaware.  In this high stakes game using human lives as chips, now each side had put 600 officers in the line of fire.

     As the number of inmates grew, conditions in the camp that held the Union prisoners deteriorated.  Soon 600 officers were sharing space with 300 enlisted men, both black and white, as well as local criminals and deserters from both sides.  Most of them were jammed into A-frame tents set up in the courtyard.  An inmate described the yard as “a dirty little place unfit for human beings to live in.”  Another Federal officer, Louis Fortescue, wrote home to describe the “intolerable heat” that the prisoners had to endure in a courtyard that did not have a single shade tree in it.  Life here was every bit as debilitating as the conditions that the men had to endure in Libby Prison, and to add to the stifling heat and humidity of summer, yellow fever introduced itself into the camp and soon began to take a frightening toll of the weak and malnourished prisoners.

     General Jones, the Confederate commander, reacted to the outbreak of the disease by issuing orders to his Provost Marshall to remove as many of the sick and wounded prisoners as possible who were able to travel and have them shipped back to other prison camps.   One of these gentleman was Captain Hood, who was being sent to Columbia, South Carolina.  While being shipped via train to their destination, Hood and Lieutenant Goode, an Indiana native, jumped from the moving train, using the darkness of night to cloak their departure.  The plunge left them badly bruised and hurt, but despite their suffering, they had to immediately get up and hobble toward the shelter of the woods.  Like the escaped slaves who would hide during the day and travel at night in their trek north toward freedom, Hood and Goode entered into the same routine; they learned to follow the North Star as well, the beacon of freedom.  They had an arduous journey of over 400 miles ahead of them if they were going to reach the Union lines in East Tennessee and freedom.

     In his “Lecture on Prison Life,” a 174 page manuscript which is in the possession of Duke University in their Rubenstein Library Collection, Dr. Hood speaks with gratitude of the kindnesses shown to him by blacks along their route, one of whom risked his own life in order to provide the two escapees with gray uniforms to replace their Union blue.  He also talks of the cruelties that their Rebel captors inflicted upon them during their time in prison, as well as the meager rations and the filth of the surroundings that they were forced to exist in.  Goode and Hood persevered, travelling through South Carolina and Georgia in the hope of reaching the Union line in East Tennessee.  Within 20 miles of the Atlanta and Chattanooga railroad, which was in Union hands, they were accosted by bushwackers and eventually identified as escaped prisoners.  It had to be frustrating and terribly disheartening to have gotten so close to freedom only to be recaptured and sent back into captivity.

     Captain John Hood was sent first to a camp near Athens, Georgia.  Later he was moved again.  He remained a prisoner until being paroled as part of a prisoner exchange that took him out of confinement in Goldsboro, North Carolina.  He returned to Company F of the 80th Illinois infantry on October 20th, 1864.  He remained with them until the end of the war, receiving an honorable discharge on May 15th, 1865.  In November of the same year he entered a Reformed Presbyterian theological seminary in Allegheny City, Pennsylvania.  The following year he became Superintendent of Public Schools of Sparta, Illinois.  He received his license to preach in 1869 and completed his theological studies in 1870.  By this time, a Doctor of Divinity, “Doctor” Hood married Miss Mary Gault of Randolph County, Illinois.  Their union eventually brought them a daughter.  From 1870 to 1878 he served as the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Sparta, leaving there on June 30th, 1878 to become the spiritual leader of the Second Presbyterian Church of Cedar Rapids, Iowa.  He remained there until 1889 when he assumed the leadership of the Presbyterian Church of Galesburg, Illinois. 

     Dr. John Hood, during his time in Galesburg, was instrumental in erecting two imposing edifices that still remain to testify to his importance to the community.  The first, the home he had built on 545 North Prairie Street, is a multi-story home, a remarkable example of the Queen Anne style of architecture, boasting a series of arches and curves.  The structure is especially noted for the curved front porch that protrudes to the south.  It was designed by the local architects Charles Gottschalk and J. Grant Beedle.  According to an article about the home written by Tom Wilson, the leaded windows of the home are among the prettiest in the city.   Dr. Hood lived here until he retired from the ministry in 1897.

     During Dr. Hood’s eight year tenure as the spiritual leader of the Presbyterian Church in Galesburg, he was responsible for raising the funding and enthusiasm for building a new sanctuary of worship.  At the cost of $70,000, an imposing stone edifice, still one of the most striking and visually attractive buildings in Galesburg, was erected on the corner of North Prairie and East Ferris Streets.  Yes, Dr. Hood has left a legacy in the city that does credit to his memory.

      Dr. Hood was in demand as a lecturer and patriotic speaker as well.  More on this will be addressed in the last paragraph of this article.  His learning and experiences generally earned him flattering reviews, although one commentator notes that “Hood’s voice was a high-pitched, irritating disappointment, lacking resonance.”  This Civil War officer, prisoner of war, respected lecturer and spiritual advisor to Presbyterian communities of worship died while in Austin, Texas on January 29th, 1905.  His body was returned to Cedar Rapids, Iowa to be interred next to his wife, Mary, who had died and was buried there in 1886.  A white obelisk marks their burial site, next to which is a simple Grand Army of the Republic stone that commemorates his Civil War service, referring to him as “Lieutenant” John Hood.

      Dr. Hood’s papers are in the possession of Duke University, who purchased them in an on-line auction hosted by Dorothy Sloan Books. Looking at the contents of the lot, it is to be greatly regretted that these papers couldn’t have been acquired by a Knox County library or college.  The documents had at some point endured some smoke and fire damage, but the contents are still readable and hopefully someday will be on-line for everyone to access.  Meanwhile, an aspiring scholar looking for a graduate treatise could do much worse than writing a dissertation about Dr. Hood’s life and Civil War experiences.  The centerpiece of the collection is his 174 page “Lecture on Prison Life,” but it also contains a two and a half page autobiography, correspondence and military papers including pension applications, correspondence from the Galesburg Presbyterian church and the Sparta Church calling upon him to become their minister, newspaper clippings about the lecture on prison life that he had delivered at Greene’s Opera House in Rapid City, Iowa, memorial addresses that he had delivered at Moscow, Illinois, Aledo, Illinois and a speech that he delivered in honor of John A. Logan.  Sloan Books touts Hood’s lecture on prison life as “a major, unpublished Civil War POW narrative.” 

    Dr. John Hood was one of the lucky ones, a man who survived the debilitating conditions of being incarcerated in Rebel prisons.  He went on, like so many veterans did after this and future wars, to set an educational goal, pursue it, and use his learning to benefit the communities that he served in.  Perhaps you’ll think of him next time you stroll or drive past the beautiful church structure that he helped make possible. 

                                        Bibliography

Immortal 600;  Prisoners under Fire at Charleston Harbor During the American Civil War  “America’s Civil War Magazine” June,2006

Guide to the John Hood Papers         Collection Guides/ Rubenstein Library      Duke University

“Reverend John Hood (1838-1905)”  Find a Grave Memorial

History of the Presbyterian Church of the State of Illinois       1879

Church History         History of Galesburg Presbyterian    On-line article

Galesburg Oldest notable Homes:  Former home of Dr. John Hood    “Galesburg Register-Mail” 6/08/14

Dorothy Sloan Rare Books  Auction 22 Listing.  John Hood Lot

“Libby Prison Escape”    Wikipedia article

“Encyclopedia of Alabama:  Streight’s Raid    On-line article

 

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