Since the 110th is not here, & no one's yet written a Reg't History for these men, I may as well link to my site, which is the closest thing to one. My site is for educational purposes only, nonprofit, & is an unconventional response to materials I found best represent the era. No copyright but for my writing.
Organized at Harrisburg, Huntingdon, & Philadelphia, the PA. 110th Vols. lost 196, & was present throughout the entire war. For a 110th synopsis, see "What is this Site?" https://jacksonsvalleycampaign.com/what-is-this-site/
For a focus on the 110th during Jackson's Valley Campaign, just click on any given day on the site. For example, if you're interested in 110th at Kernstown, on 3/23/62, just click on that day on the homepage by scrolling down. Note that the 110th was in Tyler's Brigade, the sole Union soldiers to run Jackson off like a rabbit at any point in that campaign. That happened at Port Republic June 9, 1862: 2-3k Union faced off 25k Confederate. As well, after the Battle of Kernstown, Gen. Tyler wrote in his dispatch to Brigadier-General Shields the 110th were entitled to special mention for their "commendable bravery and determination."
The site contains over 850k words of primary/original source documents I typed up, plus many time period diary excerpts (incl. my 2x grandfather's 1862 diary-- 22k words, with hand-drawn maps & letters, from 3/62--7/62-- Ephraim Burket, age 32, a farmer who was a 110th Hospital Steward, Co. B). Ephraim never skipped a day writing while there, 127 worth. He talked tactics one day with Gen. Shields, & saw Lincoln in person, "quite a crowed out to see him," whom he described as "plain in his dress." He recorded his thoughts not weeks or years later, but minutes or hours after battles, while the sulfurous smoke lingered in his nose, & the limbs he assisted in amputating piled up, & as the screams of the dying filled the wind which he heard later, in his night dreams, probably for the remainder of his life.
He also worked directly under the infamous Doctor Hays, whom Lincoln kicked out of the Army (made national headlines) on a charge of gross negligence after the train debacle post-Port Republic, yet turned around & let right back in. Ephraim's hometown friend will testify on Hays' behalf, Ephraim by then a week gone, headed back to his farmstead (owned by Penn originally) when Hays gets summoned to D.C. to answer for leaving the wounded laying in train cars late one night to saunter over to the Willard for Champagne & clean sheets. The Joint Committee on the Conduct of the War was not amused. And the JCCW's deliberate doom of Hays will get him even from the grave for Hammond's misplaced telegram.
And there's a variety of other items which appealed to type up, like history of the Willard Hotel, after-action reports, medical miscellany, commander correspondences, wires, poems, literature, songs, escaped slave writings, monument removals, memes, maps, photos, art, contemporary historians' views on the conflict, Reconstruction, civil rights, 20th Century politics on through Four Seasons Total Landscaping, & other such postscripts. Plus my other two Civil War grandfathers' Reg't history while I was at it.
Race relations are covered heavily, history of the enslaved in America, & Indigenous Americans. Lots on Lincoln, the death minutia, The Lincoln Special & black crepe across this country. The Fog of War. Mud. Sulphur. The tin stink of blood that'd flood the senses after artillery announced its decibels. Tactics. Horses. Weaponry. Hangings & grace. Burials & spit. Last words written & parents who waited years looking down the road. Hunger. Desertions. Executions. The blood-curdling unimpeded desecration of fellow citizens, animals too. The theft, pillaging, flat-out unapologetic massacres. The dog-tired candlelit midnight hunt for survivor(s) on ground laying, crying out in the black for a last swallow of water, for God's sake, just one but the illuminated procession will reach them too late. The humor, sometimes, but still the suicides, years, so many years after, like the Earth they'd traversed returned, The Wilderness insisted the burn would get to them no matter what. Then the running down, minute by minute, to where we get at Appomattox, at last, at last. And so the walking or railing, or the riding of horses back home, crawling & resting if that's what it took, the passage toward whichever direction the ancestral soil their blood carried told them to return to. Reconciliation. And most definitely not. What the flag means now, & does it? The Grand Review, where what is left of the 110th march in sun so blasting, men from North of the Mason-Dixon continue to perish, as if aftershadowing the South's uneasy surrender where Lee doesn't hand his sword over in McLean's parlor, & soldiers outside cuss, stacking what firearms they have on 'em.
Hundreds of sources. Emphasis on the lesser-known ones, & excerpts of my favorite period writers such as Whitman, & later Catton, Cash, & Ayers. Numerous O.R. passages. Countless digressions, tangents, fox tracks more than necessary, plus the low growl pitch of Psalms in human voices still pleading, but faint, on a Richmond wind at night if you tilt your ears just right. An admitted Northern slant, but I tried. 850K words, like each casualty got one word of their own.
Last, the man in my profile picture, his words are in direct opposition to Shelby "Believe me no soldier on either side gave a **** about the slaves" Foote's outdated, cynical insistence no white man thought nor fought to free the enslaved. Their liberty played a significant part in why Ephraim volunteered, & I believe him, because his accounts, his word on things checks out upon double-checking. Dates, places, people, events, weather. He recorded his thoughts not weeks or years later, but minutes or hours after battles, while the sulfurous smoke lingered in his nose, & the limbs he assisted in amputating piled up, & as the screams of the dying filled his consciousness which he heard later, in his night dreams, probably for the remainder of his life.
The mass of those who sacrificed their lives remain pictureless, name-free to history. Yet they are why America exists. Ephraim Burket. That he did it for God and Country wasn't his cliché, because he had no cliché. He had God & he had country, in that order. He is only remembered now because he left a diary behind. No one will say his name. They will say Sherman's, Jackson's, Lee's, but not his.
I'm hopeful to connect with others who had folks in the 110th, or even the 84th, as well as fearless ancestors in the Arkansas Peace Society chained at the neck then marched to Little Rock, if any stop by CWT (oddly phrased, implying soldiers'll walk in the room right now, but who's to say, really?). Cheers, & much gratitude to CWT for running the only online place like it a century & a half after, where international citizens can gather, sit behind screens as if apparitions eavesdropping at a long ago GAR post, or UCV meeting, in a musty rat-laden municipal building basement where wives had baked cakes, then sent their elderly husbands off to both lament & applaud the whole shebang, terroristic yet magnificent though it was.
Organized at Harrisburg, Huntingdon, & Philadelphia, the PA. 110th Vols. lost 196, & was present throughout the entire war. For a 110th synopsis, see "What is this Site?" https://jacksonsvalleycampaign.com/what-is-this-site/
For a focus on the 110th during Jackson's Valley Campaign, just click on any given day on the site. For example, if you're interested in 110th at Kernstown, on 3/23/62, just click on that day on the homepage by scrolling down. Note that the 110th was in Tyler's Brigade, the sole Union soldiers to run Jackson off like a rabbit at any point in that campaign. That happened at Port Republic June 9, 1862: 2-3k Union faced off 25k Confederate. As well, after the Battle of Kernstown, Gen. Tyler wrote in his dispatch to Brigadier-General Shields the 110th were entitled to special mention for their "commendable bravery and determination."
The site contains over 850k words of primary/original source documents I typed up, plus many time period diary excerpts (incl. my 2x grandfather's 1862 diary-- 22k words, with hand-drawn maps & letters, from 3/62--7/62-- Ephraim Burket, age 32, a farmer who was a 110th Hospital Steward, Co. B). Ephraim never skipped a day writing while there, 127 worth. He talked tactics one day with Gen. Shields, & saw Lincoln in person, "quite a crowed out to see him," whom he described as "plain in his dress." He recorded his thoughts not weeks or years later, but minutes or hours after battles, while the sulfurous smoke lingered in his nose, & the limbs he assisted in amputating piled up, & as the screams of the dying filled the wind which he heard later, in his night dreams, probably for the remainder of his life.
He also worked directly under the infamous Doctor Hays, whom Lincoln kicked out of the Army (made national headlines) on a charge of gross negligence after the train debacle post-Port Republic, yet turned around & let right back in. Ephraim's hometown friend will testify on Hays' behalf, Ephraim by then a week gone, headed back to his farmstead (owned by Penn originally) when Hays gets summoned to D.C. to answer for leaving the wounded laying in train cars late one night to saunter over to the Willard for Champagne & clean sheets. The Joint Committee on the Conduct of the War was not amused. And the JCCW's deliberate doom of Hays will get him even from the grave for Hammond's misplaced telegram.
And there's a variety of other items which appealed to type up, like history of the Willard Hotel, after-action reports, medical miscellany, commander correspondences, wires, poems, literature, songs, escaped slave writings, monument removals, memes, maps, photos, art, contemporary historians' views on the conflict, Reconstruction, civil rights, 20th Century politics on through Four Seasons Total Landscaping, & other such postscripts. Plus my other two Civil War grandfathers' Reg't history while I was at it.
Race relations are covered heavily, history of the enslaved in America, & Indigenous Americans. Lots on Lincoln, the death minutia, The Lincoln Special & black crepe across this country. The Fog of War. Mud. Sulphur. The tin stink of blood that'd flood the senses after artillery announced its decibels. Tactics. Horses. Weaponry. Hangings & grace. Burials & spit. Last words written & parents who waited years looking down the road. Hunger. Desertions. Executions. The blood-curdling unimpeded desecration of fellow citizens, animals too. The theft, pillaging, flat-out unapologetic massacres. The dog-tired candlelit midnight hunt for survivor(s) on ground laying, crying out in the black for a last swallow of water, for God's sake, just one but the illuminated procession will reach them too late. The humor, sometimes, but still the suicides, years, so many years after, like the Earth they'd traversed returned, The Wilderness insisted the burn would get to them no matter what. Then the running down, minute by minute, to where we get at Appomattox, at last, at last. And so the walking or railing, or the riding of horses back home, crawling & resting if that's what it took, the passage toward whichever direction the ancestral soil their blood carried told them to return to. Reconciliation. And most definitely not. What the flag means now, & does it? The Grand Review, where what is left of the 110th march in sun so blasting, men from North of the Mason-Dixon continue to perish, as if aftershadowing the South's uneasy surrender where Lee doesn't hand his sword over in McLean's parlor, & soldiers outside cuss, stacking what firearms they have on 'em.
Hundreds of sources. Emphasis on the lesser-known ones, & excerpts of my favorite period writers such as Whitman, & later Catton, Cash, & Ayers. Numerous O.R. passages. Countless digressions, tangents, fox tracks more than necessary, plus the low growl pitch of Psalms in human voices still pleading, but faint, on a Richmond wind at night if you tilt your ears just right. An admitted Northern slant, but I tried. 850K words, like each casualty got one word of their own.
Last, the man in my profile picture, his words are in direct opposition to Shelby "Believe me no soldier on either side gave a **** about the slaves" Foote's outdated, cynical insistence no white man thought nor fought to free the enslaved. Their liberty played a significant part in why Ephraim volunteered, & I believe him, because his accounts, his word on things checks out upon double-checking. Dates, places, people, events, weather. He recorded his thoughts not weeks or years later, but minutes or hours after battles, while the sulfurous smoke lingered in his nose, & the limbs he assisted in amputating piled up, & as the screams of the dying filled his consciousness which he heard later, in his night dreams, probably for the remainder of his life.
The mass of those who sacrificed their lives remain pictureless, name-free to history. Yet they are why America exists. Ephraim Burket. That he did it for God and Country wasn't his cliché, because he had no cliché. He had God & he had country, in that order. He is only remembered now because he left a diary behind. No one will say his name. They will say Sherman's, Jackson's, Lee's, but not his.
I'm hopeful to connect with others who had folks in the 110th, or even the 84th, as well as fearless ancestors in the Arkansas Peace Society chained at the neck then marched to Little Rock, if any stop by CWT (oddly phrased, implying soldiers'll walk in the room right now, but who's to say, really?). Cheers, & much gratitude to CWT for running the only online place like it a century & a half after, where international citizens can gather, sit behind screens as if apparitions eavesdropping at a long ago GAR post, or UCV meeting, in a musty rat-laden municipal building basement where wives had baked cakes, then sent their elderly husbands off to both lament & applaud the whole shebang, terroristic yet magnificent though it was.
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Bringing the