Generals' "Closest Calls"

John Hartwell

Lt. Colonel
Forum Host
Joined
Aug 27, 2011
Location
Central Massachusetts
In 1894, the New York Herald asked surviving generals, both Union and Confederate, what they considered personally to be their closest calls. Several of them responded with their own accounts of narrow escapes. Some of the generals were more forthcoming than others. And, all responses were printed in the newspaper’s May 13th issue.

SDLee.jpg


General Stephen D. Lee recounted the stories of a number of “escapes,” from Yankee sharpshooters:


“It is difficult for me to single out the closest situation in which I was found to death [sic] during the war. Of course in all battles, like any soldier, I ran great risks. I can recall, however, three occasions when an individual sharpshooter of the enemy took deliberate aim at me at not over two steps distance and missed me. One of these occasions was at the Battle of Champion Hills, or Baker’s Creek, near Vicksburg, where I had three horses shot under me in less thn twenty minutes, and riding under the crest of a hill, a Federal sharpshooter on the crest arose, took deliberate aim and shot at me.

“On another occasion in the disastrous rout of Hood’s army before Nashville when the lines gave way, I rode to the left to see the extent of the rout just on my flank, and rode up to within twenty steps of a Federal sharpshooter. He brought his gun down on me. I told him not to shoot, that I was General Lee, supposing him to be one of our own sharpshooters. He fired and missed me, and fired three more shots at me on horseback before i got out of range.

“On another occasion in Virginia, while in a cavalry charge, in command of the Fourth Virginia Cavalry, a Federal captain going through a gate shut it, and as I came against the gate on the opposite side, he faced about and presented his pistol within three feet of my breast, and the cap snapped. This was on the old battle field of Malvern Hill, after the battle in a cavalry charge. On another occasion during the assault made by General Grant on the trenches at Vicksburg, May 22, 1863, with Colonel Wall, of Texas, and his adjutant, I was directing the Confederate troops in repulsing the assault. Colonel Wall’s adjutant was shot and killed.

“Two days afterward, during a cessation of hostilities for the burial of the Federal dead lying in front of the trenches, a captain in the Federal army came up to me and said, ‘Were you not one of the three men standing at that point during the assault two days ago?’ I replied, ‘Yes.’ He said: -- ‘I congratulate you on your narrow escape. Seeing that the three were officers, I caused my company of fifty men to take deliberate aim and fire a volley at the group, and was astonished when only one of the three fell.’

“I merely mention these several instances, though I might recall many others.”​
 
Last edited:
220px-William_Birney.jpg

General William Birney recalled his experiences at Fredericksburg as his moment of greatest peril.


“At Fredericksburg I was lieutenant colonel, temporarily commanding the thirty-eighth New Yok, known as ‘the Tammany.’ We were on the extreme left, under Franklin, when Meade’s brigade was beaten back and was sen to emerge in disorder from the woods near the railroad. The Fortieth New York (‘the Mozart’) was added to my command, and I was ordered forward to protect Meade’s men. I advanced at the double-quick, came down to quick step on reaching Meade’s men, forced a way through them in files of four -- a manoeuver possible to well trained and brave veterans only -- and came into line again where the rebels were taking prisoners.

“A hand to hand battle, fast and furious, ensued. Firing was at close range, but bayonets and the but ends and barrels of muskets did most of the work. Officers were obliged to use their pistols and swords. Rebels and Yankees were mixed up. Every one fought for dear life and victory. I had emptied two revolvers, and had no weapon but a light sword, when a rebel soldier charged on me with his bayonet. It was within a foot of my body when Sergeant Major Campbell shot my assailant through the head and fell dead himself a moment later. In the melee I felt a sharp pain in the left hip on the thigh joint, as if a bullet had gone through it, and soon after that a terrific blow on my left ankle which knocked my foot out of the stirrup, seemed to cut it off, and made it useless for a month. My horse was wounded in two places, but not seriously.

“The Tamany and Mozart boys behaved with their proverbial pluck, rescued many prisoners and drove the enemy over the railroad tracks. Here from a hillside a masked brigade of the enemy delivered a plunging musketry fire that cut up our ranks dreadfully. I rode through the smoke, making signs to retreat (he voice could not be heard in tht din), and succeeded in getting off all my men who were bnot lying on the ground. About half the officers were killed or wounded, and in the Thirty-eighth 135 men were missing.

“The enemy did not follow at once, but in a half an hour advanced through the open field to attack us, with eleven regiments in line of battle, banners displayed and drums beating. It was a gallant sight. They were allowed to cross the deep ditch that ran diagonally through the field. Then the artillery of our division was unmasked and the infantry rose. Our cannon and musketry swept that gallant division from the field. It left in our hands more prisoners than he full number of the New York regiments. These took part in the repulse and made many prisoners.

“I had many ‘close calls’ for life during my five years of service in the army, but those I have given were as close as any."​
 
A number of generals were extremely brief in their responses:

General Dabney H. Maury of Richmond re****ed a wartime close-call that was not battlefield-related:

“I have always considered the ‘closest situation’ in which I ever found myself was on the Rio Grande, in Texas, while hunting wild cattle. I shot a great white bull, who resented it promptly, so that I jumped through a big cactus patch, so that I tumbled down beside it, and lay still til that bull went on his way, and I wished I had stayed with him, and regretted it for at least a week.”​



General J. M. Schofield wrote:

“I must say that I do not believe a soldier can tell under what one of the many dangerous circumstances in which he may have been placed he was ‘nearest death.’ He has no means of estimating that very uncertain quantity. But, so far as I know, the narrowest escape I ever had was when a musket ball cut a channel through my beard at the Battle of Wilson’s Creek, August 10, 1861.”​


General Fitzhugh Lee found Indian fighting on the prewar frontier the most perilous.

“I state in response to your question that the ‘closest situation’ I was ever in was in 1859, when a young second lieutenant in the Second Cavalry, United States army, serving on the frontiers of Texas. I had a hand-to-hand fight with a savage Comanche Indian, threw him to the ground after wrestling with him for some time and then killed him with my pistol.”​


Confederate General James C. Tappan, of Arkansas, had ‘a queer sensation’ once:

“I was the first officer in command at Belmont (General Grant’s first battle), being colonel of the Thirteenth Arkansas regiment, and I was promoted after that battle to the rank of Brigadier General upon recommendation of General Leonidas Polk (Bishop Polk). The nearest known approach to death was at the Battle of Jenkins Ferry, in Arkansas, when a ball passed so close to my head that I felt its wind without being cut by it.”​



Major General W. W. Allen of Alabama, had bad luck with horses … or, rather, his horses had bad luck with him:

“I would say that except when disabled by wounds, I was in active service from April 1861, until the surrender of General Joseph E. Johnston’s army (a division of cavalry in which I commanded), in the spring of 1865. I might add that I had horses shot under me ten times during the conflict, so can infer that I was in critical situations more than once.​



General George Lee, wrote rather obtusely:

“I feel that I am nearer death now than I ever was before, and that by present situation is closer than any I ran during the war. If I had close places, I cannot possibly tell them now, as they all seemed occasions for action and not occasions for fear.”​



Lieutenant General James Longstreet was very brief in the extreme:

“I can truthfully and feelingly say that I was nearest death when shot in the Battle of the Wilderness on May 6, 1864.”​
 
220px-DRuggles.jpg

Confederate General Daniel Ruggles, veteran of the Seminole and Wexican wars, and of the Mormon campaign, as well as years of service on the frontier, felt that his personal greatest danger came when he was delivering a message to Robert E. Lee at Spottsylvania Court House.

“We obtained some broken down horses as a mount and were on the eve of proceeding towards Spottsylvania Court House, a distance of eight miles, when we discovered an advancing cloud of dust from a northerly direction, which indicated a rapid movement south of a large body of Federal troops.

“As my route to the Court House crossed this line to the northwest, and as I was anxious to proceed I concluded to venture from the belief that the advance of the Federal cavalry, which proved to be General Sheridan’s raid, would be slow. On the presumption that I had time to cross Sheridan’s line of march in safety, I advanced near it, but suddenly saw an advance scouting party cross my path just to the south, and so saw that it was unsafe to proceed.

“I immediately took shelter in a forest of some density where I hoped to remain unobserved and keep watch of Sheridan’s movements. I and my men threw our bridle reins off of our horses’ heads and seized them by the bit to prevent their signalling and stood perfectly still. When about half the enemy’s column had passed with a thundering movement we were greatly startled to hear a trampling in the rear, and turning to look we saw a body of cavalry numbering about three thousand bearing down upon us.

“Without stopping to think, I threw my bridle rein over my horse’s head, seized the stirrup with my right hand to insure steadying it to enter the right foot, and leaping into the saddle I spurred my horse.. As I did so I heard a full volley fired by a party of fifteen or twenty men who could not have been more than forty paces away.

“I quickly got behind a holly tree with a dense foliage, and spurring my horse anew crossed the dry bed of a small creek. Here my horse fell to his knees, almost throwing me out of the saddle. But with a terrible jerk I righted him, and we both left the spot without ceremony. Two of my companions joined me a minute later unhurt -- miraculously saved. But alas! Captain Roy Mason Hove, the fourth one of our party, was captured.

“That was one of my closest and most interesting saves."​
 
Last edited:
220px-Daniel_Butterfield.jpg


General Daniel Butterfield, who is not usually thought of as a combat commander, made no direct response himself to the Herald’s inquiry. But, his Orderly penned this rather peculiar account of Butterfield’s heroic moment:

“I was detailed with General Butterfield at the Battle of the Wilderness to start the three columns of our army so that they would fall upon the enemy at different points at the same time. We were to start Hooker’s division; then Osterhous’ division, and then Croft’s, and ride on to battle with the latter. It sounded all right, and the General bravely volunteered to do this and take me along.

“We started Hooker’s division all right, then we started across Missionary Ridge and got Osterhous under way. He was making extra good time when we found him, and was marching in great haste so as to get his section of the army where it would do the most good upon the enemy’s flank, as Hooker attacked it at the side, Croft was to make the front attack.

“We were in such haste to start in time that we did not think of the ridge he had to climb and of the necessary delay of his forces, so we cut right across country to tell him where the other divisions were at that minute.

“We were making fine headway when suddenly we heard a call to surrender, and looking up we saw six hundred mounted men of the enemy, a picket, standing no further than five hundred feet in front of us.

“”’We must not surrender. It may cost us the battle if we do not tell Croft,’ the General muttered. And then, with a shout, he yelled:--

“‘Go to the d...l!’

“And we flew for life toward Croft’s column, then fully half a mile away. Of course, they opened fire upon us, and Croft’s men, seeing us at a distance, fired also, and for a minute or two friend and foe were letting us have all their spare bullets. As soon as Croft saw us he hurried up to our rescue and drove our pursuers back. But, that we escaped with our lives has always been a wonder to every one who saw the little manoeuver. That was general Butterfield’s closest shave.”​
 
Last edited:
Thank you for posting! Yet another gem hidden in an old newspaper.

If Brig. Gen. Micah Jenkins survived the war he would probably say the battle of Glendale/Frayser's Farm. I don't think I've ever read of a general who received so many close shaves in a single battle.

Longstreet's aide, Thomas J. Goree, wrote in a letter home that "His [Jenkins'] own escape was almost miraculous. His horse was shot twice. A hole was shot through his saddle blanket, his bridle reins cut in two near his hand. An India rubber overcoat tied on behind his saddle had 15 holes through it made by a musket ball & piece of shell. His sword was shot off at the point, & shot half in two near the hilt, & his sword knob was also shot off. Besides all this he was struck on the shoulder with grape shot (which bruised it severely) and was also struck on the breast & leg with fragments of spent shell."
https://civilwartalk.com/threads/col-micah-jenkins-at-the-battle-of-glendale.113579/

And Jenkins wrote pretty much the same thing in a letter to his wife shortly after the battle, but Goree knew him well and I think he describes it best.
 
220px-Daniel_Butterfield.jpg


General Daniel Butterfield, who is not usually thought of as a combat commander, made no direct response himself to the Herald’s inquiry. But, his Orderly penned the following account of Butterfield’s heroic moment:

“I was detailed with General Butterfield at the Battle of the Wilderness to start the three columns of our army so that they would fall upon the enemy at different points at the same time. We were to start Hooker’s division; then Osterhous’ division, and then Croft’s, and ride on to battle with the latter. It sounded all right, and the General bravely volunteered to do this and take me along.

“We started Hooker’s division all right, then we started across Missionary Ridge and got Osterhous under way. He was making extra good time when we found him, and was marching in great haste so as to get his section of the army where it would do the most good upon the enemy’s flank, as Hooker attacked it at the side, Croft was to make the front attack.

“We were in such haste to start in time that we did not think of the ridge he had to climb and of the necessary delay of his forces, so we cut right across country to tell him where the other divisions were at that minute.

“We were making fine headway when suddenly we heard a call to surrender, and looking up we saw six hundred mounted men of the enemy, a picket, standing no further than five hundred feet in front of us.

“”’We must not surrender. It may cost us the battle if we do not tell Croft,’ the General muttered. And then, with a shout, he yelled:--

“‘Go to the d...l!’

“And we flew for life toward Croft’s column, then fully half a mile away. Of course, they opened fire upon us, and Croft’s men, seeing us at a distance, fired also, and for a minute or two friend and foe were letting us have all their spare bullets. As soon as Croft saw us he hurried up to our rescue and drove our pursuers back. But, that we escaped with our lives has always been a wonder to every one who saw the little manoeuver. That was general Butterfield’s closest shave.”​
This account is both confused and confusing. To clarify as best as I know, none of the officers named were at The Wilderness; the account seems to be describing an incident in either the November, 1863 Battle of Chattanooga/Missionary Ridge; or possibly some later event around the beginning of the 1864 Atlanta Campaign. Of course, Hooker had brought four divisions from the Army of the Potomac to Chattanooga in late 1863 to help raise the siege there and Butterfield came with him as chief-of-staff, the same position he had held when Hooker commanded the AOP. (The four divisions were commanded by Schurz, Von Steinwehr, Williams, and Geary.) I believe Osterhaus had commanded a division under Sherman at Missionary Ridge and I'm pretty sure Croft should be Cruft, a general in Thomas' Army of the Cumberland. Later, in the beginning of the Atlanta Campaign Hooker (still with Butterfield) commanded the four-division Twentieth Corps that included many of the same units as previous, but I don't believe it included either Cruft or Osterhaus. All things considered, this seems to be a very unreliable remembrance!
 
This account is both confused and confusing. To clarify as best as I know, none of the officers named were at The Wilderness; the account seems to be describing an incident in either the November, 1863 Battle of Chattanooga/Missionary Ridge; or possibly some later event around the beginning of the 1864 Atlanta Campaign. Of course, Hooker had brought four divisions from the Army of the Potomac to Chattanooga in late 1863 to help raise the siege there and Butterfield came with him as chief-of-staff, the same position he had held when Hooker commanded the AOP. (The four divisions were commanded by Schurz, Von Steinwehr, Williams, and Geary.) I believe Osterhaus had commanded a division under Sherman at Missionary Ridge and I'm pretty sure Croft should be Cruft, a general in Thomas' Army of the Cumberland. All things considered, this seems to be a very unreliable remembrance!
Yes, "Missionary Ridge" was a bit out of place in "the Wilderness". Apparently Dan-Dan-Dan's 'orderly' was a man of two minds (one lost, the other out looking for it).

Maybe "something like that" happened somewhere, sometime. Maybe not.
 
Last edited:
Gen Forrest had so many close calls it's no wonder he decided the only reason he'd lived through the war was because his wife prayed for him. One of the most interesting was also one of the most mundane possible - he and Captain Morton were riding side by side down a road, the men behind and nothing remarkable going on when Forrest suddenly ducked his chin and snatched his hat off his head. There was a neat bullet hole right under the band of the hat. No noise, nobody in sight, Morton didn't hear a thing. "Dam but wasn't it close!" remarked Forrest and put his hat back on!
 
Another oddity in the annals of how did I survive that... Lee and Beauregard, scouting together during the Mexican War, encountered a deserter out in the plains. Being officers, they ordered the soldier to stop but he didn't, so there ensued a handy little foot race. They finally cornered the man and again ordered him to surrender. Instead, he hauled out his gun and shot Lee pointblank. Both Lee and Beauregard tackled him and managed to knock him out, and when they stood up Beauregard said to Lee, "Where are you shot?" Lee looked all over his clothes and didn't see any blood anywhere! However, there was a smokey crease along the inside of his right arm...the bullet had gone harmlessly between his side and his arm!
(Emory Thomas, Robert E Lee, A Biography)
 
Back
Top