As an amateur researcher, I am quite certain I have made every possible mistake you can. And only yesterday did I realize that at the very beginning of my research career, I had made one of the biggest mistakes you can make. I took an oral statement made by my mother nearly fifty years ago at face value, sending me down a rabbit hole fruitlessly trying to find evidence of a man, who in the end, I realized did not exist.
You see, my mother, then in her late sixties, had told me her paternal grandfather, a French-speaking emigree from Belgium, had served in the Civil War, been captured and to hear her tell it, tortured by his Confederate captors. She even produced a diary (now sadly missing) to corroborate the story, but between water damage, faded ink, missing pages, and completely illegible handwriting, I was not even able to verify his name, let alone the unit he was supposedly assigned to.
Completely stymied, I gave up the search for years at a time. A couple of days ago, I decided to revisit the issue one last time. No luck. And then, while lying in my bed, I had an insight that I am embarrassed to say, had never occured to me before. What, I asked myself, if my mother had gotten her grandfather's mixed up? Elderly, with a fading memory and experiencing some cognitive decline, had my mother mistakenly identified her paternal grandfather as a Civil War veteran, when it was her maternal grandfather I should have been investigating?
Armed with this insight, I hurried over to Find a Grave, and searched out my maternal grandmother's gravesite. And there I discovered some kindly soul had finally photographed that grave. The inscription even provided me with her maiden name. Her father's surname.that had previously been unknown to me.
.
Several hours of searching on Google later, I had the barebone outline of an extraordinary story that others unknown to me had already worked out, Jean-Jacques Grosjean, born in 1839, in Belgium if his military records on Fold3 can be believed, arrived in the United States in the summer of 1864, part of a contingent of Belgian and German immigrants enticed or deceived into enlisting into the 35th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment. Grosjean entered the service under his mother's maiden name. Or rather, a misspelled version of that name. Jacques Sneyers was how the army knew him. Mustered into the regiment on the 23rd of July, 1864, and sent into battle nearly immediately with little or no training, Grosjean was captured by the Confederates on the 30th of September, 1864.
His records indicate that he was restored to duty on April 27th, 1865. The circumstances under which this occurred remain a mystery but his file contains a nasty allegation. To wit, Private Jacques Sneyers was alleged to have enlisted in the Confederate Army while a prisoner of war. The Army, on getting him back, took no action, but simply transferred him to the 29th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment, and even allowed him to enlist in the regular army, finally discharging him in 1869.
Grosjean moved to Canada in 1870, and assimilated into the French-Canadian community. His daughter, Clementine Grosjean Fortin born in 1873, had in 1913, at the approximate age of forty, a daughter, Loreto M. Smith, the woman who in 1959, fostered and finally adopted the boy who grew up to write this post. Grosjean himself died in 1909, and was buried in an obscure little community just outside my hometown of Sault Ste Marie, Ontario. For unknown reasons, his family buried him under the name he had used in the Union Army, complete with another misspelling. His widow, Marie Fortin, collected a small pension from the US government until her death in 1922.
This story is still a work in progress, and so far, I have a lot more questions than answers. I am pretty cautiously optimistic that I have finally identified my ancestor, but much work remains to be done to fully corroborate it. Hopefully, I will make fewer mistakes going forward while I work to flesh out the tale