#siege of vicksburg

[nickysfacts]

Albert was dunking on Confederates and challenging Gender norms before it was cool!

🇺🇸🏳️‍⚧️🇺🇸

[todaysdocument]

Map of the Civil War Siege of Vicksburg, Mississippi., August 20, 1863. 

Record Group 77: Records of the Office of the Chief of Engineers

Series: Published Maps

Image description: Map of Vicksburg, Mississippi, and surrounding areas, including a loop of the Mississippi River and the terrain around the city. Cross-sections show the Federal and Rebel batteries, and colored lines show the locations of opposing forces. 

[madnessr]

Vagabond

Vagabond — wandering from place to place without any settled home

Poly Lost Boys x GN Reader Synopsis: Forgiveness is a fickle thing. When four souls find each other, the world finds its equilibrium once more; until the absence of another tips the scale forever. What happens when a familiar face shows itself back at the boardwalk after twenty years of absence?

Warnings: slight angst, lots of historical information in the beginning

Word Count: 3k

By issuing the Declaration of Independence, adopted by the Continental Congress on July 4th, 1776, the 13 American colonies severed their political connections to Great Britain. 

You had been ten during the conflicts between America and Great Britain, young and impressionable. Your family came with Puritans, who set sail to America back in 1630. Unlike the Pilgrims, who had left ten years earlier, the Puritans did not break with the Church of England but sought to reform it. All that happened before you were born; your ancestors had settled down and spread their roots into American soil. 

You recalled little of the American Revolution; after all, you were very young back then, but you remember December 15th, 1791, vividly. Your mother couldn't stop crying that day, and your father had pulled out the oldest whiskey they had that day. America was finally severed from the tyrannical rule of George III. 

You came to understand the significance of those dates more as you aged, growing into a strong individual as you helped your family on their farm. You never intended to marry; it wasn't something you had ever desired or looked forward to. The same year you had gotten married was the day you lost your immortality; both events are related but not necessarily connected. You were introduced to the vampiric community in New Orleans, a city that used the day to sleep off the mistakes you made throughout the rambunctious night. 

You had lived through the formation of the Constitution of the United States of America in 1787 when the founding fathers sought to implement more structure into the now independent country. 

The infamous whiskey rebellion. American drunks apparently were not too keen about Alexander Hamilton implementing a liquor tax to try and raise money for the national debt; asserting the federal government's power back in 1794. 

Only nine years later, the Louisiana Purchase happened in 1803. The small land purchase for only $27 million created room for the states of Louisiana, Missouri, Arkansas, Iowa, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, and Oklahoma, along with most of Kansas, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and Minnesota.

Throughout the 1810s and 1830s, you had moved on from New Orleans and left for New York, seeking human connections and reconnecting with the younger generations. During that time, the Battle of New Orleans in 1815 and the Monroe Doctrine in 1823 seemed to fly past you. 

Then, signed on February 2nd, 1848, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo finally brought closure to the Mexican-American war. At this time, you were no stranger to political conflicts anymore, and the stench of blood and sweat staining battlefields was, unfortunately, no stranger. 

Life moved on regardless, no matter the horrid realities life provided. For a short while, life had finally come to a stand-still, guns tucked away as the world in America resumed its development. Until April 12th, 1861, Confederate troops fired on Fort Sumter in South Carolina's Charleston Harbor at 4:30 A.M., A day that changed America forever, the beginning of the American Civil War. 

The Emancipation Proclamation, The First Conscription Act, The Battle of Chancellorsville, The Vicksburg Campaign, The Gettysburg Campaign, The Battle of Chickamauga, The Battle of Chattanooga, The Siege of Knoxville. The list continued, and the coppery smell of wasted humanity tainted the air, the wind carrying the cries of victims throughout the nation. 

The war ended in the Spring of 1865. Robert E. Lee surrendered the last major Confederate army to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Courthouse on April 9th, 1865.

The number of soldiers who died throughout those four years eventually got estimated to be around 620,000.

Only 47 years later, on July 28th, 1914, the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, beginning the cruel trench warfare of World War I. In early April 1917, America aided the effort to join a war to end all wars. You had entered the war effort, like everyone capable at the time; from soldiers to nurses, everyone gave aid. 

On November 11th, 1918, the war ended. Although the Allies won, you found no reason to celebrate. Not when mothers sold their homes since there wasn't a reason to have a multiple-bedroom house anymore, when graveyards overflowed with the dead, when people mourned their losses, when mothers' only answer to their missing sons was a notice declaring their child missing in action. 

The stock market crashed in 1929, kicking off the Great Depression that would last for more than a decade. 

On September 1st, 1939, Germany invaded Poland. Kicking off World War II and beginning one of the most brutal warfare's, Blitzkrieg. On May 8th, 1945, Germany surrendered. After the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan surrendered on September 2nd, 1945, and the Second World War came to an end.

The war ended, and the surviving soldiers returned with missing limbs and broken spirits. You were a firm believer that humans were not meant to witness so much death; it tainted them; it dulled them. Although you were a vampire, a creature supposedly made for horror, you could not forget what you had witnessed in only the span of 21 years. 

You were 201 years old now, relatively young in the grand scheme of time, but you had lived through a few of the greatest horrors the world had ever seen. 

189 years of traversing the lands, you watched grow in a desperate search to find one of your own. Since you were turned and left New Orleans, you had not met a single vampire. You watched with sorrowful wisdom in your eyes as the world passed through you, virginity in people's expressions you wish you had. A gaze untainted by warfare, civil unrest, and brutality. 

Although you have met the occasional human to brighten your own world, it did not cure you. Your search was desolate—fruitless. 

Your feet had carried you to Santa Carla, the year now being 1963, and just as the five stages of grief had settled on acceptance. You bumped into a group of four rambunctious bikers that would change your life forever. That had been the first time you had met, and you had continued to live together, going on to live through the Civil Rights movement and grieving the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.

But on August 12th, 1967, you left Santa Carla. Your absence is only justified by a delicately written letter standing in your place. You had grown to love the boys, but you had lived differently compared to them. 

Marko and Paul were younger vampires than you, having been turned while The Great Depression was bulldozing America. Dwanye had been older, abandoning his immortality in the 18th century along with David. All of them possessed the innate ability to move on from the past, a talent you, unfortunately, did not possess. 

No matter how hard you tried, you could not find peace or excitement in the future. The uncertainty corrupted you, tormented you and your experiences, so you left. Not with the intent to abandon but to sort out whatever you had to sort out. Away from the prying eyes of those you loved, those who you did not want—couldn't disappoint.  

Santa Carla, the town you had never been able to forget. It was 1987 now; twenty years had passed since you had seen the four vampires. You had missed them—a melancholic weight having nestled its way into your heart ever since you left. You regretted the way you had left through a simple letter. A cowardly move; you were wise enough to understand that. But at the time, you couldn't bring yourself to say it to them. How could you? Look someone in the eyes, someone like you—your own pack that never did anything but love you—and tell them you were leaving? 

You didn't have the heart, and if you were a little more honest, you didn't have it now, either. But you missed them more than your hurt pride by walking what felt like a walk of shame as you wandered around the busy boardwalk. One thing you never could get used to was the constant shift in fashion, it felt like the ins became the outs overnight, and you never were able to keep up with it. 

Bright colors were the most fashionable now, with teased hair and loud makeup. You enjoyed it, your knowing eyes watching over the crowd. The smell of hairspray permeated the air, wafting towards you as you passed people. Bulky and oversized clothes were spotted throughout the crowds, some men and women wearing specific member-only jackets. Ah, it seems the surfer nazis still haven't given up on Santa Carla yet. 

The amusement park was new; back in 1867, the boardwalk had small shops littered around—like a market. Originally it mostly sold food and groceries, fish caught fresh from the sea, and farmers selling their produce. 

How has the pier changed so significantly? If it wasn't for the bold, attention-seeking sign that said Santa Carla Boardwalk; you would've thought you were at the wrong address. But stepping on those old wooden floorboards of the pier that occasionally creaked or sunk under your feet was an all too familiar feeling. The smell of salt, rotting seaweed that had washed onto the shore, and the fresh street food made you feel all too at home. 

It felt like you had never really left. 

Your appearance had changed quite a bit since you left Santa Carla, so you didn't expect either the boys or Max to really recognize you. But although you were willing to stay under the radar for the boys, Max was another story. He was a head vampire, a coven leader, and therefore needed to be notified of your presence. 

Entering Max's video store made you feel nostalgic, the same old grimy bell still hanging atop the doorframe signaling your arrival; you had been the one to put that there to originally annoy Max. You were surprised he kept it. The wooden floorboards and furniture gave off a distinct, homey smell. You had been there when the store was built, and the shiny coating across the floors now had grown mat, occasional wood panels brighter in color than before. 

"I never thought I'd meet the day I saw you walk through those doors again." 

Turning around, you met the stern gaze of Max. His outfit made you smile, a desperate attempt at blending in with the crowd. Max was always a stickler for blending in; if he had no intention of turning you; you had no business knowing who; or rather what, he was. 

"It's good to see you." 

"I'm flattered, but I doubt that I am the sole reason you returned." Max always carried that knowing tone, as if he's watched out every move you'd make before you made them. It reminded you that Max had a coven before the boys and you, one he rarely conversed about. Perhaps Max really had seen this turn out before, but analyzing that surprised expression, you could only assume who had left never did come back. 

"How right you are," You sighed, shoulders dropping as you hopped onto the cashier counter. It was before opening, meaning you and Max had some time to chat privately. 

"Twenty years is a long time," Max hummed, a low and almost chiding tone. "What made you come back?" 

"To us, it isn't," You weakly argued back. The cumbersome feeling, or rather an awareness that you were in the wrong, was nearly unbearable. You were smart enough to understand that denial was a fruitless endeavor, and yet you couldn't help but let those desperate attempts escape you. 

"For people waiting for you, it's an eternity." Max sighed in a calm but chiding tone. Although Max never did have to scold you the way he did with the boys, from not committing arson to preventing fights. Max instead focused his guidance towards you on a more emotional level, the morality; a bit ironic being taught by a vampire—but he did his best. 

You glanced outside, through the glass walls of Max's shop, watching the bustling crowd pass you. Twenty years to a vampire was nothing, but somehow the short span of time felt arduous. Why did you come back?

"I never intended on staying away forever. I knew that when the time was right, I'd return." You explained, stealing a quick glance at Max. The older man had a frown etched onto his face, eyebrows furrowed as his own gaze lingered on the rambunctious humans outside. So unaware of the constant and unrelenting passage of time. It was cruel to be immortal; the passage of time no longer hindered you. But emotions are bendable and are the only aspect of ourselves that remains from who we were. Emotions were mortal. 

"Santa Carla has changed, Y/N. It is not what you left behind; they are not the same as they were alongside you." Max recalled, his voice disapproving. 

You knew Max was correct; you knew deep in your wrenching and twisting gut. You jumped off the counter, your feet hitting the floor like gravity had shifted around you, sinking your body into the floor. "I know," you knew; perhaps the boys didn't even want to see you; they could curse you out and send your name to hell for all eternity. They deserved to do it too. 

But they loved you once, and perhaps you can't help shake the feeling that they might love you again this time too. 

Max sighed, walking over to his front door and twisting the closed sign around, and pronouncing the store now open. Each tap of his foot, synced with his steps, was like a thundering echo inside you. It prompted you to get up and to provide closure for the others. You reach the door, opening midway before Max leaves you with some parting advice. 

"I hope you find what you came here for, Y/N. But the time might be right for you now, but it might not be for them."

You nodded, not looking back as you walked out of the store. The air was warmer, humid from the ocean breeze mixing into the air, the notorious assassin for any styled and teased hair due.

Laughter was one of your favorite sounds. As cliche as that might sound, it felt rejuvenating to hear. Whether it was a loud cackle mimicking the call of a hyena or a high-pitched wheeze or whistle. There was a beauty in people's expressions, how their noses tended to scrunch up, or how others held their stomachs and nearly doubled over. Laughter was infectious, and you loved observing the dopamine spread to others. Strangers connecting over a similar sense of joy; there was a beauty in it. 

The boardwalk was filled with it, people brushing shoulders against shoulders as they walked. Groups cackling and shoving each other as they enjoyed the youngness of the evening. Music booming from different directions, punks blasting the newest rap or metal music, hippies tuning out to a gentle jam, but the loudest seemed to be a distant concert down the boardwalk and closer to the pier. Like a bee sensing some honey, you followed. Dodging the occasional passerby, ducking out of the way from shop owners lugging their merchandise around. 

The music got louder, and a small thread of excitement seemed to push you further, faster. Your small stroll transformed into a quickened step, your ears guiding you and your eyes following the crowd. The music was loud; a tight smosh-like pit had formed before the stage where people grind and brushed against each other to the beat of the music. 

Looking around, you scanned the faces of teenagers and young adults. There was an eager but dreaded nervousness to your gaze at the thought of seeing a face that looked familiar. But it wasn't your eyes that caught their presence, but rather your sense of smell. 

 Copper. 

Although it was harder to pick up when the wind stills its prancing, the occasional breeze led you further towards the pier. Away from the smosh pit, and where people stood to enjoy the music but not risk getting mulled over by a hormonal teenager. 

There they stood, strikingly familiar. Although some of the fashion had changed, most of their originality stayed intact. That tiny red flag tied around Dwayne's waist was something the two of you had stolen from a stingy bar owner back in 1964; Markos jacket still had all too familiar patches sewn into its denim fabric; Paul still wore those bracelets you gave him, and David wore the most prominent reminder of you, his oversized coat. 

The wind picked up around you, a cold and mocking breeze flowing through your hair and betraying your presence to the four men you had left behind all those years ago. One by one, heads lifted, smiling ceased, and laughter died. Although you had spent years preparing yourself for this moment, nothing felt so gut-wrenchingly real than standing before them. 

How do you look someone in the eyes after you've abandoned them?

How do you move past that moment when the world around you stills and halts. When you lose yourself in the blear of the world when mortality reaches its hand around your heart and squeezes. A vice-like grip, a feeling blooming within your chest so heavy–so unspeakable. When you see those eyes, recognize the sorrow behind them and realize you were the perpetrator. You were the one who put that agony, that sadness there.

The burden of your actions ties itself around your throat like a noose, tight and unyielding, as you realize the cruelty was done by none other than yourself. And there is no way, in any shape or form, you could reverse the damage you've done. Pain is immortal, it might yield to its throbbing, but it never forgets. 

A world with your boys back in 1967 exists now only in your memory. The four men, cold as the autumn waters, were your reality now. 

"Hello, boys."

[kemetic-dreams]

Joseph “Uncle Joe” Clovese was the last known surviving African soldier of the Union Army in the American Civil War, and lived in Pontiac at the time of his death in 1951. Clovese, who lived to be 107 years old, was born into slavery on a plantation in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana, and escaped slavery in his teens to join the Union Army during the Siege of Vicksburg. He stayed with the Northern Army, first as a drummer, later as an infantryman. He was a private in Co. "C", 63rd Colored Infantry Regiment.

Following the war he worked on Mississippi river steamboats, and he later worked on the crew stringing the first telegraph wires between New Orleans and Biloxi, Mississippi. At the age of 104, Clovese moved from Louisiana to Pontiac, Michigan to be near family. Once the community learned about “Uncle Joe,” the citizens of Pontiac embraced him. Large gatherings were organized for his 105th, 106th and 107th birthdays on January 30th.

For his funeral, more than 300 people were packed into Newman A.M.E. Church in Pontiac (their former location, in downtown) for the service. Hundreds more gathered at the gravesite in Pontiac’s Perry Mount Park Cemetery. Veterans from the Oakland County Council of Veterans served as pall bearers. A firing party from Selfridge Air Force Base fired the final salute and taps was sounded over the cemetery. Pontiac even named a road in his honor, that ran through the Lakeside Homes complex.

[viellohi]

okay was someone ever going to tell me or was i going to have to just learn for myself about the Texas Camel Experiment and that the 43rd Mississippi Infantry Volunteers had a camel whose name was Douglas and the horses were terrified of him

sadly he was killed by Union sharpshooters during the Siege of Vicksburg :( and what happened to him afterwards seems to be disputed (on his grave marker it says he was eaten by his fellow Confederates but I also read that it's been said the Yankees ate him and kept his bones as a trophy)

[southernprideyall2]

18 May 1863. The beginning of the siege of Vicksburg. Yankees indiscriminately bombarded the town, killing many civilians in the process. It ended 4 July which is why the town refused to celebrate the 4th for a long time.

[myhauntedsalem]

Duff Green Mansion

The Duff Green Mansion is a magnificent, civil war era Palladian mansion in the heart of Vicksburg, Mississippi, at 1114 First East Street in the beautiful historic district. A true piece of art and history all wrapped into one gorgeous homestead, the haunting of Duff Green Mansion has gone on for nearly as many years as it has stood.

Duff Green built the mansion in 1856, an elaborate wedding gift for his new wife Mary Lake Duff. It would be several years before the civil war took its toll on the Duff Green Mansion. Until that time, the lavish parties and extravagant ball room galas the Green’s hosted were known far and wide.

Then the siege of Vicksburg, MS changed all that. Duff Green Mansion was hit not once, not twice, but at least five times by cannonball fire from the Union army. There are still post beams in the home to this day where you can see where the cannons etched their path through the structure.

Seeing the terrible danger, and knowing that there was not nearly enough medical aid to assist the brave soldiers who risked their lives for both the Union and Confederate armies, the Green family chose to temporarily give their spacious mansion as a wartime hospital. Union soldiers got treated on the upper floor, Confederates on the ground level.

The terribly injured patients got taken to the basement. Those who went there either required a surgeon, many for the purpose of amputation, or simply weren’t expected to survive. In the one room where amputations were performed, the basement rose somewhat above ground, the Duff Green Mansion being built as it was upon a great hill. A window offered light into the basement, as well as a perfect means of disposing of the detached limbs.

For many years rumor was that these limbs got tossed out the window, then later, as the pile grew to several feet high, taken for burial. Those rumors were all but confirmed in the 1980’s when the current owners were remodeling and inadvertently dug up a small pile of arm and leg bones from the earth outside this very window.

In fact, visitors to the Duff Green Mansion Bed & Breakfast who have a background in the medical field have taken the tour of the home and, upon entering this room of the basement, backed out. They say they can smell ether and other medicinal odors, even though these items have not been used in the mansion’s basement since the mid 1800’s.

The Duff Green Mansion has changed hands multiple times over the generations. The Green family moved back in 1866 when the soldiers left Vicksburg. When Duff passed away in 1880, Mary Green sold the home to the Peatross family.

In 1910, the mansion sold to the great-granddaughter of Vicksburg’s founder (Rev. Newet Vick), Fannie Vick Willis Johnston. She lived there for 3 years while she completed her own mansion, Oak Hall (known as The Stained Glass Manor). Mrs. Johnston then donated the property for use as a boy’s orphanage. It later became a retirement home for aged widows. She died in 1931 and her entire estate, including the Duff Green Mansion, got sold to the Salvation Army for a grand total of $3,000.

The Duff Green Mansion became a true place of salvation, serving meals and providing beds to those in need. This continued for 54 years until the Sharp family purchased the property for an exorbitant amount that enabled the Salvation Army to upgrade to an even larger, more suitable site.

Mr. and Mrs. Harry Carter Sharp spent the next 2-1/2 years restoring the Duff Green Mansion to its former glory, adding many bathrooms in the process. The Mississippi Department of Archives and History involvement made sure the restorations were historically accurate. The Duff Green Mansion reopened as a Bed & Breakfast and offered tours, which are still active today.

The most widespread ghost story of Duff Green Mansion is that of a confederate soldier who seems to live in the Dixie Room. Guests have awoken to see the full-bodied (minus one leg) apparition of the spectral soldier standing by the mantel or rocking in the chair near the bed.

There are no stories of frightening ghosts or threatening paranormal activity. Nothing particularly terrible occurred at Duff Green Mansion. But the lingering memories of suffering and hardship continue to leave their mark on the structure. You can even still see some of the old bloodstains from over 150 years ago that still discolor the original wood floors.

[weirdestbooks]

Shot From the Sky (Wattpad | Ao3)

For the amazing @lost-islands

Bonus Scene from A Civil Disagreement

General Grant had asked Michigan to fly up and figure out where the cannons should be aimed. They needed this siege to end. Once Vicksburg fell, they could finally cut the Confederacy in half and achieve the second goal of the Anaconda Plan. He was just as eager to end the siege as the others, and not firing blindly would help.

So now Michigan was about ten feet above the Mississippi, examining the city and debating whether he would be safe flying over it.

“On the bright side, it would give us an advantage. On the bad side, I would definitely get hurt flying directly over it. Maybe I can try flying around the outskirts?” Michigan muttered to himself, tilting his head to the side as he tried to figure out what to do.

Michigan heard another gunshot but didn’t take much notice of it until blinding pain erupted in his left wing. He screamed as he began to plummet like a stone.

Michigan quickly stretched out his wings, trying to slow the fall, ignoring how that made the pain worse. As his fall slowed, Michigan began to feel lightheaded and dizzy and was starting to have trouble moving his wings.

“Make it to shore, make it to shore,” he muttered as he tried to turn toward the shore of the Mississippi so he could land and get medical treatment.

Michigan was too far to make it, not with how high he was above the water. He flapped his wings once, trying to gain more height, but it just made the pain overwhelming. His muscles seized up, and Michigan fell as everything began fading away. He closed his eyes and fell into unconsciousness, not even feeling his body hit the water.

The next thing Michigan was aware of was a hand running through his hair. Michigan tried to peel his eyes open, but it took too much energy, energy he didn’t seem to have. His head was so fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure what was happening. Michigan thinks people were talking. 

Michigan then groaned as pain began to hit him, centered around his wing. The hand running through his hair stopped, and Michigan let out a little whine, not wanting to lose the comfort.

“…….” Had someone spoken? Michigan couldn’t tell. His awareness slowly faded, and Michigan felt like someone had tied weights to his limbs. They were so heavy and hard to move.

Not that he wanted to move. 

“…..ampu….”

The hand was beginning to run through his hair again, and Michigan let out a small sigh as he fell again into unconsciousness.

———————

Michigan had been going in and out of consciousness and never managed to stay awake for longer than what felt like a couple of seconds. This time, however, he was able to stay awake for much longer, although he hadn’t moved since waking up.

Michigan was just so lightheaded and hot, and his limbs felt so heavy. There were also voices talking around him, but he didn’t care enough to focus on what they were saying. 

Michigan finally opened his eyes and tried to focus them on the source of the voices. While his vision was initially fuzzy, he finally realized who it was.

“Mes..mis..” Michigan was cut off from his attempt at speaking as he began coughing, loud, grating coughs that hurt his throat. It didn’t help the lightheadedness.

“Hey hey hey, Michigan, don’t speak,” Missouri said, putting his hand on Michigan’s forehead. His hand was cold and felt so lovely, especially since Michigan was so hot. Against his will, Michigan’s eyes began slipping shut. 

“Michigan….?” Michigan heard Missouri ask, but everything was already fading away again, and he couldn’t make out the rest of the sentence. Michigan slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus his blurry vision on Missouri.

Michigan tried to respond, but his mouth seemed unable to cooperate, and Michigan thought he just ended up making random, incomprehensible muttered noises. Missouri moved his hand from Michigan’s forehead and began running it through Michigan’s hair.

“…st…e?” Michigan couldn't tell what Missouri was saying. Everything was too fuzzy and hot. Michigan whimpered, breathing heavily as the uncomfortableness mixed with the growing pain in his wing.

Michigan let out more incomprehensible noises, trying to convey that he was hot, and it hurt and burned, and he wanted to go away. Tears began to slide down Michigan’s face.

It hurt so badly.

Darkness began creeping into his vision as his head spun, and his lightheadedness grew. Michigan shut his eyes and felt the heaviness in his limbs grow as well.

The pain was fading, the sounds were fading, everything was fading. Michigan welcomed the darkness, as it was pain-free, and didn’t fight as it took him into unconsciousness. 

———————

Michigan groaned as consciousness and pain returned to him. He slowly opened his eyes, faintly noticing that his vision was less blurry than it had been. Looking around, he noticed he was in a church, most likely a makeshift hospital, if the pain in his wing and foggy memories were anything to go by.

“Michi?” Michigan heard Missouri’s familiar voice ask. He looked over to see his brother standing there, his face worried. And next to him, lying on a cot that had been pulled next to the one Michigan was lying on, was his wing, tightly bound in bandages, although smaller than Michigan remembered it being.

“‘Llo ‘Souri,” Michigan said, his tongue finally managing to get out some of the first words he had spoken in…in…how long had he been unconscious? Before Michigan could ask that question, Missouri practically leaped on top of him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank god you’re awake! And talking! You’ve been half-conscious and barely speaking when you were, and I thought you had died! Mitch, I thought you were going to die!” Missouri said before he pulled away from the hug. He had small tears rolling down his face, which he quickly wiped away. 

Michigan was a bit stunned by that declaration. His condition was so bad that Missouri thought he was going to die. He could have died? Well, at least Michigan could take comfort in the fact that it wasn’t a country that caused the injury, so it’s not like it would have been a permanent death.

“What happened? I…I remember getting shot..and falling towards the river, but what happened after that?” Michigan asked, pressing a hand to his forehead as he tried to pull himself into more of a sitting position. Missouri sighed and began rubbing his arm.

“When you started falling, I got two soldiers who could swim to get into the river with me to help me rescue you. We got to you and pulled you to shore. You…you were so cold I feared you were already dead. You were also bleeding badly. We got you to the hospital tent, and the doctors clipped your feathers so they could see the injury and…and had to amputate part of your wing. You’ve been pretty much out since then.”

Michigan froze, and horror flooded through him.

“I…no…amputate?” Michigan asked, looking back at the bandaged wing and seeing now that part of it was gone.

“I’m sorry, Mitch,” Missouri said, his voice thick with emotion, “I tried to get them to hold off on the decision, but…even if you had been able to keep it, it was…bad…shredded almost. But you’re alive, and that’s what matters!”

“But I’ll never be able to fly again,” Michigan said, closing his eyes and biting back tears.

“Yeah…you won’t. Hopefully, Dad punishes Mississippi for this.” Missouri said. Mississippi? What did Mississippi have to do with this? Sure, the siege was in her state, but that doesn’t give her the blame. Missouri must have noticed Michigan’s confused expression because he clarified what he meant.

“Mississippi was the one that shot you.” He said. Michigan began to feel lightheaded again. Mississippi…she…he…he could have actually died! Mississippi shot me!

Mississippi took his wing from him.

“Why?” Michigan asked as Missouri put his hands on his shoulder. It’s then Michigan realized he was shaking. 

“I don’t know. This war has done so much damage. Maybe she just doesn’t care about her family anymore. I honestly have no clue as to what her motives were with shooting you.” Missouri said, pulling Michigan into a quick hug. Michigan returned it the best he could, but his limbs were weak.

“At least I have you. Thank you for saving me.” Michigan said. Missouri tightened the hug.

“You’re welcome. But don’t scare me like that again.”

[scotianostra]

John McArthur was born on November 17th 1826 in Erskine.

McArthur, learnt his fathers trade as a blacksmith. He emigrated to America at the age of twenty-three and settled in Chicago. There he became a manager and owner in a Chicago Iron Works and at the start of the American Civil War, became a Captain of a militia company who became known as Chicago Highland Guards due to the Highland Bunnet’s most of the soldiers wore.

In May of 1861, he became colonel of the 12th Illinois Infantry. He fought in engagements and battles in places including Fort Henry and Fort Donelson. Promoted to brigadier general on March 21, 1862; he took part in the Battle of Shiloh, in which he was wounded. As divisional commander, he led troops at Iuka, Corinth and in the Vicksburg Campaign and Siege.

He was brevetted a major general for his service in the Battle of Nashville, and was assigned to the Army of the Gulf for the rest of the war. I must admit I have seen the word brevet many times, and knew hit was a military term, so just looked it up for the first time, it means a warrant giving to a commissioned officer a higher rank title as a reward for gallantry or meritorious conduct but may not confer the authority, it often meant they didn’t get the pay rise that usually came with the job.

McArthur left the military in August 1865, and returned to his iron business. It did poorly, and his position as Chicago public works commissioner ended after the Chicago fire of 1871.

He may not be the most famous general but they thought enough of him to put a bust of him in Vicksburg National Military Park

He was postmaster of Chicago, but was found culpable for losing $73,000 of postal funds in a bank failure. After retiring, McArthur died in Chicago, on May 15th, 1906 aged 79, a good auld age!

[thesean]

Getting a lot of questions about my "Old Douglas, the Confederate Camel who was shot and killed by a Union sharpshooter during the siege of Vicksburg" shirt that my "Old Douglas, the Confederate Camel who was shot and killed by a Union sharpshooter during the siege of Vicksburg" shirt already answers

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Tucked away in an amendment to the FY2023 U.S. defense authorization bill is a rare instance of congressional bipartisanship and a tribute to U.S. President Ulysses S. Grant.

If approved, the measure would posthumously promote Grant to the rank of General of the Armies of the U.S., making him only the third person – along with John J. Pershing and George Washington – to be awarded the nation’s highest military honor.

As Executive Director of the Ulysses S. Grant Presidential Library, I believe that the promotion would be much more than a symbolic nod to a great military general. Rather, it would highlight the overlooked legacy of a man who fought to end the last vestiges of slavery.

OUTBREAK OF CIVIL WAR

During the Civil War, Grant rose to fame as a decisive leader who was willing to doggedly pursue Confederate armies and avoid retreat at all costs. He first gained his reputation for tenacity with Union victories at Shiloh, the Battles for Chattanooga and the Siege of Vicksburg.

Like most white Northerners, Grant signed up to fight for the Union – not for emancipation.

But by 1862, the freedom of enslaved African Americans had become vital to the Union war strategy, if not yet its cause.

A year before President Abraham Lincoln signed in 1863 the Emancipation Proclamation that freed enslaved people in the Confederate states, Grant oversaw the establishment of refugee, or contraband camps, throughout the Mississippi Valley. Those camps provided basic housing, food and work for Black men and women who had fled from slavery.

Grant also administered the enlistment of African American men into United States Colored Troops units during the Vicksburg campaign.

In March 1864, Lincoln appointed Grant to the rank of lieutenant general and ordered him to take on the Confederate Army in Virginia, a task at which numerous other Union leaders had failed.

At this point during the war, Grant assumed the role of chief strategist for the entire Union war effort. It took the next 13 months of fighting during the Overland campaign before Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox on April 9, 1865.

In this illustration, Gen. Ulysses S, Grant, left, accepts the surrender of Gen. Robert E. Lee. (Getty Images)

After the Federal victory, many Americans hailed Grant as the man who saved the Union.

But Grant was magnanimous in victory.

Multiple times during the war he honored the dignity of his defeated adversaries, most famously at Appomattox, where he did not require Lee to hand over his sword, as usually required. Grant also allowed Confederate officers to keep their sidearms and horses.

Lee appreciated Grant’s actions, remarking: “This will have the best possible effect upon the men … it will be very gratifying, and will do much toward conciliating our people.”

IMPACT OF THE ‘LOST CAUSE’

But after the war, the conciliatory feelings vanished.

Southern partisans constructed the narrative of the “Lost Cause.” It held that the root of the Civil War was not slavery, but the rights of states to control their own destinies. It further held that the Union victory had nothing to do with Confederate character or leadership, but rather the Union’s sheer numbers and superior resources.

In this Lost Cause narrative, Grant was seen as a bumbling butcher devoid of any meaningful strategic vision, who succeeded only by mercilessly throwing more soldiers at his enemy. It also revived the old rumors of his excessive drinking.

In this storyline, Grant’s foil was always the courtly gentleman, Robert E. Lee. The hagiography of Lee demanded Grant’s inferiority.

By the early 20th century, the Lost Cause was no longer isolated in the South and had spread across America. Crowds flocked to see the racist anti-Reconstruction “Birth of a Nation” in movie theaters, and during the World War I rush to build military bases, the Army named 10 of them after Confederate generals.

PRESIDENT GRANT’S FIGHT FOR EQUALITY

Grant served as President from 1869 to 1877 during a time when white Southerners proved hostile toward federal Reconstruction measures that sought equal rights for recently freed enslaved people.

Grant saw his role of enforcing these policies as an extension of his wartime duty and necessary to protect the gains of the Union victory, especially the newly established rights for African Americans.

He used the resources of the federal government to crush the Ku Klux Klan, established the Department of Justice to investigate civil rights abuses and signed the Civil Rights Act of 1875.

GRANT’S LATEST CAUSE

In recent years, the American public has questioned the Lost Cause and taken steps to mitigate its pervasiveness throughout the U.S.

Southerners themselves have chosen to remove Confederate leaders from town squares and state flags. The U.S. Army has established a Naming Commission to rebrand Confederate-named bases.

It is telling, too, that Grant’s Presidential Library is now located in Mississippi, a Deep South state he once conquered.

It remains to be seen whether the request made to elevate Grant’s rank by U.S. Senators Sherrod Brown of Ohio, a Democrat, and Roy Blunt of Missouri, a Republican – along with GOP U.S Rep. Ann Wagner – will be finally approved by Congress as part of the FY2023 National Defense Authorization Act.

Either way, in my view, a thoughtful reconsideration of Grant’s wartime and post-war contributions is long overdue.

[origingenealogy]

Vicksburg Siege - Vicksburg National Military Park (U.S. National Park Service)

After this battle Vicksburg stopped celebrating the 4th of July for over 50 years.

[classicgentlemanstyle]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Farragut US Naval Commander Officer's Coat, 42L - Collector's Item.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 7.9 (before 1870)

118 – Hadrian, who became emperor a year previously on Trajan's death, makes his entry into Rome. 381 – The end of the First Council of Christian bishops convened in Constantinople by the Roman Emperor Theodosius I. 491 – Odoacer makes a night assault with his Heruli guardsmen, engaging Theoderic the Great in Ad Pinetam. Both sides suffer heavy losses, but in the end Theodoric forces Odoacer back into Ravenna. 551 – A major earthquake strikes Beirut, triggering a devastating tsunami that affected the coastal towns of Byzantine Phoenicia, causing thousands of deaths. 660 – Korean forces under general Kim Yu-sin of Silla defeat the army of Baekje in the Battle of Hwangsanbeol. 869 – The 8.4–9.0 Mw Sanriku earthquake strikes the area around Sendai in northern Honshu, Japan. Inundation from the tsunami extended several kilometers inland. 969 – The Fatimid general Jawhar leads the Friday prayer in Fustat in the name of Caliph al-Mu'izz li-Din Allah, thereby symbolically completing the Fatimid conquest of Egypt. 1357 – Emperor Charles IV assists in laying the foundation stone of Charles Bridge in Prague. 1386 – The Old Swiss Confederacy makes great strides in establishing control over its territory by soundly defeating the Duchy of Austria in the Battle of Sempach. 1401 – Timur attacks the Jalairid Sultanate and destroys Baghdad. 1540 – King Henry VIII of England annuls his marriage to his fourth wife, Anne of Cleves. 1572 – Nineteen Catholics suffer martyrdom for their beliefs in the Dutch town of Gorkum. 1609 – Bohemia is granted freedom of religion through the Letter of Majesty by the Holy Roman Emperor, Rudolf II. 1701 – A Bourbon force under Nicolas Catinat withdraws from a smaller Habsburg force under Prince Eugene of Savoy in the Battle of Carpi. 1745 – French victory in the Battle of Melle allows them to capture Ghent in the days after. 1755 – The Braddock Expedition is soundly defeated by a smaller French and Native American force in its attempt to capture Fort Duquesne in what is now downtown Pittsburgh. 1762 – Catherine the Great becomes Empress of Russia following the coup against her husband, Peter III. 1763 – The Mozart family grand tour of Europe began, lifting the profile of son Wolfgang Amadeus. 1776 – George Washington orders the Declaration of Independence to be read out to members of the Continental Army in Manhattan, while thousands of British troops on Staten Island prepare for the Battle of Long Island. 1789 – In Versailles, the National Assembly reconstitutes itself as the National Constituent Assembly and begins preparations for a French constitution. 1790 – The Swedish Navy captures one third of the Russian Baltic fleet. 1793 – The Act Against Slavery in Upper Canada bans the importation of slaves and will free those who are born into slavery after the passage of the Act at 25 years of age. 1795 – Financier James Swan pays off the $2,024,899 US national debt that had been accrued during the American Revolution. 1807 – The second Treaty of Tilsit is signed between France and Prussia, ending the War of the Fourth Coalition. 1810 – Napoleon annexes the Kingdom of Holland as part of the First French Empire. 1811 – Explorer David Thompson posts a sign near what is now Sacajawea State Park in Washington state, claiming the Columbia District for the United Kingdom. 1815 – Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord becomes the first Prime Minister of France. 1816 – Argentina declares independence from Spain. 1850 – U.S. President Zachary Taylor dies after eating raw fruit and iced milk; he is succeeded in office by Vice President Millard Fillmore. 1850 – Persian prophet Báb is executed in Tabriz, Persia. 1863 – American Civil War: The Siege of Port Hudson ends in a Union victory and, along with the fall of Vicksburg five days earlier, gives the Union complete control of the Mississippi River. 1868 – The 14th Amendment to the United States Constitution is ratified, guaranteeing African Americans full citizenship and all persons in the United States due process of law.

[dixiedrudge]

Port Hudson - Today In Southern History

8  July 1863   On this date in 1863… The last Confederate garrison on the Mississippi River at thestronghold of Port Hudson, Louisiana surrendered to federal troops after learning of the fall of Vicksburg, Mississippi and ending the longest siege on American soil. Other Years: 1795 – Kent County Free School in Maryland changed its name to Washington College and became the first college to be…

[southernprideyall2]

Never forget.