A Good Samaritan in Blue: A Story of the Battle of Port Gibson, May 1, 1863

 

The soldiers who fought in the Civil War were left with many memories of the conflict. They had good memories and bad memories, but some of the most vivid concerned the unexpected kindnesses displayed by those who had no reason to be kind at all.

Such is the case in this story, written by Edmond Talbot, a corporal in the “Lake Rebels,” Company E, 6th Mississippi Infantry. On May 1, 1863, the 6th Mississippi was engaged in a bloody fight near the Magnolia Church during the battle of Port Gibson, Mississippi. Talbot was wounded in the action, and it was his experience as a casualty that led him to write to the Atlanta Constitution. His letter was published in the November 1, 1891 edition of the paper.  

An editor for the paper prefaced Talbot’s letter with this commentary:

A GOOD SAMARITAN IN BLUE

Here is one of those incidents which make us think more of our kind. This touching letter from a Confederate soldier, who wishes to find the Yankee soldier that did him a kind act thirty years ago, breathes the fragrant breath of gratitude, which is as fresh and strong now as it was thirty years ago.

Without any further commentary, the paper printed Talbot’s missive, a long-shot request to find the man who had aided him more than thirty years earlier on a blood soaked battlefield in Mississippi:

While engaged in the civil war at Port Gibson, Miss., I fell a victim to the ill fortune of war. I was severely wounded in my right lung, which rendered me unable to speak audibly, and while in this condition there came to my assistance an unknown friend, clad in blue, who showed me exceeding kindness.

After he administered to my thirst I surrendered my arms, and learning of my desires, he had me placed upon a litter and carried

The Magnolia Church at Port Gibson, Mississippi, where E.M. Talbot was taken for care after he was wounded. (The Clarion-Ledger, March 9, 1980)

by unwilling men to a church near by. There I was cared for until I was able to get elsewhere.

In giving details I will state that this friend did not carry me from the battlefield when he first found me, but left me for awhile, telling me that he would return, and sure enough he did, to my surprise, and rendered the above mentioned service.

Comparatively speaking, this man was my enemy, yet I am partially indebted to him for my present existence. Had it not been for that noble heart that beat within his bosom, I never would have been carried from the battlefield. More than once the bearers of the litter complained of my weight and expressed their desire to carry men who would survive.

I was too badly wounded to take any note as to the features of this friend, and as a result have no idea as to his general appearance, but think he was a non-commissioned officer, and belonged to the infantry. I belonged to the Sixth Mississippi Infantry, Company E, and we fought the Twenty-Ninth Wisconsin regiment in our front.

It is very seldom that we experience a manifestation of such love and respect from a foe, and if the doer of that noble act is still living and can remember the expressions as well as the act, and will respond thereto, I will be very much gratified. If he has passed over the trials of this world and gone to try the realities of the unknown, I can only wish him peace, bliss and happiness.

The almighty power saw proper to spare me and allow me to reunite with the Confederates, and to return to my much loved country, and raise a family that prides in the sunny south as did their sire.

Address E. M. Talbot, Rochester, Jackson Parish, Louisiana

It took some digging, but thanks to the modern miracle of digitized newspapers, I was able to find the identity of the Union soldier that aided Talbot in his time of need. The following letter was printed in the Atlanta Constitution, March 21, 1892:

A Friend In Blue

Cascade, Ia., February 11th – Editor Constitution: In The Daily Times of Dubuque, Iowa, of February 3rd instant, I read an article headed “A Friend in Blue.” I found that the article contained an ardent desire of a confederate soldier to find a yankee soldier who showed him kindness after the battle at Port Gibson, Miss.

The soldier states that he was wounded in the right lung, and was a member of the Sixth Mississippi Infantry “Company E.” I

Wartime photograph of Lieutenant James Hill, Company I, 21st Iowa Infantry. (www.thechaplainkit.com)

desire to state that after the battle I heard a deep moaning in a ravine, after listening and locating the sound; I searched in a small grove, and found a confederate soldier, a young man badly wounded, apparently in dying circumstances. I raised him up and if I remember correctly, I carried him a piece towards the church on the hill, if not all the way. I have some recollection of going for help, but do not remember the details at this late day, but I do well remember getting a confederate soldier from the field up to the church for treatment.

I have often wondered if the poor fellow lived; and if so, I have a strong desire to find him. And having the impression that this is the soldier that it was my great pleasure to help on that sad occasion, I am very anxious to be put in direct communication with him. His name and address were not given in the article. I may also state my name and address, “James Hill, Baptist minister, Cascade, Dubuque County, Iowa.”

At the time of the Port Gibson battle I was first lieutenant of Company “I,” Twenty-First Iowa Infantry volunteers. Hoping to hear from you soon, either by letter or paper.

Yours very respectfully,

JAMES HILL

I did a little digging into Civil War service of James Hill, and was astounded to find that he was awarded the Medal of Honor in 1893 for his actions at the battle of Champion Hill, Mississippi, May 16, 1863. I quickly pulled out my copy of Deeds of Valor: How America’s Heroes Won the Medal of Honor, and there I found, in Hills’ own words, what he did at Champion Hill that earned him the nation’s highest award for gallantry in combat:

On the 16th of May, 1863, while acting as quartermaster of my regiment, I was ordered by my commander, Colonel Samuel Merrill, to select as many soldiers as I needed, and return in the direction of the Raymond and Jackson Cross Roads to forage and collect anything that would serve the regiment on our march to the Big Black River and Vicksburg. I selected a sufficient number of good men, and sent them out to cover part of the country, giving them orders to report to me at Raymond and Jackson Cross Roads with what forage they had gathered in, preparatory to our return to the regiment.

After getting my men off on their mission, I took a pony belonging to the regiment and rode through some timber and brush in search of food, mules and horses. In following a path through the dense timber I unexpectedly rode right into the Confederate lines, and encountered three rebel pickets with their loaded rifles. I realized at once that I had gotten myself into a nasty position. Nevertheless, I did not lose my presence of mind, for as I emerged from the brush, I instantly and in the most natural manner, ordered the Johnnies to ‘ground arms!’ They obeyed. Then slightly turning my head, I addressed an imaginary guard in the brush, with a hasty order to ‘halt.’

Illustration from the book DEEDS OF VALOR depicting James Hill capturing Confederate soldiers at the battle of Champion Hill.

The under growth and brush were so heavy that the Confederates were prevented from seeing through and thus discovering the deception. I next gave the command: ‘Ten paces to the front, eyes to the center.’ Seeing my revolver in my hand ready for instant use, the three men complied with my command. I further added that if any of them turned his head to right or left I would shoot him down in his tracks. I frequently gave the order to ‘halt’ to my imaginary guard, tending to frighten my prisoners into absolute obedience. This done, I deliberately dismounted and gathered up the three rifles, placed them against the neck of the pony, mounted, took the rifles under my arm and then gave the order to my prisoners: ‘Single file, march,’ and to my imaginary guard: ‘Forward, march.’

I hurried toward the command at good speed. Before it began to dawn on my prisoners that I had fooled them, they found themselves within our lines. I turned them and their rifles over to Colonel Merrill who sent them to Major-General McClernand. When the prisoners saw that I had fooled them, their anger was vented in terms more strong than polite, one of them saying to me: ‘Lieutenant, you could never have taken us but for that devil of a body-guard we thought you had, from the way your kept halting them.’”

In today’s army, the capture of three enemy soldiers would not earn a soldier the nation’s highest award for valor; but times were different in the 19th Century, and in that day and age Hill was widely hailed as a hero. When the old soldier passed away in 1899, his former comrade in arms, William D. Crooke, major of the 21st Iowa Infantry, had this to say about him:

I have constantly resisted the temptation to speak of individual acts of heroism. Where all were brave it seemed invidious to mention special cases, but during the battle of Champion Hill there occurred an incident so unique in character as to justify exceptional notice. I refer to the act of our beloved chaplain. He was then simply Lieut. James Hill, of Co. I, and Acting Quartermaster. Grant’s army was living on the country. Our last rations were issued at Bruinsburg, 17 days before, and were soon exhausted. The Commissariat was not yet in normal operation on the east side of the river. Cornmeal and bacon were plentiful on those Mississippi farms and in the woods, but required to be first found and then brought to camp…The duty of supplying food fell to the Quartermaster of the regiment, who, with a small force, would scour the country within safe distances, and usually with good success. Lieut. Hill was untiring in the performance of his duty, and could not restrain his energy or the pursuit of food and fodder even on the edge of a hard-fought battlefield. (The National Tribune, Washington, D.C., October 12, 1899.)

Sometime after the Vicksburg Campaign ended, Lieutenant James Hill felt the pull of a new call of duty, and became Chaplain of the 21st Iowa Infantry, a position he held until the end of the war. I found one interesting anecdote concerning his work as regimental chaplain, and interestingly enough, it was from the Findagrave listing of Major William D. Crooke – in his online obituary it was stated:

On August 28, 1864, in Louisiana, William was baptized by the regimental chaplain. Five months later, on January 23, 1865, he tendered his resignation on the ground that “my conviction of Christian duty will not permit me longer to use the sword for the redress of wrong.

The Reverend James Hill passed away on September 22, 1899, in Cascade, Iowa. He is buried in the Cascade Community Cemetery, and his grave has a modern brass grave marker alerting all that pass by that the man buried in this plot was awarded the Medal of Honor.

Grave of James Hill (www.findagrave.com)

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There are 3 comments.

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  1. Gary McVey Contributor
    Gary McVey
    @GaryMcVey

    Another fantastic post, Jeff. Keep ’em coming!

    • #1
  2. Jim McConnell Member
    Jim McConnell
    @JimMcConnell

    Thank you, @jeffgiambrone, for these posts bringing us the human side of the Civil War. I always look forward to them.

    • #2
  3. aardo vozz Member
    aardo vozz
    @aardovozz

    Were you able to find out if Edmond Talbott and James Hill ever corresponded directly or met in person after the initial letter and response were published?

    • #3
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