I
would not have granted Confederate Major General John
George Walker (above) a pardon in 1866. And not because he betrayed his
nation. About one in four of the 31 million Americans actively
supported the rebellion of the slave states in 1860, that killed
750,000 soldiers and civilians. But I believe John Walker should
have been punished for the death of one young union private in
particular, who died at the age of 23 for no other reason than
because General Walker was stubborn and arrogant. And what inspired
Walkers' belligerence was the unexpected appearance at the mouth of
the Rio Grande River of the quixotic Union general Lew Wallace.
On
11 March, 1865, the bookish Hoosier met with Walker's subordinate
General James Edwin Slaughter, and local regimental commander
Colonel John Salmon Ford, at the southern end of South Padre Island
in Port Isabel.
But instead of the expected topic of prisoner
exchange, Wallace(above) wanted to talk about an immediate cease fire west
of the Mississippi, and the negotiated surrender of all rebel
troops. Slaughter agreed to forward the proposal to the Confederate
Commander of the entire trans-Mississippi, General Edmund Kirby
Smith. But first the offer had to cross the desk of the Texas
Commander, General John G. Walker.
On
25 March, from his headquarters in Houston, Walker berated Wallace
for “seeking an obscure corner of the Confederacy to inaugurate
negotiations.” Having insulted his own command, Walker admitted,
“It would be folly...to pretend we are not tired of the war...”,
but even discussing surrender said Walker, would render rebel
officers “infamous for all time.” Walker then closed by saying,
“With the blessing of God we will yet...extort from your government
all that we ask.” Wallace accurately labeled Walker's rejection as
“childish”. Nevertheless Walker was encouraged by his superior, General Smith, to passively accept Wallace's cease fire.
The
Trans-Mississippi (Louisiana, Arkansas and Texas) had been isolated
from the rest of the Confederacy since the fall of Vicksburg in July
of 1863. And while federal troops had withdrawn from Louisiana and
Texas in 1864, they still occupied the barrier islands (above), blockading
imports, except for a trickle that could be hauled across the beach
at Bagdad, Mexico, on the south shore of the Rio Grande river.
Walker was
convinced his soldiers had driven off the Federal invaders, but an
enlisted man stationed in south Texas wrote home, “The soldiers are
getting very restless, and some talk of breaking up and going home.”
At the end of December 1864, General Slaughter had only 2,600
soldiers fit for duty along the Rio Grande. By the end of March 1865,
desertion had lowered that number to less than 1,200 men.
Then
during April of 1865 the eastern Confederacy shattered. The Army of
Northern Virginia surrendering on the 9th.
, and on the 26th
General Joe Johnston surrendered all Confederate forces in North and
South Carolina, Georgia and Florida. As their government melted away
the inmates of The trans-Mississippi found the Confederate dollar was
worth more as kindling than currency.
Plantation owners could only
sell cotton to the government for worthless paper, and the few small
farmers who were not in the army had trouble growing enough for themselves. By early May, in Texas' largest city of Houston, a 50
pound bag of flour cost the entire monthly salary of an army captain.
Even to the die hard General Walker it was now obvious only a Yankee
invasion could unite his disillusioned and hungry soldiers.
As
far back as February of 1865 Union commanders on the barrier islands
had wanted to raid the Brownsville area. That request was denied
because Washington did not want to pay for land they expected to get
back for free. But then a rumor reached the Federally occupied southern most of the barrier islands, Bazos,
that the Confederate army was evacuating Brownsville.
The
new commander on Bazos, 30 year old Brevet Brigadier General Harvey
Barret (above), knew if he asked Washington for permission to check out the
rumor, they would say no. So he didn't ask.
On the morning of 11
May, 1865, the “ambitious but inept” General Barret ordered
Lieutenant Colonel David Branson to cross the lagoon over night and
land 300 infantry and dismounted cavalry at Boca Chita – Small
Mouth – of the Rio Grande River, before dawn. They were to carry 5 days rations
and 100 rounds of ammunition each. If not resisted on landing,
Branson was to push 7 miles east on the old military causeway road to
the White Ranch, where the neck of land between the South Bay of the Bazos lagoon and the Rio Grande was narrowest. There were thought to be about 65 rebel cavalry
picketed at the ranch, but if he met no resistance Branson was to
continue another 8 miles across the almost featureless landscape to the Palmetto Ranch. And if practical he
was to probe another 12 miles toward Brownsville and Fort Brown. As
a later report admitted, Barret's raid was “either without any
definite purpose, or for some purpose that has never been made
clear.” It was also without cavalry.
Colonel
Branson's force of 8 companies – 250 men of the 62nd
Colored infantry (above) and 2 companies of the 2nd Texas (U.S.)
Cavalry - 50 troopers without horses - landed at the end of the causeway about
2a.m. and pushed east ward. About 8:30 they got to the White Ranch,
and found the place abandoned. Branson let his men grab a couple of
hours sleep and then marched on to the Palmetto Ranch. As they
approached the hacienda around noon on 12 May, the Federals took
fire from some pickets, who fell back as the federals advanced.
Left behind were 3 rebels on sick call, 2 horses and 4 Texas long
horn cows, as well as rations for about 150 men. Burning the
hacienda and supplies, Branson's men camped nearby.
The
Confederates surprised at Palmetto Ranch were an under strength
company of cavalry under Captain William Robinson. He gathered his 60
men in the sage brush a mile away, and sent word to his commander at
Fort Brown, Colonel John Salmon “Rip” Ford.
Ford (above), who earned his
nickname because he always filled his causality lists with the
notation “Rest In Peace”, responded that he would arrive the next morning
with reinforcements. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Robinson realized
the federals had no cavalry, and decided not to wait.
About 3a.m. he
sent his men flanking the federal camp, and laid down an harassing
fire. Unable to match the rebels for maneuverability, Branson woke his exhausted infantry and marched them in the
dark back to the White Ranch with his prisoners – 3 rebels, a horse
and 4 cows. Robinson chose not to follow. And amazingly, for all the
marching and shooting, the only causality was one of the unmounted
Texas federals. So far. It seemed nobody on either side wanted to be the last man killed in the Civil War.
Colonel
Branson sent details of the encounter to General Barret back on Bazos
Island, expecting to be ordered to withdraw. After all, the mission
had been to confirm the rumor that Brownsville was being evacuated.
And with cavalry picketed 11 miles east of Brownsville, it was clear
the rebels were still there. Instead, Barret himself arrived at the White
Ranch just after dawn on 13 May, with 9 under strength companies
– about 200 men - of the veteran 34th Indiana infantry.
While the Hoosier soldiers rested, Barret pushed the 300 men of the
62nd and 2nd Texas Cavalry back toward Palmetto
Ranch.
Marching out from Brownsville to meet the Yankees that morning was Colonel “Rip” Ford and 360 mounted
cavalry, and six 6 pounder artillery pieces (above).
Given the flat, open
terrain, with the only trees bordering the Rio Grande River, the
battle would be decided by who best used their cavalry and artillery,
and Barret had none, and no combat experience with either. Why he was being foolish was explained to Barret that afternoon, when after a morning spent sniping at each other - again with no causalities - he tried to outflank the Confederates. About 4pm on the
afternoon of 13 May, Ford's mounted troopers easily out flanked Barret's flanking
maneuver.
In
his after action report, Barret admitted what he should have realized
before he launched his misadventure. “....a heavy body of cavalry
and a section of (artillery), under cover of the thick chaparral on our
right, had already succeeded in flanking us...our position became
untenable. We therefore fell back...This movement...having to be
performed under a heavy fire from both front and flank.” In other
words, trying to move infantry in cavalry country, without artillery
or cavalry support, was foolish. Barret's excuse was he didn't know any better.
Luckily,
the 34th
Indiana now arrived, and threw out the 48 men of Company B as
skirmishers, to cover the retreat of Barret's over extended 62nd
regiment.
In that line stretched across the hard dry chaparral, knelt
Private John Jefferson Williams (above), a 23 year old blacksmith from
Anderson, Indiana. The young man had been in the army since September
of 1863, joining the unit after it participated in the capture of
Vicksburg. And after duty in occupied New Orleans, this was Private
William's first battle. And his last.
Firing in the skirmish line,
Private Williams stood to reload his musket when a rebel
cavalryman fired a ball that entered William's skull just above his
right eye, killing him instantly.
Ford's cavalrymen
herded the isolated Federal skirmishers into a bend of the Rio Grande River, and
forced them to surrender, along with 30 stragglers from the 62nd
and 2nd
Texas.
The sacrifice of Company B and
private Williams, allowed the 62nd infantry to form a
longer skirmish line behind the retreating 34th. Their
retreat was then covered by another line of the 34th
Indiana. And thus began a leap frog 4 hour march, which Colonel Ford
described as “a run”, all the way back to the White Ranch. From
there the enclosing swamps restricted Colonel Ford's flanking
attacks, and he satisfied himself with lobbing an occasional
artillery shell, and long range musket fire. The last shots of this,
the last battle of the American Civil War, were fired by the last
skirmish line of the 62nd infantry, before boarding their
boats for Bazos island.. Seeing the Federals heading to the water,
Colonel Ford told his troopers, “Boys, we have done finely. We will
let well enough alone, and retire.”
The
final causality count from this final 2 day battle was, on the Union side,
4 dead – 2 from the 62nd , and one each the 2nd
Texas and the 34th Indiana, 12 wounded, and 101
captured. The Confederates suffered “five or six wounded”
according to Colonel Ford. The low "butcher's bill" indicated that not only were few of the soldiers on either side willing to die for their "country", they were not willing to kill for it either. The last man to die in the “Battle of
Palmetto Ranch” had been John Jefferson Williams, the last man to
be killed by enemy fire in the American Civil War. The $45 found in
his pocket was sent to his widow in Anderson, Indiana. And even he would
not have died if Confederate
Major General John George Walker had not insisted on fighting
for a month after the war should have come to an end.
The
next day, 14 May, 1865, the 400 man Confederate garrisoned in
Galveston, Texas, tried to desert with their weapons. A soldier in
Shreveport, Louisiana, wrote that, ”Mutiny and wholesale desertion
was openly talked of.” A senior Confederate officer described “mobs
of disorderly soldiery, thronging the roads, interrupting travel and
making life and property exceedingly insecure”. On 20 May half the
troops left in Texas did desert, and the remaining half refused to
try to stop them.
Final proof of the collapse of the Trans Mississippi was that not only were the prisoners of the 62nd Colored Infantry captured at Palmetto Ranch treated like full prisoners of war, but they and their white Union comrades were all released by Colonel Ford within a few days. The rebellion of the slave states was over, even in the hearts and minds of the die hard rebels. Finally, on 25 May, General Walker himself admitted defeat, disbanded his
command, and headed for Mexico with his wife and children.
Six
months later John George Walker was in Liverpool, Britain, writing to U.S. President
Andrew Johnston, asking for a pardon and restoration of his
citizenship.
After a year of lobbying in person in Washington, he
signed a pledge that he did, “solemnly swear in presence of
ALMIGHTY GOD that I will henceforth faithfully support, protect and
defend the Constitution of the United States... and...abide by and
faithfully support all laws and proclamations...with reference to the
emancipation of Slaves. So help me God.” The “ambitious but inept” Barret did not know better than to try and keep the war going. But the experienced professional John George Walker, certainly should have.
In
November of 1869 the stubborn Walker (above) went to work for the Houston and
Texas Central Railroad, and in the spring of 1873 was seeking to
attract European immigrants to the lone star state. In 1885 Walker
was named U.S. consul to Bogota, Columbia by President Grover
Cleveland, and while in Washington, D.C. John Walker died of a stroke at 72
years of age, in 1893. He was never held to public account for
his part in the last death in the American Civil War.
The
captured men of the Indiana 34th regiment buried the body
of Private John Jefferson Williams about 200 yards south of the
walls of Fort Brown (above) and 100 yards from the Rio Grande River.
After
the war the fort's burial ground became the Brownsville National
Cemetery (above), where the earthly remains of Private Williams remained
undisturbed for 44 years.
Then, in 1909, some 1,500 bodies,
including that of Private Willaims, were disinterred.
He was reburied in the 8 acre Alexandria National Cemetery, in Pineville,
Louisiana. The last man to be killed in combat during the American
Civil War is still there, buried in plot 797. Proof yet again, that starting a war is easy, but stopping always costs more than anybody wants to pay.
Rest
In Peace
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