History
says the last great effort to avoid the guns at Vicksburg was called
the Duckport Canal, but to the men who sweated in the mud for three
weeks it was Pride's Ditch - named after the dark and dashing man who
pushed them for 21 days, 33 year old Colonel George G. Pride (above). His
official title was Chief Engineer for Military Railroads. In reality
he was Grant's "Mister Fix It". But he never held an
officer's commission. George had spent the 8 years before the war
building railroad bridges across the south, and in 1861 he showed up
in St. Louis volunteering to help defeat the rebellion. He
wasn't even asking to be paid.
The
first Federal commander in the west, the 50 year old "Pathfinder"
John Charles Fremont (above)t, only trusted foreigners with lots of gold
braid. He wouldn't even meet with George.
The next top western general, 48 year old Henry Wagnor "Old
Brains" Halleck met the railroad engineer but was not impressed.
But when one of Halleck's field commanders, General Ulysses Simpson
Grant (above), met George Pride, the two bonded. Grant sent George to see the
59 year old Secretary of War,
Edwin McMasters Stanton, in Washington. Stanton returned the
engineer to Grant without an endorsement but with permission to stick
him somewhere. Grant dressed his volunteer in a "Colonel's"
uniform and put him on his personal staff.
George Pride assisted Grant at
Forts Henry (above) and Donelson,
in February of 1862, and at The Battle of Pittsburg Landing in April.
He oversaw the construction of roads and gun emplacements, foot
bridges and improvements to river fords. In December of 1862 he was
bridging the rivers along the Central Mississippi railroad when the
defeat at Holly Springs forced Grant to retreat. George then switched
to destroying the bridges he had just built. By the time he had been
dispatched to find a way around Vicksburg, George Pride was
considered maybe the best engineer in the Federal service. Which is
why Grant asked him to get the Duckport Canal dug and open before the level of the Mississippi River fell.
Beginning
on April Fool's Day, 3,500 soldiers wielding picks and shovels, and
assisted by steam powered dredges, attacked the seeping mud of the
flood plain to carve a passage a mile and a half long, 7 feet deep
and 40 feet wide.
"Colonel" Pride pushed the men to battle
the heat,the mud,, the mesquites and malaria. Any man struck with
malaria was relieved immediately and sent to the hospital - any man
except volunteer George Pride He could not be spared. Barges were
already being collected to carry 20,000 men via the canal through
Brushy and Roundabout Bayous to Bayou Vidal and into New Carthage,
south of the Vicksburg guns. Suffering high fevers and bone
shattering chills, George Pride kept pushing the men and himself.
On
Saturday, 11 April, 1863, George warned Grant there were still some
large trees to be removed in Brushy Bayou, and low water in Bayou
Vidal required a switch to Harper's Bayou Then, at noon on Monday,
13 April - just two weeks after the work had begun - the dam at the
head of the canal was blown and water poured into Pride's Ditch.
But not enough. Steam dredges could now be sent to deepen the canal
and George rode the first steamboat from Milliken's Bend to Richmond
on Saturday, 18 April. But the river level kept falling.
A
week later, on Saturday, 25 April, the dredges had finished their
work and General William Tecumseh Sherman rode down to take a look.
He was not impressed. He wrote Grant, "The first mile is
comparatively good; the middle mile is bad....will take near fifty
days' work to make a canal 8 feet deep. Your tugs draw 71/2 feet."
The race against spring had failed. George Pride had so worn himself
down, that he had to withdraw from Grant's staff, and return home. He
would play no further direct role in the war. Grant now turned to 50
year old Acting Rear Admiral, David Dixon Porter, who had been
running some experiments of his own.
The
great Vice Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson (above), the ultimate expert on naval warfare for
the previous sixty years, supposedly said that it was madness for a
ship to attack a fort, and that one gun on land was worth 3 on the
water.
But on the Monday morning of 2 February, 1863, Admiral
Porter decided to put that adage to the test. His pawn for this
suicide mission was the 180 foot long, 406 ton U.S.S. double side
wheel ram Queen of the West (above), sailing under 20 year old Colonel
Charles Rivers Ellet.
Just
after sunrise, Colonel Ellet rounded Desoto Point, making 7 knots
with the current. The rebel gunners were caught by surprise, but the
whirlpool at the end of the point spun the under-powered Queen in a
graceful pirouette, before she broke free. Each rebel battery in its
turn opened fire. In the few moments as she passed, they hit the
Queen 12 times. Most of the shots were swallowed by the cotton bales
Ellet had stacked on the deck. Then, just when it looked as if the Queen
would sail past the city, she turned toward the southern most docks
and struggled across the current. aiming her bow at the 625 ton
Confederate ram, the C.S.S. City of Vicksburg.
The
Queen's best weapon was the thick internal oak beam running from bow
to stern, and covered by three 14 inch thick and 7 feet high solid
oak bulkheads. Ellet drove the Queen into the Vicksburg, just forward
of the rebel pilot house and cracking the Vicksburg's hull. And
only then did Ellet order his four guns, a 30 pound cannon and three
12 pound howitzers, to fire burning turpentine balls at the
Vicksburg, setting her alight. Porter's instructions were clear.
"It will not be part of your
duty to save the lives of those on board; they must look out for
themselves."
However,
the crew of the Vicksburg were more than capable of doing that, and
quickly extinguish the fires on their ship. But the burning
turpentine spread to the cotton bales aboard the Queen, and Ellet was
forced to pull back and float downstream until he could safely throw
the burning cotton overboard. With that, his first mission was
accomplished. The Vicksburg took on water, and she never sailed to
defend her namesake city. Eventually her guns and boilers were
striped and sent to Yazoo City, to be reused. Meanwhile, the largely
uninjured Queen continued down the Mississippi to its junction with
the Red River, where she had a short but profitable career ambushing
and destroying over $12 million of rebel shipping.
Porter
followed this success two weeks later - Monday night, 16 February -
when he dispatched the 511 ton, 174 foot long ironclad USS
Indianola (above). She had 3 inches of iron plating over 3 feet of solid
wooden hull angled at 26 degrees. Two 11 inch fat bellied Dahlgren
cannon glowered out her forward casemate, and two 9 inch Dalgrens
fired from her stern. Her twin side paddle wheels gave her
unparalleled maneuverability, and she also had twin propellers,
giving her a top speed of 9 to 12 knots. To the Confederates the
Indianola was a terrifying monster.
Her
captain, 27 year old Hoosier Lieutenant Commander George Brown, had
a lower opinion of his ship. The monster had 7 separate engines -1
each for her side paddle wheels, one for each propeller, 2 for her
capstans, to pull her off sandbars and mudflats, and one to supply
drinking water, and power the bilge and fire pumps. All that
equipment did not leave much room for the crew, who like sailors on
other federal ironclads had to build their own vulnerable quarters
above deck. The gun ports were so small, the Dahlgren's could not be
elevated to maximum range, and the pilot house port holes were so
small as to be almost useless. Still, when she pulled up anchor in
the mouth of the Yazoo River fifteen minutes after 10:00pm, with 2
barges carrying 14,000 bushels of coal strapped to her sides, the
Indianola was the most dangerous boat on the Mississippi.
By
launching in the Yazoo River mouth, (above, upper right) Brown could avoid the Desoto
whirlpool (above, upper center) and having to use his noisy engines. So under the merest
sliver of a waxing new moon, the Indianola drifted with the current
straight down the eastern bank of Old Man River, slipping silently
beneath the 14 heavy guns of the Water Battery and Fort Hill (above, right).
According to Commander Brown he passed a couple of hundred yards in
front of the gunners at 11:10pm.
The ironclad's looming bulk must
have been seen brushing quietly past, because 12 minutes later, at
11:22pm, the rebel gunners in the city batteries opened fire on the
big black monster, letting fly 18 rounds. By 11:41 - less than 30 minutes
after weighing anchor - the Indianola was past Vicksburg, beyond the
range of even the 7 heavy guns in the Marine Hospital Battery. The
ironclad had not suffered a single hit. As Confederate Western
Theater Commander General Joseph
Eggleston Johnston had observed back in December, the cities'
batteries were too spread out to effectively close the river.
After
spending the night anchored 4 miles south of Warrenton, Mississippi,
at daybreak on Tuesday, 17 February, 1863, the Indianola would steam
south in search of her partner, the Queen of the West. Suddenly the
untold sinews required to fight a 19th century war, raised, mined and
collected from the 374,000 square miles of the trans Mississippi
Confederacy, might as well be on the moon. Such was the tenuous link
holding the rebel slave alliance together.
But,
by the time the Indianola ran the gauntlet, The Queen of the West had
been isolated, damaged and captured. The rebels then used her to
assist in cornering the Indianola, damaging and capturing her. Within
weeks the rebels would blow up the Indianola (above) to prevent her recapture by
advancing Federal forces. The lesson was that individual ships could
not hold The River without land forces to support them. And that the
mesmerizing psychological hold the looming guns of Vicksburg had on the Federal
sailors - on Admiral David Dixon Porter - had been broken. And that
would prove fatal for Vicksburg.
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