He certainly never attained the social standing of his father or brothers, yet he was an active participant in one of the greatest conflicts in American history. It was also clear that his older brother Jerome was proud enough of his younger brother to mention him in his 1909 biography published in the History of Page County. He was certainly no coward as, according to this article, he not only fought for the Union and was wounded, but unlike thousands of other men who avoided active participation or ran away from active combat, he was seriously injured in combat and, upon recovering from his injuries, reenlisted a second time and fought again under William Tecumseh Sherman on his incredibly destructive March to the Sea.
Over the years, my great-grandfather Alva had become something of an enigma; an appealing spectre, vaguely visible and always just beyond my grasp. Unlike his brothers Jerome and Rolla, conventional genealogical sources revealed little as to his presence or passage. Perhaps it was his seeming obscurity and tragically early death that so attracted my interest. Was he a war hero? What kind of a person was he?
* The image above depicts grandfather Alva's lifetime migration which began with his birth in Vermont, his subsequent residences in Michigan and Dakota Territory and finally, his death in Iowa. Also shown are images of his older brother Jerome (left), sister Ellen (center) and younger brother Rolla (top). Also depicted are major events that occured during his civil war service at Shiloh, Sherman's March to the Sea and Bentonville.
What was it like living in the mid 19th. century? In 1848 when his family left Vermont for Michigan, young Alva was barely six years old. At that time his family was composed of his mother, Sarah and his father, Dr. David Armstrong, his older brother Jerome, older sisters, Sarah and Ellen, his younger brother, Rolla, another sister, Olive, who had been born the year before, and a baby sister with the alluring name of Lilla Carrie, who had been born just a few months earlier. The trip from Vermont must have been a great adventure for the young boy who was introduced to a large new world that must have seemed very different from West Haven, Vermont where he had been born and lived until that time. Did he enjoy living in his grandfather's log cabin on a farm a few miles north of the town of Parma? What did he think of the frontier town of Parma where he moved a year or so later?
Little is known of his early life in Michigan. I have seen his signature and samples of his calligraphy, so I know that he must have attended school in the Parma area, or was at least tutored by his parents. It is likely that he was not an eager student, as the 1860 Census shows him living separately from his family and working as a 17 year-old laborer. His mother had died when he was only 13 or 14 (1856), and three years later, his father had remarried. Whether this means that his relationship with his father was a tenuous one is not known, but there are numerous clues that hint that he and his father did not enjoy a close relationship.
As he neared adulthood, the secession of the southern states and the inception of the Civil War, brought about changes on a larger scale that would affect thousands of young men of his era. Tales of great movements shook the land. The young men of the North read of marches, sieges, and conflicts. Village gossip centered on Homeric stories of glory and heroism, and many western farm boys longed to be a part of such a glorious and patriotic crusade before it ended--which many mistakenly believed would be soon. Alva must have struggled, as did many young men, with what he should do. Did he speak to his father and brothers about enlisting? Did his father, David, as most parents are wont to do, try to dissuade his son's youthful excitement? For many young men of the time, however, the romantic allure of adventure and heroic deeds was overwhelming. On January 14, 1862, in Parma, Michigan, nineteen year-old Alva David Armstrong, 5 ft, 10 inches tall, fair complexion, blue eyes, and brown hair, enrolled for three years as a private recruit in Company D, 15th. Regiment, of the Michigan Infantry Volunteers. When he was enlisted by a Mr. James E. White, was he by himself, or had he and other young men gone there together? Did his friends and former schoolmates throng around him in awe and admiration? Did his family support him and see him off? Was there a special girl who cried when he left?
Alva was mustered that same day and left for military training. The exact location (Detroit?) is not clear, but it is known that he reported to his Company Commander, Captain Erasmus A. Pratt around the 13th. of March, 1862. Unlike those soldiers near Washington, D. C. in McClellan's floundering Army of the Potomac, his introduction to the front lines of a major, and bloody battle was less than a month away.
Around the world several noteworthy events were occuring--in Russia, the serfs were being emancipated; in France, Victor Hugo published Les Miserables, and Jean Bernard Fuco first measured the speed of light. In America, the first ever national income tax was passed to help pay for the war and the Gatling Gun was invented. Shocking union loses in the east at Bull Run and at Wilson's Creek in Missouri in the summer and early fall of 1861, were dwarfed by horrific casualties in battle after battle. One of the primary questions of the day was who would control the Mississippi? From a bloodless duel over a man-made island in Charlston Harbor, the nation had been split in two with a 1000 mile line extending from Manassas in Virginia to Shanghai, Missouri and beyond.
As 1862 began, over one million men were amassing for war. In a speech to Congress, President Lincoln said the struggle of today is not entirely for today; it is for a vast future also.
During the civil war, casualties were far beyond what we see in wars today. For example, if casualties approach 10% today, the battle is considered a bloodbath. Several Civil War battles saw casualties of nearly 30%--and this happened battle after battle! There are probably several reasons for the phenomenon, but one of the primary ones is that, since the Revolutionary War, technology had progressed far more rapidly than military tactics. For example, improvements in weaponry had resulted in rifled projectiles that were accurate up to 250 yards- -five times further than had been possible with older vintage muskets. Unforturnately, several Union and Confederate commanders had to learn the hard way (if they learned at all) that the traditional sabre charge of past wars was now obsolete. Further, this was a war of exceptionally intense emotions; a falling out of brothers, where fraternity had mutated into the whitest hot flames of loathing.
The hierarcy of the Confederate states began with their President, Jefferson Davis, went through his Secretary of War, George W. Randolph, and to the generals of the various elements such as Albert Sidney Johnston, Commander, Army of the Mississippi. For the union, it extended from President Abraham Lincoln, through War Secretary Simon Cameron, to such as General of the Potomac, General George B. McClellan and to General U. S. Grant, in the West. Due to the narrowness of his election, Lincoln was saddled with an unwieldly cabinet full of Whigs and Democrats, as well as four previous rivals for the Republican nomination who were all convinced that they were capable of doing a better job than their chief. Lincoln, who would have loved to have replaced several of them, instead removed only one- -Secretary of War Cameron--who he once said was so corrupt that the only thing he would not steal was a red-hot stove. In his place he selected Edwin M. Stanton, who, history reveals, initially thought little higher of Lincoln than did the rest of the cabinet. While Lincoln and his cabinet disagreed on several issues, one thing they did agree on was that General George B. McClellan was not moving fast enough against the Confederates.
General McClellan is not one on my favorite characters in history. While blessed with a commanding presence and some military success on the western front, he had an immense sense of self-importance, and an absolute conviction that he was the only human being alive that was intelligent enough to successfully direct the course of Union military events. He was a charter member of the American aristocracy--with a high profile West Point education, monied bloodlines, and self-centered, bloated ego of the ilk that one continues to see in positions of authority in our country today (sorry, but I really dislike most politicians). Anyway, he had convinced himself that a vast Confederate Army had occupied northern Virginia, and when ordered to cross the Manassus Junction and take the initiative against the rebel capital at Richmond, Virginia, he took to bed with a fever (chicken pox, perhaps?). As of February 1862, it had been eight months since the Army of the Potomac had crawled back to Washington after its defeat at Bull Run.
Lincoln faced a host of dilemmas. There are probably few instances in history where one man faced so many obstacles--an acrimonious cabinet and timid generals who felt superior to him and behind his back called him a backwoods baboon. Then his youngest son Willy became ill and soon thereafter died on February 20, 1862. In early 1862, Lincoln's world must have looked very bleak indeed. However, instead of wallowing in self pity and despair, he was determined to reunite the nation and, with the support of his wife Mary Todd, soon threw himself into 18-hour workdays.
Near the end of 1861, the Confederacy had completed construction of its first ironclad, the Merrimac. News quickly reached the North and created a panic in naval and government circles. Lincoln quickly commissioned the construction of his own ironclad, but professional Navy men ridiculed and recommended against the plan. Lincoln overruled them, and after only 100 days, the Monitor was launched on January 30, 1862 in Manhattan's east river. This single vessel was a marvel of ingenuity and contained 47 patentable inventions. On its maiden voyage, it experienced several operational problems (such as being completely unresponsive to its rudder and nearly killing its crew with noxious fumes); however, its worthy crew managed to keep it afloat and soon managed to direct it on a somewhat meandering course toward the south.
On March 8, 1862, the Merrimac approached the union port at Hampton Roads, Virginia. It immediately attacked and sunk the USS Cumberland, set the USS Congress on fire, and forced the USS Minnesota to run aground. For one day, the Confederate Navy ruled the sea.
At 1:00 a.m. the next morning, another iron apparition appeared out of the night scaring the devil out of the crew of the stranded USS Minnesota. The unsteady but tenacious USS Monitor had arrived. And early the next morning, the epic battle of ironclads began. Hull to hull they hammered each other for four and a half hours. During the encounter they collided five times, with the Merrimac finally drawing away. Two months later, rather than surrender their ship at Norfolk, the crew of the Merrimac blew her up.
Europe watched in worried fascination as each side began building more iron warships. From that Sunday morning when the Monitor and the Merrimac first met, every other navy in the world became obsolete.
Early this same year, Major General Ulysses S. Grant was ordered to the western line and entered the fray by launching simultaneous successful strikes at Fort Henry on the Tennessee River and Fort Donaldson on the Cumberland, effectively driving the Confederacy out of Kentucky. The Union Army followed the fleeing rebels into Tennessee, received little resistance in route, and quickly occupied Clarksville and nearby Fort Defiance, which had been abandoned. In less than one year, Grant had moved from noncombat status to recognition as a Union war hero! In response to the Confederacy's request for terms of surrender, Grant's laconic response of unconditional surrender was the kind of reply that fired the North's flagging spirits.
On April 4th., General McClellan finally began moving toward Richmond with a military juggernaut numbering nearly 121,500 men, 14,590 horses and mules, 1,150 wagons, 44 batteries of artillery, ambulances, pontoon bridges, tons of provisions, tents, and telegraph wire. It took 400 boats approximately three weeks to land it all at Fort Monroe on the Virginia coast. A vastly outnumbered but determined contingent of 11,000 Confederate soldiers waited less than 20 miles away at Yorktown. The Commander of the Confederate troops then employed a clever ploy which involved a widely scattered artillery barrage with his troops rapidly moving from point to point in an endless circle. As hoped, to the observing Union troops it appeared that they were opposed by a mighty host.
Predictably, McClellan did what he usually did, he stopped his army dead in its tracks and sent off a series of fevered pleas for reinforcements claiming that he was opposed by a force of 100,000 to 200,000 men. Joseph E. Johnston, overall commander of the Confederate Army was elated and stated that no one but General McClellan could have hesitated to attack. Lincoln urged You must attack! Instead, McClelland dug in and put Yorktown under siege. One of McClellan's subordinate generals, Phil Carney, soon thereafter took to referring to McClellan as the Virginia creeper. Another incident also provides an insight into McClellan's leadership qualities. One day McClellan's staff was discussing a river that it wanted to ford and were pondering how deep it was. A young staff officer who had just been assigned to the General after completing his military training, impatiently jumped on his horse, waded to the middle of the river, and called back This is how deep it is General! The young officer's name was George Armstrong Custer (nice middle name!). While it was clear that the Union army was better provisioned, it was also clear that the Rebels enjoyed vastly superior leadership (at least in the east).
What was the average soldier on both sides like? Were the armies composed of giants and men of uncommon physical prowness, or were they just normal human beings? The average soldier stood 5' 8 inches tall, weighed 143 lbs., and came from every imaginable background from farmer to lawyer. Their chances of dying in combat were 1 in 65, of being wounded in battle 1 in 10, and of dying from disease, 1 chance in 13. Their average age was 25, although the minimum age for recruitment was 18. However, recruiting officers were not known to be particular, and drummer boys as young as 9 were signed on. Over 100,000 soldiers in the union army had not yet seen their 15th. birthday, and it is believed that the youngest combat soldier wounded in the war was but 12 years old. Life as a soldier ranged from lengthy periods of tedium to short but intense periods of terror.
The dawn of Sunday, April 6, 1862, near Pittsburgh Landing in Tennessee, was clear and cool, and just at dawn there was a timeless quiet which reminded one young Confederate soldier of the small-town Sabbath back home. In fact, he half expected to hear church bells calling the faithful to worship. 42,000 troops under General U. S. Grant were encamped in a loose grouping three miles wide, occupying the high ground inland on the west bank of the Tennessee River. Grant's invasion had practically cut the state of Tennessee in two, and he was waiting for General Don Carlos Buell's Army of the Ohio to join him. Together, they intended to plunge into the heart of Mississippi. However, General Buell was late, and Confederate General Alfred Sidney Johnston, in Corinth, Mississippi, just 22 miles away, anticipated their actions and saw no reason to wait. During the previous days he had marched his army (which evenly matched that of Grant's in numbers) to a location near the Union camp, and at dawn launched his 6th. Mississippi at the center of Grant's army camped near a little Methodist church called Shiloh. The portion of the union army that received the heaviest initial blow was a Division commanded by William T. Sherman, and the southerners steadily advanced like maddened demons one union soldier latter said.
The scene rapidly escalated into a cacophony of noise and mad confusion. And in the middle of this mayhem was Alva David Armstrong and his 15th. Regiment of Michigan Volunteers under Colonel Oliver. The Generals didn't know their jobs, the soldiers, like Alva, were mostly without previous battle experience and didn't know theirs. However, on this day pure bravery and determination was amply demonstrated on both sides. The bloodiness of this encounter was astounding. In addition, one southern misconception that one Confederate soldier was worth 10 of the Yankee hirelings was amply corrected on this day. Much of this battle took place in a peach orchid and throughout the battle soft pink petals rained down on both the living and the dead.
Over 5000 union troops fled to the river leaving a thin line of mostly midwestern farm boys under the lawyer/soldier Benjamin Prentiss, who were determined to obey their general's order to maintain their position at all costs at the center of the the southern attack. The defenders numbers diminished and the union lines bent inward, but they continued to resist more than a dozen massive assaults against what became known as the hornets nest. Albert Sidney Johnston, himself led the last of these attacks, and although subjected to intense fire, made it through the attack without injury. Shortly thereafter, however, he was seen to lurch forward in his saddle, having received a rifle ball behind the knee which apparently severed the femoral artery. A short time later, on the field of battle, he bled to death and command of the Wesern Confederate Army passed to his second-in-command, General P. T. G. Beauregard.
Finally, the confederates trained 62 cannon at point blank range at the sunken road where Pretiss' men still held out, and opened fire. The Hornets Nest exploded in a hail of splintered trees and bodies. At 5:30 p.m., Prentiss and the 2200 survivors of his division, surrendered. They had held up the southern advance for nearly 6 hours and it was growing dark. Beauregard wired Jefferson Davis that he had Grant just where he wanted him and would finish him off in the morning. He proved to somewhat less than prophetic.
Everywhere wounded men lay in agony. No provisions had been made to allow the two armies to gather up and care for their wounded and throughout the night wounded men screamed for aid. Finally it began to rain and an observer noted that the fields ran red with the blood of the wounded and dead. In his first day of combat, in his first battle, Alva was hit by a musket ball which entered his body approximately two and one-half inches below the point of the hip in the left pelvic region of the Elium, damaged the bone of the pelvis and surrounding muscles, and exited through his left buttocks. Although it must have been a particularly terrifying experience for a raw recruit, it does not appear that Alva was one of the Union soldiers that turned and ran that day. As indicated above, he was shot while facing forward, and the exit hole was slightly lower than the entry hole. This would lead one to surmise that he may have been standing up, possibly firing his rifle, with the minnie ball that struck him down arriving from a slightly higher elevation. There is no record of how early in the fray he was wounded, or the events that led to his rescue and early medical treatment.
Later that evening the advance party of General Buell's long-awaited Army arrived and throughout the night his full contingent of troops arrived at the bluffs of Pittsburgh Landing. At dawn, the Union forces, now 70,000 strong, attacked Beauregard's 30,000. Although they fought bravely, the Confederates were pushed back, counterattacked, and were repulsed again, and finally retreated to Corinth. The Union Army held the field.
General Grant later said that the ground was so covered with dead that it would have been possible to walk across the clearing in any direction, stepping on dead bodies without a foot stepping on the ground. In all, 2477 men were killed at the battle of Shiloh, with the Union suffering upwards of 13,000 casualties and the Confederates more than 10,000. The armies that met on April 6 were larger than the armies that met at Bull Run, they fought three times as long, and they suffered approximatley five times the losses, and although there had been heavy straggling on both sides, there had been no actual rout. In the end, they seemed to more or less drift apart. In all American history, no more amazing battle was ever fought than this one.
Over the next weeks, more Union soldiers reported to Pittsburgh Landing, General Halleck replaced General Grant as Commander of the Union forces, and finally by the end of May, the Federal troops moved into Mississippi with the intent of engaging Beauregard's troops at Corinth. Outmanned nearly 2 to 1, Beauregard retreated once again to Tupelo, Mississippi and the Union Army took over the strategically important railroad town without resistance.
The battle of Shiloh sombered the nation to the realization that the war was not nearly over yet, and that the rebels were definitely not ready to give up yet. Years later, a Union soldier said that the worst a soldier could say of any fight was that he was worse scared than I was at Shiloh. It is certainly ironic that the Hebrew word Shiloh means Place of Peace.
Few battles have been more decisive in their effect on the course of a war. Shiloh represented a supreme effort on the part of the Confederacy to turn the tables, to recoup what had been lost along the Tennessee-Kentucky line, to win a new chance to wage war west of the Appalachians on an equal footing. It failed--after this battle, the South could do no more than fight an uphill fight to save part of the Mississippi Valley.
After his injury at Pittsburg Landing, Alva was medically evacuated by train to a hospital in Mound City, Illinois where he was briefly treated, and then sent via the Illinois Central (probably through Detroit) on a 30 day furlough to his home in Parma, Mi, arriving somewhere towards the end of April. During his stay at home, we are able to reconstruct both his mental state and medical condition through a series of letters that he forwarded to a Lt. Colonel Smith in Detroit, who appears to be his point-of-contact with the Army. On June the second, 1862, he writes the Colonel reporting that his leg troubles me very much when I walk on it and pains me considerable in damp and rainy weather. My wound has healed on the outside but I think there must be some small pieces of bone or something in it yet as it pains me as though there was a knife sticking in there as I walk. He also reports that he has suffered from diarrhea since receiving his injury nearly two months before. But what is particularly interesting to note is how anxious he is to return to his regiment and his concern that he will be discharged. He relates that his furlough of thirty days ran out some time ago and that he would like to get back as quick as possible.
That he had the heart of a warrior there is little doubt as in another letter he appears to be mentally willing himself to heal, stating that they need all such boys as myself. Even while his father and other physicians describe him as unfit for duty for at least 30 days, he requests a pass to go to Detroit so that he can return to his regiment. In a letter dated June 9, he says that my wound is all right with the exception of its being a little lame. It appears that he had also become something of a local hero as he informs the Colonel that he has a friend who wants to join the Infantry with him. He also requests to be put in contact with a Navy recruiter for two other friends who wish to serve on a gun boat. To his fathers obvious displeasure, Alva gets his wish and receives orders on June the 23rd. to report to Colonel Smith in Detroit, and departs that same day. His father, worried after not having heard from his son in a week, wrote to Colonel Smith on July 1st. stating that in consequence of his being quite indisposed from diarea and (a) wound received at Pittsburg, I feel uneasy about him. I wish you to inform me of his whereabouts and if he was thought fit for duty.
In one of his letters to Col. Smith, Alva requested to take the Chicago Burlington railroad through Galesburg, IL so that he could spend a day with his sister (Ellen Armstrong Goold) who lives there. Whether he was able to visit with his sister is not known, but we do know that he was back with his regiment by July 15th, and that he appears on his company's infantry muster rolls during the months of July and August 1862. Even will power cannot always turn miracles, however, as on August 20, he is transferred to the special rolls and hospitalized at the Union Army's General Hospital in Corinth, Mississippi. On October 17th., he was examined by the hospital surgeon at Corinth, and found to be incapable of performing the duties of a soldier (disabled for marching), and awarded a one half disability as a result of his injuries. On October 21, 1862, by order of General Grant and Major General Rosecrans, his worst fears were realized, and he was officially discharged from the Union Army.
It may be difficult for some people to understand why someone who has gone through something as terrifying as the Battle of Shiloh, could possibly want to risk exposure to something like that again. Unless you have been in the military and experienced the camaraderie, sense of purpose, and excitement of pursing a sacred goal, there are few words that can express the feeling. As much as I disliked much of my own military experience, I still vividly recall the deep friendships that I made, as well as the excitement and intensity of much of that period. While much of it may not have been fun, it sure beat the heck of life on the farm. Alva may not have called himself a patriot, but I am sure that must also have been part of what he felt. His disability discharge must have been a crushing blow to Alva, and his father's undoubted relief at his safe return would probably have been difficult for him to appreciate. Instead of returning to his home in Parma, Michigan he instead went to live with his uncle, Ransom S. Armstrong, in Lawton, Van Buren County, Michigan. It appears that whatever problems he may have had with his father continued, and that he continued to struggle with what to do with himself. In August 1863, his Uncle Ransom died, and he returned for a short period to Parma. Apparently, he still found nothing to keep him there and the disabled 21 year old civil war veteran determined to try once again to return to the military. Whether he identified himself as a veteran is not known, but apparently he had recovered sufficiently that he was allowed to reenlist for an additional three-year term in Company F, 13th. Regiment, Michigan Infantry Volunteers, on November 26, 1863, in Jackson, Michigan, again as a Private Recruit.
The Michigan 13th. Regiment was originally organized at Kalamazoo, Michigan and mustered into Federal service in January 1862 and assigned to the Fifteenth Brigade, Fourth Division, Army of the Ohio. Prior to the time that Alva joined the Regiment, it had distinguished itself in several encounters such as Shiloh, TN (April 6-7,1862); the advance on and Siege of Corinth, MS (April 29-May 30, 1862); Pursuit to Booneville, MS (May 30-June 12, 1862); March to Lousiville, KY in pursuit of Bragg (August 31-September 26, 1862); Pursuit of Bragg to Wild Cat, KY (October 1-16, 1862; and various skirmishes in Kentucky, Tennessee and Georgia which culminated in the Battle of Chickamauga, GA, the Siege of Chattanooga, TN in September 1863, and the assault and capture of Missionary Ridge, TN on November 24-25, 1863. After this last encounter, the regiment was transferred from the Army of the Cumberland to the Engineer Brigade, Department of the Cumberland, where it's primary assignment was the construction of military hospitals in and around Chattanooga, TN. It was here that Alva reported in early December 1863 under the command of Colonel Joshua B. Culver, and where he and the Michigan 13th. were stationed on Chickamauga Creek, and engaged in cutting and rafting saw-logs. It was also here that he was promoted to Corporal in May 1864, and where he remained until his regiment was relieved from duty on Lookout Mountain. On the 28th. of September 1864, his regiment, numbering approximately 700 men, broke camp and marched to Rome, Georgia where it arrived the next day. Soon thereafter, his regiment transferred to the Second Brigade, First Division, XIV Corps, Army of the Cumberland. He and his regiment then participated in Sherman's March to the Sea, the seige of Savannah, GA and the Campaign of the Carolinas.
In mid-October 1863, President Lincoln appointed General U. S. Grant as the commander of all Union forces in the West. Grant, in turn, assigned General George H. Thomas to assume command of Union forces that had placed Chattanooga under seige, and with reinforcements succeeded in dislodging Confederate troops from Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge (November 24-25). The Confederate Army of Tennessee then pulled back into Georgia where they took refuge for the winter near Dalton, GA.
General Grant then placed the western armies under his old lieutenant, William T. Sherman, who had played a key role at both Vicksburg and Chattanooga. Their strategy was simple--keep pressure on the South's two major armies, prevent them from reinforcing each other, and fight throughout the summer. The offensive began in May 1864, with Sherman leaving Chattanooga and invading Georgia, and soon Sherman's Union forces (totaling approximately 100,00 men), engaged in a series of scrimmages with Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston's army of 60,000 men. Falling back mile by mile, Johnston fought a pitched battle at Kennesaw Mountain on June 27, which cost Sherman dearly. Finally, in early July, Johnston settled into the defense of Atlanta. Johnston's retreat infuriated Conferate President Jefferson Davis, who in turn, replaced Johnston with the gallant but reckless John B. Hood on July 17, 1864. Hood conducted a series of counter attacks, but with little success and was forced to abandon Atlanta. Sherman's occupation of Atlanta buoyed Northern morale and contributed to Lincoln's success in the presidential election against his old nemesis and the Democratic nominee, ex-General George B. McClellan. It is interesting to note that this timid ex-soldier became the Democrat's standard-bearer on a peace platform, and to further speculate how history might have differed had he been elected.
Hood then tried an ill-fated strategic diversion, by invading Tennessee, hoping to draw Sherman after him. Sherman, however, left George Thomas to deal with Hood in Tennessee, and marched virtually unopposed to the sea. It was here that the Michigan 13th. Infantry reentered the fray. On November 15th., General Carlin writes that he reached Atlanta, leaving the Thirteenth Michigan at Chattahoochee bridge, with orders to destroy it after the passage of all our troops and trains. This order was carried out by Lt. Colonel Palmer, commanding the regiment. Conducting a scorched-earth campaign, Sherman spread his army 50 miles wide and ravaged the unprotected countryside in his infamous March to the Sea (Nov. 16-Dec 22, 1864), occupying Savannah before turning his sights toward the Carolinas.
In the meantime, Confederate General Hood won a costly battle at Franklin, Tennessee on November 30, but his army was subsequently crushed at Nashville on Dec. 15-16. The remnants of the Army of Tennessee, restored to Johnston's charge, streamed through Georgia in an attempt to delay Sherman's powerful columns as they advanced through the Carolina's toward Goldsboro, North Carolina.
Captain S. A. Yerkes, who assumed command of the Michigan 13th. after the regimental commander was killed at Bentonville, reported as follows on the regiment's campaign during the first three months of the year: The Thirteenth Michigan Veteran Volunteer Infantry left Savannah, Ga, January 20, 1865, with a aggregate of 636 enlisted men and 18 officers. Crossed the Savannah River at Sister' Ferry and entered Barnwell February 11, and on the following day assisted in destroying the South Carolina Railroad near White Pond Station. On the 15th. entered the town of Lexington, and on the 16th., after floating across the first troops to the opposite bank and assisted in laying pontoons, we crossed the Saluda River. February 18, crossed the Broad River. On the 21st. entered Winnsborough and on the 22nd. assisted (in) destroying the Columbia & Danville Railroad near Black Stocks Station, S. C. On the 24th. of February, crossed the Watree at Rocky Mount and camped on the opposite bank.
Here the regiment, with little to eat beside fresh meat and parched corn, performed for five days a prodigious amount of labor in working on the roads and assisting the train of the entire corps through the deep and heavy mud of the road up the east bank of the river. The delay, having rendered a forced march necessary, during the following four days and a half the regiment, with the rest of the brigade, upon the same limited diet, assisted and guarded the pontoon over bad roads, for a distance of nearly eight miles to the Pedee River. Here the regiment sent the first troops across to the opposite bank, and assisted in laying the pontoons. Crossed the river on the morning of the 7th.
On March 11 we entered Fayetteville. March 13, (we) crossed the Cape Fear River. On the 14th. we resumed our march, with the enemy constantly skirmishing in front. On the 16th, at the battle of Averysborough, the regiment was in the line of battle as support, but not actively engaged. On the 17th., we bridged and crossed the Black River. On the 18th., we crossed Mingo Creek. On the 19th, 20th, and 21st, we fought the battle of Mill Creek. On the 19th. instant, in an unsuccessful charge upon the enemy's works, and being in turn driven from our own, the regiment lost 15 killed, 81 wounded, and 10 missing, making an aggregate loss to the regiment of 106.
It was while leading the regiment upon the rebel works that our brave and gallant major fell, mortally wounded.
The casualties during the entire campaign are numerically as follows:
Left sick in hospital -- 59
Absent without leave -- 20
Captured while foraging -- 2
Died of disease -- 5Killed in action:
Enlisted men -- 14
Officers -- 1Wounded in action and absent in hospital
Enlisted men -- 65
Officers -- 1Captured in action, enlisted men -- 1
Missing in action:
Enlisted men -- 9
Officers -- 1
Deserters -- 4
Detailed men -- 14Total Absent
Enlisted men -- 194
Officers -- 3Deduct from the aggregate, January 20, 636 enlisted men and 18 commissioned officers, leaves 442 enlisted men and 15 officers, to which add 4 recruits from the depot, equals 446 enlisted men and 15 commissioned officers, as per morning report of the 22nd. instant.
For a number of reasons, the aforementioned Battle of Mill Creek deserves a bit closer look. The dawn of Sunday, March 19, at Bentonville, SC was bright and clear, not unlike another Sunday near Shiloh, Tennessee nearly three years earlier. Abandoned apple and peach orchards bloomed and the swamps were filled with the songs of wild birds. As Union troops moved to break camp they were immediately met by Rebel skirmishers who stopped their advance. An infantry brigade was called up to clear the area and they, in turn, were met by musketry and cannon fire. Thus began the first full-scale encounter since the bloody battle for Atlanta; it was also to be the last major battle of the Civil War.
Several official reports of the battle mention the Michigan 13th. For example, Brigadier General Carlin's report relates that the attacks were repulsed in front of the Second Brigade by the Thirteenth and Twenty-First Michigan, the men loading and firing coolly and deliberately, but the skirmish line on the left being forced back and the right of the line being turned, and falling back rapidly and in disorder.
A veteran colonel in Sherman's army commented: Seldom have I seen such continuous and remorseless roll of musketry. It seemed more than men could bear...Soldiers in the command who have passed through scores of battles...never saw anything like the fighting at Bentonville. The battle of Bentonville resulted in a total of more than 4000 union and rebel casualties.
With Lee's surrender to Grant at Appomattox on April 9, 1865, and the final vestiges of Johnston's forces once again in retreat, the final days of the Civil War were rapidly approaching. Although we know little of Alva's actual involvement and activities in the battle of Atlanta and Sherman's March to the Sea, we do know that he was a participant throughout this whole eventful episode. Alva's military records also show that he was in the middle of action at the Battle of Bentonville, and that he was one of the ten members of the 13th. captured by the Confederacy at Mill Creek on March 19. Prisoner of War Records show him moved from Smithfield and confined at the capital of the Confederacy (Libby Prison) in Richmond, VA on March 29, 1865. He was paroled at Aikens Landing, VA on April 2, 1865 and reported to College Green Barracks, MD, on April 4. From there he was sent to Camp Chase, OH on April 6 (the three year anniversary of his Shiloh injury), arriving there on April 10. On April 21 he received a 30-day furlough, and was mustered out with his detachment at Detroit, MI on June 10, 1865.
After this, his final discharge from the Army, Alva settled in Elkhart, IN on the Michigan/Indiana border, a few miles south of where his uncle Ransom had lived in Lawton, MI. Who he knew in this town and why he settled here is unknown, as no other members of the Armstrong family were ever known to have lived here. While there he earned his living as a clerk in a grocery store and a billiard room, finally meeting and marrying 14 year-old Mary Colton, less than one month before his 26th. birthday. After an eventful but less than happy life, the future must have seemed bright and promising to Alva and his young bride as they began their lives together.
On June 29, the following year, their first child, Lillian E. was born, and in October they moved to Corunna, Shiwassee, MI. His father had died in that same town the previous July, and his brother Jerome was living there at the time, running a successful harness business (contrary to the dates shown in Jerome's 1909 biography, he was still a resident of Corunna as of February 1870, as he and Alva's attorney, George W. Goodell, signed as witnesses to the sworn statement mentioned in the next paragraph. Further, Jerome and his family were still in Corunna as of June 23rd, as they appear in the Federal Census taken there that year). His younger brother Rolla, also had connections to Corunna, as he married Eliza Maria Goodell of that city in December of that same year (was she related to Alva's attorney?). We can only guess as to why Alva moved here, but it is probable that he had been here before, and it was here that he decided to move with his wife and baby daughter. Alva was beginning to have physical problems as a result of his Civil War wound, and it was while living here that he applied for reinstatement of his disability pension that had been discontinued when he reenlisted in 1863. The amount of his pension-$4.00 a month-seems ridiculously low by today's inflated dollar values, but it must have represented a respectable figure in those days based on the volume of forms, sworn statements, medical reports and documents that appear in Alva's pension file from 1862 through 1897 (Pension Certificate #17049.)
As with most things with the government, reinstatement of his disability pension was anything but easy. A note here--although I worked for the Federal Government most of my life and have met scores of intelligent, hardworking people, I have noted that several clerkish types (possibly to puff up their own sense of unimportance), seem to get some satisfaction out of harrassing victims of misfortune. This appears to be the case with Alva, as over the next 14 years he was required to take physicals once or twice a year in order to satisfy Washington bureaucrats that he was still permanently disabled. As he neared death, these same clerkish types seemed to get their kicks by searching for words or combinations of words that could be used to reject his requests for pension increases. In any event, his sworn statement before the Clerk of the Circuit Court for Shiawasee County (MI) in February 1870, explains that he left his pension certificate, discharge papers, and other documents at the home of his Uncle Ransom when he reenlisted in 1863. He goes on to say that after his uncle died, the family broke up and separated and that he had been unable to locate these documents. He underwent a physical examination in Corunna the next month (March), and the doctor found that his hip was quite lame and sore and that he cannot do any labour requiring him to walk, stand, or lift heavy weights. Finally, at some time shortly after May 1970, his pension was approved retroactively to the day after his discharge from the Army (June 11, 1865). If he was then paid five years of backpay, the amount would have totaled nearly $240.00--such an amount must have seemed a windfall for Alva and his young family.
It is probable that his older brother, Jerome, left Corunna in the fall of 1870 (instead of Windsor, Illinois in 1869 as stated in his biography). By this time, life may have seemed a bit too serene for Alva, and it is possible that he felt the combination of his disability and too much civilization were limiting his prospects. This may have seemed like as good a time as any to search for new opportunities in the Nation's ever expanding westward migration. Alva does not appear in the 1870 Census in Corunna, so perhaps his move preceded that of his brother, Jerome. Their father and mother were both gone by this time, and perhaps Michigan was too full of memories--both good and bad--for them to remain. It is not known whether he my have visited or stayed with his sister, Olive, in Iowa for a time, but it appears that he settled in Vermillion, Dakota Territory, probably toward the end of 1870. Again, it appears that Alva was determined to chose his own path, as no other family members are known to have lived there at the time. A sworn statement from their family doctor, F. N. Burdick, indicates that he attended the births of Alva and Mary's three youngest children, Rolla S., on 14 September 1871, George Francis, on 22 July 1874, and Mary E., on August 24, 1876.
Alva's physical problems continued to intensify. In 1873 he also suffered from a rheumatic affliction resulting from his wound. In 1876, Dr. Burdick notes that he is lame part of the time and periodically suffers from inflammation of his war wound and is laid up two to four weeks at a time. A benelovent U.S. Pension Office raised his disability pension to $6.00 a month. By 1875 he was suffering from considerable immobility of his left limb. We know little of what Alva did for a living, but we do know that he and Mary were good friends with Silus and Harnieh (?) Paluus, a couple who lived near them for several years, and directly across the street from them for approximately three years from 1875 to 1878. Vermillion, which was the county seat of Clay County, was practically destroyed by fire in January 1875--could this have been what caused their move at that time?
Dame fortune had never smiled for long on Alva, and on February 16, 1878, his young wife Mary, then only 24 years old, died of an unspecified illness. Doctor Burdick was attending her at the time of her death and their friends, the Paluus', also helped out in any way they could. It can be imagined that the affect on Alva and his four children aged 8, 6, 3 and 1, must have been devastating. The Paluus' stated that they knew Alva for about nine years, so allowing for them to be a year or so off, we can assume that with four motherless children to care for, he probably did not remain in Vermillion very long after Mary died. For a brief period, his youngest children G. Frank and Mary went to live with his older sister Ellen Albena and her husband Trumbell Cary Goold in New Windsor, IL. They were with the Goolds in 1880, but it is likely that they did not live with their Aunt and Uncle very long, as in November 1880, Ellen died of unknown causes, leaving her husband with seven children of his own to raise.
Apparently, Alva had communicated with his brother, Jerome, in Iowa, as at some point within the next year or so he moved to Shenandoah, IA. According to the sworn statements of two school teachers in that town, it appears that the children began attending the public school in Shenandoah in 1880 or 1881 and continued to regularly attend until March of 1885. On November 8, 1881, Alva married Maria S. Call, who at the time was about six or seven years his senior. Whether this was a marriage of love or convenience can only be surmised, but it was the first marriage for Maria who must have been very different from Alva's first youthful bride.
Alva and Maria attended the First Baptist Church of Shenandoah where at least Maria (and possibly Alva) was a member. Alva's physical deterioration was accellerating. By 1883 he was suffering from rheumatism of the left shoulder and hip, his left leg was noticeably shorter than his right leg, and he was suffering severe intestinal disorders. When discussing his ailment, he frequently tied the cause of his physical problems to the gunshot wound he had suffered at Shiloh. He frequently complained that it felt as if something in his side or bowels was ready to burst. He began losing weight, dropping from 170 pounds to approximately 110 pounds by May 1884. His lameness intensified and he began using a cane. A Mr. E. D. Vanpelt, whom Alva worked for near the end of his life, said that Alva was getting quite feeble and had once told him Van, this trouble in my side will kill me in six months. These words proved to be prophetic.
Approximately three months before his death he suffered massive hemorrages from his bowels and stomach. His friends and neighbors, William and Lillia Griffith, visited with him almost daily, and Mr. Vanpelt also visited him frequently. Although he fought the after- affects of his injury for over 22 years, in the end it was Shiloh that would finally claim him. He suffered another hemorrage, and on Monday, July 21, 1884 he died--less than one month before his 42nd. birthday. The cause of death was shown as ulceration of the stomach and bowels. No autopsy was performed.
John Rolla Armstrong, the grandson of Alva's younger brother Rolla, passed on to me the following story that had been recounted to him by his uncle, Ransom Sidney Armstrong (1873-1939), of Chelsea, MI:
His Uncle Ransom, when apparently a young man, had once gone to visit his Uncle Dave, and that he worked for him one summer on his farm in North or South Dakota (he didn't remember for sure). He said that Dave grew grain and described the planter they had and how it took until noon to make one round of the field. He also mentioned that he had helped his uncle dig a root cellar and recalled how they had found frost in the ground in August. Ransom also had related how it was still light enough at 9:00 p.m. to read the paper on the porch. Two final recollections were that that this same Uncle Dave later went to Iowa and grew corn, and that he also had some sons. It seems reasonable that the Uncle Dave referred to above is actually my great-grandfather Alva, who this branch of the family seemed to know as David Alva (this is further supported by other information received from John Rolla's daughter Kaye). I never knew for sure that he had done much farming, but it is certainly possible that he did. We know that by approximately 1880, Alva's wife had died, and that he had moved to Iowa. By this time Ransom Sidney was only a young boy of six or seven; therefore, it is a bit of a stretch to call him a young man at that time. However, boys of that age, in those days, might have been expected to provide some help, although working for the summer, may have been a somewhat optimistic choice of words. Alva's sons would have been about eight/nine and five/six at the time, so I am sure the boys were able to find plenty to do to keep themselves busy. To my knowledge, this is the only family memory of my ancestor that has endured.
How do you sum up a person's life? What is his legacy? Alva was not particularly well-educated, he did not enjoy the social standing of his brothers, he did not seem to be blessed with particularly good forture, and he was certainly not rich. Does this mean his life had no meaning--that his life made no difference? To me it seems quite the reverse. From what I have learned of him he seems to exemplify what being a good person is all about. While older, wiser people might have urged him not to join the army, he volunteered to pursue a great adventure--not once, but twice. He chose to fight, and although it finally killed him, he was there to be counted when it mattered. I have no reason to believe that he was dishonest, malicious or ever tried to hurt anyone--came many more famous personages claim as much? He fathered four children, and although beset by calamity, he was not content to sit back and be overwhelmed, but kept trying to find a better life for himself and his family. While life provided him with precious few opportunities, and history has forgotton him, I, who never knew him, will never be able to forget him. And you, my children--I hope that you will also remember him as an honorable man who is worthy of your respect.
What happened to Maria and Alva's children after his death? The family stayed together until March 20, 1885, when Alva's younger brother Rolla, still living in Michigan, became the children's guardian. No record remains as to what may have occurred, but it can be assumed that a widow with little means of support would have difficulty trying to raise four children who were not her own. There is no evidence that she abused them in any way, but it can be surmised that a woman who had never been married until well past 40 years of age might not be a particularly easy person for a house full of young children to get along with. How it was that the children did not go to live with their Uncle Jerome in the same town is a question with no answer. In any event, their young lives were once again changing as, at the ages of 15, 13, 10, and 8, they returned to the land of their father and grandfather.
It is interesting to note how the facts relate to the family folklore that I outlined earlier. Rolla and Frank did in fact leave their stepmother's care, but there is no evidence that they ran away from an abusive home. There was also no stepfather in the picture. Instead, it appears that the four children went to live with their uncle Rolla and his family in Chelsea, Michigan (at least for a time).
Maria (Call) Armstrong remained in Shenandoah for a few more years, later moved to Missouri, and finally settled in Nebraska where there is evidence that she may have lived previously. She pursued and was granted a widow's pension, and she never remarried. On 22 October 1897, she died in Tobias, Saline County, Nebraska.
The Colton Ancestors
The history of the Coltons is not yet known to me. All that I know with some certainty is that Mary married great-grandfather Alva in Elkhart, Indiana in 1868, and I assume that she and her family lived there at the time. As she is believed to have been born in Elkhart around 1854, it is a reasonable assumption that she lived there with her family from the time of her birth until her marriage at about age 14. At this time I have had little opportunity to do any research on her family, other than to discover that in the 1850 Census, there were several Coltons living in eight counties throughout the state of Indiana. However, no Coltons appear at that time in Elkhart County.
Armstrong/Colton Offspring
1. Lillian E(ster?) (Armstrong) Depew Alva's oldest daughter, Lillian, remained in Michigan for most of the rest of her life. On November 25, 1889, a marriage license was issued to Lillie, age 20, and Charles J. Depew, age 30, of Chelsea, Washtenaw County, Michigan. On November 28, 1889, in Chelsea, they were married by the Rev. Frank E. Arnold. Charles had been born in Chelsea in November 1858, and his parents names were John Depew and Mary E. Cassday. By the year 1900, they owned their home on Middle Street in Chelsea free of mortgage (which is an accomplishment I have not yet achieved). They also had two children--Harlan, who had been born in June 1891, and Ester, born in March 1897, both of whom were born in Michigan, and probably in Chelsea. Lillian was a housewife, while her husband Charles, was a mail clerk. Once again, it appears that family folklore, although based on fact, had become slightly garbled through time. Lillian's husband's name was Charles, not Harlan. They had a son named Harlan, and he may have gone on to work for the railroad or General Motors, but not his father.
By 1920, C. J. and Lillian E. Depew lived in Ann Arbor City, Washtenaw Co., MI. The Census taker for some reason did not get their ages (perhaps Lillian wouldn't tell him?) so he lists them both as being about 50. This would probably have made C. J. pretty happy as he was over 60 at the time, but was a pretty good guess for Lilllan. C. J. was still employed as a mail clerk at this time and apparently Lillian still ran the house on a full-time basis. One error in this Census is that Lillie is shown as being born in Michigan, which we know to be untrue.
By 1924, when her uncle and childhood guardian, Rolla Silas, died, we know from the listing of family members shown in his obituary, that she (and presumably her husband C.J., if he was still alive), had moved to Parelton, PA.
2. Rolla S. Armstrong
Alva's oldest son, Rolla, appears to have spent a number of years with his uncle and guardian, Dr. Rolla in Michigan. Although a graduate of medical school, Uncle Rolla also owned and operated a drug store, and young Rolla appears to have spent some time in his uncle's drug store learning the trade. I have not tracked Rolla's life in any detail, but I know that within about 10 years of moving from Iowa to Michigan, he was once again back in Iowa. In the intervening years he met his first wife Leah A., who was born in Illinois in October 1876, and they were married about 1895, probably in Illinois or Iowa. Their daughter, Ester, was born in October 1896, in Iowa. Had he returned to the Shenandoah area where his father died and his uncle Jerome still lived? By 1900, however, he had moved north and was farming in Driscoll Township, North Dakota. By 1910 he had left farming, was employed as a pharmacist, and had moved down the road a piece to the Woodlawn Division of Steele, Kedder County, ND. Their daughter was then 14 years old and her name is shown as Lillian E. rather than Ester (looks like she had been named after her aunt Lillian in Michigan). At that time he also had the good fortune to own his home free of mortgage. My final link to Rolla comes from the 1920 census where he is shown to reside on Villard Avenue, in Steele City, ND. Here things get a bit confusing. The calligraphic and mathematical inadequacies of Census Takers has always been the bane of professional and amateur genealogists. In addition, the reticence of the fairer sex to fess up to their true age also makes for problems. What we see here may be a combination of both. In the 1910 Census taken in April of that year, Rolla's wife Leah A. is shown as being 32 years of age. If she was born in October 1876 she would have actually been 33. In the 1920 Census taken in January 1920, Rolla's wife is now named Amanda L. (is that Leah A. backwards?), and if this is the same woman, she miraculously aged only nine years in that decade and has now reached only 41 years, vice 43 which would have been true for anyone else. As Amanda (Leah?) is also shown as being born in Illinois, lack of further proof could bring one to conclude that this is the same woman. If this is not the same woman, then Rolla must have remarried. We already know from my father's story about Amanda's pickled breast that she have been a tad eccentric, so perhaps after her masectomy she inverted her first and middle names and began calling herself Amanda--who knows? By 1920, Lillian (or Ester--Rolla's ladies really seemed to enjoy changing the order of their names) had left the nest and another eight year old daughter, Leah E., is shown as a member of the household. I have corresponded with the North Dakota Health and Consolidated Laboratories in Bismarch, ND (the repository for ND vital records) for a death certificate for Rolla between 1920 and 1979, but there is no record to be found--poor Rolla must have moved elsewhere before Amanda drove him to his grave.
3. George Francis (Frank) Armstrong
See Chapter 7.
4. Mary E. Armstrong
Mary is the only member of this generation that I have not yet been able to do much research on. We know that she was born in Vermillion, SD in 1876; that she lived for a time between 1878 and 1880 with her Aunt Ellen and Uncle Trumbull Goold in Illinois after her mother died; and with her father and stepmother from 1880 to 1884 when her father died. The deaths of parents and aunt by the time she was eight years old must have had a profound affect on Mary and her siblings. In 1885, her Uncle Rolla became her guardian and it appears that she and her older sister and brothers went to live with his family for a time. She may also have subsequently gone to live with Trumbull and his second wife Olive in South Dakota--more research is required to learn more. So far I know nothing more of her life except that her brother Frank's obituary seems to indicate that she and her older brother and sister were still alive when he died in 1950.
