Minutemen of 61

By George Warren Callahan

This book was written because it seemed that the lives of this humble family would never be heard by those who would come after. It is about love of family, heartfelt calamities that beset members of this family, national pride, and dedication of the individuals. It also describes the visual experiences that two young men encountered by supporting their country when President Abraham Lincoln, by proclamation, called 75,000 volunteers to defend the Union. The two Bates brothers willingly sacrificed their time and energy to fulfill their responsibility to their family and country. The love between them and family was evident by the letters they wrote to each other when there was a lull in between events.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Dec 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466905696

George Warren Callahan

When I was contemplating how I should use all the photographs, letters, and genealogical data that I have accumulated over the years of the Bates family of North Carver, Massachusetts, it came to me that I should pass this information on to others that would have an interest. I have written over one hundred short stories about experiences that impacted my life and gave me some knowledge of how stories are formulated. In order to write a full length novel I would have to relate the letters into short stories and with some assumptions of how life was in the 1850s and combine them into a manuscript that would be of interest. I spent four years in the U.S. Air Force as a Crew Chief on F84 and F86 Fighter Bombers in Europe during the occupation after World War II. I also became a Firefighter and an Emergency Medical Technician for twenty years and businessman writing safety procedures for manufacturers. I now have retired in the sand hills section of North Carolina on a 51 acre berry farm where I can fulfill my passion to write. George Warren Callahan

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Contents

Acknowledgements

Story Preface

History of the Rebellion

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIV

Chapter XXV

Chapter XXVI

Chapter XXVII

Chapter XXVIII

Chapter XXIX

Chapter XXX

Prologue

Genealogy

Bibliography

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Photo by George Warren Callahan

Acknowledgements

First of all, I would like to give many accolades to my wife Nancy for putting up with a somewhat of a cranky and irritable nature when writing over these many years. It takes time and patience to accumulate many facts and pictures of national historic places to even begin to write. My lifelong inner passion for visiting Civil War battlefields has been fulfilled because of the many volunteer and permanent personnel that man and keep these sites open for public viewing. Also I appreciated all those scribes that kept pertinent accurate records during the contemporary events of the war of 1861. Without them the history of a critical part of our heritage would be lost.

I also appreciated the encouragement from my five children and their offspring, especially my third son Richard Callahan who encouraged and touted me to a better understanding of how to formulate and sort through the vast amounts of data and pictures and my second son Ronald Callahan for his expertise in computers and conversion of photographs. I also wish to thank Valerie Hall who edited and inserted a human touch to the work. But also a special love and appreciation goes to my Great-great grandmother, Abigail (Dunham) Bates that had a prompting and love for her immediate and future families to preserve and hold dear the letters sent to her. Her effects were left to her daughter, Mrs. Mary Gibbs (Bates) Davis who treasured them and propagated them to her daughter Mrs. Evie Frances (Davis) Baker. Again they were left to Evie’s daughter Florence Williams (Baker) Callahan and because I was interested in genealogy she gave them to me. So in memory of these many people I express my deepest gratitude for giving me an idea to write a fictitious/true story of two brothers that fought for a principle to protect the Union of these The United States of America. Long may it be free so that it will give the opportunity for individuals to express themselves freely, if it so be not to impinge on someone else’s freedoms.

George Warren Callahan

This book

is dedicated to

all those who have

fought and died or died from

diseases in the defense of this great nation.

Dear Mr. George Callahan

This is a brief note to thank you for letting me enter into the Irish-English-Scottish world of the Callahan Clan. An interesting world I might say, full of traditions, anecdotes and colorful characters that are narrated masterfully with your penmanship.

I can say sincerely that I like your stories and that I had a good time reading them. Your ability to connect the reader with the story is very good; this is what the scholars call the phatic expression. Another important aspect of your writing craft is that many times you finish your stories with a hanging question that takes the reader beyond the pure context of the story.

To write like Ernest Hemingway is a worn out phrase that has been abused for so many, but in your case I firmly believe that your style has some resemblance to Hemingway’s style. You and he, speak to the reader as if he was your friend and companion, creating an intimate connection.

Sincerely

Domingo Sanchez

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North Carver, Plymouth, Massachusetts

Minutemen of 61

Story Preface

When I was contemplating how I should use all the photographs, letters, and genealogical data that I have accumulated over the years of the Bates family of North Carver, Massachusetts, it came to me that I should pass this information on to others that would have an interest. I decided that the best way to convey this material to my own relations and to others would be to write a novel about all of these individuals. I wanted to consider their heritage, family relationships, life’s hardships, personal successes, national pride and many other factors that impacted this rather humble family.

This whole process began when my mother, Mrs. Florence Williams (Baker) Callahan, because of my interest in genealogy, gave me a shoebox full of letters and photographs of her Great Grandmother’s collection of correspondence from her two sons who were in the War of the Rebellion of 1861, (Civil War). I have preserved these materials in binders and in a genealogical computer program.

I have neither enough material nor knowledge to write a factual biography, nor do I have enough expertise to write a factual history, so I have settled on a format that I think may interest the greatest number of readers.

Years ago there were a number of books written on many subjects where words or phrases were used that some might not understand, so sidebars were written to explain their meaning. I thought that anything I wrote should be informative and educational as well as, hopefully, interesting. Therefore, I decided to tell two stories simultaneously. One would consider the Bates family and their relationship with each other and their environment; the other would cover factual history as the story unfolded. Each story would be on facing pages, corresponding in time and having a direct relationship with each other.

The timeframe of this material begins at a period of relative peace and leads up to the great rebellion of the southern states. Because of their national pride, two of Carver’s best young men willingly served their country at this time of great peril, much like their ancestors of 1776. They volunteered when President Abraham Lincoln asked for 75,000 volunteers to put down the revolt of South Carolina and eventually most of the south.

Because one of these brave young men served in the first Massachusetts Volunteer Militia Regiment organized, I have dubbed this book Minutemen of 61 in their honor.

"Long after years the tale shall tell,

in words of light revealed,

Who bravely fought,

Who nobly fell."

Author Unknown

History of the Rebellion

Preface

When I was contemplating on where I was going to accumulate enough material out of the recesses of my brain to fill the pages with interesting pertinent information to the reader, I drew back and thought that that was next to impossible, seeing the scanty life’s experiences that I have had. I don’t consider myself a history buff to any stretch of the imagination or for that matter a professional writer, so what am I doing writing a full length book about life and military history in the civil war era? I’ve asked myself that question many times and the answer I keep getting is that these two young men and their families that I’m writing about need to be heard. I need to write about the joys and hardships that they endured and the sicknesses and deaths that plagued them in just that eight short years.

So where have I gotten all the information of historical value on these pages? What I haven’t gained through 70+ years between military life, visiting many historic civil war sites, enactments and books, I have gained from the letters written by the Bates boys themselves. I have searched the internet extensively and gleaned material that is in the public domain. (Free to use) I have also shied away from plagiarism (writing verbatim what is written) of someone else’s work. I don’t want to do it to someone’s work or them to me. If I take a part of a work I will so note it by stating, (Excerpts from the works of—) so that you may search that document for further reading on the subject.

The Civil War era is a fascinating time in our history. It was a time of great political change in our government, where the Republican Party came into its beginning in 1854 to oppose the extension of slavery, which elected Abraham Lincoln to be president of the United States, and who resolved the slave question.

Saw mills were changing from straight up and down sawing by two men to faster steam driven, circular saw, mills driven by waterwheels at manmade dams. Where the populace became dense enough to have post offices at the local level either in homes or in general stores and delivered to them by stage or Pony Express. The growing of cranberries on the cape of Massachusetts including Carver with its sandy soil, low marshy bogs and fertile soil where it is ideal conditions for the raising of cranberries. In the 1850s cranberries was just beginning to flourish in Carver and a few were trying their talent at it.

Armament was changing rapidly because of the war of 1812 but the local militias and the farmers were accustomed and familiar with the muskets they have. What need do they have for something new and more expensive that wouldn’t kill a deer any quicker or deader than the one he already had. And besides that, we are not in a war right now as it is, so what do we need those for? Larger cannon are ok for ships and harbor defenses. Let the army and navy deal with that, they say.

Transportation was still mainly by horse and carriage but trains and rail cars were coming into vogue as steam locomotive engines were developed and tracks were laid around the country. At first the rails were laid between larger cities and if you were lucky and your town was located along that route you might be selected to have it stop at your location.

As you read this material, place yourself in the story as if you were there visually seeing and living it as the story unfolds. As you read the text on the right of a page you can relive the history and events that they would see or hear about and on the right, is pertaining to their story of the 1861era.

Chapter I

19 Oct 1859—North Carver, Plymouth, Massachusetts

From a thicket of underbrush, George Bates, a strong and sinewy young man, surveyed the terrain near a quiet grove of towering hemlock trees. Flintlock in hand, primed and ready for action, he anxiously awaited along the side of a deer run. The sun filtered down through the trees, reflecting against the morning mist as it hung low to the damp ground. The colorful yellows and reds of the surrounding maple leaves glimmered in the sun light as they began to flutter to the ground. Indian summer had set in and the warm days and cool nights promised a welcome reprieve from the heat and humidity of midsummer. The morning dew helped deaden the rustling of last year’s crushed up leaves as a squirrel busily buried nuts for the winter. In the still of the morning, George’s mind began to wander to thoughts of an episode the day before at the general store. As he’d entered the store, he bit into a crisp apple he picked up from a barrel that he passed and sauntered up to the noisy group on the side. He said howdy to Joseph Coggshall, and nodded as if to say the same to Cyrus Leonard, Henry King, John Baker (the storekeeper) and Ephraim Crowell, (the local conversationalist). They all acknowledged him in like manner.

Turning to him now, Cyrus asked, George, what do you think of this John Brown fellow, out at Harpers Ferry way? He’s been preaching antislavery and inciting Negroes to riot. He wants to make some kind of army out of them.

Well Cyrus, I don’t condone slavery. I think no one should be held without payment or restitution of some kind for their labors, but I sure don’t condone violence either.

John Baker shook his head. You have to look at slavery from the farmer’s point of view. If he had to pay them, he’d lose too much money. They make little or nothing now as it is.

Maybe so, said Henry, but it’s still bondage no matter how you look at it. Imposing hard labor on poor souls in order to make life easier for themselves is cruelty, plain and simple.

Ephraim Crowell spat derisively on the floor, earning himself a steely glare from Mrs. Baker behind the counter. I could see the niggers helpin’ themselves, he muttered, but here we got a white man fightin’ against his own kind for the blacks. He should’a minded his own business. They oughta hang ‘im.

He’s right, John Baker chimed in, mopping the top of his balding head with a handkerchief. You remember the Dred Scott decision a year or so ago? I think we should leave well enough alone. Anyway, it’s in the constitution.

Well, I’m not sure about that John, answered Coggshall, but if it is, it should be changed. I know if it were me in bondage I’d probably run away. I’ve heard a lot of them are heading north and are being sheltered by sympathetic folk there. I’ve even heard of houses having secret passages behind fireplace walls in order to hide them from the authorities…

George’s mind snapped back to reality when he heard a loud clattering sound close behind him. Moving slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the noise and saw two large bucks, rutting and locking horns together with a sharp cracking sound. Nearby a doe was sniffing the air detecting a human scent and she suddenly bounded off, followed closely by two other females.

North Carver, Plymouth County, Massachusetts:

41º 52 minutes, north of the equator x 70º west of Greenwich, England.

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North Carver, (formally Lakenham until the civil war) is a small southeastern town in the state of Massachusetts. Plymouth borders this small town to the east, Wareham to the south, Middleborough to the west, Plympton to the north and a small part of the northeast boundary borders Kingston. The population in the 1860 census was 1186

The town of Carver was named after John Carver, the first Governor of Plymouth Colony, the first signer of the Mayflower Compact; the world’s first constitution.

The terrain is covered with Elm, Maple, Oak and Conifer trees which cover many small rolling hills for 24,000 acres.

The two combatants were startled and bounded away with their white flags warning all others of the imminent danger from this foreign presence. As George crouched and took aim, the larger of the two made a turn around a tree. He pulled the trigger; cap flashed, smoke rose and the ball flew towards its target, hitting the buck just behind the foreleg. The animal slowed slightly, gradually came to a halt, staggered and then dropped to his knees. George quickly poured more gun powder into the barrel from his powder horn, placed a wad of cotton and a shot into the barrel, rammed it home with his ramrod, placed the cap at the breach and took aim again, just as the big buck snorted and then toppled to the ground. Nimbly, George rose and removed his Bowie knife while sprinting toward the downed animal. He inserted the knife into the neck and cut the jugular vein so that the blood would flow quickly. Without hesitation, he slit both rear legs just above the fetlocks and inserted ropes through the slits, hoisting the animal upside down onto a limb of a large white oak tree. He knew that this would help to drain the blood more quickly, producing cleaner meat for the cold winter months ahead. He then slit the skin of the abdomen and removed the intestines, saving the heart and liver.

He took a moment to step back and looked at his prize and realized that he’d bagged an eight-pointer. Not only good meat for the family, but a great pelt for the wall over the mantle of the fireplace. Some prize, he thought. Then he buried the intestines so that they wouldn’t help attract any predators.

Satisfied that his catch was secure for the time being, he turned for home to fetch the wain to haul the heavy carcass. As he jogged along, he thought how pleased his mother would be. He was proud of how he’d been able to support the family since his father, Joseph Bates, had died more than a year ago. As George entered the gate, his brother James, 15 and his sister Mary, now 3, were frolicking in the newly fallen, colorful pile of leaves on the green grass in the front yard.

James! he called excitedly, Help me get the wagon ready. I’ve just bagged an eight pointer down by Cooper’s Pond and I need a hand. He handed Mary the package of deer meat and she ran off with it to tell their mother, Abigail, while James and George headed for the barn to get the tack and team.

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Dred Scott

There was considerable debate over the slavery question in this country around the 1850s. Some states, particularly the southern states had in their constitutions, Adopted with slavery. Some were for and some against the Dred Scott decision of the United States Court, in which a Missouri Negro slave, demanded freedom from his master. He contended that during their travels, he had gone through a Free Slave state, and therefore should be free because of it. The court contended that slaves were not citizens but property of the master, and not subject to laws of other states, therefore, overruled the circuit court.

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John Brown

Both Pro-slavery and Abolitionist targeted Kansas as a territory that hadn’t declared their intentions to be a free or slave state yet. Each tried to influence the area to their cause by moving immigrants from far away as Georgia and Mississippi from the south and from the north, John Brown and his sons came with a group from Connecticut. Pro-slavery forces attacked Lawrence, Kansas on May 1856 and two days later the Abolitionists led by John Brown and his sons killed five assumed Pro-slavers at Pottawatomie, Kansas.

John Brown had a price put upon his head for lawless violence and massacre. He was nicknamed Pottawatomie Brown, and on 17 October 1859, with sixteen sympathizers of his plan, tried to liberate the slaves at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia. He was hoping to set a massive insurrection and bring emancipation on by force. His idea was to incite the Negro slave population of the country, to join him in the mountains, running from Maryland down through Tennessee and Alabama.

The team consisted of two large, matched workhorses that their father had trained for plowing, planting and harvesting the crops. Old Brownie was responsive to a gentle rein or the slightest hint of a verbal command. He had big brown eyes that showed experience and a docile nature. Conversely, Harry was a spirited horse who tried to have his own way and needed a firm hand to keep him under control when he was worked alone. Yet together, they worked as a cohesive team and would pull a stump out of the mud in the spring of the year with such effort that their bellies would almost touch the ground.

Both boys quickly applied the tack to the horses and led them out into the barn yard. George backed the team to the tongue of the wagon while James connected the tracers to the whiffletree, all the while not speaking a word, knowing that each knew exactly what the other would accomplished to get the job done. They both jumped onto the wagon seat and started briskly down the dusty path to the street when Mary burst out of the house wanting to tag along. George reined up as Abigail came to the door and nodded her head to let George know Mary had her approval to go also. As they rode out through the gate and down the dirt road through the conifer trees they all sang at the top of their lungs, excitedly thinking about the buck George had bagged.

About a mile down the road George reined the team onto a narrow, old logging road leading down between Cooper’s and Muddy Ponds. Part way down the cart road, George headed right down a lesser used path heading to Green Brook. As they pulled up where George had left the carcass, it was nowhere to be found.

Dumbfounded, George stood and looked quickly around I know this is the place! There’s the rope over the limb and blood on the ground. Someone took my deer! He roughly grabbed his flintlock. I’ll get whoever stole it!

Putting a hand on his shoulder, James said in a whisper, I think I hear something over there towards the brook. He pointed to his left, and as they looked through the stands of maple, pine and spruce trees, they could see a nebulous form moving slowly and with difficulty through the underbrush. Without hesitation, George raised his long barreled flintlock, aimed in the

On Sunday morning 17 October 1859, he preached at the little Dunker Church at Harper’s Ferry, Virginia. John Brown, with the sixteen sympathizers, captured nineteen principal men of the town as prisoners, and then ended up with a few more supporters in the engine-house, (Fire Barn) of the U.S. Arsenal. Colonel Lee with two companies of marines, consisting of fifty men each forced their way into the engine-house, killing many and taking John Brown captive. He was taken to court for his crimes, and punished by hanging on 2 November 1859. The morning of the execution, he handed a guard this message at Charlestown, Virginia.

I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think vainly, flattered myself that without very much it might be done.

Marching Songs

After John Brown’s death, the antislavery movement and the Republican Party sang an old black spiritual tune with the reworded lines as,

John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave,

John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave,

John Brown’s body lies a-moldering in the grave,

But his soul goes marching on.

Glory, Glory, hallelujah!

Glory, Glory, hallelujah!

Glory, Glory, hallelujah!

But his soul goes marching on.

Composer unknown

In 1861, Massachusetts Volunteer Union Soldiers of the civil war began singing the same tune but reworded it again.

He captured Harper’s Ferry with his nineteen men so true,

They frightened old Virginia till she trembled through and through.

They hanged him for a traitor, they themselves the traitor crew,

But his truth is marching on.

Composer unknown

general direction and fired a shot at the object. The sound ricocheted off the trees, echoing again and again, and then diminished until there was dead silence.

This sharp noise startled Mary and she began to whimper. James leaned down and put his arm around her to comfort her saying, It’s alright Mary, don’t fret. I’m right with you.

George wasn’t sure if he’d hit anything at all. Mary, you stay with the wagon, he said. James, you come around to the right. I’ll go left and meet you there, and he pointed to the spot he’d aimed at.

They both jumped off the wain and crept around cautiously towards the intended rendezvous point. Some distance away, they could both hear a rustling sound as something large made its way through the underbrush and into the brook. They both arrived at the spot simultaneously and found the deer carcass lying on the ground in a heap. They investigated the area for