Lieutenant William H. Peel was 23 years old when Mississippi seceded from the Union, prompting him to join the 11th Mississippi Infantry, along with his younger brother Eli. Captured at the culmination of the Pickett-Pettigrew-Trimble Charge at Gettysburg on July 3, 1863, Peel spent the remainder of his service at the officers’ prison on Johnson’s Island in Sandusky Bay.
By turns elegiac, tragic and often comic Peel’s record of those months, along with his detailed account of the famous battle that led to his incarceration, is one of the gems of personal literature created during that most terrible of conflicts. The diary, now in the care of the Mississippi Archives, was transcribed by a Peel descendent who brings to this work an understanding of both the history and the family that shaped him, giving the modern reader a view inside Peel’s world.
Ellen Sheffield Wilds is a professional historical researcher, with degrees in history and theatre. In addition to her academic and literary pursuits, Ms. Wilds is an active historical re-enactor, with characters ranging from the Iron Age through WW1. Living history is the perfect outlet for someone who loves to share history with others, and Ms. Wilds has appeared at schools as well as at weekend public events.
Her website at www.webmousepublications.com provides information on a variety of topics, and she happily shares her research with others. Married, the mother of an adult son, Ms. Wilds has a deep love for her family, including her first cousin, five times removed, who once upon a time when the world seemed to rip apart, wrote a diary.
1863
July 3rd,, (culmination of the Pickett-Pettigrew-Trimble Charge)
Four brave men had already fallen under the colors of our Reg't, + now
the fifth bore them aloft, + rushed boldly forward, to embrace, if need
be, the fate of the other four. The flag staff was now cut in - two
midway the flag, but without one moment's pause, the never-flinching
little Irishman (Geo. Kidd), his flag now dangling in graceless
confusion, from one corner, still pushed fearlessly upon the stone
fence. Thirteen of our Reg't had concentrated upon the colors, as if to
constitute ourselves its guard. We were some yards in advance of the
line, + now found ourselves within about thirty yards of the stone
fence.
Immediately before us was a small framed house – about twenty feet
square – the farther end of which joined the fence springing forward,
I've secured its shelter, gaining at the same time, a position within
seventy-five feet of the Yankees behind the fence. The boys betook
themselves to the work before them in good earnest.
A number of shots were fired, which must have proven very fatal, as the
distance was so small. Thinking the line rather a long time coming up,
I looked to the read. The state of my feelings may be imagined, but not
described, upon seeing the line broken, + flying in full disorder, at
the distance of about one hundred + fifty yards from us.
What was to be done. A momentary consultation decided. Lt. R. A.
McDowell + I were the only officers with the party. I being the senior,
the responsibility, if indeed there were any, devolved upon me. There
were but two alternatives: to surrender, or become the "flying target"
of a thousand muskets. We preferred the former, + in a moment more a
white flag floated from behind the corner, around which the moment
before our accurately aimed muskets had belched their deadly contents
into the ranks of the enemy. An old serg't came out + took charge of
us, + ordered us through the gate that was open on the left of the
house. As passed through, all unarmed, of course, a Yankee soldier
brought down his musket + with its muzzle right at the breast of one of
our party was on the point of firing. I scringed for the safety of my
brave comrades; + shuddered at the thought of seeing him thus
butchered, but just at this critical juncture, our serg't spring
forward, knocked up the musket + with a word of reproach, asked the
soldier if he did not see that these men had surrendered. On passing
the line, we were surrounded by a crowd of soldiers, all of whom were
anxious to take charge of us. (It is a mighty good thing to get to take
prisoners to the rear, especially when the front is as well heated up
as that at Gettysburg was.)
1865
January 16th,, – Lieu't. Charles Pierce, of New Orleans, who was one of
the party that attempted to break out about a month ago, has made
several attempts, since, to get out by strategy. The Yanks came in, the
other night + caught him, at the head of a party, in a tunnel.
The Federal Officer told him it was useless to attempt to get out by
that meanes, as they knew of his designs within half an hour after he
began his work. He satisfied Pierce of the truth of his statement, too,
by telling the time he had commenced to dig.
They are kept perfected posted on all these points + it seems
impossible for us to catch their spies. Pierce's master stroke was
reserved for last-night. Late in the evening, he went up + told a
sentinel on the parapet that a "rush" from Block 8 (his own Block) was
contemplated at 8 O'clock. Of course A Officer, with a squad of men,
came in a short time before that hour to take out their ladders, +c.
Finding no particular demonstration they concluded the alarm was false,
+ started out of the yard. Just before reaching the gate, the Officer
noticed that one of his men had no cartridge box. Asking where it was,
he was answered that it had been forgotten in the hurry of preparation.
The Officer asked him if it was not a flagrant violation of orders, to
come into the yard without one. The man answered it was, but declared
he had entirely forgotten it. These remarks naturally directed the
attention of the party to the offender. "That's a hell of grin you've
got anyhow," said the man next to him.
Upon taking hold of it the Officer found the gun a spurious one indeed.
Pierce's genius had been at work. He had contrived to get, by some
means, a Yankee uniform + had manufactured himself a musket. The stock
was of wood + the barrel, of tin. Thus armed + equipped, he had fallen
in with the squad, +, if he had had a cartridge box would, in all
probablity have made his escape.
Pierce was taken to Col. Hill, who laughed very heartily when the case
was laid before him. He complimented Pierce on his ingenuity +
shrewdness, + declared he would send the musket to Mr. Barnum, for
exhibition in his Museum.