History That Doesn't Suck - 67: Ending 1864: The Battles of the Crater, Mobile Bay, Centralia, and Franklin

Episode Date: June 22, 2020

“Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!” This is the story of the Civil War in late 1864. Battles of significance are happening all across the country, and many of them are quite odd or unique: Pennsylvania miners are secretly digging under Confederates to blow them up from below; Admiral David Farragut is fighting in the torpedo-filled waters of Alabama’s Gulf Coast; Bushwacker “Bloody Bill” Anderson is fighting the war as a brutal gun-slinger; and one-legged Confederate General John Bell Hood is making a Hail Mary play and taking Tennessee. It’s a quick-paced tour around the country as we inch toward the final culmination of the Civil War. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. Red One. We're coming at you. Is the movie event of the holiday season. Santa Claus has been kidnapped? You're gonna help us find him. You can't trust this guy. He's on the list.

Is that Naughty Lister? Naughty Lister? Dwayne Johnson. We got snowmen! Chris Evans. I might just go back to the car. Let's save Christmas. I'm not gonna say that.

Say it. Alright. Let's save Christmas. There it is. Only in theaters November 15th. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content,

and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a 7-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. Listener Advisory This episode includes stories of a racially motivated murder and other instances of extreme violence. While not explicit, listener discretion is advised. It's late July, 1864, and the 48th Pennsylvania is making military history. No army has ever dug a tunnel longer than 400 feet in length.

It's impossible. Too many ventilation challenges. The men digging would die. Or so said General George Snapping Turtle Meade and Army of the Potomac Chief Engineer Major Duane. When Colonel Henry Pleasance proposed tunneling under Confederate lines, placing explosives and blowing the Rebs to hell, they dismissed the idea as, quote-unquote,

clap-trap and nonsense. Only General Ambrose Burnside put stock in it, and with his approval, the 48th began to dig. And now, as they finish, they're well past 400 feet. Try 586. A 511-foot main shaft and two lateral branches, one going 37 feet to the left, the other going 38 feet to the right. Damn, sounds like the Army of the Potomac's engineers could learn a thing or two

from the Quaker state's coal miners turned soldiers. General Ambrose Burnside is particularly excited about this. Remember, the famously sideburned general commanded this very army in 1862. Then he botched it at Fredericksburg. He's never quite shaken that failure, but as the visionary who approved this tunnel, he sees redemption here. He could be the hero who ends the war. Ambrose is leaving nothing to chance. As the Pennsylvanians have been digging, he's had two fresh, eager-to-fight brigades of black troops training specifically to lead the attack after the explosion. The plan is perfect,

and now, in the last week of July, the tunnel's ready. These troops are ready. Let's do this. But wait. A last-minute change. Citing their lack of experience, the hero of Gettysburg, General George Meade, says he doesn't want black troops leading. Ambrose has to accommodate this a mere 12 hours before the attack begins. His brigade generals draw straws to see whose battle-weary, not-trained-for-this-white troops will take the lead. It falls to James Ledley, who's left to survey the terrain in the dark of night, hours before the attack. Okay, again? Let's do this? It's now 3.30 a.m., July 30th. 8,000 pounds of black powder and 320 kegs are in the tunnel's two lateral branches, literally running under the Confederates' feet.

The boys in blue light the fuse and... nothing. Sergeant Harry Reese and Lieutenant Jacob Doody have to crawl back in to check on the potentially lit explosives. Talk about terrifying. But they find the problem. Splicing issue. They fix it, crawl back out, light it again, and this time... At 4.45 a.m., the earth under a Confederate regiment swells, then explodes like a volcano. Fire shoots out of the ground while cannons, tents, breastworks, chunks of dirt the size of houses, horses, and roughly 300 gray-clad men, some in one piece, others not, soar 60 feet in the air. This part of the Confederate line is now a massive crater.

170 feet long, 30 feet deep, and 60 feet wide. Looking at the aftermath, Lieutenant Colonel Stephen Weld of the 56th Massachusetts describes the scene as, quote, Horrible. men half buried, some dead, some alive, some with their legs kicking in the air, some with their arms only exposed, and some with every bone in their bodies apparently broken. Close quote. Good God. Blast the rebels to hell indeed. Yet this is the opportunity. Attack!

But General James Letty's men aren't ready for this. They first stare into this crater, this embodiment of hell on earth. Then it gets worse. Rather than moving quickly along the crater's edges and hitting the Confederates with inflating fire down their now exposed trenches, many Federals go into the crater itself. It's not all their fault. They've never experienced this, and they're leaderless.

James is hanging in a back trench, getting drunk on rum. After hours of this chaos, the Black troops are finally allowed to go in. Major William H. Powell tells us their training paid off. To quote him, Their drill for this object had been unquestionably of great benefit. Had they led the attack, 15 or 20 minutes would have found them at Cemetery Hill before the enemy could have brought a gun to bear.

In the sharp little action, the colored troops captured some 200 prisoners. Close quote. If only they could have led. Instead, their success is short-lived. Confederates have ample time to regroup. They train their cannon on the boys in blue in the bowl below and open fire. Then come the bayonets in hand-to-hand combat.

In the end, the Union suffers 4,000 casualties. The Confederates, only 1,500. Ambrose's great redemptive victory is lost. General Ulysses S. Grant later calls the Battle of the Crater the saddest affair I have witnessed in the war. Such opportunity for carrying fortifications I have never seen and do not expect again to have. It's an awful loss for Ambrose Burnside and the Union cause, but the Black soldiers suffer most. In a letter home, Confederate soldier William Pegram openly acknowledges that, in line with the Confederate policies we learned about in episode 61, his fellow soldiers aren't taking Black blacks captive. They're, quote,

murdering them in cold blood, close quote. Come out of there, you yanks, a rebel soldier yells at Lieutenant Colonel Stephen Weld and an unnamed black soldier hiding with him at the battle's end. They leave the shelter, ready to be taken prisoners by the Confederates standing eight feet in front of them. Then a man in gray gives the order, Shoot the n***a, but don't kill the white man. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. The Battle of the Crater is yet another chapter in the Siege of Petersburg,

which we got a small taste of in episode 64. But this siege, or campaign really, lasts nearly a year, so sticking with a more chronological approach, we're going to leave Virginia at this point and jump around the nation a bit as we start to wrap up the year 1864. To start, we'll head down to Mobile, Alabama, and find out what happens when Union Admiral David Farragut meets a Confederate fleet, two well-armed forts, and a bay full of torpedoes.

After that action, I'll take you farther west. Two factions called Jayhawkers and Bushwhackers are carrying out some of the most horrific violence of the whole war and setting the stage for the Wild West. Finally, we'll head back east to Tennessee, where Confederate General John Bell Hood is leading a daring campaign. Can he break through Union lines and make it to Kentucky? Or will the Union break him?

So with no further ado, let's get going on our tour of the late 1864 divided states. We start on Alabama's Gulf Coast. Ah, David Farragut. We met him in episode 50, and I've mentioned him a few times since then in passing, but 17 episodes is a while. Let me jog your memory. To say David was born a U.S. Navy man

is barely hyperbole. His Spanish immigrant father, Jordy, sailed as a patriot and fought the British during the American Revolution. So did his namesake foster father, David Porter, whom David Farragut joined at sea at only nine years old, making the lad a teenage vet of the War of 1812. David stayed in the Navy in the half a century since then, and never once did this son of the South consider sailing for the Confederacy. In fact, he led the naval campaign that resulted in the capture of his old haunt of New Orleans in 1862. Yeah, that had to be a little awkward. What can I say? David Farragut is Union and Navy through and through. And now, in the summer of 1864, the sharp-eyed, straight-mouthed, chiseled-jawed mid-60s admiral has his sights set on the Confederacy's last major Gulf Coast port,

Alabama's Mobile Bay. In truth, David's wanted to go after it for a while. East of Texas, Mobile's the only port city in the Gulf where Confederate vessels can get past the Union blockade. Taking it out would deliver yet another significant blow to the CSA's economy, and this southern sailor means to do just that. So here's the lay of the land, or water, as the case may be. Mobile Bay itself is very wide, but it has two highly effective natural barriers protecting it. On the bay's eastern side is a thin, sandy, 15-mile-long peninsula. It cuts west, dramatically reducing access to the estuary. The other barrier is just below the bay's western shore. This is the 15-mile-long Dauphin Island. That leaves David

Farragut with two options. Attack the small, Fort Powell-protected gap between Dauphin Island and the mainland, or the larger, approximately three-mile gap between Dauphin Island and the peninsula. He's opting for the latter. This will be no small task. There are two forts to contend with over here. Dauphin Island's Fort Gaines and on the peninsula's point, Fort Morgan. While both are brick-built and well-armed, Fort Morgan's 86 cannons make it particularly deadly. And worse still, the Confederates have filled the waters

between these two citadels with underwater mines, or torpedoes as they're called in the 19th century. Each of Mobile Bay's almost 200 torpedoes pack enough punch to sink a ship. The only safe passage for his 18-ship fleet, that is, four monitor-style ironclads and 14 wooden vessels, is a 200-yard opening directly under Fort Morgan's guns. And they'll have to sail through in a line. Oh, and if they make it this far, they'll be met by four Confederate ships. In other words, they'll run a deadly gauntlet between two forts in torpedo-ridden waters, then have to fight off a flotilla. Sounds almost suicidal. And yet, here we go.

It's early morning, August 5th, 1864. The Union loyal southerner steams toward Mobile Bay. To better handle Fort Morgan, his wooden ships are lashed together in seven pairs. Larger ships are starboard. They'll be absorbing the fortress' punishing blasts. The action starts with the ironclad USS Tecumseh opening fire on Fort Morgan. Citadel answers in kind, but as the fleet Fort Duel gets underway, the Tecumseh connects with a torpedo. The waters of Mobile Base swallow the powerful, crucial ironclad warship in less than a minute.

Screams and explosions rend the air as nearly all of the Tecumseh's 114 sailors go to their watery graves. It's nothing short of a nightmare. Unsure and terrified, the USS Brooklyn's captain halts his ship. It's a devastatingly bad choice. Leading the line of Union vessels, his decision forces the Union fleet of 18 ships, make that 17 now, to stop. And slaughter ensues. As Lieutenant and Signal Officer John Kinney describes, quote, Close quote.

Aboard the second ship in the attack line, the fleet's flagship, the USS Hartford, John watches in horror as cannonballs sever heads and appendages, including one man who loses both legs to one ball only to lose both arms to another as he's falling. David Farragut will be damned, though, if he'll let one scared captain destroy his fleet. The seasoned, battle-hardened admiral barks out an order for the Hartford to go around the Brooklyn.

Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead! He screams, at least according to legend. Shearing to port, the Hartford soon takes the lead and its crew cringes as the sound of their hull scrapes against torpedoes. Will they share the Tecumseh's fate? No. Looks like they're duds. How lucky for the Hartford. By this point, thick smoke from cannon fire obscures the Hartford's field of vision. But if David won't let a captain's fear stop his attack, he sure as hell

won't let a physical impairment do so either. In an act as legendary as his damn the torpedoes line, the brave admiral climbs the main mast's rigging mid-battle. Here, high above the billows of smoke, he hollers orders to the crew below. David's only protection is a bit of rope the bosun uses to lash the admiral to the very rigging itself. The commander remains an easy target, but at least he won't follow his death. A Confederate flotilla attacks as the Union fleet enters Mobile Bay. The iron-clad CSS Tennessee charges toward the Hartford. One of its riflemen spots David lashed to the rigging and fires repeatedly at the exposed admiral.

Yet, the Union commander's luck holds. Every shot misses. The Tennessee turns away, but the Federal flagship's woes aren't over. Three Confederate gunboats enter the fray. The Hartford fires starboard broadsides at two of them while

another, the CSS Selma, opens raking fire on the Union vessel. The Hartford responds by cutting loose its accompanying port side ship, the Metacomet. She swiftly steams ahead and is joined by others from the Federal fleet as they emerge from the torpedo fort gauntlet. They make quick work of the Selma, forcing the rebel vessels to surrender. The other two Confederate gunboats are soon out of the picture as well. The Gaines runs aground while the Morgan flees the fight. Yet the Tennessee still menaces. A powerful ironclad designed to ram other ships, she steams toward the Union fleet.

Two Union screw sloops, the Monongahela and the Lackawanna, try to beat the Tennessee at its own game by dashing themselves against her iron hull, but only end up damaging themselves. Then comes an ominous moment. The rebel ironclad and the Yankee flagship face each other down, bow to bow. Perhaps fearing to go down with her intended victim, the Tennessee turns slightly off course so she and the Hartford only graze past each other. As they do, the wooden Union ship unleashes a broadside on the Iron Confederate, but it's utterly ineffective. Good God, the Tennessee seems invincible. It's shortly

after this that the damaged Lackawanna nearly collides with the Hartford. Frustrated, David calls out to his flag officer, John Kinney. Can you say, for God's sake, by signal? Yes, sir, John answers. Then say to the Lackawanna, for God's sake, get out of the way and anchor. And with those orders from his intrepid commander, John takes his flags and literally signals just that. As the fight rages beyond the fort's range, several of David's ships ram and fire on the Iron Confederate. Then two Union ironclad monitors, the Chickasaw and the Manhattan, get the Tennessee within their range. As they blast their foe with 11- and 15-inch guns, one of the Chickasaw's shots strikes the Tennessee's rudder chain.

That skillful or lucky shot disables the ship. Tears erupt from the Union sailors, but they're sobered by the carnage that greets them upon boarding the silenced Iron Behemoth. The Manhattan's lieutenant will later recall that the Tennessee's decks, quote, looked like a butcher shop. One man had been struck by the fragments of one of our 15-inch shot and was cut into pieces so small

that the largest would not have weighed two pounds. Close quote. Sitting 20 miles or more north and secure at the head of the bay, the actual city of Mobile will remain in Confederate hands until the effective end of the war. But that doesn't really matter. The Confederates have lost the battle. The smaller fortification at the bay's sole other entry point, Fort Powell, falls that afternoon. General Gordon Granger's men then support the Union fleet in taking out the other two forts. Fort Gaines will fall a few days later on August 8th, while Fort Morgan hangs in there until the 23rd. Two forts and a flotilla in torpedo-laden waters

should have been a death sentence. Instead, David Farragut closed a significant hole in the Union blockade, took a high-profile Confederate prisoner, the Tennessee's injured commander, Admiral Franklin Buchanan, and of course, as we know from the last episode, provided a victory that, along with General William Tecumseh Sherman's at Atlanta on September 1st, will help give new energy to Lincoln's re-election campaign. Damn, David is not one to mess around with.

Considering his equally brave 1862 victory at New Orleans, it's hard to disagree with Signal Officer John Kenney, who calls his lash-to-the-rigging, torpedo-damning admiral, quote, one of the greatest naval commanders the world has ever seen. Close quote. But that wraps up our time visiting with David Farragut. It's time to get back on land and head up to Missouri,

where guerrilla warfare and a massacre await us. How can you be sure you're making the right decision when choosing a university? The smart approach is to look at the facts. Like the fact that York U graduates have a 90% employer satisfaction rate. That's because across its three GTA campuses, York U's programs are strategically designed to prepare you for a meaningful career and long-term success.

Join us in creating positive change at yorku.ca slash write the future. Was the Sphinx 10,000 years old? Were there serial killers in ancient Greece and Rome? What were the lives of transgender, intersex, and non-binary people like in the ancient world? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. We tell you true stories and tall tales of the ancient world. Sometimes we do it tipsy. Sometimes we have amazing guests on our show, historians like Barry Strauss, podcasters like Liv Albert, Mike Duncan, and authors like Joanne

Harris and Ben Aronovich. We take you to the top of Hadrian's Wall to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world. We walk the catacombs beneath the temple of the feathered serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca Lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world. Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. Missouri might not be home to Gettysburg, Vicksburg, Fredericksburg, okay, any of the famously bloodied bergs. But don't be fooled. The show-me state isn't a bastion of tranquility. In the absence of epic battles between mighty armies, Missouri of 1864 is experiencing gruesome guerrilla warfare. Let me give you a little context. Missouri has

been at the center of the fight over slavery since its birth as a state. You may recall from episode 27 that when it applied for statehood, there was a big row over whether it should be free or slave. It ended with a compromise that brought Missouri into the Union as a slave state and set the free slave boundary of future Louisiana Purchase Territory at parallel 3630. This held until Missouri's next-door neighbor, Kansas, applied for statehood in 1854. The old compromise died, as did a number of people amid pro-versus anti-slavery violence. On the one side, Missouri's border ruffians used voter fraud and bullets to try to make slavery viable in their neighboring

state. Kansas abolitionists responded in kind, forming their own vigilante groups that came to be known as Jayhawkers. Things got so bad as both sides robbed and murdered each other, the term Bleeding Kansas came into use, as I told you about back in episode 41. Yet, the vigilantism only heated up when war broke out. Given their anti-slavery sentiment, many Jayhawkers aligned with the Union and became federal units. Meanwhile, many ruffians became bushwhackers. Think bandits who use guerrilla tactics to ambush Union troops. They aren't officially in the Confederate Army, but they fight for the CSA when it fits their

purposes. But whether Jayhawkers or bushwhackers dawn blue or gray, make no mistake, these men who've cut their teeth in this conflict by murdering, robbing, and plundering their foe aren't letting go of their Wild West habits or grudges. Frankly, for some of these men, the war is just licensed to indulge their thirst for such unsavory acts. As historian James McPherson puts it, quote, the guerrilla fighting in Missouri produced a form of terrorism that exceeded anything else in the war, close quote. There are numerous examples of such brutality among Missouri's more than 1,000 Civil War battles and skirmishes, but perhaps the most famous, or infamous rather, happens in September 1864 under the leadership of a bushwhacker called

William Bloody Bill Anderson. William is not a man you want to cross. If there was any doubt about that, he settled the question last year during a particularly rage-filled raid on the abolitionist stronghold of Lawrence, Kansas. You see, Union Commander Thomas Ewing had previously arrested a number of Bushwhacker's wives and sisters for providing support and intel, but the jail holding them in Kansas City, Missouri, inexplicably collapsed. Some died in this tragic accident, including one of William's three detained teenage sisters, and these deaths inspired the Bushwhackers to hit Lawrence with an unparalleled fury. Kill every male and burn every house, their leader William Clark Quantrill instructed, and on August 21st, 1863, they did their best to live up to that. Quantrill's 450

raiders razed 185 buildings and killed 182 males, men and boys alike. As they butchered citizens and plundered, William Anderson made a name for himself. Literally. That's where he picked up the moniker, Bloody Bill. It's now September 27th, 1864, and a bearded, long-haired William Bloody Bill Anderson is in a foul mood. Not only has his sizable posse suffered some setbacks in recent days, six of his men were killed and scalped by federal troops, likely Jayhawkers, but he's tired of waiting on Confederate General Sterling Price. He decides to move on the small rail station town of Centralia. It won't necessarily help the

Confederate cause, but he might get news of the general, and he wouldn't mind plundering the hundred or so people who live there. They arrive in Centralia at 10 a.m. The homes and stores provide little of value, though one boxcar on the railroad proves a nice find. It contains boots. Half of these bushwhackers wear stolen Union blue coats already, so they'll happily wear Union boots as well. Better still, whiskey. A barrel of it. Bloody Bill and his men drink deeply. Some of the inebriated bushwhackers then hold up a carriage. With guns drawn, they loudly demand, Out with your pocketbooks!

We are Southern men and Confederate sympathizers. You ought not rob us. The soon, walletless passengers protest. What do we care? Hell's full of all such southern men. Why ain't you in the army or out fighting? Yeah, don't mistake Bloody Bill's posse for ideologues. If anything, they're opportunists.

And speaking of opportunity, here comes a train. It's about 12 noon when the conductor sees the bushwhackers ahead. There's probably 80 or so at the train station. Some are stacking railroad ties on the track to force him to stop the train. Others are riding around the slowing train in their stolen blue coats shouting, firing off their handguns, and otherwise instilling fear in the train's horrified 125 passengers. Their aggressive war cries blend with the terrified screams and sobs of women and children looking at the gun-toting bandits through the train car's windows.

The bushwhackers board the train. They go from car to car, taking jewelry, watches, pocketbooks, or anything of value. They fire their guns into the ceilings, yell and swear at the passengers while the scared children sob. Bloody Bill opens the safe and relieves it of the $3,000 inside, while the future famous outlaw brothers, Frank and Jesse James, are among those who find a suitcase filled with cash. Good God, here's thousands of greenbacks, Frank exclaims. He's right.

It's about 10,000 bucks. Are there soldiers on the train? One of the bushwhackers calls out. The passengers admit, yes, there are, but they're all unarmed. And that's true. The 23 soldiers on the train have been discharged, or they're on leave from General William Tecumseh Sherman's army which is currently fighting in Georgia. These men are simply headed home. The Bushwhackers charge to the Union soldiers' coach. Surrender! Surrender! Surrender quietly and you shall be treated as prisoners of war, one of the bandits hollers. We can only surrender as we are totally unarmed, a soldier replies. Bloody Bill presses all the passengers onto the train platform while forcing the soldiers to exit onto the flat open plain.

Bushwhackers surround the Union men. Take off your uniforms. Strip. Obeying the order, the soldiers begin removing their blue uniforms and their boots. One soldier, Bill Barnum, requires help. It's not easy being stripped of your clothes while on crutches. Another unfortunate is a German immigrant who speaks poor English and had the great misfortune of wearing a blue shirt that passes for Union Blue. As this plays out, the bushwhackers take another pass at robbing the passengers, shooting one well-dressed man.

Amid the screams and cries of his mother and all the children in the crowd, his dead body drops on the tracks. Soldiers are now told to line up. Is this it? Are they going to be killed? Some pray. Others plead for their lives. What are we going to do with these fellows? Little Archie Clements asks. Parole them, of course.

Bloody Bill answers. I thought so. You might pick out two or three, though, and exchange them for Cave. Hmm. Yeah, maybe they could trade back for their fellow bushwhacker, Cave Wyatt. Bloody Bill agrees and hollers.

Boys, have you a sergeant in your ranks? No response. Have you a sergeant in your ranks? The 24-year-old commanding bushwhacker forcefully repeats. If there be one, let him step aside. Sergeant Thomas Goodman is sure whoever steps forward is as good as dead. Maybe lucky at that, frankly. What will happen? Torture, then death? He won't let it happen to one of the other sergeants. Wearing nothing but his underwear, he steps forward and is quickly whisked away by two brutes. You Federals have just killed six of my soldiers, scalped them, and left them on the prairie. I will show you that I can kill men with as much

skill and rapidity as anybody. You all are to be killed and sent to hell. That is the way every damned soldier shall be served who falls into my hands. Amid cries to God, sobs, and others who choose stoic silence, roughly 25 bushwhackers fire their revolvers. They're only half successful. A dozen men stagger and try to flee. Except Val Peters, that is. The massive, powerfully built, naked soldier charges at his executioners. Blood gushes from his wounds as he pushes past them. He hides in the train depot. The bushwhackers burn him out of hiding.

They light up the depot and simply wait. Val emerges wielding a flaming piece of wood as a club. He beats two bushwhackers to the ground but then the executioners finish the job. They get a clear shot and empty 20 rounds into him. 22 Union soldiers and one unfortunate German lay dead. The bushwhackers scalp the corpses, leave fire burning at the depot, and force the

engineer to send his lit up flaming train steaming down the track with the depot, and force the engineer to send his lit-up, flaming train steaming down the track with the whistle sounding, and not a soul on board. Bushwhackers made canteens of the new boots to haul the whiskey, and they put the almost bare Sergeant Thomas Goodman on a mule. Hellfire's too good for you, you son of a bitch. They taunt while pointing their guns at him. Bloody Bill and his men stop another approaching train. They force it to run over a dead soldier, severing the corpse's legs. After setting this train on fire too, the Bushwhackers ride off with their captive sergeant.

Drawn by the building's smoke over the town, Union Major Abe Johnston and his 39th Missouri Mounted Infantry ride into Centralia. They arrive around 3 p.m. and are overwhelmed at the sight and smells of the dead scalped soldiers. Now the Major has some green men. Bloody Bill and his boys are seasoned soldiers. The Major's Union force is just over 150 strong. In full force, the Bushwhacker's number 3 to 400. In other words, a federal offensive is not the logical choice right now, but the strong-headed Major won't let this stand. He leaves a few dozen troops in Centralia

and takes 120 or so out to fight Bloody Bill and his gang. The rookie cavalry soon spot 10 riders. Huh, an easy target. They pursue until they've ridden about two miles outside of Centralia. Then, across an open field, the 39th Missouri sees bushwhackers at the tree line by Young's Creek. They number 80. The Union men still have the numbers two to one. Yet, to Major Ave Johnson's surprise, they appear not to be fleeing, but to be preparing to charge him.

The Major orders his men to dismount and prepare to receive them with bayonets. My God, the Lord have mercy on them. They're dismounting to fight, a bushwhacker exclaims. It seems they disagree with their union adversary's approach. All sit in silence for several minutes. Frustrated, the major yells at his foe. We are ready. Come on. And they do. Bloody Bill twirls his hat, and at that, his 80 men pull back the hammer on their revolvers in unison. Then slowly, they advance. But as they draw close, the Union soldiers realize more bushwhackers whom they hadn't seen earlier emerging on their flanks. Charge, Bloody Bill yells. Union soldiers in the back flee, while the inexperienced ones in the front fire irregularly

and with little thought for aim. They hardly hit a man as the far more numerous and mounted bushwhackers swiftly close in on them from three sides. Some Federals cry for mercy, others fight with the bayonet. When Ebola ends their commander's life, the battle falls silent for a moment. The bushwhackers dismount and advance on the surrendered Federals with swords, bayonets, and knives in hand. Here again, the Bushwhackers kill and mutilate their foe, severing heads to place on fence posts and removing ears and eyes. Nearly the entire 39th Missouri is wiped out. Added to the unarmed soldiers on the train, that's a death count well over 100. Bloody Bill loses three men. Small numbers for the Civil War, we both know that. But the massacre

and the Battle of Centralia not only demonstrates how gruesome the fight is in Missouri, this fateful September day also numbers among the most lopsided engagements of the whole war. Bloody Bill will get shot in the head next month. He dies a villain in the north and a hero to some in the south. Bloody Bill and other bushwhackers will be romanticized, as will their equally violent Jayhawkers. Indeed, let's remember that while I've elected to tell you this, one of the most incredible tales of Missouri's violence, don't mistake the Union slash Jayhawkers as saints. The shoe can be and is found on the other foot. Future generations will reimagine Bushwhackers and Jayhawkers alike

as Robin Hood-type heroes. And to be fair, they aren't without a coat of honor. Notice that amid the extreme violence, I never once mentioned an instance of sexual assault against women. Furthermore, the Bushwhackers come to respect their prisoner, Sergeant Thomas Goodman, and as such, they let him go ten days later. Just how virtuous these men are will vary from figure to figure, but either way, they'll make excellent fodder for 20th century Hollywood.

I mean, who doesn't enjoy listening to Clint Eastwood ask, are you going to pull those pistols or whistle Dixie? But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll have plenty of time to explore the lives of the Wild West's Civil War trained outlaws and see where facts meet or depart from silver screen legend once this mighty conflict is over. For now, we need to visit one last crucial 1864 campaign, and that means heading back east a bit. An entire army is about to meet its effective end in the state of the popular science show with millions of YouTube subscribers comes the MinuteEarth podcast.

Every episode of the show dives deep into a science question you might not even know you had. But once you hear the answer, you'll want to share it with everyone you know. Why do rivers curve? Why did the T-Rex have such tiny arms? And why do so many more kids need glasses now than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science

facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. When Johann Rall received the letter on Christmas Day 1776, he put it away to read later. Maybe he thought it was a season's greeting and wanted to save it for the fireside. But what it actually was, was a warning, delivered to the Hessian colonel, letting him know that General George Washington was crossing the Delaware and would soon attack his forces. The next day, when Rall lost the Battle of Trenton

and died from two colonial Boxing Day musket balls, the letter was found, unopened, in his vest pocket. As someone with 15,000 unread emails in his inbox, I feel like there's a lesson there. Oh well, this is The Constant, a history of getting things wrong. I'm Mark Chrysler. Every episode, we look at the bad ideas,

mistakes, and accidents that misshaped our world. Find us at constantpodcast.com or wherever you get your podcasts. It's November, 1864, and things aren't looking good for the Confederacy. Abraham Lincoln is winning re-election. Ulysses S. Grant's campaign-slash-siege in Virginia, which we got a taste of in today's opening, continues. And Union General William Tecumseh Sherman is just beginning a famous, or infamous depending on your view, march through Georgia. No question then, the CSA needs a serious win. But since the damage General John Bell Hood's Army of Tennessee is doing to rail and union

supply lines can't lure Kump out of Georgia, the Confederate commanders come up with a Hail Mary play. Here's the plan. One-legged John Hood and his massive, gloriously flowing beard will take his 40,000-man army, which is currently in Florence, Alabama, and head to Tennessee. There, the aggressive commander intends to fight his way through the state's 60,000 Federals. Now that sounds nuts, and frankly it likely is, but there is some logic here. The boys in blue are divided into two fairly equal-sized armies in two different Middle Tennessee towns. One is Nashville, the other is Pulaski. And yes, it is named after the Polish Revolutionary War hero we met in episode 11, Kashmir Pulaski.

Nashville is roughly 75 miles north of Pulaski. If John Hood can somehow keep these forces from uniting, then he'll have the numbers on his side in each engagement. He can beat them, then push north into neighboring Kentucky. Once there, he believes he can find another 20,000 recruits, then take his enlarged, victorious army east to help Robert E. Lee defeat U.S. Grant. It's a bold play, but to continue with sports analogies, they do say the best defense is a good offense, right? Let's see how this campaign turns out. Joined by the feared cavalry commander Nathan Bedford Forrest, General John Hood and his army of Tennessee depart north from Florence, Alabama on November 21st. They march furiously. John wants to get

between the two Union forces to make sure he can take them on one at a time. But Tennessee's federal generals see this. Both, by the way, are men we've met previously. Up in Nashville, we have the Southerner whose family disowned him for his Union loyalty, General George Thomas. He commands the Army of the Cumberland. You might also recall his awesome nickname, the Rock of Chickamauga, which he picked up back in episode 62. Down in Pulaski, we have General John Schofield. He commands the Army of the Ohio and answers to George Thomas. Both men led armies during episode 65's Atlantic campaign. Both men are savvy enough to surmise that their Confederate

opponent will try to divide and conquer them. And acting with such foresight, John Schofield moves his force 40 miles north to the Duck River near Columbia. It's a full-on race between the two opposing armies. The boys in blue march day and night. Thanks to their breakneck pace, they manage to reach the small town that was once home to James K. Polk first, though alas, without time to visit, his house turned a museum. I'm kidding, of course. It isn't a museum yet. John Schofield's Federals take a defensive position on the northern side of the Duck River, which means the Confederates still haven't managed to get between the Union armies. From November 24th to 27th, there are small skirmishes, but things heat up on the 29th. In Stonewall Jackson style,

John Hood sends Cavalry Commander Nathan Bedford Forrest on an eastern flanking movement. They strike Union troops farther up the turnpike that leads north to Franklin. If they can take this small village, or more importantly, the road, they will effectively prevent these Union forces from falling back farther north and reconnecting with George Thomas' men. The fight rages through the afternoon. Some Federals lose hope. At one point, an officer sees one soldier retreating in a full sprint. Stop, my man! What are you running for? He yells out.

Because I have no wings to fly with! The still-running soldier hollers right back. Thankfully for such terrified Federal troops, John Schofield becomes aware of the flanking movement and sends two divisions to help them hold the all-important road. This doesn't ensure an easy win, though. The Battle of Spring Hill rages on as the autumn daylight gives way to the dark of night. John Hood has full confidence of

a morning victory as he retires to his headquarters. But John Schofield has some tricks of his own. He takes his entire army and marches north that very night. Moving along the turnpike, they pass within sight of Confederate camps. A few Confederates notice them and make reports, but nothing is done. The whole Union Army passes them by as campfires crackle. When day breaks the next morning, November 30th,

John Hood learns of what happened while he slept. The flanking at Spring Hill was completely for naught. The Union armies are only that much closer to uniting. Enraged and frustrated, the one-legged Confederate general immediately sends his forces after John Schofield's. It's now early afternoon. John Hood's men have spent the whole morning marching only to find their northern foe dug in at Franklin. 20,000 Yankees wrap around the town's western and southern sides below the Harpeth River. They're all tucked in their earthworks, their artilleries prepped and ready to go. Considering the Bluecoats hightailed it out of Columbia and Spring Hill just last night,

they couldn't be in a better defensive position. Generals Nathan Bedford Forrest and Benjamin Cheetham both tell John Hood an attack here is folly. But oh, is he determined. He's sure that half his problem in this campaign has been the weakness of his men. They're soft. They need to toughen up and be real men. And with that line of thinking, John Hood insists that his army will attack. The men prepare for battle. Irish immigrant-turned-Confederate General Patrick Cleburne, whose fierce fighting we heard about in episode 62,

reports that he's ready to the Confederate commander. General, I am ready, and I have more hope in the final success of our cause than I have had at any time since the first gun was fired. God grant it, John Hood answers. With precious little daylight remaining, the gray and butternut troops form lines around 4 p.m. The military band strikes up and they advance. Rifles crack. The fighting gets hot. The Federals fall back.

They dash the half a mile to the next Union line as the Confederates yell, chase, and fire. Patrick Cleburne's division is among those in the heat of this fight. He knows that if they don't break the Union line now, they'll have a hell of a time doing it later. As he leads his men forward, his horse is shot from underneath him. No matter. He mounts another. It too is soon shot. Patrick now advances on foot, in the front, sword held high, encouraging his men, and then a bullet rips through the

Irish-born Confederate general's chest. He falls dead then and there. Patrick's death is a heavy loss for the CSA, but it's far from the only such loss here today. Rebels manage to overrun some Yankee entrenchments, but once that first retreating Federal line is out of the way, Union artillery and rifles unload on their enemy. When the fighting ends in the dark of night at nine o'clock, John Hood has sustained almost 7,000 casualties. Six Confederate generals are dead, including not just Patrick,

but also General States Writes Gist. Yes, you heard that correctly. First name, states. Middle name, writes. States writes gist. How's that for an aptly named Confederate? 54 regimental commanders are casualties as well. Meanwhile, the Union's losses are just over 2,000, or about one-third of John Hood's. I don't think this was the lesson in manliness he intended to give his men. Worse still for the Confederate commander, John Schofield gives him the slip. Again, the boys in blue march the last 15 miles north to Nashville through the night. By the next day, Generals John Schofield and George Thomas have a united force strong in numbers while John Hood's graycoats have suffered a huge loss to theirs.

Many of his men are truly bitter. A Texan in the Confederate Army of Tennessee, Samuel T. Foster, writes this in his journal. The wails and cries of widows and orphans made at Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864, will heat up the fires of the bottomless pit to burn the soul of General J.B. Hood for murdering their husbands and fathers at that place that day. It can't be called anything else but cold-blooded murder. He sacrificed those men to make the name of Hood famous. When, if the history of it is ever written, it will make him infamous. John Hood does the only thing he can at this point.

He pursues. He takes his army up to Nashville, where his former West Point professor, General George Thomas, now commands a combined army of almost 70,000 men. A Confederate offensive would be insane. And it seems that even John Hood understands that after what just happened at Franklin. And so, he sits outside the Union-held state capitol and waits for the Yanks to come to him. To his surprise, though, the days pass. No attack comes. And why not? Ulysses S. Grant and the bigwigs in Washington start to get nervous. On December 6th, Ulysses wires the following order to George Thomas. Attack Hood at once and wait no longer for a remount of your cavalry.

There is great danger of delay. But still, he doesn't attack. War Secretary Edwin Stanton fumes That this is like having George Little Mac McClellan back While Ulysses considers relieving George Thomas of his command After two weeks of waiting though The old West Point professor completes his preparations He's ready to school his old pupil once more

And this time, John Hood's failing the course On December 15th, 50,000 Yanks feign then charge on the 25,000 Rebs. Two Black Brigades participate in the opening movements. Their colonel will know after the battle that, quote, colored soldiers had fought side by side with white troops. They had assisted each other from the field when wounded, and they lay side by side in death. A new chapter in the history of liberty has been written. Close quote. Continuing with the same tactics the next day, the Union army prevails. John Hood gets the remaining 20,000 or so of his very depleted army to the safety of Tupelo, Mississippi in January 1865.

Understandably, he then resigns. The momentum has shifted several times in this year's long war, but as is the case here in Tennessee, it's decidedly with the Union as we end 1864. We're almost ready to charge into the last few months of battle in the year 1865, but one chapter remains before we do so. Union General William Tecumseh Sherman's march to the sea. It's not a story to rush, though. So join me next time as we follow Kump on a scorched earth campaign

that will smolder in the hearts of some for decades to come. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans. You can join by clicking the link in the episode description. My gratitude to Kind Souls providing additional funding to help us keep going. And a special thanks to our members, whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Andy Thompson, Anthony Pizzulo, Art Lane, Beth Christiansen, Bob Drazovich, Brian Goodson, Bronwyn Cohen, Carrie Beggle, Charles and Shirley Clendenden, Charlie Magis, Chloe Tripp, Christopher Merchant, Christopher Pullman, Thank you. Jennifer Magnolea, Jeremy Wells, Jessica Poppock, Joe Dobis, John Frugledugel, John Boovey, John Keller, John Oliveros, John Radlavich, John Schaefer, John Sheff, Jordan Corbett, Joshua Steiner, Justin M. Spriggs, Justin May, Kristen Pratt, Karen Bartholomew, Cassie Conecco, Kim R., Kyle Decker, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis, Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Seconder, Nick Caffrell, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphries-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasse, Sharon Theisen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson.

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