Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Monday, February 17, 1862

This morning the boys in blue are everywhere in and around Fort Donelson, scattered among the boys in gray, rehearsing the scenes they have witnessed, and the trials through which they have passed. Although the Seventh was in the thickest of the battle, as their riddled colors show, their loss is comparatively small. The casualties in the two days' battle around Fort Donelson are as follows:

Company A.— Thomas Crayon, wounded.
Company B.— Private Thomas J. Parish, wounded in left hand; private Edmond P. Mann, wounded.
Company C. — John Brint, wounded in thigh.
Company D. — First Lieutenant James Munn, wounded in face.
Company F. — John Dell, wounded; Rosewell C. Staples, wounded.
Company G. — Jno. H. Dougherty, wounded in arm.
Company H. — Private John D. Turner, wounded in head.
Company I. — Captain Noah E. Mendell, killed; Ole Porter, killed; Corporal William Boring, wounded, leg amputated.
Company K. — John W. Hopper, killed by cannon shot; Corporal Thomas Kirby, wounded severely; Corporal Wallace Smith, wounded slightly; John Rhodes, wounded severely; Julius Wolf, wounded slightly: Dilivan D. Daniels, wounded severely; Winfry Mitchell, wounded slightly; Charles Huffman, wounded severely, leg amputated; Jacob Hoen, wounded slightly. Sum total of casualties, 20.

In looking over the list we notice that company K, the gallant Captain Hunter's company, sustained nearly half the loss in the regiment. Noble old Carlinville company, under its brave leader, made a fearful swing on these fortified hills. We will add no more; their list of casualties speaks for itself. It tells the story more plainly than pen can write it. Though our loss is light, we miss those who have fallen, and those who have been wounded. Among the most distinguished who fell in these wintry days of battle before Fort Donelson will ever appear the name of the brave Captain Noah E. Mendell, of company I. In view of the accident that befell him near Fort Henry, his friends remonstrated with him, and besought him to remain at the rear, but when the order was given “Forward to Fort Donelson," he determined not to be thwarted by anything. Evading the surgeon, who forbade his going, alleging, as was the case, that he was unfit for duty, he pressed on, saying to his gallant First Lieutenant, Edward S. Johnson: “Ed, you take command of the company; I will follow you as long as I have strength.” When he heard the drums beating, and the loud huzzas away on those hills, his heart beat high, and its silent language was, men tell me not to stay; I will go where that old flag goes to-day. Being unable from the injuries received near Fort Henry, to buckle his sword belt around his waist, he buckled it around his neck and followed close in the rear of his company, cheering his men and telling them to stand by their brave, youthful leader, Lieutenant Johnson, who was then commanding the company. But how soon are his hopes dashed down. A whizzing grape comes crashing through the woods and singles him as its victim, entering his head just beneath the right ear, coming out immediately through the center of his left. His death was instantaneous, and he fell with his sword still above his head, with his face lit up with the smile of triumph—a glorious death and such as all brave and patriotic soldiers like him would wish to die—face to face with the enemies of his country. Captain Mendell was born in Blairsville, Pennsylvania, November 4th, 1837, and consequently was in his twenty-fifth year at the time of his death, February 13th, 1862. When the call was made for three months' volunteers he was among the first to offer his services, together with a majority of Captain John Cook's (State Militia) company, denominated the Springfield Zouave Grays, of which he was long a respected member. Upon Captain Cook's promotion to Colonel, Mendell rose to Second Lieutenant, in which capacity he served during the three months' service, at the close of which he was unanimously chosen Captain for the three years' service. He was the only brother of Captain G. H. Mendell, of the United States Topographical Engineers, professor at West Point, whom, with a loving father and sister, he leaves to mourn his early death. He is silently sleeping now. May he sleep well, and may the noble men of his company, should they in coming years pass his grave, tread lightly there and shed a silent tear to his memory; and may every soldier of the Seventh do likewise, remembering that there sleeps the gallant Captain Noah E. Mendell, the first brave soldier of the Seventh who fell in the war for the Union, and the first in Grant's army who fell a victim upon the Union altar before the battlements of Fort Donelson.

Preparations are now being made to send his remains home to be buried in the Springfield cemetery. As a martyr, we give him to the loyal people of Springfield, and the Seventh, especially his noble company, appeals to them in the language of the poetess:

Lay him where the clover blooms,
Let the gallant soldier rest
Where the twilight dews will fall
On his youthful breast.

Lay him where the evening sun
Gives to him her parting ray;
Where the violet droops her head
At the closing day.

Lay him where the midnight star
Sheds o'er him her gentle light;
Where the wood bird's plaintive strain
Serenades the night.

Lay him where the stars and stripes
Will o'er him ever wave';
Where no foe can touch the realm,
For which he died to save.

Lay him where bright angel wings
Will guard his happy sleep ;
Until the Saviour's voice shall call,
May their faithful vigil keep.

Company D has lost for a time their loved and brave-hearted Lieutenant Munn. True to the flag and its fostered principles, he fought valiantly until wounded, when he was compelled to leave the field. We remember when he went bleeding from the hill, when we were making the assault on Saturday evening. He was foremost in the fray, fighting bravely until the battle was waning, when one of the deadly messengers selected him as its prey, inflicting a frightful wound in his face. Heroic soldier! We fear he will battle no more in the cause of human right.

The wounded are now being sent north, and while there, may they receive from the loyal people tokens of gratitude, that will make them feel glad that they stood on the banks of the Cumberland, when the winter winds blew, and when the battle king made his deadly march, causing shot and shell to make a dirge-like music where they stood. We cannot pass without alluding to the noble ones who passed through the battle untouched; who bore the flag through tempest and storm and planted its staff firmly in the ramparts. But how can we distinguish any when all were brave; when all stood so nobly during those fierce hours of battle?

Lieutenant Colonel A. J. Babcock deserves the praise of all. Cool and calm as a placid brook, with a heart that prompted to daring deeds, he led his men through the terrible storm, and as they followed him there was power felt on those hills. He displayed a tact and skill in handling the regiment, forming it at one time under a galling fire, which elicited the commendation of the General commanding. We will not soon forget how often his voice rang out in inspiring tones, and how the Seventh went surging on with him, and how her flag was ofttimes seen, reflecting its light where smoke and red-hot flame belched forth from brazen fronts.

Major Rowett also deserves the plaudits of all. Enthusiastic, but not rash, he was found where all the brave were found. None but could admire his dashso free, so courageous—as he moved with the regiment on those hills with defiance, facing danger and cheering his men on to victory. Says he, since the battle: “I never felt so happy in all my life as when before that rebel battery the first day; happy because I there discovered that I had a heart to face the cannon's mouth, which I did not feel certain of having until then.” Many of the Seventh can speak likewise; can testify that they feel glad in their hearts that they have been tried and not found wanting. Among the brigade commanders none were more conspicuous when the battle was at its highest than our Colonel, John Cook. Amid the terrible storm that rolled from the cannon's angry front he stood. Though death and carnage followed in its wake, making little streams beneath his feet, he faltered not, but with that veteran soldier and brave general, Smith, he moved until the sun went down and the battle storm was hushed.

SOURCES: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 36-42

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