Confederate Pvt. Milton Porter Sanders
Sharpshooter - Company A
Turney's 1st Tennessee Infantry Regiment
Compiled by
Alma E Dailey-Harings
Sanders & Dickson Family History Project
Email: aharings@gmail.com
The aftermath of Gettysburg, July 4-6 1863.
The following accounts capture some of the nightmarish and apocalyptic character of the journey of the wagon train bearing the Confederate wounded west then south from Gettysburg. Significant details vary among these accounts, including the damage done by the Federal cavalry raids, locations, and even times and dates. But the fact that this was a horrible experience for all involved is beyond dispute.
Pvt. Milton Porter Sanders , sharpshooter for Turney's 1st TN Infantry Brigade was shot in the head at Gettysburg on the first day of fighting, July 1, 1863, his wounds serious enough to put him with Imboden's train of wounded a couple days later.
There is an excellent account of the fighting by the Tennessee Brigade on July 1 in the article "What a Deadly Trap We Were In" by Marc and Beth Storch, published January 1, 1992 in "Gettysburg: Articles of Lasting Interest".
Three accounts of the retreat will follow Milton's confederate military service summary below.
Confederate Military Service Summary
Milton P. Sanders was born in Pelham, Tennessee on 24 June 1836 to Thomas Sanders Sr. (1790-1855) of North Carolina and Mary "Polly" Roberts ( 1795-1868) of Georgia.
On April 8, 1861 Jefferson Davis called for 20,000 volunteers for the Confederate States of America and on April 12, 1861 the bombardment of Fort Sumter in South Carolina by Confederate forces began. On the 27 of April 1861, Milton P. Sanders was 23 years old when he enlisted as a private at Pelham, Franklin County Tennessee as a Private in Co. "A", 1st Tennessee Infantry under Colonel Peter Turney.
"Turney's 1st" was the first company and regiment in the state of Tennessee to offer their services to the Confederacy, and even though I may not have agreed with my ancestors political views, his willingness to volunteer for duty risking his life for his country and principle, personally filled me with a sense of pride. Milton was mustered into service as a sharpshooter with Turney's at Lynchburg, VA, 8 May 1861. On 17 May, they traveled by rail to Richmond where they were drilled by the cadets from the Virginia Military Institute.
Milton fought during the Seven Days at Richmond which was actually a series of six major battles over the seven days from June 25 to July 1, 1862, near Richmond VA. He fought during the battle of Fredericksburg in December of 1862 where he had to be carried from the battlefield after being shocked by an explosion of shells within the ranks. He broke the bone in the center of his right hand on May 3, 1863 during the battle at Chancellorsville and less than two months later, during the first day of battle at Gettysburg, (July 1, 1863), Milton received a nearly fatal shot to the head. The following is Milton's own words regarding the treatment of his head wound:
"...there was several pieces of my skull that was taken out."
The following is an excerpt taken from a letter written by Pvt.W.B. Pattie who served along side of Milton during their service under Turney's command:
" ......I can say that I was with M.P. Sanders in the battle of Fedrisburg (sic) VA & he was shocked by the explosion of shell in our ranks from which he was carried from the field. And I was with him in the battle of Chancerlsville (sic)when he received a wound in the hand and had to leave the field. I saw him when he received the shot in the head at Gettysburg. That was on the first day: how I come to see him fall was I was in the picket line in front of the Regiment and happened to look back, as I did I saw him fall and slap his hand to his head and that was the last I saw of himSo, by early on the morning of July 1 Milton P Sanders was out of the Gettysburg action for good.
during our march in Penn. "
On July 4, 1863 after the battle, he with all of the other wounded would be hauled
away in the 1200-wagon train (17 miles long!) carrying the wounded.
This train was guarded by Confederate cavalry commanded by Gen. John
Imboden, who later wrote a very gripping and sad account of the
evacuation of the wounded.
The following offers more details about the Civil War
service of our grandfather Pvt Milton P. Sanders who served Turney's 1st
TN regiment (Co. A) and who was one of the regimental sharpshooters.............
I have been trying to find out as much as I can about how the
sharpshooters in that regiment lived and fought, and what they did.
Unfortunately there is no detailed history of Turney's
regiment (although the "other" 1st TN has gotten quite a bit of ink
including Sam Wilkins's book), so information has to be dragged out
piecemeal.
There has been a lot written about the morning's fighting on July 1.
I have looked into this because I wanted to find out what I could
about the circumstances under Milton P Sanders were wounded.
Two good books on the subject are David Martin's "Gettysburg July 1" and
Harry Pfanz's "Gettysburg - the First Day".
It is enough to say that the "Tennessee Brigade" led by
Gen. James Archer (and at the time comprising the 1st, 7th, and 14th
Tennessee Regiments, the 13th Alabama Regiment, and the 5th Alabama
battalion) was among the first units engaged at Gettysburg.
They were in line south of the Cashtown (Chambersburg) Pike with the 7th TN on
the left, then the 14th TN, then the 1st TN and the Alabama units on
the right. Most of the fighting was in the vicinity of Willoughby
Run, and the opposition was the Union "Iron Brigade".
Most of the accounts say that Archer's brigade was led by skirmishers from the
Alabama units, but Pfanz says that the skirmishers "probably" included the sharpshooters from the 1st TN.
( Authors Note: This makes the letter that I have from W. B. Pattie VERY IMPORTANT in that it establishes for sure that the 1st TN sharpshooterswere out in the skirmish line at the very beginning of the battle - this was where our direct ancestor Milton P Sanders was wounded. Alma)
It also means that it is possible that it was one of the 1st TN sharpshooters who killed the Union corps
commander Gen. John Reynolds in this part of the battle - but this is just speculation.
So, by early on the morning of July 1 Milton P Sanders was out of the Gettysburg action for good. On July 4, 1863 after the battle, they with all of the other wounded would be hauled away in the 1200-wagon train (17 miles long!) carrying the wounded.
This train was guarded by Confederate cavalry commanded by Gen. John Imboden, who later wrote a very gripping and sad account of the evacuation of the wounded.
Account 1. "Lee's Retreat From Gettysburg"
http://www.ibiscom.com/gtburg2.htm
Confederate General John Imboden commanded a cavalry brigade that arrived at Gettysburg on the afternoon of July 3 - too late to take part in the battle. That evening, General Lee ordered Imboden to wait at headquarters where he would receive further instructions. We join General Imboden's story in the early morning hours of July fourth as he and his staff await the arrival of General Lee:
"When he arrived there was not even a sentinel on duty at his tent, and no one of his staff was awake. The moon was high in the clear sky and the silent scene was unusually vivid. As he approached and saw us lying on the grass under a tree, he spoke, reined in his jaded horse, and essayed to dismount. The effort to do so betrayed so much physical exhaustion that I hurriedly rose and stepped forward to assist him, but before I reached his side he had succeeded in alighting, and threw his arm across the saddle to rest, and fixing his eyes upon the ground leaned in silence and almost motionless upon his equally weary horse, - the two forming a striking and never-to-be-forgotten group. The moon shone full upon his massive features and revealed an expression of sadness that I had never before seen upon his face. Awed by his appearance I waited for him to speak until the silence became embarrassing, when, to break it and change the silent current of his thoughts, I ventured to remark, in a sympathetic tone, and in allusion to his great fatigue:
'General, this has been a hard day on you. He looked up, and replied mournfully: 'Yes, it has been a sad, sad day to us,' and immediately relapsed into his thoughtful mood and attitude. Being unwilling again to intrude upon his reflections, I said no more. After perhaps a minute or two, he suddenly straightened up to his full height, and turning to me with more animation and excitement of manner than I had ever seen in him before, for he was a man of wonderful equanimity, he said in a voice tremulous with emotion: 'I never saw troops behave more magnificently than Picket's division of Virginians did today in that grand charge upon the enemy. And if they had been supported as they were to have been, - but, for some reason - not yet fully explained to me, were not, - we would have held the position and the day would have been ours.' After a moment's pause he added in a loud voice, in a tone almost of agony, 'Too bad! Too bad! OH! TOO BAD!'"
The aftermath of Gettysburg, July 4-6 1863.
The following accounts capture some of the nightmarish and apocalyptic character of the journey of the wagon train bearing the Confederate wounded west then south from Gettysburg. Significant details vary among these accounts, including the damage done by the Federal cavalry raids, locations, and even times and dates. But the fact that this was a horrible experience for all involved is beyond dispute.
Account 1. "Lee's Retreat From Gettysburg"
http://www.ibiscom.com/gtburg2.htm
Confederate General John Imboden commanded a cavalry brigade that arrived at Gettysburg on the afternoon of July 3 - too late to take part in the battle. That evening, General Lee ordered Imboden to wait at headquarters where he would receive further instructions. We join General Imboden's story in the early morning hours of July fourth as he and his staff await the arrival of General Lee:
"When he arrived there was not even a sentinel on duty at his tent, and no one of his staff was awake. The moon was high in the clear sky and the silent scene was unusually vivid. As he approached and saw us lying on the grass under a tree, he spoke, reined in his jaded horse, and essayed to dismount. The effort to do so betrayed so much physical exhaustion that I hurriedly rose and stepped forward to assist him, but before I reached his side he had succeeded in alighting, and threw his arm across the saddle to rest, and fixing his eyes upon the ground leaned in silence and almost motionless upon his equally weary horse, - the two forming a striking and never-to-be-forgotten group. The moon shone full upon his massive features and revealed an expression of sadness that I had never before seen upon his face. Awed by his appearance I waited for him to speak until the silence became embarrassing, when, to break it and change the silent current of his thoughts, I ventured to remark, in a sympathetic tone, and in allusion to his great fatigue:
'General, this has been a hard day on you. He looked up, and replied mournfully: 'Yes, it has been a sad, sad day to us,' and immediately relapsed into his thoughtful mood and attitude. Being unwilling again to intrude upon his reflections, I said no more. After perhaps a minute or two, he suddenly straightened up to his full height, and turning to me with more animation and excitement of manner than I had ever seen in him before, for he was a man of wonderful equanimity, he said in a voice tremulous with emotion: 'I never saw troops behave more magnificently than Picket's division of Virginians did today in that grand charge upon the enemy. And if they had been supported as they were to have been, - but, for some reason - not yet fully explained to me, were not, - we would have held the position and the day would have been ours.' After a moment's pause he added in a loud voice, in a tone almost of agony, 'Too bad! Too bad! OH! TOO BAD!'"
Mournful Trek
Lee orders General Imboden and his brigade of cavalry to protect the retreating train of Confederate wounded as it retreats back across the Potomac River into Virginia. The column moves out at four o'clock in the afternoon and stretches for miles. Wagons carry the severely injured while the walking wounded straggle behind. The column makes its way west through the Pennsylvania mountains. We rejoin General Imboden's story the evening of July 4:
"After dark I set out from Cashtown to gain the head of the column during the night. My orders had been peremptory that there should be no halt for any cause whatever. If an accident should happen to any vehicle, it was immediately to be put out of the road and abandoned. The column moved rapidly, considering the rough roads and the darkness, and from almost every wagon for many miles issued heart-rending wails of agony. For four hours I hurried forward on my way to the front, and in all that time I was never out of hearing of the groans and cries of the wounded and dying. Scarcely one in a hundred had received adequate surgical aid, owing to the demands on the hard-working surgeons from still worse cases that had to be left behind. Many of the wounded in the wagons had been without food for thirty-six hours. Their torn and bloody clothing, matted and hardened, was rasping the tender, inflamed, and still oozing wounds. Very few of the wagons had even a layer of straw in them, and all were without springs. The road was rough and rocky from the heavy washings of the preceding day. The jolting was enough to have killed strong men, if long exposed to it. From nearly every wagon as the teams trotted on, urged by whip and shout, came such cries and shrieks as these:
'O God! Why can't I die!'
'My God! Will no one have mercy and kill me!'
'Stop! Oh! For God's sake, stop just for one minute; take me out and leave me to die on the roadside.'
'I am dying! I am dying! My poor wife, my dear children, what will become of you?'
Some were simply moaning; some were praying, and others uttering the most fearful oaths and execrations that despair and agony could wring from them; while a majority, with a stoicism sustained by sublime devotion to the cause they fought for, endured without complaint unspeakable tortures, and even spoke words of cheer and comfort to their unhappy comrades of less will or more acute nerves. Occasionally a wagon would be passed from which only low, deep moans could be heard. No help could be rendered to any of the sufferers. No heed could be given to any of their appeals. Mercy and duty to the many forbade the loss of a moment in the vain effort then and there to comply with the prayers of the few. On! On! We must move on. The storm continued, and the darkness was appalling. There was no time even to fill a canteen with water for a dying man; for, except the drivers and the guards, all were wounded and utterly helpless in that vast procession of misery. During this one night I realized more of the horrors of war than I had in all the two preceding years."
How To Cite This Article: "Lee's Retreat From Gettysburg, 1863" EyeWitness - history through the eyes of those who lived it, www.ibiscom.com (2002).
References:
Foote, Shelby, Stars in Their Courses : The Gettysburg Campaign June-July 1863;
Imboden, John "The Confederate Retreat From Gettysburg" in Buel, Clarence, and Robert U. Johnson, Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, Vol. IV (1888, reprinted 1982);
Wheeler Richard, Voices of the Civil War (1990).
Account 2. Excerpts from "Gettysburg 1863", section entitled Lee's Retreat
By Carl Smith, Osprey Publishing Co., Oxford UK, 1998.
On Saturday morning, July 4, it rained. The gentle and cooling rain brought a mood of peace and serenity to the battlefield where so many Americans had died. ....... A stupor seemed to have settled over both armies, but Lee realized that this numbness would not last forever, and so he planned to withdraw that day, before the Union army could react. ........ As if to mimic Lee's feelings, the rain became a downpour throughout the day while he completed his plans for the evacuation of the Army of Northern Virginia. The men heard their marching orders that afternoon. If terrain had benefited the Union, weather aided the Confederates.
........ In the midst of slashing thunderstorms, the Army of Northern Virginia began leaving, the heavy rain and thunder muffling the sounds of their withdrawal. ........the wounded [were] escorted by Imboden's command in a column of wagons, ambulances, and ambulatory patients 17 miles long, and then came the infantry. After nightfall Hill evacuated, then Longstreet, and finally Ewell. Stuart's cavalry acted as rearguard and flank escorts for Ewell.
........ Rain fell all night long, and well into Sunday. The roads were syrupy mud, slowing wagons and the foot soldiers who slogged along in sodden discomfort. Still, no one tarried, for every Southerner knew that they must put as much distance as possible between themselves and the stationary Union Army.
........ Kilpatrick's and Buford's cavalry shadowed and constantly sniped at Imboden's columns, but could not bring on a general engagement because of the close proximity of Confederate infantry which all too willingly supported the Southern cavalry. The Union cavalry had to be content with harrying the retreating Confederates.
However, Huey's cavalry brigade of Gregg's division did manage to position itself between the wagon train and Ewell's reargaurd during an especially heavy part of the thunderstorm. Rain was so heavy and visibility so poor that they slipped past Ewell without being seen. Lit only by flashes of lightning, the Union cavalry found its way to the top of a steep road descending into the valley near Leiterburg. Just after 0300 hours [July 5] the Union cavalry came charging out of the heavy night rain into the rear of the wagon train and struck the weary Confederates. Many drivers were wounded or killed; others abandoned their wagons to save themselves. In the midst of the shouting, carbine fire, and peals of thunder, many mules and horses bolted, going over the side of the winding road into the steep ravine or slamming into other wagons and breaking wheels. Finally the Confederates drove off their attackers but many more wounded were now added to the diminished amount of transport available, further slowing Lee's withdrawal.
"The result of this brilliant maneuvre," a Union officer noted, "was the capture of a large number of wagons, ambulances, and mules, with fifteen hundred prisoners." [NB - This differs from the last line of the following account.]
Account 3. Excerpts from "This Vast Procession of Misery:" General John D. Imboden and the Confederate Retreat from Gettysburg By Heather K. Peake
http://www.civilwarinteractive.com/imboden.htm
It was the evening of July 3, 1863, and General Robert E. Lee faced a serious problem. The Battle of Gettysburg was over; his massive assault on the Union center had failed; his troops were spent; it was time to depart the field. He needed to get his army back to the safety of Virginia, and the sooner the better, for if the Union army caught its breath and went on the attack, the whole cause could be lost. As the night wore on, a general plan of retreat began to form -- and therein arose the problem. Three days of hard fighting had left more than 3,500 of his men dead and a staggering 18,735 wounded. Those wounded could not simply be left to the enemy. But how to bring them along without slowing the retreat to a crawl? That was the question. [1]
Around 11 pm, Lee called for Brigadier General John D. Imboden to report to his headquarters. Imboden's command was a semi-independent cavalry unit that had spent the summer campaign attached to Robert E. Lee's left flank, carrying out raids and destroying railroad bridges and canals as the main body of the Army of Northern Virginia moved northward. They had not arrived on the field until noon on July 3, and Lee, busy with the final plans for Pickett's advance on the Union lines, had simply ordered them to guard the rear of the Confederate line. "[M]y little force took no part in the battle," Imboden later wrote, " but were mere spectators of the scene, which transcended in grandeur any that I beheld in any other battle of the war." His men and their mounts were fresh and comparatively well-rested, and that made Imboden a valuable commodity on that particular night. [2]
John Imboden was not highly regarded by Lee or other high-ranking officers in the Confederate Army [NB - This statement differs from other accounts]. The 40-year-old lawyer and politician from Staunton, Virginia had first won attention in April 1861, just as Virginia seceded from the Union, when he led his hometown artillery to Harper's Ferry and seized the arsenal. Then he returned to Staunton and raised a cavalry, the First Partisan Rangers. He fought with Stonewall Jackson in the 1862 Valley Campaign, and in January 1863 had been rewarded with a promotion to brigadier. Now in command of the 18th Virginia Cavalry, the 62nd Virginia (Mounted) Infantry, the Virginia Partisan Rangers, and the Virginia (Staunton) Battery, he had gained a reputation as a first-class raider. As they advanced into Pennsylvania, his men were delighted to find that this reputation has preceded them. "The country was in a perfect panic when they heard of the coming of 'Imboden, the Guerilla,' as they call him," a soldier wrote in a letter published in the Staunton (Va.) Spectator on July 3, 1863. "Five thousand Pennsylvania 'Melish' advanced to meet him on the National road. He let the 'Melish' stand and wait for his coming, while a squadron of cavalry went around them and gathered the fine horses they had left at home!" But as important as these activities were, cutting enemy communication and rail lines and rounding up food and supplies, there was a kind of taint to it -- the sense that it wasn't quite as honorable as combat - and perhaps this marked Imboden as belonging to a lower class of soldier. [3]
...........Lee announced: "We must now return to Virginia. As many of our poor wounded as possible must be taken home. I have sent for you because your men and horses are fresh and in good condition, to guard and conduct our train back to Virginia. The duty will be arduous, responsible and dangerous," he cautioned, "for I am afraid you will be harassed by the enemy's cavalry. He promised all the additional artillery Imboden wanted - but no additional troops. His 2000 men and the few extra artillery crews would have to protect the nearly 13,000 wounded themselves.
Imboden was to proceed west along the Cashtown road, and then south by whichever road he choose, to Williamsport, Maryland. This would keep the cumbersome wagon train out of the way of the main column, which was to retreat by the shorter Fairfield road. At Williamsport, Imboden would stop only long enough to rest his horses. Then they were to ford the Potomac and move without delay to Winchester, Virginia. [4]
His operation got underway early on the morning of July 4. "It was apparent by 9 o'clock that the wagons, ambulances and wounded could not be collected and made ready to move till late in the afternoon," he wrote of that long and frustrating day. Compounding the difficulties, at around noon "the very windows of heaven seemed to have opened." The downpour turned the field beside the Cashtown road into an instant quagmire. Horses and mules, already unnerved by three days of shelling, grew frenzied by the wind and could not be calmed. Wagons and artillery carriages became hopelessly entangled and began to sink in the deepening mud. "The deafening roar of the mingled sounds of heaven and earth all around us made it almost impossible to communicate orders, and equally difficult to execute them," wrote Imboden. Somehow, though, they got it done. In less than 14 hours, they had loaded 12,700 of the 18,735 wounded into some 1,200 wagons. [5]
By 4 pm on July 4th, the wagon train was in motion. The 18th Virginia Cavalry, under the command of the general's brother, Colonel George W. Imboden, formed the advance guard. General Imboden stayed behind to personally place detachments of troops and guns at intervals of third- or quarter-miles. It was well after dark when the last wagons rolled out of Cashtown and he set out for the head of the column.
Imboden would never forget that ride. From end to end, the wagon train was 17 miles long. "For four hours I hurried forward on my way to the front, and in all that time I was never out of the hearing of the groans and cries of the wounded and dying. " Inside each wagon lay men with shattered bones and open wounds, laying on bare boards in springless wagons jolting over badly rutted roads. Everyone was wet and chilled from the intermittent rains; most had received neither food nor water nor medical attention for 36 hours or more. Imboden heard them begging to be left by the road to die, screaming obscenities, praying, calling for their wives, their mothers, their children. "No help could be rendered to any of the sufferers. No heed could be given to any of the appeals. Mercy and duty to the many forbade the loss of a moment in the vain effort then and there to comply with the prayers of the few. On! On! We must move on. The storm continued, and the darkness was appalling. There was no time even to fill a canteen with water for a dying man; for, except for the drivers and the guards, all were wounded and utterly helpless in the vast procession of misery. During this one night I realized more of the horrors of war than I had in all the two proceeding years." [6]
But Imboden knew they had to push on through the night, for "in the darkness was our safety..." When daylight came, so would the risk of enemy attacks. "It got very dark," recalled one of the wounded, a soldier from the 16th North Carolina, "but there was no halt made, a steady trot being kept up all night. I could never tell you how we got along without some accident." Imboden's orders were clear: if a wagon broke down, transfer the wounded and abandon it. Winding through Greenwood, Duffield, New Franklin, and Marion, Pine Stump Road quickly became a graveyard of derelict transports, some of them left where they had sunk in the axel-deep mud. [7]
By 4 am, they had reached Greencastle, Pennsylvania, near the Maryland border. Rev. J.C. Smith remembered the scene: the walking wounded, shivering in the cold and damp, constantly adjusting their clothes to catch rainwater in the folds to drink, or to take the pressure off of inflamed wounds. How different they appeared from the proud, boastful troops that the invaded the town a week earlier. Smith felt little satisfaction. "No one, with any feelings of pity, will ever want to see such a sight even once in a lifetime." [8]
Not everyone in Greencastle was so charitable. The advance guard was about a mile past the town when a group of 30 or 40 citizens fell upon the train with axes in hand, and managed to hack the spokes out of more than a dozen wagon wheels before Imboden sent a detachment back to stop the trouble and arrest the troublemakers.
That was just the beginning. As expected, swarms of Union cavalry began to attack all along the length of the train, choosing the weakest sections and causing, in Imboden's words "great confusion," (and probably no small amount of terror to the defenseless wounded). He himself was almost captured when surprised by a band of 50 Union cavalrymen while reconnoitering, only to be saved when brother George heard the firing, and wheeled the 18th Virginia back to counter the threat. Yet at the end of this long day of "desultory fighting and harassments," the train was rolling into Williamsport, having lost only a handful of wagons to the enemy.
NOTES:
[1] For casualty figures, see Faust, Patricia L,ed., Historical Times Illustrated Encyclopedia of the Civil War (New York, Harper & Row, 1986), p 307.
[2] See Imboden, John "The Confederate Retreat," in Battles and Leaders, Vol. 3 (New York: The Century Company, 1884), p. 420.
[3] See the newspaper section of Valley of the Shadow Project web-page for excerpts from the Staunton (Va.) Vindicator: http://jefferson.village.virginia.edu/vshadow2/Browser2/aubrowser/svjul63.html.
[4] Imboden, p 421-3.
[5] Imboden, p 422-3.
[6] Imboden, p 424.
[7] Schildt, John W. Roads from Gettysburg (Shippensburg, PA: Burd Street Press, 1998), p 14-15.
[8] Schildt, p 15.
Page compiled by Alma Harings
Email: aharings@cox.net
