This is the first part of a two-part series about the Phelps family sacrifice during the Civil War.
When the Civil War started in April 1861, Abner and Erryphila Phelps were an average New England farm family, living in Goshen, Hampshire County, Massachusetts. With three sons and a daughter, there was nothing to set them apart from any other local family. Absent the Civil War, the Phelps’ family life would have led a normal, routine, unremarkable and uneventful life, just your average family with not even a brief historical mention beyond the boundaries of their local town.
Abner Phelps was born in July 1817 in Goshen, Hampshire County, Massachusetts, the son of Nathaniel Phelps (1791-1857) and Sally Pelletreau Mayhew (1796-1871). Through his mother’s Mayhew line, his New England roots ran deep. His many times great-grandfather Gov. Thomas Mayhew, the Elder (1593-1682), founded of the first European settlements on Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket and the Islands.
In about 1844, Abner married Erryphila Wheeler (1817-1899). The marriage produced three sons — Leroy Phelps (1846-1865), Levant Phelps (1844-1869), Laselle Phelps (1854-1912) and one daughter, Ella Jane Phelps (1858-1915).
When the Civil War started, both sides assumed the fighting would be over in a matter of months.
Northerners were so confident of an easy victory — and so unaware of the horrors of war — that they traveled to an early battle, Bull Run, to watch and enjoy a picnic.
Abner Phelps Joins Up
At the time, Abner Phelps had no reason to join up. Indeed, he was 45 years old and well beyond the normal recruit age for a soldier. There would have been no expectation for him to enlist, and his two oldest sons were just turning 16 and 17 so they were too young. Had the predictions of early victory for one side or the other held true, the rest of the Phelps’ family story would have passed to uneventful oblivion. However, the rose-colored victory glasses soon turned black. An early resolution faded into the smoke of battle.
In August 1862, the immediate need for fresh troops for the Union was critical. President Lincoln called for the raising of 300,000 troops to serve in various state regiments for a 9-month period. Numerous 9-month regiments were raised in Massachusetts. Among those was the 52nd Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry Regiment. On Sept. 15, 1862, Abner Phelps, then 43 years old, enlisted as a private. On Oct. 11, 1862, he mustered in to Company I, 52nd Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry Regiment at Camp Miller, Greenfield, Mass.
Just why Abner Phelps enlisted is unknown. Certainly, to have enlisted at an age 20 years older than most of the men he would serve with, especially in the infantry, denoted a high degree of patriotism beyond the norm. Of the 90 men in Company I when the unit was formed, Abner Phelps was the only one from Goshen.
Camp Miller
As the “History of the 52nd Regiment” notes:
Of life at Camp Miller not much is to be said. The days were spent in company and battalion drill; and in the nights, if some of the farmers in the neighborhood lost their poultry and their green corn, it was no more than could be expected…
Camp Miller, November 10 – The day was rainy and unpleasant; but precisely at a quarter to three the regiment, number 930 men, formed a line with their knapsacks, haversacks, and canteens on, when the adjutant read the order for their departure for New York…
If “the boys” thought they were playing soldier, and were off for a prolonged picnic, they were disabused of that idea when they reached New York. The rain fell in torrents: no provision had been made for their coming. They marched, dirty and hungry, through the muddy streets to the Park, and toward morning are let into the City Hall to get what rest they can on the stone floor, at least they are out of the rain and the mud…
New York City Hall in 1860. Image courtesy Library of Congress.
Seaborne and Seasick
Conditions in New York gradually improved. But if the regiment and Abner Phelps thought that conditions had been unpleasant, it was just the start. The experiences of the regiment were probably typical of most units sent by sea. In the case of the 52nd Massachusetts, virtually none of the men had even seen a major river, let alone an ocean.
Nov. 28, 1862, saw the regiment board the steamer Illinois.
We are in pretty close quarters, but are as comfortable as can be expected on board a vessel with 1,200 men.
They still had no idea that their destination was Louisiana. On Dec. 2, 1862, they set sail.
It was a novel experience to most of us. No land in sight, and we knew not when there would be. The sea became very rough, and multitudes were very sick. The fact is, most of us were dry-land sailors, though some had crossed the Connecticut River once or twice.
It was not a pleasant voyage.
Our quarters are crowded, food was poor, somewhat limited in quantity: the condensers were not large enough for such a multitude. So our tea and coffee were well flavored with salt water and grease…
Crowded, kept below deck most of the time, even in good weather the conditions would have been stifling. Conditions did not markedly improve, even when they reached the mouth of the Mississippi River, and death came to the regiment before it even hit land.
As the regimental history goes on to describe:
Daniel W. Lyman, Co. K, wrote to the Northampton Gazette: “On the morning of the third day a stiff breeze was blowing, which soon increased to a gale. The heaving of the ship brought out all the sea-sickness, and but few escaped. Such a scene as we presented on board I shall not attempt to describe. I never witnessed the like before, and I hope I never shall again. This Sabbath morning was a sad one to our regiment. Richmond, of Co. E, was stricken with typhoid fever, and died in less than a day after he was taken ill. The funeral services were held on the hurricane deck, and his remains consigned to a watery grave.”
Private Phelps at Port Hudson
The regiment reached Baton Rouge on Dec. 17, 1862, after sailing up the river past New Orleans. After 19 days on the boat, the regimental history reported, “…orders came for the 52nd to land, which they did cheerfully…”, which must have been the understatement of all time! They then remained in and around the area for the next three months, with some companies occasionally detailed to other places guarding supply lines. Then on March 13-14, 1863, Private Phelps and the regiment participated in a joint Army-Navy operation against Port Hudson, La., when Adm. David G. Porter tried unsuccessfully to force a river passage. The regiment got within several hundred yards of the fort, but saw no action, returning to Baton Rouge thereafter.
Union soldiers dig a trench in anticipation of the siege of Port Huron.
It next participated in the Bayou Teche Campaign designed to remove a Confederate flanking threat for Gen. Nathaniel Banks’ upcoming assault on Port Hudson. The regiment was involved in some skirmishing, but saw no sustained fighting. It remained in the area for over a month, guarding various supply lines and reacting to suspected Confederate threats.
On May 27, 1863, the Union army made the first assault on Port Hudson, but the 52nd Massachusetts was still in Bayou Teche and did not reach the Port Hudson siege lines until May 30. On June 14, Private Phelps and the regiment took part in the second assault on Port Hudson, where the terrain and heavy Confederate fire stopped the regiment. They were then deployed as flankers and skirmishers. One can only marvel at the stamina and courage of Phelps, who at 43 years old, was probably suffering physically much more than the younger men around him.
The Battle
As the skirmish line advances, the reserves are ordered up. Capt. Bliss, of Co. G, an efficient, promising young officer, is carried off the field, mortally wounded. Lieut. Rice, of Co. B, an equally meritorious officer, is severely wounded. One soldier of the reserves is struck in the hand, and another in the leg; and our rank and file are killed and wounded along our long skirmish line, in uncertain numbers. We wonder how those brave lads, in that long, irregular line, can live at all in such a ‘leaden rain,’under such a deadly fire. The roar of cannon, the plunging, shrieking, and bursting of shells, and the discharge of small arms are continuous on both sides.
Soon we observe that the assaulting column is checked in its advance, apparently with heavy loss; but our gallant skirmishers, under the immediate direction of the lieutenant colonel and major, still press forward. They soon gain position within pistol range of the entire line of fortifications, covering a front of one-fourth to one-third of a mile; and, as the main column does not advance, they now halt, dig rifle-pits, roll up logs, utilize stumps, pile up brush, and otherwise protect themselves as best they can from further loss. And from this poorly sheltered, advanced position ‘the boys’ soon silenced the enemy’s artillery in their front. If a rebel sharpshooter shows his head above the ramparts now, he does so at his peril.
Attack on Port Huron
Aftermath
But it is now apparent that the grand assault has been repulsed. Artillery firing mainly ceases. Only sharp-shooters on both sides seem to be busily engaged; but they evidently have business enough on hand, particularly in our own neighborhood. About this time our most anxious, perambulating colonel is made aware of the fact that he in particular has become an object of considerable interest, — a sort of revolving, moving target for several Confederate gentlemen of that obnoxious persuasion; and, as there appears to be no further need of personal exposure on his part just now, he promptly seeks out a good-sized stump, on high, commanding ground, extemporizes it into regimental headquarters, and occupies them in person without formal ceremony.
The bullets come ‘thud, thud, thud,’ into the tough old stump, and continue to ‘zip’ and whistle about these new and novel yet strictly ‘military’ headquarters, until the sun is well down in the west. We cannot yet move to bring off our wounded or to bury our dead. The reserves are mostly under cover a short distance to the rear; and thus we remain on the battle-field until the following morning. As was necessary, we went into the fight in light marching order, and have unavoidably suffered much from want of our blankets during the damp, chilly night.
The Death of Abner Phelps
After retiring, they remained on picket duty for the next three weeks in an exposed position under daily fire until the Confederates surrendered on July 9. 1863. The regiment stayed at Port Hudson until July 23, but the soldiers were now nearing the end of their enlistment. The regiment was then sent by steamship up the Mississippi (and later by rail). The fall of Port Huron and Vicksburg opened the river, which made the 52nd Massachusetts the first Union regiment to travel up the Mississippi. It reached Greenfield, Mass., on Aug. 5, 1863. Pvt. Abner Phelps then mustered out with the regiment on Aug. 14, 1863. It must have been a joyful homecoming for his wife and children, a blessed relief after nine months of anxiety.
During the Civil War, camp life was always more deadly than actual combat. The 52nd Massachusetts lost 11 men mortally wounded or killed in action, but 101 men died of disease. Typhoid, malaria, dysentery and diarrhea were major killers during the war. They resulted from overcrowding, poor sanitation, poor water supply and a general ignorance of the causes. On Sept. 1, 1863, 18 days after mustering out, Abner Phelps died at home in Goshen of diarrhea. The short period between his discharge and death strongly suggest that he was ill during his return from Louisiana. The cause of his death was directly related to his service. It would have been a devastating blow to his wife and children. They had just welcomed him home and thought he was at last safe from the terrors of the war.
Honoriing Their Father
By the time of their father’s death, two of his three sons, Leroy and Levant Phelps were 18 and 19 respectively. We can only imagine how the death of their father affected them, but on 9 Dec. 9, 1863, most probably to honor their father’s sacrifice and to the undoubted horror of their mother, they both enlisted as privates in Company D, 1st Massachusetts Volunteer Heavy Artillery. Both signed up for 3 years.
To read Part II, click here.
Abner Phelps was the author’s 2nd cousin, 4 times removed, and his sons Leroy and Levant Phelps were his 3rd Cousins, 3 times removed.
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Images: “Attack on Port Huron” colorized by ChatGPT.
