r/CivilWarCollecting

I worked with federal EOD Techs and local experts to have the shell disarmed and I will be cleaning it up in the coming weeks! 😄

Pictured is a staff badge for the 1915 Richmond UCV reunion. This badge belonged to the Adj. General and Chief of Staff for the Virginia Division of the UCV. With a little research I was able to determine that Boyd M. Smith was the adjutant general and chief of staff for 1915 - meaning this was his badge.

Boyd Mason Smith was born in Alexandria on June 6th, 1844. In January 1863 at age 18 Smith enlisted in the 4th Virginia Cavalry. Upon enlisting Smith was immediately detailed as a courier on the staff of General JEB Stuart. Private Smith saw heavy action while serving on Stuart’s staff, including at Brandy Station, Gettysburg on Day 3, Yellow Tavern and Trevallian Station to name a few.

In late July/early August 1864 Smith transferred to the newly formed Company E, 43rd Virginia Cavalry under Colonel Mosby. With the Grey Ghost, now Sgt. Smith would harass federals across northern Virginia. Notably Smith was involved in the capture of Union General Alfred N. Duffie in August 1864. Smith and the Rangers would torment federals all the way up to the end of the war, where Mosby’s command disbanded rather than surrender.

Postwar, Smith removed to Mineral, Va and was active in veterans affairs. He served many positions in the leadership of Virginia’s UCV Division, including of course, Adjutant General and Chief of Staff in 1915. Smith died in 1921 at the age of 77.

All in all a wonderful badge with a great history. As someone who often travels through “Mosby’s Confederacy” I’m quite pleased to add this bit of local history to my collection.

Spencer H. Bronson was born on September 15th, 1842 in Smithville, NY. He was from a large family, and by 1850 they had moved to Wisconsin. At the outbreak of war, 3 of the brothers (Spencer, Eli, and Manly) enlisted in May of 1861 with the 7th Wisconsin (all in Company B).

In August of 1862 the 4th brother (Edward) enlisted in Company K of the 32nd Wisconsin. Shortly after that at 2nd Manassas, Spencer was shot in the little finger of his right hand (the first of 4 wounds). The following month at Antietam, Eli was shot and killed, becoming the first Bronson to die in the war.

Manly was promoted to Sergeant, but contracted a disease and died early in the morning of March 26th (when this letter was written). Manly’s death, together with Eli’s death a few months earlier took a toll on Spencer. In the opening stages of Chancellorsville at the end of April, he was wounded a second time when a bullet passed through his cartridge box strap and lodged in his side.

After spending some time in surgery, the ball was extracted and Spencer returned to his unit in time for Gettysburg… where he was again wounded (3rd time) and captured on July 1st. He was sent first to Libby Prison then Belle Island, but was later exchanged in August of 1863. By the time of his release Spencer had lost all his teeth due to scurvy.

Returning to the 7th, Spencer would become a casualty for the 4th time. At the Wilderness he was shot twice in the abdomen, and despite fears he would die - persevered and was sent to Washington, D.C. for recovery. One of the balls would embed itself under his right hip and remain for the rest of his life.

On the evening of April 14th, he had chosen to attend the show at Ford’s Theatre for a rare chance to see Lincoln and Grant. A firsthand witness to the assassination, Spencer immediately wrote a letter to his sister, and the contents proved historically significant. His detailed account was incredible, and is one of only a handful known that included the precise Latin translation of Booth’s famous words after shooting the President. This article goes into further detail: https://archive.jsonline.com/news/wisconsin/museum-buys-photo-of-civil-war-soldier-who-saw-lincoln-assassinated-b99240263z1-255082211.html.

In May of 1865 Bronson transferred into the Veteran Reserve Corps as an Orderly Sergeant, mustering out in November of that year. Back in Fall River, WI, he started a merchant business with his sole surviving brother Edward, then later became postmaster.

In the 1870s or 80s (records are a bit shaky), he married Aner Louise Perrin and moved to South Dakota, where he became a G.A.R. Post Commander and was later elected to the State Senate. Despite being wounded 4 times in the war and suffering from the effects of his injuries, Spencer lived to be 88, passing away on September 20th, 1930. It’s hard to image a soldier who was witness to more atrocities.

The first two photos are of Spencer, with the second two being of Manly. Then a photocopy of a newspaper article about his life. Finally, a transcription of the letter.

Picture this: Two weathered wool blankets, folded carefully in my family’s attic for generations. I recently inherited them from my uncle. They belonged to my 4x great uncles Corporal Richard B. Hughes and his younger brother, Jesse Eli Hughes both proud soldiers of Company K, 44th Virginia Infantry.

Family lore always claimed these very blankets traveled with them through the fire and fury of the Civil War… and after months of research, letters, muster rolls, and authentication, I believe this to be true.
The only mystery left? We’ll never know whose blanket was whose. History has a way of blurring the lines like that.

Let me take you back to their story the one these blankets silently witnessed.

It begins in June 1861 at Bledsoe’s Church, Virginia. Twenty-year-old Richard, a hardworking overseer from Fluvanna County, steps forward and enlists. For the next two years, he marches with the 44th Virginia through nearly every major engagement in the Eastern Theater. Then comes July 3, 1863 Gettysburg.

While the world remembers Pickett’s Charge, Richard and his comrades were locked in one of the bloodiest, most overlooked fights of the entire battle: the desperate struggle for Culp’s Hill. As historian Jeffry D. Wert describes in Gettysburg, Day Three, the Virginians of the 44th charged up steep, rocky slopes under a deadly crossfire. “Southern gains were measured in feet, secured at a dear price,” Wert writes. Men climbed cliffs under musketry from front and flank. Robert Slaughter of the 44th fell mortally wounded that day listening the night before as his own brother William died screaming for water just out of reach.

Corporal Richard Hughes was right there with them. He was shot in the leg near a rock ledge partway up the slope. Somehow he survived, dragged himself to safety, and was evacuated to a hospital in Richmond.

He spent the rest of the war in the Veteran Reserve Corps still serving, still proud.

His little brother Jesse’s war was no less harrowing. At just 19, Jesse Eli Hughes enlisted on September 8, 1862, in Frederick, Maryland, and joined the same company. Days later he was thrown into the smoke and chaos of Antietam the bloodiest single day in American history. He was wounded almost immediately and sent to a hospital in Scottsville. However he recovered and kept fighting.

In May 1864, at the Battle of Spotsylvania Court House, Jesse was wounded again and captured. He spent the next ten months as a prisoner of war from May 1864 until his release on March 10, 1865.

Through marches, camps, hospitals, and prison stockades, these blankets were likely the only bit of home the brothers had left.

Two brothers. Two blankets. One regiment. Four years of war that tore a nation apart.
Today I hold them in my hands and feel the weight of that history. My DNA literally runs through the ground at Gettysburg where Richard bled. As well as Antietam and Spotsylvania Court House where Jesse was wounded.

These blankets threadbare, battle-stained, and still somehow whole remind me that history isn’t just in books. It’s in the artifacts we inherit, the stories we keep alive, and the quiet pride of knowing where we come from.

So here’s to Corporal Richard B. Hughes and Private Jesse Eli Hughes and to every soldier, North and South, who carried little more than wool and hope into the unknown.

Whose blanket was whose? We’ll never know… but maybe that’s the point. They belonged to both of them. And now they belong to all of us who remember.

Hello,
I’ve tried to research this bell and keep ending up at “Civil War Camel Corps Bell”. In other online discussions I’ve seen people talk about identifying features that would classify it as a reproduction or not and I feel like this is original but I’m hoping that there might be someone that could answer a couple of questions.
1: Is this a reproduction?
2: Is there any actual evidence of these bells being used by the Camel Corps? Were they also used for horses or livestock? The only thing I can find online are sellers saying these are Camel Corp bells. I can’t find any information from museums, photographs, ext. that prove they are. I would love more information!
Thank you!

From the good folks at the Union Drummer Boy. Pictured is an early Smith patent strip and CDV, id’d to Major Charles P. Chandler of the 1st Massachusetts who was killed leading a charge at Glendale during the Seven Days Battles. The CDV is id’d with pencil and the strap has an old yellowed tag glued on the reverse.

Charles P Chandler was born in 1835 in Maine but relocated to Boston to attend Harvard.

In May 1861 Chandler accepted a commission, as Lieutenant and later Captain of a militia battalion in Boston. As the state began to organize regiments Chandler was then commissioned a major in the 1st Massachusetts Infantry. The pictured CDV was likely taken while Chandler was still a Lt/Cpt.

The 1st went south in July but served in primarily garrison roles until early 1862 when they were sent to the Virginia Peninsula. Their first taste of combat came at Yorktown, in April. The 1st was in constant action that took them from the gates of Richmond and back. At Glendale on June 30, Major Chandler was killed leading the 1st in a countercharge against Longstreet’s division. Chandler’s body was never recovered, meaning this shoulder strap was likely a on dress uniform or a spare and returned to Chandler’s family with his effects.

Imagine leaving the misty green hills of Ireland as a teenager… only to charge into the bloodiest battlefields of America’s Civil War.

This is the true story of Private James Flynn one of thousands of Irish immigrants who helped save the Union. Born November 29, 1842, in Carrick-on-Shannon, County Leitrim, Ireland, James stepped onto American soil on June 9, 1860. A young farm hand chasing a new life in a strange land. Little did he know his greatest test was coming.

At just 18, Flynn answered the call. He joined Company F (Capt. McDonnell’s Company), 28th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry a proud Irish regiment known for its fighting spirit. Enrolled October 15, 1861, at Camp Shields, he signed up for three years, pocketed a $100 bounty, and stepped into history.

In January 1862 the 28th left Massachusetts, garrisoned at Fort Columbus in New York, then sailed south to the steamy islands of South Carolina. Days blurred between Daufuskie, Tybee, Jones, and Bird Islands drilling in the blazing sun, swatting mosquitoes, and enduring the boredom of coastal picket duty. Leadership crises hit hard: Colonel Monteith arrested for drunkenness, others resigned amid feuds. But these “island soldiers” were toughening up for what lay ahead.

By June 1862 the quiet shattered. The regiment stormed James Island. On June 16 they charged through an almost impassable bog at the Battle of Secessionville. Mud sucked at their boots. Rebel fire tore through the ranks. The 28th suffered 67 casualties in a single bloody assault including Sergeant John J. McDonald, who heroically carried the regimental colors until he fell. The survivors were pulled back to Hilton Head, bloodied but unbroken.

Reassigned to the Army of the Potomac, the 28th steamed north to Virginia. On August 30, 1862, they plunged into the chaos of the Second Battle of Bull Run (Second Manassas). Cannon smoke choked the air. The ground shook. In one savage day the regiment lost 135 men.

Among them was Pvt. James Flynn. A bullet shattered his right hand and arm. He was captured, held briefly as a POW, then exchanged. The pain was excruciating but his fight wasn’t over.

Flynn’s recovery was a brutal journey through military hospitals: Washington D.C., Alexandria (where he penned a heartfelt letter home), Point Lookout, and finally Massachusetts General. Necrosis set into his wounded arm. On May 23, 1863, he was discharged for disability honorably, but forever marked by war.

The war couldn’t break his spirit. Back in Massachusetts, James became a painter. On November 12, 1864, in Dorchester, he married Lucy Barry. Together they built a beautiful life raising 9 children in the peace he had helped secure.

James Flynn passed away from liver cancer on March 13, 1904. Lucy applied for a widow’s pension, a final testament to his service. Today he rests at Forest Hills Cemetery and Crematory in Jamaica Plain, Suffolk County, Massachusetts.

From a farm in Ireland to the front lines of freedom James Flynn’s story is the American Dream written in courage, sacrifice, and resilience. He was one of countless Irish immigrants who proved that loyalty to a new nation runs deeper than blood.

The 28th Massachusetts helped turn the tide for the Union. Men like Flynn showed the world what immigrant soldiers were made of.

Letter Transcript…

Alexandria, Virginia
November 18"h [1862]

My Dear Cousin,

I received your very welcome letter, which gave me great pleasure to hear from you and that all hands were well. I am in good health myself at present, if I could only get enough to eat.

I am very sorry that I cannot be there to enjoy Thanksgiving with you. But the condition of my wound will not allow me. But I think I will be with you at Christmas, as the Doctor told me he would get me a furlough as soon as my wound was fit to go. He said it wouldn't do to let a man off with such a looking arm as mine was.

You must excuse me if I don't write you a very long letter this time. As I am shut up here and can't find much of any consequence to write anyhow. So, give my love to all the folks and tell them that they may expect to see my ghost around there about Christmas.

From your affectionate Cousin,
James Flynn
Formerly of Company H, 28th Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers But now of Queen Street Hospital Alexandria, Virginia

Letter is part of my collection & research journey into forgotten Civil War stories. Always humbled to share these lives with you.

A recent pick up, and very much a grail item. Pictured is a nicely toned brass badge, in the shape of badge the 25th Corps. Suspended from a bar, engraved “M. M. Holland”. Hardware on the reverse suggests 1890–1900s. This piece used to be in the collection of Walter F. Reily, who had one or two other items attributed to Holland.

Milton M. Holland was born into slavery in Texas. Perhaps the son of his master Bird Holland. Bird Holland freed Milton and his brother and send them to Ohio for education.

Following the Emancipation Proclamation 20 year old Holland enlisted in the 5th U.S. Colored Troops. Like most USCT regiments, the 5th spent their early term of service on guard duty and performing other rear echelon functions. But at the start of the Petersburg Campaign the 5th was pulled onto the frontlines. The regiment was on the field at the Crater and several other engagements. At New Market Heights Sgt Major Holland took command of his company after all his officers had been killed or wounded. It was for this action that Holland earned the Medal of Honor. General Butler said after the fact that had it not been for Holland’s race he would’ve made brigadier general.

Now operating under the nearly all-black 25th Corps the 5th was reassigned to North Carolina. Where they participated in the capture of Wilmington and Sherman’s Carolina Campaign.

Postwar Holland settled in Washington DC. He earned a law degree from Howard and started the first Black owned insurance company in DC. When he passed away in 1910 he left behind a sizable estate. Milton M. Holland was born into slavery and buried at Arlington Cemetery. You’d be hard pressed to find a better encapsulation of the American Dream.