John
Pelham was an Alabama boy – raised to love his home, his family, his State, and
their rights. At twenty-four, he was
mortally wounded on the field of battle, ending a happy life and a brilliant
career as a Confederate Artillery officer. “Among the many remarkable persons with whom
it was my fortune to meet in the long and unhappy struggle of the Civil War,”
J.E. Cooke wrote, “[Pelham] was, I think…the most remarkable.”
In
1848, when John Pelham entered the world, Alabama was a fledging State – mostly
unsettled, still full of Indians, and abounding in natural resources and
potential. He was born on a thousand
acres outside of Alexandria and spent his childhood roaming the countryside with
his six siblings. As soon as he could
walk, John started riding horses, and after running one milk cow dry, he also became
an expert bareback bull rider. He and
his five brothers were well known for their bravery and recklessness. The boys said that John liked fishing almost
as much as he liked horses and dogs, “and that was saying a lot.” When he turned eighteen, John left behind
everything he knew and went to West Point Military Academy. He took the Bible his mother had given him.
As Pelham plunged into his studies, the United
States was plunging headlong towards continental war. Simply, as an Alabama boy, Pelham’s
allegiance was to Alabama. But, his
situation was sticky because he was at a federal military academy in New
York. Tension increased between the
northern boys and southern boys at West Point, and meanwhile, classes
continued. Pelham studied hard, and
wrote to his mother, “I always (nearly always) get over my lessons and read a
chapter in my Bible a short time before 11 pm…”
On January 11, 1861, Alabama cut the ties that held her to the
Union. The stickiness of the situation
was increasing. Pelham was just weeks
from graduation. He was waiting to hear
from his parents. But finally, on the 27th
of February, he wrote to Confederate President Jeff Davis: “I am anxious to
serve [the Confederacy] to the best of my ability. If you think it would be better for me to
resign now [rather] than to wait and graduate…a single word from you will cause
me to resign, and as soon as my resignation is accepted, I will consider myself
under your orders, and repair to Montgomery without delay.”
On April 22, Pelham got word from Alabama and left West
Point. He was leaving a paper for which
he had labored for almost five years. He
had already passed his final examinations, and was just two weeks away from
graduation and becoming a commissioned officer.
But Alabama had called him. So he
went.
Pelham drilled new recruits, went north to Virginia,
became a lieutenant, and fought his first battle at Manassas. He immediately showed himself to be a good
leader, a good artillerist, and a good man - full of courage, ready to inspire
and superior to the enemy. But, “instead
of promotion, the South gave him glory; instead of substantial recognition, she
gave him responsibility,” Milham recorded. [1] Pelham was ready for
it. He was tall, thin, quiet and happy –
but made of iron. One of his gunners
wrote, “We were all afraid of him. He
had only to look at us and speak a soft rebuke and we practically trembled in
our boots…We loved him, I think, because he was a boy and we feared him because
he was a man.” [2] Pelham was eager for battle, ready for hardship,
and burning to win. Even when “he looked
not a day older than nineteen” [3] he was able to hold men to
discipline and gain unswerving obedience.
He was their hero, and he became Alabama’s, too.
In the November of 1861, four months following Manassas, Pelham
was attached to the Stuart Horse Artillery – a mobilized artillery unit under
the leadership of JEB Stuart, the South’s most illustrious cavalry commander,
and a man who had explicit confidence in the “the boy artillerist.” The two became great friends. “Stuart’s ready wit and spontaneity of speech
and action and utter lack of self-consciousness were widely at variance with
Pelham’s modesty of manner and retiringness of self. But Stuart’s faith in God and simplicity of
belief in the religion that he lived matched Pelham’s own. Stuart, like Pelham, gave all of himself, all
of his best, to the cause in which he believed.
In that coming together of these two was born the Stuart Horse Artillery
and some of history’s pages were made the brighter.” [4]
Before swinging his new unit into action, Pelham went back
to his State to collect some of his old friends. He returned to Virginia with twenty fresh
recruits, and quickly training his boys to be some of the best artillerymen in
the Confederacy. His men were molded
into fine soldiers. “From morning until
night, every day, while he sweated and laughed and sobered, while he held
himself now tensely, now easily, while he mixed praise with unhurting censure,
while he gave of himself something that all of them felt and could not name,
they went through the drill and manoeuver and horsemanship exercise on the roads
and in the fields…John Pelham, with nothing of strain in word or voice or
gesture, was calling out… ‘If you keep that up…we’re sure going to lick those
Yanks!’” [5] As it turned
out, Pelham faced the Yanks sixty times during his career, and did lick them,
all but once.
The crux of Stuart’s Horse Artillery was dash. It was designed to hit and run, to change
positions at a moment’s notice, to surprise the enemy, to travel rapidly over
long distances, and to be effective in destroying the invader. Pelham was the right commander for this type
of job. He thought fast, worked hard,
and cared nothing for safety or sleep.
Constantly, he surprised his superiors with feats of courage and
endurance. He was made a captain
following the Chambersburg raid, during which his artillery covered eighty
miles in twenty-four hours. And Stuart
reported that during the Battle of Williamsburg, “I ordered the Horse Artillery
at once into action; but before the order could be given Pelham’s battery was
speaking to the enemy in thunder tones of defiance, its maiden effort on the
field, thus fulfilling its function of unexpected arrival with instantaneous
execution.”
“There goes Pelham!” was shouted on the Cold Harbor
battlefield, as his two-gun battery went forward to bark against the enemy guns
on the heights above. One of his pieces
was disabled, but the duel of one cannon against eight continued for a long
while with terrible fury. The Yanks
slacked off. Covered with dust, sweat
and powder – Pelham and his men had won.
Later, Stuart, Pelham and some of their men found the
whole Union army encamped in a valley below.
Stuart ordered Pelham to utilize the one gun he had in firing against
the entire Army of the Potomac. He and
his men kept this up for five hours – Pelham against the Army of the
Potomac. When they exhausted their
ammunition, they retired.
Stuart wrote to the War Department: “Captain John
Pelham…displayed such signal ability as an artillerist, such heroic example and
devotion in danger, and indomitable energy under difficulties in moving his
battery, that, reluctant as I am at the chance of losing such a valuable limb
from the brigade, I feel bound to ask for his promotion…No field grade is too
high for his merit and capacity.” In
August of ‘62, he was promoted to Major.
Later, in the midst of the bullet storm called “the thick
of battle”, a scared Major yelled that Pelham should fall back. Pelham shouted in return, “We’ve got to hold
on Major! One of my pieces has a broken
pole! We can’t retire it!” And with a smile, he fought on.
As Pelham continued to emerge victorious, his men grew in
their confidence in and adoration of him.
And the people of the South did too.
“You heard about Pelham everywhere you went. But it didn’t surprise us a bit,” one of his
men said. “We knew him and we trusted
him. We would have followed him anywhere,
I think. As a matter of fact, I guess we
did.” [6]
In September, Pelham turned twenty-four – his last birthday. One of the boys killed a pig “in self-defense”
and they had a fantastic barbecue to celebrate.
He proved himself again a few days later at the Battle of Sharpsburg
where as Chief of Artillery, he commanded men from Alabama, Virginia, Louisiana
and Maryland. He took complete control
of the field, and used his cannons to bring the utmost damage to the
enemy. Pelham finished the battle, still
wearing what Milham called the “battle-smile.”
General Jackson confided to an officer that night, “With a Pelham on
each flank, I believe I could whip the world!”
Pelham was commander of twenty-two guns and six hundred men.
Another day, while Pelham’s battery was firing away, two
of his men (Costigan and Phillips) were killed by the enemy. With a burst of anger and rage, Pelham took a
single gun forward, stalled the Yankee cavalry advance, and then dashed forward
on foot, capturing the Federal standard and many riderless horses. Amazingly, the boy and his men returned
unhurt. They wheeled their guns into position
and Pelham yelled, “Here goes on for Costigan and Phillips!” and the guns
blasted. Stuart again commended his
Chief of Artillery: “Major John Pelham exhibited a skill and courage which I
have never seen surpassed…His guns only retired from one position to assume
another, and open upon the enemy a fire so destructive that it threw their
ranks into confusion and arrested their further progress.”
As much as he loved fighting and as much as he was good
at it, Pelham loved peace and was good at dancing. One night, he and eight other officers
boarded an old ambulance and headed for a ball.
Unfortunately, the cart fell apart some distance from their destination,
but they still managed to get there in one piece. One of the girls who danced with him that
night recorded many years later, “One could never forget [Pelham]. A boy, and yet a man – that was Pelham…We
used to dance a great deal. You didn’t
get an idea of how strong he was until you danced with him…He didn’t look as
though he could ever order anybody to be killed. There wasn’t a single line of hardness in his
face…That is really what he was, you know – a boy, a splendid boy.” [7]
In December, Pelham kicked off the great Battle of
Fredericksburg with his Henry gun. In
full view of both Federal and Confederate armies, he used first two and then one
gun to hold the enemy at bay for two hours, in the midst of incredible
counter-fire. General Lee watched him
and exclaimed, “It is glorious to see such courage in one so young!” When Stuart’s courier came to ask Pelham how
he was getting along, he said, “Tell General Stuart that I’m getting on fine
and I’ve only lost one man so far.”
Jackson finally ordered the Alabamian and his remaining men to fall
back. Through a continuous storm of
bullets, they did. And again, Pelham
lived. Lee wrote in an official report
that “the gallant Pelham” took the heavy enemy fire “unflinchingly for about
two hours.” And Jackson told Stuart, “If
you have another Pelham, I wish you would give him to me.”
Meanwhile, Stuart wrote: “If merit is a criterion or
standard, Pelham should be rewarded. He
is a native of Alabama.”
In March of ’63, Pelham wrote a letter to a girl back home, who had sent him a cannonball captured from the Yankees. “I promise faithfully it shall be returned to
its former owners with all the bitterness and force you could desire and with
all the accuracy my limited experience will permit,” he wrote. “I will reserve it till we get to ‘close
quarters’ – and then [shoot with a] prayer for Alabama and yourself. You must grant me permission to make an
official report to you of the success or non-success of the shot. I hope and believe it cannot fail.” [8]
Eight days after he wrote this letter, his battery was
thrown into action at Culpeper – the battle that would cost the Confederacy one
of the bravest of her officers. Pelham’s
guns went into position. The Confederate
cavalry dashed forward. Pelham waved his
arm and characteristically shouted, “Give it to ‘em, boys! There they are! Give it to ‘em!” And then, he was hit. Within a few hours, Pelham was dead. His body was forwarded to Richmond, and on to
Alabama. “He fell – the noblest of
sacrifices – on the altar of his country, to whose glorious services he had
dedicated his life from the beginning of the war.” [9]
“The memory of
‘the Gallant Pelham’, his many virtues, his noble nature and purity of
character, is enshrined as a sacred legacy in the hearts of all who knew him,”
Stuart wrote. “I loved him as a
brother.”
As much
as Pelham is remembered by the Confederacy, and in fact, the entire nation, he
is more remembered by his own people: the Alabamians. He loved his home, he fought for his people,
and he died for their freedom. And he
won’t be forgotten.
[1] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 52
[2] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 5
[3] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 4
[4] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 63
[5] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 74
[6] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 147
[7] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 225
[8] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 226
[9] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 235
[9] Milham, Charles. Gallant Pelham. Pg. 235
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