A collection of bedtime stories - or sharpshooter & sniper tales

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Remember the Alamo!

We're talking about the battle where Bowie, Crockett and other gallant men fell and not the automobile rental firm. Here's one Mexican's account of the battle:

“These men were defiant to the last. From the windows and parapets of the low building, when taunted by Mexican troops, they shouted back their defiance in the liveliest terms. A tall man, with flowing hair, was seen firing from the same place on the parapet during the entire siege. He wore a buckskin suit and a cap all of a pattern entirely different from those worn by his comrades. This man would kneel or lie down behind a low parapet, rest his long gun and fire, and we all learned to keep at a good distance when he was seen to make ready to shoot. He rarely missed his mark and when he fired he always rose to his feet and calmly reloaded his gun seemingly indifferent to the shots fired at him by our men... This man I later learned was known as ‘Kwokey’ (Crockett).”
 
Every bullet has its billet

Hello Mattie. Please don't feed your younger brother syrup of snail. The recipe was posted in Rambling Anecdotes (TFL) for historical purposes and is intended to increase our appreciation for advances in medical science.

A friend who has written a book has finally received feedback from a publisher after 6 months of waiting. The publisher (a major university press) delayed responding because one reviewer hasn't finished writing the review. The other reviewer did and acclaimed the book a highly readable and academic work destined to become a classic (see what good company I keep?). I'm delighted as this friend has been very supportive and has graciously given me access to a private library of over 2,000 volumes. Many of the volumes are distinct from the volumes of my modeset Civil War library (over four filled six-shelf bookcases). Enough talk. Time for your bedtime story.

It's been said that no single bullet has won a battle, yet alone a war. However, a well placed bullet certainly contributes to success as it did during this one siege.

“They confessed that since the opening of the third parallel our small-arms fire alone cost them between three and four hundred killed and wounded and that they could never open their embrasures without losses. The reason why they threw so few shells during the latter part of the siege was that their best bombardier, a major of the artillery, was killed and that they had no one who could make good fuses, of which they were in need. It was because of this that most of their shells failed to explode.”
 
Well, I was in The Old Dominion State (if you don't know what state that is, check out the song, The Bonnie Blue flag) last week and did quite a bit of reading and visited some battlefields. Because of Thursday's rain last week, I missed out on a talk on Confederate Emancipation. However, I did visit Petersburg which, while known for the Civil War Siege, was also the scene of Revolutionary War activity and there are plenty of markers in the area. Instead of "Washington slept here" you have "Tarleton wuz here." Tarleton is the British officer who the Tarlington character of the colour talkie, The Patriot, is loosely based on. BTW, there's a great coffee shop in Petersburg, Java Mio. Their apple strudel is outstanding and try their pecan tart while you're at it. You can never be too fat. :p Enough rambling. Here's some hystery.

Now, everyone here knows who Patrick Ferguson is, right? He's the fellow who invented a breech-loading rifle used in limited numbers during the American Revolution and was mentioned by others in this thread (thank you guys). Reputed to be the best shot in the British Army, he died at King's Mountain, South Carolina leading his loyalist troops against the backwoods men of the Carolinas. Anywhere, here's something from a British officer who boasted to be a superior to Ferguson in marksmanship.

“The great skill which, from years of practice, (even from a lad when educated in Germany,) I had acquired in the knowledge of a rifle-gun, and the precision and perfection to which I had brought the art of shooting with a rifle, was well known to the army, and Sir Guy had been informed of it. At dinner, he said to me, sitting opposite to him, ‘Major, I have been told that you are a most skillful marksman with a rifle-gun - I have heard of astonishing feats that you have performed in shooting.’ Thanking him for the compliment, I told his Excellency, that ‘I was vain enough to say, with truth, that many officers in the army had witnessed my adroitness.’ I then began to inform Sir Guy how my deceased friend, Colonel Ferguson, and myself, had practiced together, who, for skill and knowledge of that weapon, had been so celebrated, and that Ferguson had ever acknowledged the superiority of my skill to his, after one particular day’s practice, when I shot three balls into one hole.”

You'll learn his identity in Chapter 2. BTW, on Saturday I'll be leaving for Fishers, Indiana. Conner Prairie is hosting its Arms Making Workshop. I'm taking a powder horn making class from Lee Larkin. Lee wrote a couple of books on the scrimshawed powder horn and while I've made several horns already, I'm always interested in learning more techniques. Will be off-line and hanging out with the flintlock crowd all week so behave yourselves. ;)
 
Romanticized and very fanciful description of bushwhacking...

Armed civilians could be a serious threat to rear echelon troops. While somewhat glorified, here's an account of one self-appointed partisan:

"A gentleman by the name of Taylor, residing in Va., whose property had been destroyed by the invaders, has killed no less than eighteen of the Ohio vandals in that and the adjoining counties. As they advance through the mountains the invaders will hear the crack of the rifle from every thicket, and learn too late for their personal safety that the back-woodsmen can never be subjugated."

When I was at Conner Prairie the other week, I spoke with an old instructor of mine, H. House, a self-taught blacksmith and gunsmith. Years ago he told me that his grandpappy use to visit the old Confederate veterans at the Veterans' Home. During our meeting he asked me about the book and shared a story about how the Union wanted to capture New Madrid. To capture one key island, they wanted to land men on it. One Confederate sharpshooter held them off for several hours. Defiant, he waited until the gunboats belched their cannon balls and shells at him before he would return fire with his rifle. Finally a ball struck his tree and he was seen to run off. The Union soldiers stood up and cheered their gallant foeman. The next day, when the Confederates surrendered, the sharpshooter stepped forward. They learned that his nose had been shot off and hence he fled. Well, after House told me this story, I told him that I too read about it and found documentation for it, and that it would appear in chapter 13. Anyway, I asked H. House about a certain photo he had told me about. I had been searching for several years for a photo of one particular sharpshooter. When he identified the (out-of-print) book, I managed to find a copy. With a bit of luck, that old photo will appear in my book. Sometimes research is slow, but patience rewarded conveys a sense of satisfaction rarely rivalled.

Happiness is knowing your work is thorough.

Finally, I'm almost finished with a French & Indian era powder horn. Have to finish the scrimshaw and it'll be done.
 
Here's an account of one rebel sharpshooter and the fate of his rifle. A sniper can't use a tree as hide since escape, once detected, is impossible. The use of trees dates the way up to WW II by the Russians and especially the Japanese.

"Some very heavy skirmishing today, and from reports brought in, several of our men were killed, though none of our regiment, and a good many wounded... Among those who were wounded today, Lt. Johnson and Shoemaker of our regiment, the former receiving a ball through the fleshy part of his arm, the latter wounded in the thigh, but nearly [all the rest] of them seriously. I learn one of them was shot while skirmishing by one of the rebel sharpshooters who was in a tree. Our men discovered him, fired a volley at him which tumbled him out of the tree, and his friends bore him off dead, but our men rushed up in time to capture his gun, a long range rifle with globe sights.”
 
Where marksmanship really counts

The following is not domain of Mars and rather, is more within the realm of Diana, Goddess of the Divine Hunt.

When Henry Rhoads was building his log home his neighbors were few and far between, but all came with a helping hand and a happy heart to take part in his "house raising." These old-time house-raisings were attended as much for the sake of their social features as for the purpose of building a house.

One afternoon, while the crowd was busily engaged on the roof of of this building, a large bear leisurely wandered into sight. When the men saw the animal they stopped work and immediately started on a bear chase. Some ran after him with axes and others with guns. The women of the wilderness always lent a helping hand. In this instance one woman followed in the bear chase with a pitch fork. After an exiting time old Bruin was finally killed. That night a large bearskin was stretched on the new log wall and barbecued bearmeat was served in abundance at all the other meals prepared for the house-raising party.

But the noise made by the bear-chasers evidently did not scare all the wild animals out of the neighborhood. About a year after that event Henry Rhoads, while walking in his wood, which is still sanding a short distance north of the old house, espied a large drove of wild turkeys. He slowly raised his flint-lock rifle for the purpose of shooting a fine gobbler strutting under a white oak within close range. When he was about ready to pull the trigger he heard a rustling in the dry leaves behind him. Rhoads looked around, and to his great surprise saw a huge panther preparing to spring upon him. Without stopping to take sure aim he fired a the threatening beast. Luckily, the bullet hit the animal between the eyes and killed it instantly. A half-hour later Rhoads walked back home with the panther skin on his arms and his trustly flint-lock on his shoulder.

These old flint-locks were, as a rule, fine-sighted and unerring. They were slow but sure, although they did not kill every panther they were aimed at. Compared to modern rifles they were slow in all the operations that preceeded and resulted in the discharge of the bullet."

In conducting my own research, I've read through hundreds of memoirs, journals, diaries but also obscure histories and period books. Sometimes it's the only way to find some otherwise lost tidbit of info. The above passage won't appear in the book, but does display a coolness under stress and the virtue of snap-shooting.
 
Have you had your hearing checked?

Went to Sacramento this Veterans' Day weekend to attend the Civil War Naval Conference. The speakers included Prof. Craig Symonds from Anapolis (author of "Stonewall of the West"), Kevin Foster (National Park Service Historian), Dennis Ringle (Chief Curator for the Mariners' Museum, Norfolk), Jim Stanbery and finally, Ed Bearss (National Park Service Chief Historian Emeritus). We had terrific lectures given by all of the speakers on various aspects of naval warfare. Jim Standbery discussed the naval strategies on both sides. Kevin Foster discussed international law & diplomacy (and answered a question that has been bothering me about destruction of captured ships). Dennis Ringle covered the blockade and the sailor's life. Ed Bearss covered the raising of the Cairo as well as Vicksburg and New Orleans. Craig Symonds discussed coastal defense, technology and finally various aspects of riverine warfare.

Before our dinner banquet, we were entertained by the 5th California Volunteer Band (they galvinize into the 34th Virginia) which played period music. A squad of zouaves (114th Penn) came in and drilled to the music. After dinner, Ed Bearss delivered his talk on the Cairo. Afterwards if folks wanted, there was plenty of socializing (and posing of more questions).

The final day had a couple more lectures followed by a panel discussion where members of the audience could ask the experts a question. Wonderful opportunity to ask that pesky question that bothered you for years. Next year the conference will be in Las Vegas. If you're remotely interested, attend! Thank you Sacramento Civil War Round Table.

Enough small talk. Now, onto even smaller talk.

Don't you just hate 'skeeters when they buzz your ear while you're asleep? It causes me to wake and then I become fixated at it and can't sleep until I kill it. Today's Bedtime Story discusses a different type of 'skeeter. While the winged 'skeeter can kill you with malaria, the other 'skeeter can be quicker (and very painful). So, here's our lead 'skeeter story. Enjoy.

“The rebel pickets are within rifle distance of us, and amuse themselves by firing at us unceasingly. While walking my beat on the parapet last Friday, I counted twenty odd balls fired at me from the telescopic rifle of a Secesh sharpshooter. None of them hit, but some came near enough to singe the hair off. It is a trifle annoying to march back and forth on guard duty while a marked shot is within easy reach, earnestly endeavoring to ‘fix’ you.... Some of our guard were not so lucky; two were shot through the legs, and one in the back. One man in Company B was knocked down by a spent ball about the same time. Indeed, the firing became so harassing that a regiment of skirmishers was sent out, and a very pretty fight ensued. The Rebs, although driven back, rallied in force in the woods and sent our fellows home with a flea in their ear.”
 
Some days are just better than others

or sometimes one is better off staying in bed. Unfortunately, in the service, you can't tell the sergeant to shove off and that you don't want to fight today. One problem with the blackpowder sharpshooter is the tell tale smoke that reveals his location. Soon, every loophole is known and watched...

“It not infrequently happens that sharpshooters in each army are engaged in firing at each other and succeed ultimately in killing, by putting a ball through the hole made just large enough for the muzzle of the rifle, while the opposite party is looking through to watch the effect of his own shot. Some little time since we had an account from Tennessee of a case in which an expert rebel and Union sharpshooter watched each other for three days, while the Union man was looking through, a ball passed into the hole and directly through his eye and brain, of course killing him instantly. The correspondent of the New York Commercial before Petersburg relates another case which occurred on Monday. A soldier got sight of a rebel sharpshooter and fired through one of the rifle holes on the breastworks, merely large enough to put the muzzle of his musket through and sight his object. Having fired he withdrew his weapon to observe what effect he had made when, from a distance of about three hundred yards, a ball passed through the rifle hole entering his head and killing him instantly.”

The latest issue of The Skirmish Line (N-SSA) has an article that may interest you. If you don't belong, find a member and ask him/her to share his/her copy.

Happy Turkey Day everyone out there!
 
Plan, plan, plan...

Here's something from one of our family feuds (war).

“We marched to Charleston... Capt S. also with his and Captain C.'s Troop made an excursion into the country and attacked a body of the enemy at Snipe’s Plantation – we approached the place at sunrise in the morning, found the gate leading to the house secured with a large ox chain, and the fences each side made very strong, which it took some time to demolish under a heavy fire from the enemy. We at last succeeded, and the enemy retreated back into a large rice field, where they were over taken and very few of them escaped with their lives, and only one man taken prisoner, who was so shame fully mangled that we could not bring him away - one of the enemy, who had nearly gained a wood, discovered that no person was following him but myself, waited for me, and when I had got at a certain distance, leveled his rifle. I expected at least he would have killed my horse. To turn from him was to me certain death. I therefore dashed towards him. He fired and missed me and my horse and before he could raise his rifle he was a dead man....”

So what went wrong with the planning? Two things come to my meagre mind. First, poor ambush position. Unless you have a force large enough to hold an area, don't spring your ambush from a position where you're trapped. Second, bad escape route or what escape route? You've got to have it preplanned so you can shoot & scoot.
 
Sharpshooters as rearguard...

It was not uncommon for sharpshooters to serve as screeners, either as the vanguard, rear-guard or flankers for the army. Here's one example.

[E]arly in the morning, an attack was made on the lines around Hagerstown, which developed a hornet’s nest of sharpshooters armed with telescopic rifles, who could pick a man’s ear off half-a-mile away. The bullets from their guns had a peculiar sound, something like the buzz of a bumble-bee, and the troopers’ horses would stop, prick up their ears and gaze in the direction whence the hum of those invisible messengers could be heard. Unable to reach them mounted, we finally deployed along a staked rail fence. The Confederates were behind trees and shocks of grain, at least half-a-mile away. They would get the range so accurately that it was dangerous to stand still a moment. It was possible, however, to dodge the bullets by observing the puffs of smoke from their guns. The distance was so great that the puff was seen some seconds before the report was heard, and before the arrival of the leaden missile.

Have a Merry & safe Christmas folks.
 
A belated Happy New Year!

Here's an account of someone who was almost rendered hours d' combat.

On field-picket on the flank. I barely escaped being shot while on picket to which I had been detached by the regiment that was there on command. We of the picket had our post close by the road behind the fences. In a short time when our sentinel had fired at some Rebel Ld. Ross (Light Horse), some Rebel riflemen came along and shielding themselves behind fences they opened fire and in spite of the distance hit so near us that we did not dare let ourselves be seen standing upright. I imprudently crawled forward a short way, but when I had seen some bullets strike the ground at my feet, and listening to the appeals of my comrades I had finally got up, at the very moment a rifle-ball struck quite deep into the ground just where I had been lying. Heaven had bidden me arise. We got some of our Yagers to cover our post and procured 2 cannons whereupon the Rebels retired.
 
Something a little more modern

Now, most of you who are into sniping have read Major Hesketh Pritchard's book, Sniping in France. Pritchard was but one British officer and is the best known because of the book. If you recall, there's a chapter entitled "The Cat", in which he discusses how they spotted a cat and determined that German officers had a bunker there. Here's another cat storyfrom a letter by another WW I Sniping officer to the boys back at home:

"The ordinary German soldier is a good fellow at bottom - a brave man, doing his duty as a good soldier. I think I see more of him than most, for, unknown to him, I am so constantly watching him, with a first-class telescope. The other day from a high point of view, not 800 yards off, I saw one leave the trench and run out to rescue a cat which was straying in our direction. Of course the cat knew better and wanted to join the British, but Fritz - you must put yourself in Fritz's place - thought it was far better to be a German cat, and so he risked being shot to save the animal. But it was stupid of Fritz all the same, for he showed us in so doing a yellow strip down his trousers enabling us to tell what regiment he belonged to.

"Yes, I see them doing all sorts of things - laughing and talking. Three days ago we had a fall of snow, and we saw them snowballing each other in the rear of their trenches. Well, well, the pity is that we should all be bombing and shooting each other instead of snowballing, all because that awful Kaiser is an ambitious blackguard, and he and his inner circle of Huns have so misled and misguided the wonderful Bosche nation that they now seem almost past praying for. So then we have got to fight, and fight with ever nerve. There can be no excuse for any able-bodied man now. It is a matter of life and death still, but we have not got to hate or despise."

We see several lessons here that are relevant today. First, the duty of the sniper is to observe and report information. The officer observed but didn't shoot. Second, he was devoid of all emotions of hatred. Sniping to him was a science and not an art. There was no room to become emotionally involved in his work. While he could empathize with the German soldier and didn't hate him personally, he knew he still had a duty to perform.
 
update

So, where does the manuscript stand? After severing my relationship with my editor, I recovered the manuscript and incorporated over 30 pages of material that has been gathered since its submission. Furthermore, one suspicious diary entry has been a source of frustration for about three years. Here it is: They are excellent and dangerous shots, and can easily bring a folded bayonet off their leg. Folded bayonet? I knew about spring loaded bayonets mounted on blunderbuses, but not folding bayonets. I consulted many experts and no one offer a plausible explanation. At Yorktown Colonial Park, I asked a couple of the staffers and cited the source and they looked it up, and couldn't figure it out either. I asked a lot of the interpreters at Colonial Williamsburg but they also couldn't respond (many had read that book too but they never picked up on that passage). I contacted the publisher in hopes of contacting the translator. No response. Finally, I found the diary this year and a kind gentlemen emailed me a photo of the page. It was translated by two capable friends (they're acknowledged in my notes) and the mysterious folding bayonet has been solved. You'll see it in the book. So, the text is being spruced up and has to be proof-read again. While it's being proof-read, I'll be shopping for a printer. Eight years is enough. Time to produce something more than articles. BTW, if you don't belong to The Company of Military Historians, you might want to join. They published my last article in the Winter, 2006 issue and will be releasing at least two more articles this year. One will raise eyebrows and the other may get me lynched. As there is no hidden agenda, I stand by my research. Here's the website for The Company of Military Historians. Besides, I want to start another book project but I have to finish this one. Enough whining (for which no cheese has been received except via the courtesy of Rich Lucibella) and it's time for a bedtime story. Enjoy:

“On the rebel skirmish line at the east side of a small field, across which the Second Brigade skirmish line extended, was a log cabin in which there was daily posted a rebel sharpshooter who made good use of his opportunities. A picket detail was his special delight, and many a picket marching out to duty was disabled by his unerring rifle. And a soldier going outside of the entrenchments for any purpose was a fair mark. Next to a picket detail he seemed to delight in having a crack at soldiers going out for wood. But wood was necessary, even if it took blood. At length the timber was cleared away, much of it having been cut and carried to camp on the boys’ backs after night. The sharpshooter wounded a number when going out to the skirmish line. To fire at the cabin was useless and he was left undisturbed. Once or twice a gun from Fort W. was turned upon the cabin and a few shots would quiet him for a time, but he soon resumed his vocation.”
 
A fine way to start a day...

In this following account from the Spanish American War, we learn how observation and teamwork paid off for one cavalry troop.

“Early on the morning of the 3rd of July, before dawn, I was informed that Spanish riflemen had been seen in the moonlight climbing the white palm trunks. Some of the men of the troop which was in the pits were selected for the purpose, and when it got light enough to see they were directed to fire into the tops of the trees, while other men tried to keep down the fire from the Spanish rifle pits.
“While sitting on the edge of the pits next to Tiffany’s (colt) guns, and trying to locate the sharpshooters, Corporal, now Sergeant Hubert, Troop E, being by my side, a ball struck the top of the work between our heads, and from the gash it cut in the earth, I saw where it came from. Directing the corporal how to fire I made a rest for his carbine on my knee, fearing he would be hit if he stood up as the fire was very hot. He fired into a tree and a Spanish sharpshooter fell from it. In this manner the troop killed seven and went to breakfast. For his cool daring upon this occasion Corporal Hubert was made a sergeant.”

There's also another lesson. We've already seen that trees aren't good hides. Once detected, they're death traps. More importantly, don't be seen as the Spaniards were. Even if there's no marksman on the enemy's side, you can count on artillery or some precision guided weapon coming your way if they know where you are.
 
Silent killer

Want to seen the first silenced weapon (non-crossbow) that had repeating capability? Get thee down to Carlisle Military History Institute where an Austrian Girandoni air-rifle has been displayed. A gun of this type was carried by Lewis & Clark's Corps of Discovery.

Girandoni

When I visited the Smithsonian, there was an airgun displayed there as part of the Lewis & Clark exhibit. I began describing the operations to my host and was interrupted by a docent who eavesdropped and wanted to learn more. Spent about ten minutes speaking with her and explaining the gun. It's only because of my research that I learned of it and you'll read a short entry in Chapter 3. In the meantime, enjoy the video.
 
A look into the past

Shooting guilds were encouraged in the Holy Roman Empire as a means of providing marksmen with which to fight the Turks. It began spreading throughout the Holy Roman Empire and
n 1645 the Elector Maximilian of Bavaria, equipped three light infantry regiments with rifles, intending to employ them principally in the minor operations of war. Frederic William of Prussia, when preparing for his campaign on the Rhine in 1674, distributed a few riflemen amongst each company of his infantry... In France, the cavalry were supplied with rifled carbines before rifles were issued to the infantry.”
How good were these early rifles? Thirty Years’ War soldier Thomas Raymond tells us of the effectiveness of early rifles:
“Many are shott in peeping to see what the enemy doe betweene the muskett basketts that stand on topp of the breast worke... Let but the topp on an old hatt appeare betweene the basketts and you shall have presently have 3 or 4 bullets shott into it.”
The "basketts" mentioned by Raymond were gabions used in siege warfare.
 
Book publication?

Mr. Gary - I am enjoying reading these posts, and think it will take me a while to get through them. In the earlier ones (I'm only up to page 5), you refer to a book - has that become available? I should like to buy a copy for myself and my children.
 
About mid-month I'll get the manuscript back and should have all the final changes in by the end of March. Until then, here's one soldier's story of death at the front.

"During the following day, and almost every day since, quite a number of shots were exchanged, and at times the firing was considerable brisk. It was almost certain death for any one to expose himself to view. Occasionally a secesh could be seen scampering over their work as if on an errand of life and death, and I have no doubt they were . My nearest comrade, noticing one bold fellow walking leisurely along in open defiance of our bullets, drew up his faithful Springfield and taking deliberate aim - I fear with malice aforethought and intent to kill - fired. My friend is a good marksman, and as secesh was not seen afterwards, the presumption is that he had an extra hole made through his body. Our vindictiveness had been aroused to an uncommon degree that morning, by the loss of one of our number. A fellow from Co. B, who came out to the reserve to bring some hot coffee, &c., to us, out of curiousity, ventured out to look at the works our men had been erecting during the night, and in less than ten minutes he was brought back a corpse. A ball had passed through his breast near his heart."
 
Did you mention plunder?

During the Peninsular war, a 5/60 rifleman was ordered by his officer to shot down a man who had been deliberately shooting at him. Instead of obeying his officer, the rifleman shot down an officer of the enemy. The British officer was not happy and demanded an explanation from the rifleman. "It vas more plunder," was the response received. From that observation, one Englishman wrote:

Spoil is the incentive to activity in the German sharpshooter; he may be considered as a long-shot assassin.
 
Thank you Gary it has been most enlightening and entertaining as a war of northern aggression buff my self I will look for your book :)
 
Support your sharpshooters

This past week has kept me busy converting the footnotes to endnotes. This is to accomodate the two column 7 x 10 format of the book. Even with the larger page size, that reduces the overall count by 100 pages and it's still a substantial work.

Among the prisoners taken was a company of sharpshooters, which accompany each brigade. These men are thrown out as skirmishers, to pick off our officers and skirmishers. They were charged upon and captured.

O.K., onto our lesson. Support your sharpshooters. Sharpshooters can operate independently but at times require support. Just like our snipers today, artillery and other units should be able to respond and support them. In the Civil War, one famous general failed this and an entire company was captured. Incensed, he wanted their commander to face a court martial upon exchange. You'll learn about their C.O. and the general in the book.
 
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