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HISTORIC:
1865 By Josef Koelbl III Letter from Brigadier General Wm.
Tecumseh Sherman to his wife Eleanor “Ellen” Boyle Ewing
Sherman late February 1865. My Darling Ellen, I hope this missive finds you and the children well, in
good spirits and regard. I can see you all in my imagination, sitting with the
afternoon sun on our veranda before the chill of evening spreads over our
beautiful home, the trees that line the way now bare of leaf and the fine green
grass now a sad carpet of brownish hue. I can almost smell the new baked pies
you love so dear and taste the fresh air of homespun winter. I confess no military secret in my location as I am sure
you have already read we are in South Carolina, the rebel city of Columbia. The
troops and I are in no danger. The traitorous citizenry have been cowed, first
by our presence and second, by the events of the seventeenth. I know you are by
now aware of the burning of this old city but it was not perpetrated by our
brave Union soldiers as those slack jawed spy’s of the press have reported. I relate to you now the events of that night. I still
scarcely believe them myself. I had taken residence in a room over the city’s post and
letter office. It was a warm wood room with perhaps the first soft mattress I
have slept in for these past many weeks. Near midnight, I was awakened by a
bright orange yellow light streaming in through the window next to my bed.
Cries and screams from women and men alike filled the chamber and I am not a
feared to say I bolted from under my blankets, sweating coldly, sure the armies
of the devil were marching upon us. I rushed to the window and saw now that
Columbia was in flames. Grasping my trousers, I pulled them on as I bounded
loudly down the stairs and outside into hell itself. I rushed to a group of my boys and, although I know you
have no use for this language, cursed at them to move for water and buckets to
douse the raging conflagration. They made no move to obey, in fact I think they
heard me not at all. Their eyes were riveted to the sky above and as my own eyes
followed, my blood ran cold e’en in the blistering heat at a sight I cannot
begin to understand. There, in the fire lit night, hovered a man, red of skin,
his hair the color of the sun and combed up and spiked appearing as tongues of
flame. From his eyes fire flowed changing in hue from red to yellow to white
and all colors in between and imagined. He raged over the city hurling balls of
fire into its heart. Bolts blasted from his hands and eyes and he left not one
bit of this old city unscorched. We watched, all of us dumbfounded, and, as he satisfied
himself the city was burning out of control, he looked down at us, no
expression upon him, and burst into flame, flying fast into the sky until he
became another star in the ebony draped folds of night. The rest of the night we fought against the blaze and near
morning all that remained were glowing embers and the blackened husks of a once
living city. Soon after, I began to hear the rumors of my boys starting the
inferno and met with General Grant where I reported to him what I have written
above. Grant told me, “Cump,” says he, “they already believe you crazy, my
friend. No need to open your mouth and remove all doubt.” So I have held my tongue, confiding only in the men who
have seen the same as I, and now you, my love, for I would have you know the
truth of that night and be confident in the fact that I and my boys had no hand
in the death of Columbia. We are on the move again in the morning and I think that
this horrible thing be almost done. The rebels can last only a few more weeks and
all of us can look forward to home and hearth once more. If there still be luck
in this world, I may be home by the fall and perhaps peace will out for the
rest of our lives. I find I miss and love you more than ever. I remain as always your loving husband, Cump |