Aloe with 2 blooms. 
Sunflowers.
Back patio greenery.
The first blooms of the Asiatic Lillies.Saturday, April 28, 2007
Monday, April 09, 2007
"Anderson Will Not Capitulate"--12 April 1861
"I do not pretend to go to sleep. How can I? If Anderson does not accept terms--at four--the orders are--he shall be fired upon. I count four--St. Michael chimes. I begin to hope. At half-past four, the heavy booming of canon. I sprang out of bed. And on my knees--prostrate--I prayed as I never prayed before." (Mary Boykin Chestnut)
The water lapped softly in the darkness as I scanned the horizon with my eyeglass. Fort Sumter was ringed by fire and the challenge would be in returning effective fire from my limited battery of guns. Fort Moultrie posed the biggest threat with the shortest range to cover and its inventory of three 8-inch Columbiads, two 8-inch howitzers, five 32-pounders, and four 24-pounders. The night was calm but time was running out.
Someone stepped up to my side, it was Captain Doubleday. "Sir, there is still no sign of the relief expedition. The men are getting restless." The men. I had 65 men when we took control of Fort Sumter. A force of 65 to man a fort designed for 650. Sickness, exposure to the elements, and severe hunger had taken its toll. They were currently subsisting on salt pork and biscuits, supplies of which were dangerously low because the government had overestimated our supplies and did not heed the requests I frequently sent, until a few days ago when I was informed a fleet for resupply was dispatched. President Lincoln advised the South Carolina legislature that relief would consist of only food and medical supplies and would be a peaceful expedition.
General Beauregard had other ideas and wanted this federal garrison out of Confederate territory--small and insignificant as it was. Five days earlier he had offered surrender terms that I declined to accept. Now, his orders to his commanders were that if I did not accept terms by 4 a.m. Fort Sumter was to be fired upon. I looked at my pocket watch--five minutes. Five minutes--and then what? A commander's most difficult decision when faced with hostilities is whether to stand and fight--to the very last man if necessary, or to surrender--in order to save the lives of his men. "Captain, return to your post. Your orders are to hold fire until I command otherwise." As the captain walked away, I wondered if I would see him alive again.
I stood there, musing to myself, then looked at my watch again--4:05 a.m.--nothing, a sense of relief sweeps over me thinking they would not actually fire on their own countrymen--4:15 a.m.-still just the quiet stillness of the pre-dawn hours. I turn my back to the water and look over the fort below and see some of the men anxiously looking over their guns. I turn back around and begin to wonder how much longer we'll have to maintain this vigil. Why don't they fire? send an envoy? do something?
Then I hear a strange sound--a familiar sound I've heard before--it's becoming louder, then the characteristic delayed boom of a canon indicates that the whistling sound I hear is that of an incoming artillery round. I look at my watch--4:30 a.m. "Major Anderson, they're firing from the west! I saw the flash from Fort Johnson!" "Thank you, corporal, return to your gun!" I climb down from the parapet and run to the west side of the fort, pulling out my eyeglass again. The shot landed short, into the water. A quick range and elevation adjustment would put the next rounds on target. More whistling and booms, and I realize my position is being fired upon from all directions--Fort Johnson and Mount Pleasant from the west; Morris Island from the south; and Fort Moultrie and other positions on Sullivan's Island from the east and northeast. Their shells slam into the walls and the night sky is lit from the constant flashes of igniting gunpowder. I hear some rounds fall into the water. The shells that slam into the walls make a deafening crack as the stone shatters. Those that fall within the fort make a sickening, dull thud as they impact the ground floor. The men have obeyed their orders and are holding their fire. Have there been any casualties yet? I dodge shells as I run to find Captain Doubleday. Surprisingly, there have been no casualties. I tell him to continue to hold fire in order not to waste our precious supply of ammunition.
As day breaks, I order the first shot. Aimed at Cumming's Point to the south, I gave Captain Doubleday the honor of firing the first shot for the Union. As he pulled the lanyard, I held my breath, hoping they had the elevation and range estimated correctly--we could not afford to waste any of our shots on adjustments. After that first shot is fired, the rest of the guns, from both sides, opened fire, the shelling continuing throughout the day. As darkness covers this battlefield, I ordered the men to hold fire to conserve ammunition. Several fires had broken out during the day, owing to some of the wooden structures within the fort. These had quickly been extinguished, though at some cost.
Firing resumed the next morning, but almost immediately, a hot shell struck the barracks and set fire which spread to the magazines, giving us only enough time to remove a small amount of powder before it had to be closed off. Fires also spread throughout the casemates where the gunners had to wrap kerchiefs over their faces to guard against the smoke--some hung from the embrasures gasping for air. We had survived the almost constant shelling without losing a man, but now fire had become our deadliest enemy. The fires prevented us from being able to return fire and I realized we had to evacuate the fort. However, evacuation would be difficult, surrounded, as we were, on all sides by water--and canon.
I weighed my options: remain in this untenable position, with no food or ammunition, or accept the terms and surrender. As I contemplated my decision, one of my troops spotted a boat with a flag of truce approaching the fort. A confederate officer had been sent over for negotiations.
The terms were lenient--the men were allowed to leave the fort with their small arms and personal property; would be allowed to salute the American flag as they left; and the flag could be conveyed North with us. As I floated away from the fort, I wondered about the significance of this engagement and the correctness of my actions. Was this engagement the Confederate declaration of war on the United States?
So began the American Civil War. There were no casualties on either side during this first engagement. Americans, both North and South, were convinced that if war did come, it would be short and, to some extent, bloodless. For a war which lasted four years, and cost 620,000 deaths and 970,000 total casualties--roughly 3% of the population--it certainly had an inauspicious beginning.
The water lapped softly in the darkness as I scanned the horizon with my eyeglass. Fort Sumter was ringed by fire and the challenge would be in returning effective fire from my limited battery of guns. Fort Moultrie posed the biggest threat with the shortest range to cover and its inventory of three 8-inch Columbiads, two 8-inch howitzers, five 32-pounders, and four 24-pounders. The night was calm but time was running out.
Someone stepped up to my side, it was Captain Doubleday. "Sir, there is still no sign of the relief expedition. The men are getting restless." The men. I had 65 men when we took control of Fort Sumter. A force of 65 to man a fort designed for 650. Sickness, exposure to the elements, and severe hunger had taken its toll. They were currently subsisting on salt pork and biscuits, supplies of which were dangerously low because the government had overestimated our supplies and did not heed the requests I frequently sent, until a few days ago when I was informed a fleet for resupply was dispatched. President Lincoln advised the South Carolina legislature that relief would consist of only food and medical supplies and would be a peaceful expedition.
General Beauregard had other ideas and wanted this federal garrison out of Confederate territory--small and insignificant as it was. Five days earlier he had offered surrender terms that I declined to accept. Now, his orders to his commanders were that if I did not accept terms by 4 a.m. Fort Sumter was to be fired upon. I looked at my pocket watch--five minutes. Five minutes--and then what? A commander's most difficult decision when faced with hostilities is whether to stand and fight--to the very last man if necessary, or to surrender--in order to save the lives of his men. "Captain, return to your post. Your orders are to hold fire until I command otherwise." As the captain walked away, I wondered if I would see him alive again.
I stood there, musing to myself, then looked at my watch again--4:05 a.m.--nothing, a sense of relief sweeps over me thinking they would not actually fire on their own countrymen--4:15 a.m.-still just the quiet stillness of the pre-dawn hours. I turn my back to the water and look over the fort below and see some of the men anxiously looking over their guns. I turn back around and begin to wonder how much longer we'll have to maintain this vigil. Why don't they fire? send an envoy? do something?
Then I hear a strange sound--a familiar sound I've heard before--it's becoming louder, then the characteristic delayed boom of a canon indicates that the whistling sound I hear is that of an incoming artillery round. I look at my watch--4:30 a.m. "Major Anderson, they're firing from the west! I saw the flash from Fort Johnson!" "Thank you, corporal, return to your gun!" I climb down from the parapet and run to the west side of the fort, pulling out my eyeglass again. The shot landed short, into the water. A quick range and elevation adjustment would put the next rounds on target. More whistling and booms, and I realize my position is being fired upon from all directions--Fort Johnson and Mount Pleasant from the west; Morris Island from the south; and Fort Moultrie and other positions on Sullivan's Island from the east and northeast. Their shells slam into the walls and the night sky is lit from the constant flashes of igniting gunpowder. I hear some rounds fall into the water. The shells that slam into the walls make a deafening crack as the stone shatters. Those that fall within the fort make a sickening, dull thud as they impact the ground floor. The men have obeyed their orders and are holding their fire. Have there been any casualties yet? I dodge shells as I run to find Captain Doubleday. Surprisingly, there have been no casualties. I tell him to continue to hold fire in order not to waste our precious supply of ammunition.
As day breaks, I order the first shot. Aimed at Cumming's Point to the south, I gave Captain Doubleday the honor of firing the first shot for the Union. As he pulled the lanyard, I held my breath, hoping they had the elevation and range estimated correctly--we could not afford to waste any of our shots on adjustments. After that first shot is fired, the rest of the guns, from both sides, opened fire, the shelling continuing throughout the day. As darkness covers this battlefield, I ordered the men to hold fire to conserve ammunition. Several fires had broken out during the day, owing to some of the wooden structures within the fort. These had quickly been extinguished, though at some cost.
Firing resumed the next morning, but almost immediately, a hot shell struck the barracks and set fire which spread to the magazines, giving us only enough time to remove a small amount of powder before it had to be closed off. Fires also spread throughout the casemates where the gunners had to wrap kerchiefs over their faces to guard against the smoke--some hung from the embrasures gasping for air. We had survived the almost constant shelling without losing a man, but now fire had become our deadliest enemy. The fires prevented us from being able to return fire and I realized we had to evacuate the fort. However, evacuation would be difficult, surrounded, as we were, on all sides by water--and canon.
I weighed my options: remain in this untenable position, with no food or ammunition, or accept the terms and surrender. As I contemplated my decision, one of my troops spotted a boat with a flag of truce approaching the fort. A confederate officer had been sent over for negotiations.
The terms were lenient--the men were allowed to leave the fort with their small arms and personal property; would be allowed to salute the American flag as they left; and the flag could be conveyed North with us. As I floated away from the fort, I wondered about the significance of this engagement and the correctness of my actions. Was this engagement the Confederate declaration of war on the United States?
So began the American Civil War. There were no casualties on either side during this first engagement. Americans, both North and South, were convinced that if war did come, it would be short and, to some extent, bloodless. For a war which lasted four years, and cost 620,000 deaths and 970,000 total casualties--roughly 3% of the population--it certainly had an inauspicious beginning.
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