Blue vs Gray

Author: Tyler

  • The Battle of Stones River: A Bloody New Year in Tennessee

    The Battle of Stones River: A Bloody New Year in Tennessee

    If you ever drive through Tennessee, it feels calm and ordinary. A mix of neighborhoods, trees, and quiet roads. It’s weird to think that those same fields were anything but peaceful. In the final days of 1862 and the start of 1863, a small town became the site of one of the most brutal battles of the Civil War, known as the Battle of Stones River.

    Setting the Stage

    By late 1862, things were tense for both the Union and the Confederacy. General William Rosecrans had just taken over the Union’s Army of the Cumberland, and General Braxton Bragg was leading the Confederate Army of Tennessee. Both men were confident, but both were under a ton of pressure from both their presidents, although maybe not Bragg because Davis loved him, but regardless. Rosecrans needed a clear victory to hold Nashville. Bragg wanted redemption after earlier losses and a chance to prove the South could still hit hard.

    They finally crossed paths outside Murfreesboro, a place divided by a cold, twisting river that soon ran red with blood.

    The Battle Begins

    On December 31, Bragg went on the attack. He hit the Union right flank as hard as he could, and for a few hours it looked like the Confederates might pull it off. Union troops were pushed back again and again, fighting tooth and nail just to hold their ground. The noise must have been unbearable gunfire, cannon blasts, and the screams of the wounded.

    Still, Rosecrans held firm. Covered in blood from a grazing wound, he rode along the front lines shouting orders and trying to keep his men from breaking. On January 2, the Confederates tried again, launching another attack across Stones River. It went horribly wrong. Union artillery tore them apart in minutes. Many of Bragg’s men were killed on the spot or swept away trying to retreat across the icy water.

    By January 3, Bragg had no choice but to fall back. The Union army stayed where it was. Technically, it was a victory but a very costly one.

    The Cost and Consequences

    Out of about 81,000 soldiers who fought, over 23,000 were killed, wounded, or missing. That’s almost one out of every three men. Lincoln, desperate for good news, called it one of the most important Union victories of the war. “God bless you and all with you,” he wrote to Rosecrans. It was a small boost in a very dark winter for the North.

    For the South, it was a painful loss. Tennessee had been a major stronghold, but after Stones River, the Union’s grip on the state only tightened. Bragg’s leadership was questioned, and his own officers started to turn against him. The cracks inside the Confederate command grew wider.

  • Today in Civil War History: The Battle of Peachtree Creek (July 20, 1864)

    Today in Civil War History: The Battle of Peachtree Creek (July 20, 1864)

    Three days into his new job commanding the Confederate Army of Tennessee, Gen. John Bell Hood tried to stop the Union drive on Atlanta by going on offense. He struck Maj. Gen. George H. Thomas’s Army of the Cumberland as it crossed Peachtree Creek just north of the city. Bold idea. Bad timing. The Union line held, and Hood burned through men he could not spare. 

    Why Fight Here?

    After weeks of retreat under Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, Confederate forces fell back behind the Chattahoochee River the last major natural barrier before Atlanta. When Sherman forced a crossing in mid-July, his three Union armies fanned out: Thomas moved south toward Peachtree Creek; Schofield and McPherson angled east toward Decatur and the Georgia Railroad. Confederate leadership in Richmond lost patience with Johnston’s defensive withdrawals and replaced him with Hood on July 17, hoping for a stand-up fight to save the city. 

    Hood’s Plan

    Hood saw an opportunity: Thomas’s army was partly over the creek, partly not, and there were gaps between Sherman’s widely spaced columns. Hood ordered Lt. Gen. William J. Hardee and Gen. A. P. Stewart to attack in echelon on July 20 “everything on our side of the creek to be taken at all hazards” drive the Federals west toward the Chattahoochee, and smash Thomas before Schofield or McPherson could intervene. If it worked, Hood might cripple a third of Sherman’s total force. 

    What Went Wrong

    Morning developments forced Hood to shift his entire line right to confront unexpected Union pressure east of Atlanta, eating up precious hours. By the time Hardee and Stewart were realigned, roughly 90 minutes lost, the trailing elements of Thomas’s army had crossed Peachtree Creek and begun digging in on higher ground south of the stream. The Confederates attacked late and against troops no longer strung out. 

    The Fighting

    Hardee opened (belatedly) around mid-afternoon. Parts of his lead divisions became disoriented in thick ground between the Union and Schofield sectors; others charged into prepared positions and were cut up by musketry and artillery. Stewart’s corps then went in, battering the Union XX Corps line: brief penetrations, local crises, but no sustained breakthrough. Union commanders refused flanks, plugged gaps, and counterfired with entrenched artillery. By early evening, the assaults had spent themselves and Confederate forces pulled back. The field belonged to Thomas. 

    Casualties: How Bad?

    Numbers vary by source (common with Civil War actions where fighting sprawled and reporting lagged). Modern summaries place Union losses roughly 1,700–1,700+ and Confederate losses from about 2,500 to nearly 4,800, depending on what’s counted (killed, wounded, missing) and whose reports you trust. The National Park Service gives US 1,710 / CS 4,796 (total ~6,506); the New Georgia Encyclopedia cites about 1,700 Union / 2,500 Confederate; other narratives put totals in the 4,000–6,500 range. However you slice it, the Confederates paid heavily for no operational gain. 

    Strategic Impact

    Peachtree Creek was Hood’s opening statement: he would attack, not hunker down. The problem he was outnumbered, facing a well-supplied, coordinated foe, and his army could not absorb repeated high-cost blows. Two days later he attacked again (the Battle of Atlanta, July 22) and was repulsed; still more assaults followed (e.g., Ezra Church). Each failure weakened the Confederate defense and tightened Sherman’s grip on the city, a campaign whose outcome would help secure Lincoln’s reelection and cripple Confederate hopes. 

    Sources

    1 American Battlefield Trust, Battle of Peachtree Creek, https://www.battlefields.org/learn/civil-war/battles/peach-tree-creek

    2 National Park Service, Battle Detail: Peachtree Creek (GA016), https://www.nps.gov/abpp/battles/ga016.htm

    3 New Georgia Encyclopedia, Atlanta Campaign, https://www.georgiaencyclopedia.org/articles/history-archaeology/atlanta-campaign/

    4 Kennedy Hickman, Battle of Peachtree Creek, ThoughtCo, https://www.thoughtco.com/american-civil-war-battle-of-peachtree-creek-2361042

    5 History.com Editors, Battle of Atlanta, https://www.history.com/topics/american-civil-war/battle-of-atlanta

    6 Eicher, David J. The Longest Night: A Military History of the Civil War. University of Illinois Press, 2001.

    7 McMurry, Richard M. John Bell Hood and the War for Southern Independence. University Press of Kentucky, 1982.

  • William L. Kemp: A Confederate Soldier Remembered in New York

    William L. Kemp: A Confederate Soldier Remembered in New York

    A Mystery in New York

    At first glance, a Confederate soldier buried in New York might seem like a mistake or at least a mystery. But that’s exactly what makes the story of William L. Kemp so compelling. Born in Virginia, a veteran of the Civil War, and eventually laid to rest far from the fields he once fought for, Kemp’s life tells a quiet but fascinating story of service, survival, and unexpected turns.

    Early Life in York County

    William L. Kemp was born on February 6, 1824, in York County, Virginia. This coastal region of southeastern Virginia was home to farmers, tradesmen, and working-class families. While little is documented about Kemp’s youth, we know he married Eliza Frances Dyer in 1846 in Richmond, Virginia. This is a sad tale that happened to many people in this time period. They would have several children and spend the next decade building a life. That life would soon be disrupted by war.

    Service in the Civil War

    When the Civil War broke out, Kemp joined the Confederate ranks, enlisting as a Private in Company C, 10th Battalion Virginia Heavy Artillery, also known as Allen’s Battalion.

    This wasn’t just any unit. The 10th VA Heavy Artillery was assigned to defend key points around Richmond and coastal Virginia. These were the men behind the big guns, responsible for manning fixed fortifications, guarding the capital of the Confederacy, and eventually converting to infantry roles as manpower dwindled.

    In 1864, the unit helped repel Union forces at Drewry’s Bluff, one of the critical defenses south of Richmond. As the war neared its bitter end, the 10th was absorbed into the infantry and joined Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia. Kemp’s unit fought in the final campaigns leading up to the Confederate surrender at Appomattox in April 1865.

    Kemp survived the war. There’s no record of him being wounded or promoted, but his continued presence in unit rosters tells us one thing, he endured and he survived through some of the worst.

    A New Life Up North

    After the war, Kemp didn’t stay in Virginia forever. He and Eliza eventually relocated to Patchogue, New York, on Long Island. We don’t know exactly when the move happened, but census and family records suggest it was sometime in the 1870’s.

    Why New York? It could have been for work, family, or simply the fresh start many former Confederates sought after the South’s defeat. Whatever the reason, he lived out his final years there and passed away on May 14, 1880, at the age of 56.

    Remembered by His Family

    Kemp’s wife, Eliza Frances Kemp, survived him by more than three decades. She lived in Patchogue until her death in 1912. Interestingly, she applied for and received a Confederate widow’s pension from the state of Virginia in 1906, long after they had left the South. This confirms just how real and enduring their ties to the war remained.

    A Grave Far from Home

    Today, William L. Kemp is buried in Lakeview Cemetery in Patchogue, NY, beneath a Confederate veteran’s marker. The gravestone, which includes the Southern Cross of Honor, recognizes his service with Company C of the 10th Virginia Heavy Artillery. It’s a quiet but striking reminder that the war’s legacy reached far beyond the Mason-Dixon line.

    Legacy

    William L. Kemp like tens of thousands of others, he was there. He served. He survived. He rebuilt. And thanks to the records, markers, and memories preserved by his family, his story still matters.

    Sometimes history isn’t about the biggest names. It’s about the real people who carried the weight of their time, people like William L. Kemp.

    Got ancestors with similar stories? Drop them in the comments or shoot me a message this page is all about telling the forgotten stories of the Civil War.

  • Friends of the Blue and Gray: Little Sorrel

    Friends of the Blue and Gray: Little Sorrel

    Alright, it’s the weekend, which means it’s time for a new post on Friends of the Blue and Gray. I honestly love this series, and it seems to be pretty popular, so I am happy you guys are enjoying it too!

    I think today I am finally going to talk about Little Sorrel. I have been putting it off for a bit just because he is already so well known. But let’s give this Friend a proper post today.

    In 1861, Little Sorrel was en route to Washington, D.C., as a Union cavalry horse when the train he was on was captured by Confederate forces at Harpers Ferry. Officers were allowed to pick from the seized horses—most chose the biggest and strongest mounts, and Jackson did too. He initially selected a larger horse, later known as Big Sorrel, while Little Sorrel was meant as a gift for his wife. At the time, the smaller horse was called Fancy.

    But as it turned out, Big Sorrel couldn’t keep up with Jackson’s relentless pace and did not respond well to rifle and artillery fire. So the general made a decision. He ended up riding Little Sorrel into history.

    Little Sorrel was a small, wiry Morgan horse. I don’t know much about horses, so if someone wants to explain what a Morgan is, feel free. What I do know is that Little Sorrel was known for being fiercely loyal and incredibly dependable.

    If you follow this page, you already know what kind of man Thomas Jackson was. His men were called the “Foot Cavalry,” which should tell you everything about the pace and pressure they endured. That nickname paints a clear picture of what was expected from both man and animal and why a tough, determined horse was the perfect match for a relentless general.

    Jackson also was deeply loyal to his mount, with reports stating that he would never ride another horse and quotes saying, “Where Little Sorrel went, Jackson went.”

    Little Sorrel and Jackson went through nearly every major battle together: First Manassas, the Valley Campaign, the Seven Days Battles, Second Manassas, Antietam, Fredericksburg, and finally Chancellorsville—which, as we know, would be Jackson’s last ride.

    After Jackson’s death, Little Sorrel lived on and became a sort of mascot for the South. There are even stories of him walking up to cadets at VMI looking for treats… maybe he was looking for lemons in memory of an old friend.

    Damn, that sentence hurt writing.

    He died in 1886 at around 36 years old. Little Sorrel is actually still at VMI. I will attach the picture to this post.

  • The Forgotten Sergeant: Adolph Olivia of the 95th New York

    The Forgotten Sergeant: Adolph Olivia of the 95th New York

    I wasn’t planning on uncovering a piece of Civil War history that day.

    I had taken one of my dogs to the vet just for a routine visit. While I waited, I remembered hearing there was a really old cemetery nearby. I had a little time to kill, so I figured I’d check it out. Don’t worry my dog did not leave the car and I was right next to the car while it was blasting the AC before anyone comes after me! Back to the story…. I expected a few moss-covered stones, maybe a Revolutionary War-era grave or two. What I didn’t expect was to stumble across the resting place of a Union Army sergeant.

    “Adolph Olivia, Sergeant, Co. G, 95th Reg’t N.Y.V., Died March 1888.”

    The stone stood tall and sharp one of those beautiful zinc “White Bronze” markers. I assume this was a replacement headstone, but I snapped a photo and went home wondering: Who was this man? What was his story? How can I give this man the honor he deserves?

    Turns out, it was a story worth telling.

    From Paris to the Potomac

    Adolph Olivia was born Adolphe Antoine Olivie in 1842 in Paris, France. Like many immigrants in the 19th century, he crossed the Atlantic in search of something better and settled in New York. In November 1861, with the Civil War raging, Olivia enlisted in Company G of the 95th New York Volunteer Infantry also known as the Warren Rifles.

    And he didn’t enlist as a private. He mustered in directly as a Sergeant which was rare for new recruits. Whether due to prior experience or pure leadership potential, Olivia was given immediate responsibility.

    Baptism by Fire

    The 95th New York trained through the winter of 1861–1862 and headed to Washington, D.C., by spring. They were first assigned to the defenses of the capital but quickly joined the fighting in Virginia.

    Their first major engagement came at the Second Battle of Bull Run in August 1862, where the 95th suffered heavy losses. 113 casualties in that campaign alone.

    The regiment regrouped in time for South Mountain and the bloodbath at Antietam in September 1862. It continued fighting at Fredericksburg in December, although it was held in reserve and avoided the worst of that Union disaster.

    By the end of the year, Olivia had seen serious combat and likely, serious trauma. It’s unclear whether he was wounded, sick, or both, but on January 13, 1863, he was discharged for disability while in Baltimore. His war was over. He had served just under 14 months.

    The Regiment Marches On

    Though Olivia returned home, the 95th kept fighting. They went on to fight at:

    Chancellorsville (1863) Gettysburg, where they suffered 115 casualties. The Wilderness, where they lost 174 men. Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, and Petersburg as well.

    They were present for the final campaign and were at Appomattox Court House when Lee surrendered in April 1865.

    By war’s end, over 250 men of the 95th had died in battle or from disease. While Olivia wasn’t there for those later battles, he was one of the regiment’s original noncommissioned officers; part of the backbone that held it together in its formative days.

    A New Life in New York

    After the war, Adolph Olivia returned to civilian life. He married Emma Nichols, and they eventually had several children: Lillie, Jennie, Viola, and a son named William Adolph Olivia, born in 1880.

    In the 1870s, Olivia worked and lived in Manhattan before moving to Hauppauge, Long Island, in the 1880s. He remained active in veteran affairs in 1880, and he even signed a petition to Congress demanding fair bounty payments for Union soldiers.

    He was, by all accounts, a quiet but proud veteran who built a modest life after a brutal war.

    A Tragic End in a Historic Storm

    In March 1888, a massive snowstorm slammed into the Northeast. It became known as The Great Blizzard of 1888, and it paralyzed New York with wind, snow, and freezing temperatures.

    Adolph Olivia was caught in it.

    According to local accounts, he became disoriented in the blizzard, fell over a fence he couldn’t see, and was impaled on the pickets. He died of his injuries soon after; a brutal and unexpected end for a man who had survived war.

    He was around 46 years old.

    Legacy in Stone

    Olivia was buried in Hauppauge in a cemetery tucked just off the road; the one I visited by chance after taking my dog to the vet. His grave is marked with a zinc White Bronze headstone, etched with his name, unit, and the year he died.

    He didn’t die in battle. He didn’t become a general. But he served, he came home, and he lived a full life after the war. And in that quiet cemetery, with no fanfare, he’s still remembered thanks to a well-preserved grave and a story that now gets to be told again. From one NCO to another, thank you for your service, Sergeant.

    Sources

    New York State Military Museum: 95th New York Infantry History

    New York Civil War Muster Roll Abstracts Adolphe A. Olivie Find A Grave: Sgt. Adolphe Antoine Olivie

    46th Congress U.S. Senate Documents, 1880 – Equalization of Bounties

    Historical summaries of the Great Blizzard of 1888 95th NY Roster (Company G), compiled records