Disunion follows the Civil War as it unfolded.
A fast-moving column of Union troops marched along a narrow stretch of beach in coastal South Carolina in the twilight of July 18, 1863. In the vanguard of the federal force was the 600-strong 54th Massachusetts Infantry, the first black regiment raised in the North. Their objective, Confederate-held Fort Wagner, composed part of the defenses of Charleston. Victory here could open the way to the capture of the city and its harbor.
The black men in blue quickened their pace after the gray garrison opened fire with cannons and muskets. The colonel in charge of the 54th, Robert Gould Shaw, led the way accompanied by the regiment's flag bearers.
Another soldier in the column was Sgt. William H. Carney. Born a slave in Norfolk, Va., he had escaped via the Underground Railroad and joined a vibrant African-American community in the Massachusetts whaling port of New Bedford. His actions during the assault of Fort Wagner shattered the myth that African-Americans could not fight on par with their white counterparts — and made Carney a living legend.
Luis F. Emilio, the captain of Company F who participated in the attack and later authored the regiment's history, described the situation as night fell and the men were about 200 yards from the fort: "Wagner became a mound of fire, from which poured a stream of shot and shell. Just a brief lull, and the deafening explosions of cannon were renewed, mingled with the crash and rattle of musketry. A sheet of flame, followed by a running fire, like electric sparks, swept along the parapet."
Emilio continued:
When this tempest of war came, before which men fell in numbers on every side, the only response the Fifty-fourth made to the deadly challenge was to change step to the double-quick, that it might the sooner close with the foe. There had been no stop, pause, or check at any period of the advance, nor was there now. As the swifter pace was taken, and officers sprang to the fore with waving swords barely seen in the darkness, the men closed the gaps, and with set jaws, panting breath, and bowed heads, charged on.
At some point during the advance, the sergeant who carried the national colors, John W. Wall, became separated from his charge. According to a report published soon after the assault in The New York Herald: "He fell into a deep ditch, and called upon his guard to help him out. They could not stop for that, but Sergeant William H. Carney, of Company G, caught the colors."
Carney later related a different story, however. He stumbled upon the silk banner trimmed in gold fringe, which had somehow been dropped and landed unceremoniously in the sand. "As quick as a thought I threw away my gun, seized the colors and made my way to the head of the column."
Meanwhile the regiment continued on to the base of the fort as blasts from Confederate cannon lit up Wagner's walls in the darkness. Momentary flashes illuminated gaps in the ranks, and the beachhead strewn with dead and wounded. The regiment, led by Colonel Shaw with sword in hand and Carney with the flag, struggled up the ramparts towards the parapet.
The rebel fire continued unabated as Shaw gained the rampart. "He stood there for a moment with uplifted sword, shouting, 'Forward, Fifty-fourth!' and then fell dead, shot through the heart, besides other wounds," recounted Emilio.
Pvt. Thomas Burgess told a similar story. According to a reporter who interviewed him, Burgess "was close to Colonel Shaw; that he waved his sword and cried out, 'Onward, boys!' and, as he did so, fell. Burgess, fell, wounded, at the same time. In a minute or two, he tried to pull Colonel Shaw along, taking hold of his feet, which were near his own head, but there appeared to me no life in him."
Carney climbed the rampart with the Stars and Stripes. "All around me were the dead and wounded, lying one upon top the other," he observed, describing the scene. "It seemed a miracle that I should have been spared in that awful slaughter. When I recovered from my semi stupor, on account of the scenes of blood about me, I found myself standing on the top of the embankment, all alone. It were folly for me to try to advance, so I dropped on my knees among my dead comrades, and I laid as low and quiet as possible."
Carney planted the bottom of the flagstaff into the ground as musket bullets and canister shots plowed into the earth near his feet and sprayed sand into the air. "I was almost blinded by the dirt flying around me and nearly distracted by the shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying men about me. As soon as I could distinguish anything in the darkness, I could see dimly on one side a line of men mounting the ramparts and going down into the fort. I thought they must be our own men, but in the light of a cannon flash I saw they were the enemy."
He realized that the assault had failed. "I looked about for a chance to retreat under cover. I wrapped the precious colors about the staff and cautiously picked my way among the dead and dying." Near the outer perimeter of the fort he jumped into a rifle pit and landed hard against a wooden support. The fall injured his breastbone and left a bruise as big as his outstretched hand. About this time a bullet ripped into his left hip and fractured the thighbone. He fell to the ground. "I still had the power to crawl and did so."
According to The New York Herald, "He brought the colors off, creeping on his knees, pressing his wound with one hand and with the other holding up the emblem of freedom."
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Carney soon encountered a soldier from the 100th New York Infantry, another regiment involved in the assault. He gave Carney a drink of water and offered to carry the banner. "No, sir," Carney replied. "No man gets these colors unless he is a Fifty-fourth Massachusetts man." The New Yorker helped him stand up. Moments later Carney crumpled to the ground after a canister shot struck him along the top of the head. The soldier again helped Carney to his feet and they continued a short distance. Then the New Yorker was struck and fell to the ground. Other soldiers came to their aid. Carney didn't get the man's name, and he never saw him again.
Carney was escorted to the rear. "An officer of the day came and took my name and regiment and putting me in charge of the hospital corps told them to find my regiment," he recalled. The corpsmen led Carney to a group of 25 to 30 of his comrades and one lieutenant, Alexander Johnston of Company F. Carney remembered, "When I reached these men they cheered me and the flag, and my reply was 'Boys, the old flag never touched the ground,' and I delivered it from my own hands to" Lieutenant Johnston.
Carney was transported to a military hospital at nearby Beaufort for treatment for his wounds. He returned to the 54th about five months later. But the injuries ended his combat service and he left the Army with a disability discharge in June 1864. He returned to New Bedford, where he married Susanna Williams in late 1865 and spent the next few years employed by a local merchant and as the superintendent of streetlights for the city.
In the late 1860s, the Carneys moved to California, where he took a job with a real estate company. They returned to New Bedford in 1869, and Carney started a new career as a letter carrier. He became a familiar figure about town, clad in his postman's uniform, and noticeably lame thanks to the bullet that remained embedded in his hip from Fort Wagner.
Carney was lionized for the eight words he spoke on that summer night in 1863 after he safely returned the Stars and Stripes. He told and retold the story of how he came to say them at Army reunions and other memorial events, and to his comrades in the Grand Army of the Republic, the powerful organization of Union veterans established soon after the end of the war. Carney was a founding member of the Robert G. Shaw Post in New Bedford.
One newspaper described him in these eight words: "The bravest colored soldier of the Civil War." Another newspaper placed him in historical context when it listed his name him alongside Crispus Attucks, who was martyred in 1770 at the Boston Massacre. Carney's story inspired song, sculpture, prints and paintings.
But the nation's highest military commendation, the Medal of Honor, eluded him for many years. The oversight was corrected by organizers preparing a display of photographs of African-American Medal of Honor recipients for the 1900 Exposition Universelle in Paris, a world's fair. A researcher assigned to locate the photographs discovered to his surprise that Carney had not been awarded the tribute and filed the necessary documents. The government awarded Carney the medal in May 1900.
Carney retired from the post office the following year, and accepted a position as messenger at the State House in Boston, delivering documents to government officials. He died in 1908 after an elevator accident mangled the leg injured at Fort Wagner. He was 68. His wife and a daughter, Clara, survived him.
Millions mourned his passing.
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Sources: Luis F. Emilio, "A Brave Black Regiment"; National Association of Letter Carriers, "NALC Pioneer William Carney: From Runaway Slave to Civil War Hero." The Postal Record, Vol. 114, No. 2 (February 2001); William H. Carney military service record, National Archives and Records Administration; John W. Wall military service record, National Archives and Records Administration; Charleston (South Carolina) Daily Courier, August 10, 1863; Cleveland Gazette, June 19, 1886; The Topeka (Kansas) Plaindealer, June 24, 1904; Susanna Carney pension record, National Archives and Records Administration; The Christian Recorder, November 14, 1895; The Colored American (Washington), June 2, 1900.
Ronald S. Coddington is the author of "Faces of the Civil War" and "Faces of the Confederacy." His most recent book is "African American Faces of the Civil War." He writes "Faces of War," a column for the Civil War News.
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