Podcast: Richard Clem and John Davidson on relic hunting

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In Episode 4 of "The Antietam and Beyond Podcast," former relic hunter Richard Clem — “The Babe Ruth Of Storytellers” — and avid relic hunter John Davidson discuss the hobby with co-hosts Tom McMillan and John Banks. Clem, 83, who hung up his metal detector several years ago, recalls the day he "eyeballed" bullets behind the Dunker Church on the Antietam battlefield — it was private property then — and talks about his unearthing of four Civil War soldier ID discs and much more. 

Davidson hunts campsites and elsewhere throughout Washington County (Md.), where he and Clem live. He talks about his favorite finds, "the hunt after the hunt" and the ethics of a polarizing hobby. (Full disclosure: Neither McMillan nor Banks are relic hunters.)

WARNING: Relic hunting is ILLEGAL on National Park Service property. Public property, both state and federal, is generally not open to metal detecting and removal of artifacts. Consult your local laws. You must have permission to relic hunt on private property.

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The podcast is sponsored by Civil War Trails, which since 1994 has connected visitors with small towns and big stories across a network that now spans six states.

A storyteller returns to site of his remarkable Antietam find

Richard Clem at the O.J. Smith farm, site of a U.S. Army hospital.

Cropped enlargement of Alexander Gardner image of the O.J. Smith farm hospital in fall 1862.
(Library of Congress)

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On a beautiful fall day in 1991, my friend Richard Clem—the "Babe Ruth of Storytellers"—unearthed a brass identification disc on the O.J. Smith farm, a U.S. Army hospital site in the aftermath of the Battle of Antietam. The rare find turned into an obsession for Clem, a longtime Washington County (Md.) resident who has unearthed three other soldier ID discs. 

Corporal William Secor,
2nd Vermont

The Smith farm disc belonged to 2nd Vermont Corporal William Secor, a color bearer and the only soldier in his regiment to die at Antietam. Dog tags weren't carried by Civil War soldiers; instead, some soldiers bought discs from sutlers on which they had their names and units stamped. No soldier wanted to be forgotten if he fell in battle or from disease. Letters, diaries, photographs and "tags" often aided burial crews in the identification of soldier remains. 

For his 2006 Washington Times story on Secor, Clem—a retired woodworker—dived into National Archives records and tracked down descendants. He discovered this condolence note sent from a 2nd Vermont officer to Secor's stepfather:

Camp near Hagerstown, Md

Sept. 28th 1862

Mr. Ketcham 

Dear Sir:

It becomes my painful duty to inform you of the death of Corporal William Secor, Co. A. Vt. Vols. He was wounded in the battle of Antietam on the 17th and died on the 18th day of September. He was buried on the Smith farm near Sharpsburg. At the time he was wounded he was carrying the Colors of his Regt. Which position he had occupied for some time.

Morning at O.J. Smith farm, site of U.S. Army hospital.

He had many friends in his Regt. I saw the Chaplain that was with him in his last hours, and he said that it might be of consolation to his friends to know that he lived with a hope in Christ and was resigned to his fate. As a soldier, there was none better. He was always ready and willing. He had some personal property by him at the time of his death, a Testament, money and a diary, besides the things he had in his knapsack. They are at your disposal.

Most Respt. E.O. Cole, 2nd Lieut.

In October 2021, Clem, John Davidson (JWD Relic Recovery on Facebook) and I returned to the site of this remarkable disc discovery. Steps from where we stood in the farm field, Alexander Gardner set up his bulky camera in fall 1862 for an image of the Smith farm hospital. When sunlight hit this field just right, Clem told me about relic hunts here, he spotted glass glittering in the field—the remains of medicine bottles from the long-ago hospital.

The front of the brass disc includes William Secor's name.

 The reverse of the ID disc.

                                2018 video: Richard Clem talks about O.J. Smith farm.

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Meet my friend Richard Clem, the Babe Ruth of storytellers

Richard Clem on the Philip Pry farm at Antietam battlefield.
(CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.)

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Nearly a decade ago, I connected with Richard Clem for a story about a Connecticut soldier who was killed by friendly fire at the William Roulette farm at the Battle of Antietam (Md.) on Sept. 17, 1862. Since then, we have become great friends, and no Antietam visit is complete for me without a visit with Richard, who knows the nooks and crannies of the battlefield from his days hunting for relics (legally) and visiting with many of the locals. He’s one of the all-time great storytellers — the “Babe Ruth of storytellers,” I call him.

Before we hit the battlefield during a recent visit, his lovely wife Gloria told him: “You’re an old man. Watch yourself out there.” But the 82-year-old, a lifelong Washington County (Md.) resident, had zero trouble navigating the field.

On Sunday afternoon, accompanied by our friend John Davidson, another lifelong area resident, we visited the O.J. Smith farm (an Antietam hospital site) and the Bloody Cornfield. (You can follow John's relic hunting adventures on Facebook here.) I shot the above image of Richard on the Philip Pry farm, where he unearthed dozens of bullets long ago. Soon, I’ll spend some quality time with Richard to create a record of his battlefield stories.

What a storyteller. What an outstanding human being.

I am proud to call him one of my best friends.

Here are stories Richard has written for my blog, including several on his remarkable Civil War ID tag finds. And below is a video we shot on the Pry farm.

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Communing with spirit of Civil War 'badass' in Shepherdstown

The day after the Battle of Shepherdstown (Va.), Lieutenant Lemuel Crocker climbed atop
 these bluffs to retrieve the bodies of three officers from his unit. 
(Crocker image courtesy Ronn Palm)

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In Shepherdstown, W.Va., after cups of Joe at the excellent Sweet Shop Bakery, my friend Richard Clem and I poked around a publicly accessible slice of Civil War battlefield. I’ve visited the site along River Road at least a dozen times, once after wading across from the other side of the Potomac River. Surprisingly, the visit was the first at the Maryland Campaign battlefield for the 81-year-old Clem, the Babe Ruth of area Civil War storytellers. 

Clem and I examined the old War Department tablets and much newer Civil War Trails marker, gazed at the Shepherdstown bluffs, and then peered into the kilns of the old cement mill along the Potomac, where 118th Pennsylvania soldiers became friendly artillery fire casualties on Sept. 20, 1862. Clem, a retired woodworker/relic hunter, often stared at the ground, wondering how many Union Minies and Confederate Gardners remain inches below.

At this cement mill kiln along the Potomac River,
frightened 118th Pennsylvania soldiers hid
from fire from both sides. Some were killed by friendly
 artillery fired from the Maryland side of the Potomac.

And then I spent a moment communing with the spirit of 118th Pennsylvania Lieutenant Lemuel Crocker -- a "badass," Civil War Times editor Dana Shoaf called him in comments below a Facebook post by retired Gettysburg National Military Park supervisory historian Scott Hartwig.

What a soldier. 

For the May 2021 issue of America's Civil War magazine, Hartwig wrote an excellent account of Crocker's heroism at Shepherdstown. In one of the ballsiest moves of the war, the 33-year-old officer rescued wounded comrades and retrieved bodies of some of the unit's dead the day after the battle, disobeying orders. He had been in the U.S. Army less than a month.

Shepherdstown was a disaster for the "Corn Exchange Regiment" -- in their first battle of the war, the Pennsylvanians fought with defective 1853 pattern Enfields, which proved useless. Then "beaten, dismayed, wild with fright," some of them retreated pell mell under fire across a mill dam to the Maryland side of the Potomac. Others plunged to their deaths from the steep, craggy bluffs along the river on the Virginia side. A "sad and purposeless affair, with a most disastrous and fatal termination," a regimental historian called the battle. 

Terrain and ruins of an old kiln on the West Virginia side
of the Potomac River.

One who barely escaped via the dam was 46-year-old Private William Madison, who was peppered with five shots, including one that shattered his jaw. "He vented his anger in a frightful howl," according to the regimental history, "and facing squarely about gave his enemies the last shot he ever fired in the army, for his wounds terminated his service, but not his life." (Madison survived the war.)

In a letter to his parents (see below), published in the Buffalo (N.Y.) Advocate on Oct. 2, 1862, Crocker described his harrowing experience. "Almost a second Ball's Bluff," he called it, referencing a U.S. Army disaster on bluffs near Leesburg, Va., the previous year. 

The next time you visit Antietam, check out Shepherdstown, too. Stare at those precipitous bluffs, gaze across the Potomac, examine the remains of the cement mill and mill dam ... and commune with the spirit of a Civil War badass. 

(Hat tip to Jeffery Stocker, who pointed Hartwig to the Crocker letter. Note: In September 1862, Shepherdstown was part of  Virginia. In the letter published in the Buffalo newspaper, Crocker noted its location as Maryland.)

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Route 118th Pennsylvania took to bluffs at Shepherdstown on Sept. 20, 1862.

An Incident of Noble Heroism. 

We publish elsewhere a letter [see below] from Lieut Crocker, son of L. Crocker, Esq., of this city, detailing his story of the recent sad reverse of the Philadelphia Corn Exchange Regiment. Since the letter was in type, we find the following thrilling reference to Lieut. C. in a Philadelphia paper: 

The regiment had reached the Maryland shore, at least that portion of it which the fortunes of the day  had spared the fate of either death or wounding. The rebels still held the field where the deadly strife had raged. Our suffering heroes languished for help; they cried for water to quench their burning thirst, for bandages to bind up their bleeding wounds.

Without waiting for the formality of a flag of truce, Lieut. Lemuel L. Crocker forded the river in the face of rebel soldiery. He reached the other shore in safety, and in a few moments was ministering to the wants of his beloved comrades. A rebel officer passed the spot, and enquired of Lieut. Crocker the nature of his business, whether he came to surrender in a hopeless cause, etc.  "I come," said he, "in the cause of humanity. If you are human, let my mission proceed."

The words touched the sympathies of the traitor, and, as if forgetting that he was a soldier in so wicked a cause, told our gallant Lieutenant that he would not be held as a prisoner, but that he might remain to take care of the wounded. 

Lient. Crocker was in Company C and this act of heroism and daring forms one of the most cheering episodes of that fatal day.

             PANORAMA: The U.S. Army briefly held its ground in this field atop the bluffs.

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Shepardstown, Md. 

September 22, 1862.

Dear Parents:

I am here alive and safe. Our Regiment has been in a terrible battle -- almost a second "Ball's Bluff." We have lost nearly 300 killed, wounded and missing. Our Regiment has been in the advance of the army of McClellan for the last week. I have seen in the marches all the horrors of war -- the dead and dying lining the road-side and filling the barns. 

We have been on the march for the last week. In the great battle last Wednesday, we were held as reserves behind a battery of two pieces of Rifled Cannon. I saw the whole of the contest. 

An illustration in the 118th Pennsylvania regimental
history of the mill dam and cement mill on the Virginia
side of the Potomac River. Ruins of the mill remain.
Many soldiers in the regiment retreated across
the dam during the Battle of Shepherdstown.

The next day we were put in the extreme advance, following up the rebels until our Reg't was ordered to cross the Potomac by some one who ought to be court-martialed, as we were unsupported; the result was we were met by a force of the enemy amounting to near six regiments, supported within a mile and a half by nearly the whole rebel army. We did not know the force we were contending with. Our Colonel was wounded and carried off the field; our Adjutant was wounded; most of our officers were wounded when the Lieutenant Colonel gave the order for the men to fall back and save themselves, as we were being completely surrounded, and in our rear there was a precipitous bluff. We retreated amidst such a shower of lead I never want to take the risk again of coming out of. 

As we got to the river-side we had to go near a half a mile to a dam over which our men were attempting to cross; and to make this dam many a man lost his life, as the rebels were stationed on the bluff taking deliberate aim during the whole fight. I was cool and collected during my travel by the riverside; but when I reach this dam, I think my cheek blanched, for it seemed to me certain death to cross it, as the rebels had got into a large brick building below the dam, and the main body above on the bluff, picking off our poor fellows. But to stay was death probably, and a prison sure. So I hesitated but the instant, and crossed safely.

                PANORAMA: A view of the Potomac and Maryland side of the river in distance.

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Berdan's Sharp Shooters were stationed on the opposite bank covering our retreat; and this is all that saved our Reg't, for they in a short time prevented a rebel in taking a risk of showing himself. After two hours, at the end of the dam there were about ten wounded and ten more whose courage had given out, and they must be got over. The Captain of Berdan's men and myself walked up and down the bank to try and induce them to come over. I then took off my coat and with Lieut. Marsh's revolver, covered by the Reg't, recrossed the river and brought over every man there, except those on the battle field.

The next day every effort was made by our officers of the Regiment and Brigade to get Maj. Gen. [Fitz John] Porter to send a Flag of Truce to bring off our wounded, and to bury the dead; but of no avail -- he would not do it. I stepped forward and volunteered, and with a volunteer force again crossed the Potomac, and had the satisfaction of bringing off every wounded man, and the dead bodies of our officers. The Brigadier general complimented me personally and that was another satisfaction.

Our Colonel is pretty badly wounded. My Company loses 28 killed, wounded and missing. But I assure you the 118th P. V. Reg't has made itself a name of which every man be proud who belongs to it. We are still in the advance doing picket duty. We are now numbered among the fighting regiments. 

L. L. Crocker.

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SOURCES: 

• History of the Corn Exchange Regiment, 118th Pennsylvania Volunteers, from their first engagement at Antietam to Appomattox, By the Survivors' Association, Philadelphia, J.L. Smith Publisher, 1888.
• Inside the Army of the Potomac, The Civil War Experiences of Captain Francis Adams Donaldson, edited by J. Gregory Acken, Stackpole Books, 1998.
• The Advocate, Buffalo, N.Y., Oct. 2, 1862.

Battlefield biscuits and ham: Meet an Antietam citizen-hero

Martin Henry Eakle and the buggy he is believed to have used to take aid to Union soldiers at Antietam.
(Eakle family pamphlet)

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Richard Clem's Civil War stories are often featured on my blog. In this post, Clem, a lifelong resident of Washington County in Maryland, tells the story of a citizen-hero of the Battle of Antietam.

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By Richard E. Clem

Richard Clem

For decades after the Battle of Antietam, the identity of a good Samaritan who distributed ham and biscuits to the troops there while fighting still raged apparently was a mystery outside his family. Like any other major battle of the Civil War, Antietam (called Sharpsburg in the South) had its share of ordinary people who gave comfort and relief to the wounded and dying who were far from home. Unheralded residents of Washington County and far beyond played a part in healing soldiers in the “vast sea of misery.” One individual, however, deserves special recognition for going beyond the call of duty. If the Medal of Honor were awarded to a civilian for courage, Martin Henry Eakle would be at the top of the list.

Originally called Buena Vista, Eakles Mill is one of the oldest settlements in Washington County, Md. The earliest records indicate the first home built in this remote area was in 1775. The 2010 census for this rural village shows a population of 27. Consisting of a half-dozen homes and one church, it rests at the eastern base of Red Hill, just below Keedysville and a short distance west of South Mountain. Similar to other communities in the county, Eakles Mill was settled around a water-powered gristmill. A sawmill or lumber mill was also operated at most of these locations.

Around 1850, a decade before the Civil War, Martin Eakle purchased the gristmill from David Keedy -- thus giving the area its present-day name. The power for this mill was supplied by Little Antietam Creek, a tributary of the famed Antietam Creek at Sharpsburg. After marriage to Catharine Amelia Snively and the birth of five children, Mr. Eakle decided to expand the milling business. Records state the successful miller delivered by “horse and wagon, flour, feed, etc. as far away as Burkittsville,” on the opposite (east) side of South Mountain.

At left, Eakle's gristmill appears in a circa-1898 photo. (Richard Clem collection.)

Circa-1901 photo of the scene above. Note how large tree has grown near the church since 1898.
 (Richard Clem collection)

PRESENT DAY: Site of Eakle gristmill. A house (left) rests on the old foundation of the mill. (Clem photo)

Early on the misty morning of Sept. 17, 1862, the bloodiest single day of the Civil War began. The Battle of Antietam resulted in more than 23,000 casualties. At Eakles Mill, only a few miles east of Sharpsburg, where the battle had raged since 6 o’clock in the morning, residents awoke to thunder of cannon. Rising early, Eakle went straight to his stable and hitched up a team of horses to a four-wheel buggy. He gathered several containers filled with water and stone crocks stuffed with biscuits as well as ham from his meat house. Some nearby ladies also donated homemade pies and cakes for the battle-weary soldiers near Sharpsburg. Leaving the protection of Red Hill and with no regard for his own safety, the 46-year-old Eakle steered his horses toward the sound of battle.

1877 Washington County map shows Eakles Mill, Md.

On the same morning, an 11-year-old boy, Aaron Snyder, watched Martin Eakle’s journey from the crest of Red Hill. Young Snyder, who lived on Marble Quarry Road (just south of Eakles Mill), had climbed the heights that morning to observe the battle. The Snyder family purchased flour, feed and other supplies from Mr. Eakle, and Aaron knew him quite well. From the high elevation, Snyder saw Eakle’s buggy disappear into the smoke hanging thick over the battlefield. Evidently, Martin’s route took him north along Red Hill toward Keedysville, and at some point he turned west to the road leading to Sharpsburg (Md. 34 today), crossing Antietam Creek at the stone Middle Bridge. By the time the humanitarian arrived on the battlefield, fighting on the Union right at the Dunker Church, the Bloody Cornfield and West Woods had subsided.

Driving the buggy onto the William Roulette farm, approximately where the old War Department observation tower now stands, Martin came in contact with Captain William M. Graham, Battery K, 1st U.S. Artillery. In all probability, by this time the Rebels would have been driven out of “Bloody Lane” or else Eakle and his horses probably would have been cut down by Southern infantry fire. However, a deadly duel was still very active following the withdraw from the sunken road as the Confederates were being repelled through Henry Piper’s cornfield by Federal artillery. While distributing his food and water, one of Eakle’s horses was wounded, perhaps by an exploding Confederate cannon shell fragment commonly known as shrapnel. After the bloody engagement, Captain Graham reported the battery’s loss: “17 horses killed and 6 more wounded.” The battery also lost at Antietam four men killed and five badly wounded. Ending his report, Graham noted:

... I feel called up to mention the conduct of a Mr. ___ who resides near the battlefield. This gentleman drove his carriage to my battery while under severe artillery fire, and carried off my wounded who were suffering very much for the want of surgical attendance, and distributed ham and biscuits among the men of the battery. He also returned a second time to the battery. One of his horses was wounded while performing this service.

Shadow of  War Department tower at Bloody Lane covers approximate location of Graham’s Battery, 
where Martin Eakle delivered aid to Union soldiers. William Roulette farmhouse and barn appear in distance.

Aaron Snyder went on to become a well-known and respected school teacher in the Keedysville- Eakles Mill area. One of Mr. Snyder’s pupils was a grandson of Martin Eakle. (Unfortunately, Eakle passed away two years before his grandson was born.) The Eakle family remembered Aaron Snyder telling the story about Martin: “He came through the artillery barrage untouched, but one of his horses was badly wounded.” The school teacher also related to his students that Mr. Eakle while on his compassionate journey carried a “small amount of good rye whiskey” to the Federal troops.

For years the Eakle family (living in Keedysville) proudly showed the buggy Martin Eakle used on the mission of mercy. The historic carriage was once displayed in a Sharpsburg museum, but neither the carriage nor the museum no longer exists.

Known as a strong Southern sympathizer, Martin Eakle saw no wrong aiding members of a Northern artillery unit. The year 1863, however, offered Eakle good reason to reconsider allegiance to the Confederacy. On the road to Gettysburg in June 1863, Confederate General Edward Johnson commanded one of Stonewall Jackson’s old divisions. He sent what is believed a small mounted force to Eakles Mill with the following orders:

HQ Johnson’s Division
Near Sharpsburg Md.
June 21, 1863

Mr. Martin Eakle will at once proceed to grind flour for the Confederate States Army or his Mill will be impressed for that purpose.

Ed Johnson
Maj. Genl. Commanding

A copy of General Johnson’s dispatch remained for years in possession of the Eakle family.

Original orders  issued on June 21, 1863, by Confederate General Edward Johnson to grind flour
 for the Rebel army at Eakles' mill.  (Eakles family pamphlet)

Washington County land records reveal Martin Eakle sold property to the Washington County Railroad Company in 1866, one year after the Civil War. When the railroad (now a branch of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad) was put through in 1867, it cut off the millrace and water supply to the mill, shutting down operations. At an unknown date, a steam engine was installed at the site, and as late as 1890, the mill was used to saw and plane lumber. When the present road went through Eakles Mill, Md., the deteriorating limestone structure is believed to have been destroyed. Today, a private residence rest on the old mill’s original foundation.

On May 7, 1878, Martin Eakle passed away just two months shy of his 62nd birthday. The body was interred in Fairview Cemetery at Keedysville. In 1899, Catharine Eakle was placed at her husband’s side in Fairview. After Martin’s death, the U.S. War Department tried to find the man “who came on the field of Antietam when bullets were flying fast!” Eager to honor this brave individual, the Federal government placed an ad in county newspapers. The effort proved unsuccessful.

Gravestone of Martin Eakle in
Fairview Cemetery in Keedysville, Md. 
"A kind husband and an affectionate 
father. How desolate our home bereft of
 thee,” read words on the tombstone.

And then on March 23, 1962, nearly 100 years after the Battle of Antietam, an article published in a Hagerstown newspaper reported the mysterious hero at Sharpsburg was Martin Eakle. A distant relative of the Eakles came forward and explained how the story was handed down. The family knew since the battle who the biscuit and ham distributor was on that bloody day.

The author is grateful for the privilege to have talked 24 years ago to several members of the Eakle family, who shared a small pamphlet describing Mr. Eakle’s heroic deed. It was said each family member received a copy. Compiled and printed by an unknown source, this 5- x 8-inch pamphlet included photographs and some material used for this article. The author would also like to mention his mother as a child lived in Eakles Mill for several years. As fate would have it, mom’s vegetable garden boarded on the mill property once owned by none other than Martin Eakle.

Hopefully, someday a marker will be erected on the Antietam battlefield near the old War Department tower to honor Martin Eakle, who was willing to sacrifice his own life there to help others -- even the enemy. Perhaps this article will serve as a beginning to launch such a project. As it was said at Gettysburg on Nov. 19, 1863, by Abraham Lincoln, “It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.”

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Have something to add (or correct) in this post? E-mail me here.

SOURCES

-- Bailey, Ronald H., The Bloodiest Day, Alexandria, Virginia, Time-Life Books, 1984.
-- The Boonsboro  (Md.) News, Boonsboro, Md., March 24, 1955.
-- Hagerstown (Md.) Daily Mail, March 23, 1962.
-- Ernst, Kathleen A., Too Afraid to Cry, Maryland Civilians in the Antietam Campaign, Stackpole Books, 1999.
-- Murfin, James V., The Gleam of Bayonets, Cranbury, N.J., 1965.
-- Official Records, Series 1, Vol 19, Part 1 (Antietam - Serial 27) , Pages 343-344.
-- Reilly, Oliver, T., The Battle of Antietam, Sharpsburg, Md., 1906.
-- Schildt, John W., Drums Along the Antietam, Parsons, West Virginia, 1972.
-- Sears, Stephen W., Landscape Turned Red, New Haven,  Conn,; New York, 1983.
-- Williams, Thomas J. C., A History of Washington County, Maryland, Hagerstown, Md., 1906.
-- Illustrated Atlas of Washington County, Maryland – 1877, Unigraphic Inc., Evansville, Ind., 1975.

Face of the Civil War: Remembering Nancy Campbell

A daguerreotype of Nancy Campbell. (National Park Service collection)

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During visits to Sharpsburg, Md., more than a decade ago, I was fortunate to spend time with Earl Roulette and his wife, Annabelle, at their ranch house on Main Street, near Robert E. Lee's headquarters site during the Battle of Antietam. 

While Annabelle rocked in her chair in the living room, Earl and I chatted about the Civil War in a small backroom. Earl especially enjoyed showing off Civil War artifacts he had found while farming in the area for more than 50 years. His great-grandfather's farm, which bordered Bloody Lane, was scene of horrific fighting during the battle.

During one visit, Earl reached into a small box for a photo of a woman named Nancy Campbell. 

My friend Richard Clem, a lifelong resident of Washington County (Md.), picks up her story. 

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Richard E. Clem

By Richard E. Clem

Maryland's 1860 census for Washington County lists a “Nancy Campbell” as a servant living with the Roulette family in the Sharpsburg District. History reveals little about this small, black slave. The first the author heard the name mentioned was in Sharpsburg while visiting dear friends Earl and Annabelle Roulette. In his normal high-pitched voice, Earl handed me an old daguerreotype in its small, protective case and with pride explained: “This is Nancy Campbell; she was my great grandfather’s house servant.” Earl’s ancestor was William Roulette, whose farm suffered great damage on Sept. 17, 1862, during the Battle of Antietam – the bloodiest day of the Civil War. From the very moment I examined Nancy’s image, I was determined to cast light on the life of this virtually unknown woman.

The name “Nancy Campbell” first appears on a Certificate of Freedom recorded in the Washington County Court House in Hagerstown, Md.:

Nancy Campbell toiled for 
William Roulette, whose farm was scene
 of terrible fighting at the Battle of Antietam 
on Sept. 17, 1862.

At the request of Nancy Campbell, the following deed was recorded June 14, 1859, by Andrew Miller of Washington County, Maryland. I do hear-by set free my Negro slave, Nancy Campbell, her freedom to commence from the year eighteen hundred and fifty nine.

The document was witnessed and signed by Justice of the Peace Thomas Curtis McLaughlin and Andrew Miller – Campbell’s former owner or, as referred to in the South, her “master.”

Andrew B. Miller was born March 24, 1826, in Washington County, Md. At an unknown date, he purchased a 50-acre farm in Tilghmanton, where his wife, Heaster Ann (Smith) Miller, gave birth to at least three children. Tilghmanton is a small town (population today, 465) on the Sharpsburg Pike, 8.5 miles south of Hagerstown and about the same distance from Sharpsburg.

When Andrew’s father, Peter Miller, passed away, his will provided his son with a servant named “Nancy Campbell,” described as: “One Colored Woman, 5 feet 1 ½ inches high, worth $250.00.” With this appraised value, Miss Nancy was worth as much as a good horse.

It was against the law to teach a slave how to read or write, so no record exists to state where Campbell was born or who her parents were. Even the date she was acquired by the Peter Miller family is unknown. Along with being a house servant, Nancy would have also taken care of the younger children as a “nanny.” When not occupied with the kids, she would have been required to do cooking as well as other household chores and perhaps tend to the vegetable garden.

Freedom and New Home

William Roulette's springhouse, where the farmer's African-American field hand, Robert Simon,
is believed to have lived. (Photo: Richard E. Clem) 

Looking to take life easier, Andrew Miller sold his Tilghmanton property in 1859, just prior to outbreak of the Civil War.  Now with no need for a slave, the retiring farmer decided to grant Miss Campbell her freedom. But without a home or education and no way to support herself, what would happen to the 46-year-old black servant trying to survive in a world among white strangers?

Less than one year after being freed, she not only had a new home, but would receive wages for her labor. It is believed this freed slave first met the Roulettes through William’s marriage (March 4, 1847) to Margaret Ann Miller. In April 1853, Mr. Roulette bought the farm of his wife’s father, John Miller. John’s brother, Peter Miller, Nancy Campbell’s first owner, was an uncle to Mrs. Roulette. So it's very possible Campbell knew the Roulettes before she went to live with them.

When Miss Campbell began working for William and Margaret Ann, they were the parents of five children. Their need for a good, experienced nanny was great. Although Mr. Roulette owned no slaves, he employed and paid for the services of Nancy and a 15-year-old boy named Robert Simon.

The new nanny occupied a small room over the Roulette’s kitchen, while Robert was employed as an “African American field hand, resided somewhere on the property.” Evidence clearly shows Roulette’s springhouse once had a third floor; some historians speculate this upper room was occupied by Simon. Soon after Nancy’s arrival, Margaret Ann gave birth (Feb. 23, 1860) to her third daughter, Carrie May.

Manor Church, where the Roulette family is believed to have been sheltered 
during the Battle of Antietam. Nancy Campbell attended services here. (Photo: Richard E. Clem)

In the late 19th century, William Roulette and his close neighbor, Samuel Mumma, were considered the most prosperous farmers in the Sharpsburg District, raising mostly corn, oats and barley in their fine limestone soil. And then the War Between the States came to Maryland! According to William’s History of Washington County, the day before the Battle of Antietam, William Roulette “took his family six miles north to the Manor Church where they were sheltered by Elder Daniel Wolf, a minister of that church.” Campbell and Simon probably joined the Roulette family at the Manor Church. The Mummas also evacuated their farm and sought protection at the Manor house of worship.

While living at Tilghmanton, Miss Campbell, a member of the mostly white Manor congregation, probably heard Reverend Daniel Wolf’s sermons against the evils of slavery. If you owned a slave or slaves, you were not allowed to be a member of this church. Locals called this sanctuary the Manor Dunker Church or “Tunkard” in German. Built in 1830, this meeting house just east of Tilghmanton was the mother church of the now-famous Dunker Church on the Antietam battlefield. (Services are still held every Sunday in the old limestone structure that now has a large, brick addition and is known as the Manor Church of the Brethren.)

War Hits Home

                 PANORAMA: William Roulette farmhouse and barn (pan to the right).
        PANORAMA: Roulette's farmhouse and barn were used as makeshift hospitals
          during and after the battle.  (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

Early on the misty morning of Sept. 17, 1862, General George B. McClellan, commander Army of the Potomac, launched a series of assaults on General Robert E. Lee’s formidable left flank. When these attempts failed to dislodge General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson’s veterans from the West Woods, another attack on the Rebel center was made at 10 a.m. by General William H. French’s division. The 5,000 mostly untested Yankees marched blindly toward a Southern line concealed in a sunken farm lane referred to as Hog Trough Road. Directly in the path of the Federal advance stood the Roulette farm.

While the Battle of Antietam raged, William Roulette
found shelter in his cellar.

With his family safe in the Manor Church, William Roulette returned to protect his farm, spending most of the day of the battle in the cellar but at least once sticking his head out and cheering on the Union infantry. (Some historians claim the Roulette family stayed in their cellar day of the battle, too.) Following the firestorm, one Federal soldier remembered, “Around the surgeon’s table in the Roulette barn amputated arms and legs were piled several feet deep.” Another witness later recalled the damage to Roulette’s property, “The buildings were struck by shot and shell of which they still bear the marks. One shell pierced the southern end of the dwelling, went up through the parlor ceiling and was found in the attic.” (The Samuel Mumma family, however, lost far more during the battle -- their house and barn were burned and destroyed, leaving only smoldering ruins.)

The Roulette family must have been devastated and disheartened to see their home and barn converted into a field hospital filled with bloodied, dead and wounded soldiers. Just south of Roulette’s lane, Confederate dead and wounded were stacked in the sunken road, now better known as Bloody Lane. One report stated at least 700 dead were buried on the Roulette farm. Crops about to be harvested were ruined and the farmer's fields were strewn with canteens, blankets, guns, knapsacks and countless other implements of war. According to a damage claim filed by Roulette, his house was “stripped during the battle of furnishings and floors were left covered with blood and dirt from being used as a hospital.” The Federal government compensated Roulette $371 toward an estimated claim totaling $3,500.

Like most residents of the Sharpsburg area, Campbell, Simon and the Roulettes pitched in to bring comfort and relief to thousands of bloodied humanity. Adding grief to misery, on Oct. 21, 1862, just 31 days after the battle, the Roulettes' 20-month-old daughter, Carrie May, died from typhoid fever. The toddler may have contracted the fatal disease from exposure to wounded soldiers. Nancy Campbell, Carrie May’s nanny from birth, surely suffered from the death of the little girl.

Final Homecoming

Nancy Campbell attended the one-room Tolson Chapel on High Street in Sharpburg, Md. 
 (Photo: Richard E. Clem)

In 1887, William Roulette turned over the farm to his youngest son, Benjamin Franklin Roulette, and the 63-year-old farmer moved into a smaller house in Sharpsburg. By this time, Nancy was getting up in years herself and only able to do “light” work, but the caring Ben Roulette let her stay on at the old homestead. William Roulette died Feb. 27, 1901. Margaret Ann had passed away 18 years earlier, on Feb. 19, 1883. Both are buried in Mountain View Cemetery on the eastern edge of Sharpsburg.

There is no doubt Miss Campbell was respected and paid decently for her household labor. At an unknown date, she had her picture taken, perhaps by a professional Sharpsburg photographer. The dress she wore in the image appears to be of fine material. (In a velvet-lined case, the photograph is now in the collection of the National Park Service at Antietam, courtesy of Earl Roulette.)

Miss Nancy was set free “forever” on Jan.  5, 1892, at age 79. On Jan. 20, 1885, seven years before her death, she had recorded a last will and testament with the Register of Wills in the Washington County Court House. It was rare for a slave, freed or in bondage, to have a will or a significant amount of money.

Combining cash in the bank with “cash in the house,” her estate value totaled $867.04, not including Nancy’s personal property. The will gives testimony to where this one-time slave placed her trust: “I give and bequeath to the Manor Church of the Tunker denomination to which I belong in Washington County, Maryland, the sum of Fifty Dollars.” The Afro-American Methodist Church in Sharpsburg also received $20 along with her personal Bible. Still standing and recently restored, this one-room log church was built in 1866 by Rev. J. R. Tolson for slaves and their children freed after the Civil War. Campbell attended Tolson Chapel while staying with the Roulettes, and the gift from her will is another example of the value she placed on spiritual guidance and worship.

Nancy also remembered with fondness her former master: “I give and bequeath to Andrew Miller, my chest, my trunk and my stand.” The will also provided $25 each to three of Miller’s children, Hamilton, Thomas and Susan. Heaster Ann Miller passed away March 11, 1899, and her husband, Andrew, was placed at her side in the Manor Church Cemetery on Dec. 8, 1910.

The will also reveals one of Roulette’s daughters was highly thought of by her nanny. “And unto Rebecca Roulette, daughter of William Roulette," the document reads, "I give the sum of One Hundred Dollars together with all my personal effects.” When Nancy went to live with the Roulettes, Susan Rebecca was only 5. It is evident the bond of affection and love between these two individuals was strong.

Nancy Campbell's gravestone in Manor Church Cemetery. Her last name is misspelled "Camel."
(Photo: Richard E. Clem)

As executor of the Campbell estate, Ben Roulette was responsible for paying the deceased’s burial expenses. For a coffin of “rough lumber,” J. L. Highberger, a Sharpsburg blacksmith, was paid $46. Samuel Line was paid $2.50 for hand-digging the grave. A member of the Manor Church congregation, Nancy was entitled to burial in church cemetery. Unknown for years, her tombstone remained face down. It was recently accidentally discovered and set erect by the cemetery caretaker. The stone is inscribed:

NANCY CAMPBELL
BORN
OCT. 15, 1813
DIED
JAN. 5, 1892
AGED
78 Ys 2 Mo & 20 Ds

At the bottom of the well-worn stone are these words from Scripture: “Blessed Are The Dead Which Die In The Lord.” Revelation 14:13.

Annabelle and Earl Roulette.

Records do not exist as to who furnished the gravestone or why the last name is spelled “Camel.” The same spelling, however, is found on several other legal documents for Nancy. But because she had no known relatives, perhaps it is understandable why the stone engraver inscribed it as he did. Even Miss Campbell, not being able to write, wouldn’t have known the correct spelling of her last name, which also explains why she signed her last will and testament with an “X.”

The life story of this humble yet “blessed” servant is dedicated to the lasting memory of Earl and Annabelle Roulette. The author will always cherish their warm, Christian friendship and hospitality given on a fall afternoon in Sharpsburg.

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Have something to add (or correct) in this post? E-mail me here.

SOURCES:

• Bailey, Ronald H., The Bloodiest Day: The Battle of Antietam, Time-Life Books Inc., Alexander, Virginia, 1984
• Ernst, Kathleen A., Too Afraid to Cry: Maryland Civilians In The Antietam Campaign, Stackpole Books, Mechanicsburg, Pa., 1999
• Frassanito, William A., Antietam: The Photographic Legacy of America’s Bloodiest Day, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1978
• Morrow, Dale W., Washington County, Maryland Cemetery Records – Volume 1, Family Line Publications, Westminster, Md., 1992
• Maurice, Henry J., History of the Church of the Brethren in Maryland, Brethren Publishing House, Elgin, Ill., 1936
• Murfin, James V., The Gleam of Bayonets, Thomas Yoseloff Publisher, Cranbury, N.J., 1968
• Reilly, Oliver T., The Battlefield of Antietam, Hagerstown Bookbinding & Printing Co., Hagerstown, Md.,1906
• Schildt, John W., Antietam Hospitals, Antietam Publications, Chewsville, Md., 1987
• Sears, Stephen W., Landscape Turned Red, Ticknor & Fields, New Haven and New York, 1983
• Williams, Thomas J. C., History of Washington County, Maryland, Regional Publishing Company, Baltimore, Md., 1968.
• www.findagrave.com.

Stored in attic, rare Rebel canteen belonged to S.C. soldier

Face of inscribed canteen that belonged to Confederate cavalaryman Richard Sims.
(Photo: Richard E. Clem)

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Relic hunter Richard Clem's tales have been told frequently on my blog. In this post, Clem, a lifelong resident of Washington County in Maryland, tells the story of a rare Confederate canteen with ties to Antietam and Gettysburg.

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Richard Clem

By Richard E. Clem

Designed to carry water, the old wood canteen also carried a hand-carved inscription that one day would be read worldwide. With the original owner’s name and regiment cut into its face, the heirloom traveled from the coastal region of South Carolina to the farm of Daniel Wolf in western Maryland. Although once carried by a Confederate cavalryman, it remained well preserved for years in a dusty, dark attic.

The canteen was recently discovered while its owner was preparing to move to a retirement home. It seems she had lived with her mother, who stored the vintage canteen in their attic about 1936. Not knowing exactly what it was, she handed it to the author, explaining, “I think it was an old toy the kids once played with.” Another member of the family suggested, “I was thinking of using it as a flower vase.”

Apparently the owner’s mother inherited the mysterious relic from her father, and no one knew what it was. After a closer examination and noticing letters pertaining to “South Carolina,” an idea surfaced it could be connected to the Civil War. Then the owner mentioned, “It has been handed down through the family and belonged to my great-grandfather, Daniel Wolf. He preached in the Manor Church and the Dunker Church on the Antietam battlefield.”

Those words got my full attention,

With this clue, it was decided to return to the “Days of Cavaliers and Cotton Fields” to try to discover who the Rebel was who once drank from this rustic canteen.

Reverend Daniel Wolf and his wife, Ann Maria. (Courtesy Wolf family)

Research locally revealed Daniel Wolf was born Aug. 11, 1825, at his father’s homestead in southern Washington County, Md. Daniel spent his entire life farming the old home place along Manor Church Road, just two miles east of the little town of Tilghmanton. In 1850, he married Ann Maria Rowland from Washington County. To this union came a blessing of eight daughters and three sons. One of Wolf’s daughters was the grandmother of the owner of the wood canteen.

Possessing great knowledge of the Scriptures, Daniel Wolf became a beloved and respected minister of the German Baptist Brethren Church, known today as the Church of the Brethren. Reverend Wolf’s strong stand on slavery and the evils of war served as fodder for many sermons delivered in the nearby Manor Church and in the famous Dunker Church, just south of his home on the Antietam battlefield. The Dunker Church was a branch of the Manor Church built simply to establish a church near Sharpsburg.

On Aug. 16, 1899, the earthly journey of the 74-year-old preacher ended. The body was buried in Manor Church Cemetery within view of his farm.  At an unknown time, this farmer-preacher had acquired the rare Confederate canteen. What makes the 154-year-old artifact remarkable besides being made of wood is the hand-carved legend on its face:

“R. Sims, Co. I, 1st R. So. Ca., V (c) C.”

PRESENT DAY: Greatly in need of exterior repair, the former home of Daniel Wolf.
(Photo Richard E. Clem)

Manor Church where Reverend Daniel Wolf preached.
(History of Washington Country, Maryland)

With reverence I held this piece of Southern history. The letter “R” represents the first letter of the cavalryman’s first name, His last name is “Sims.” Beneath the name is cut “Co. I,” standing for “Company I.” Perpendicular to the right of the name and company is etched “1st R. So. Ca. V (c) C.” It took a few seconds to figure these letters stood for “1st Regiment, South Carolina, Volunteer Cavalry.” With closer study, a letter “C” can be found beneath the letter “V.” In the author’s opinion, this Confederate trooper intended to cut “Cav.,” an abbreviation for “Cavalry.” Nearing the edge of the canteen, however, and running out of space, the letters “V. C.” (Volunteer Cavalry) were substituted. A large “R” was cut on one side of the rare relic. It is believed Sims originally started to carve his name, etc. on this side, but for an unknown reason finished the inscription on the reverse side.

When the Civil War began, the South was far from being prepared in the way of raw material. By the end of the conflict, the Confederate States were melting bronze church bells and anything else they could get their hands on to produce implements of war. To preserve metal, especially iron and tin, some Southern canteens were manufactured from wood.

Known as the “cedar drum” style, these hardwood vessels (7 ½ inches in diameter x 2 ½ inches in width or depth) were also made of maple and cherry. Each consisted of two, round face plates. Around the circumference were 10 to 12 small slates grooved to receive the face plates -- all held together with two thin metal bands. A wooden maple spout to drink through was then “popped” into the top. Each canteen held about one quart of water or other liquid refreshment a Rebel chose to consume. Once the canteen was filled with liquid, the wood swelled, making it  water-tight. A cork or wood stopper was then pressed into the spout, and leather straps were attached so it could be carried over the shoulder or, in the case of cavalry, hung from a saddle horn.

In some respects, the wood canteen had an advantage over their metal counterparts. Some Confederate soldiers noted water stayed cooler and tasted sweeter in these wood containers. The wood canteen had another practical purpose. With a sharp pocket knife, the owner’s name, regiment, etc. could be carved into the surface, making identification of a soldier easier in case of death. (Soldier ID tags were extremely rare during the Civil War.)

Natural spring beside Reverend Wolf’s home where Sims’ canteen
 may have possibly been found. Daniel and Ann Maria Wolf
 are buried in the Manor Church Cemetery in the background.
(Photo: Richard E. Clem)

Who was “R Sims,” the Rebel cavalryman? How did his personal identified canteen get from South Carolina into the hands of Reverend Daniel Wolf in Maryland? Again, research started locally.

The native limestone, two-story home once owned by Reverend Wolf still stands on 188 acres just north of Antietam battlefield. With the location of Wolf’s farmstead being near the battlefield, it was naturally assumed the old canteen came out of the bloody struggle of Antietam. Wrong! The boys in the 1st South Carolina Cavalry were guarding defenses around Charleston when the battle was fought on Sept. 17, 1862. However, Confederate soldiers were in the area of Wolf’s homestead in July 1863, following the battle at Gettysburg. So the next step was to determine if “R. Sims” was at Gettysburg. According to Federal archives, Private Richard Sims, Company I, 1st South Carolina Cavalry, was “present” with Hampton’s Brigade that clashed with Union cavalry at Gettysburg, attempting to disrupt the Union rear on what is now known as East Cavalry Battlefield. The 1st South Carolina Cavalry also served with honor at Fredericksburg and Brandy Station in Virginia.

Following Gettysburg, every family in the path of Union and Confederate armies was gripped in fear while their crops and livestock were destroyed. Land records in the Washington County Court House list farmers in the county who were forced to declare bankruptcy following the war. The Wolf farm felt the effects of civil war in 1862 and the next year during the Confederates' retreat in July from Gettysburg. A Wolf descendant noted, "Several times Civil War soldiers came to the farm, and my great-grandmother (Ann Maria Wolf) would always give them something to eat no matter what side they were on.”

The old homestead also had an abundance of another source alluring and essential to a cavalry unit: water. Horses needed an average of five gallons of water daily. Could it be while on a scouting mission, Private Sims left his canteen at the spring right beside Reverend Wolf’s home? Or perhaps Private Sims simply took a metal canteen from a dead Yankee and discarded his own.

Speculation will always surround how Daniel Wolf acquired Sims’ canteen, but there are several possibilities. After defeat at Gettysburg, Robert E. Lee depended on his cavalry to scout a safe passage for the Army of Northern Virginia back to Southern soil. On July 8, 1863, the 1st South Carolina (Wade Hampton’s Brigade) engaged Federal cavalry at Boonsboro, just east of Wolf’s farm. These same mounted troops were also present at Williamsport, Md., where the Rebel army crossed the swollen Potomac River, ending the Gettysburg campaign. Wolf’s land is situated between Boonsboro and Williamsport. So Reverend Wolf could have found the canteen at one of these locations or anywhere in between -– if not at the natural spring right beside his home.

Based on his military file, Richard Sims was employed as a clerk in his hometown of St. Paul’s Parish, Colleton County, S.C.,  just prior to the War Between the States. The small village is just southwest of Charleston, where the Civil War began April 12, 1861, with the Rebel shelling of  Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor. An 1860 census for St. Paul’s Parish lists Richard Sims living with his parents, Edward L. and Sara Sims, along with an older sister, Elizabeth, and three younger brothers, John, James and Edward.

Back of 1st South Carolina cavalryman Richard Sims' canteen.
Note original spout. (Photo Richard E. Clem)

When war looked as if it was going to last longer than expected, 23-year-old Richard Sims enlisted (April 3, 1862) at Parker’s Ferry, near St. Paul’s Parish. In June 1863, the 1st South Carolina Cavalry was transferred to Virginia, where it was assigned to General Wade Hampton’s Brigade, General J.E.B. Stuart’s Cavalry, Army of Northern Virginia. In all probability, Sims' canteen was left behind in Washington Country during the Rebels' retreat from the blood-stained fields of Gettysburg.

During his military career, Private Sims was listed as “company blacksmith,” according to Federal archives. For this back-breaking service, he was paid a dollar extra per month for shoeing horses.
A muster roll states he received “pay for use of horse from Oct. 31, 1863 to Nov. 28, 1863, at 40 cents per day.” Yes, the Confederacy paid their cavalrymen for service of their personal horses, but remember, the South had an abundance of “worthless” Confederate money.

The year 1864 was one of trials and testing for Richard Sims. On Jan. 8, he was admitted to Jackson Hospital in Richmond because of a chronic ulcer of left leg. This open, painful sore, perhaps caused by the shoeing of horses and days riding in the saddle, forced Sims to leave the cavalry. In the fall of 1864, the 1st South Carolina Cavalry was ordered south to defend its native state and surrounding area. Physically unfit for duty for almost a year,  Sims was discharged from army headquarters on Dec. 10, 1864, at Pocotaligo, Ga. After the war, no record shows Richard Sims or his family living in St. Paul’s Parish. Perhaps he moved west like so many other Civil War veterans. Did he have a wife or children? Where is he buried? What did he look like? These questions will always be associated with the letters carved in the old canteen -- a name without a face.

It's not impossible Daniel Wolf may have personally met the Rebel horseman. Stated earlier, as company blacksmith, Sims could have stopped at Wolf’s spring to water his horse or to repair a damaged shoe of a comrade’s mount. He could have been one of those “Civil War soldiers” who was fed by Ann Maria Wolf. As of December 2016,  the Confederate canteen was still well preserved in Washington County at the home of a great-great-grandson of Daniel Wolf.

The name “Richard Sims” will never grace a battlefield monument. But after more than 150 years, his well-preserved canteen of Confederate hardwood remains a silent symbol of a lost cause.

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SOURCES AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

--Brooks, U. R., Stories of the Confederacy, Columbia, S.C., The State Company, 1912.
--Davis, Burke, Gray Fox, New York, Rinehart and Co., 1956.
--Henry, Maurice J., History of the Church of the Brethren, Brethren Publishing House, Elgin, Ill., 1936.
--McSwain, Eleanor D., Crumbling Defenses, or Memoirs and Reminiscences Of Colonel John Logan Black C.S.A., Macon, Ga., 1960.
--Williams, Thomas J. C., History of Washington County, Maryland, Hagerstown, Md., 1906.
--Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, Vol. III, New York, New York, Thomas Yoseloff, Reprint 1956
--National Archives, Military Service Records, Washington, D. C.
--North South Trader’s Civil War, Vol. XVII, No. 2.
--The Official Record of the Union and Confederate Armies in the War of the Rebellion
--South Carolina Department of Archives and History, Columbia, S.C.
--U.S. Military History Institute, Carlisle Barracks, Carlisle, Pa.

The author owes gratitude to the following for their interest and invaluable contributions that made the story of Sims’ canteen possible:
Brent C. Brown, Sumter, S.C.
Margo W. Everett, Walterboro, S.C.
Louise Arnold-Friend, Carlisle, Pa.
Patrick McCawley, Columbia, S.C.
Glenn F. McConnell, Charleston, S.C.
Russell Thurmond, Sumter, S.C.
Kipp Valentine, Charleston, S.C.
Dave Williams, Hanover, Pa.