Of all the executions conducted by the Army of the Potomac in 1863,
there was only one that did not fall on a Friday. On Saturday, August 29,
the 5th Corps executed five men belonging to the 118th
Pennsylvania. Initially, all five were scheduled to face firing squads on
the previous day, but due to a prolonged dialogue between Abraham Lincoln and
George Meade, the executions were postponed by twenty-four hours.
The men slated for execution were:
·
Private Charles Walter (sometimes listed as
Charles Zene), 118th Pennsylvania
·
Private Emil Lae (sometimes listed as Emile
Duffie or Emil Duffe), 118th Pennsylvania
·
Private George Kuhne (sometimes listed as George
Week), 118th Pennsylvania
·
Private John Rainese (sometimes listed as George
Rionese), 118th Pennsylvania
·
Private John Folaney (sometimes listed as John
Folancy), 118th Pennsylvania
All five men had enlisted that summer, going to the front as substitutes of
drafted men. Murmurs of disgust echoed through the army after the rulings of the
courts-martial had been issued. Four of the accused did not speak English, none
of them had been given defense attorneys (or even been made aware that they could
request counsel), and two of the trials were conducted in less than twenty
minutes. The executions “ought not to have taken place,” wrote the 118th
Pennsylvania’s chaplain years later.
Although he knew few of the details of the sketchy trials, Captain
Francis Donaldson of the 118th Pennsylvania fretted about the coming
execution in a letter to his brother. Clearly divided even in his own opinion,
Donaldson could not stand in strong support of the executions, nor in rigid condemnation of them. In the
past, he wrote, deserters had always been pardoned, “But now the law is to take
its course. . . . My God! What a wretched, horrible predicament they are in.
Enough to move the heart of stone. They have our most sincere sympathy, at the
same time we approve the sentence. This has been a case of aggravated and
systematic ‘bounty jumping,’ and they will be shot like dogs. Awful, most
awful. I can write no more, the thought of this bloody execution sickens me.”
Realizing that President Lincoln was their only option for mercy, the
five convicted deserters convinced someone to send him a telegram, which arrived at
the White House on August 26 at 4:45 P.M.: “We the undersigned sentenced to
suffer death for desertion, . . . humbly beg that you exercise your authority
to commute our sentence, to imprisonment & hard labor, for any term of
years, you may see fit, as we each have wives & children, depending upon us.”
Lincoln was not in the mood to consider their appeal. The next day, he
telegraphed General Meade this response: “Walter, Rainese, Faline, Lae, & Kuhne
appeal to me for mercy, without giving any ground for it whatever. I understand
these are very flagrant cases, and that you deem their punishment as being
indispensable to the service. If I am not mistaken in this, please let them
know at once that their appeal is denied.” General Meade’s reply, which came a
short time later, supported the President’s decision. These five men, Meade explained, would be
the first substitutes executed by the army for the crime of desertion, and he
considered it vital to make an example of them. He wrote, “They . . . being the first of this class whose cases came
before me, I believed that humanity, the safety of this Army, and the most vital
interests of the Country, required their prompt execution as an example.”
Due to the question of the appeal, Meade postponed the execution until
Saturday, although he still required it to take place between the hours of noon
and 4 P.M. Thus, at 2:30 P.M., August 29, at the 5th Corps
encampment near Beverly Ford, the entire corps formed on a slight rise of
ground, and took the shape of a three-sided box with an opening near the five
graves. The firing party consisted of eighty men; however, only forty of them possessed live rounds. At 3 P.M., the funeral procession appeared,
starting with a brass band playing the “March of Saul,” followed by a provost
guard of sixty men, then the five condemned men, then squads of eight carrying
the coffins, and three chaplains (one priest, one rabbi, and one Protestant minister).
The procession and prayers took about forty-five minutes to complete, and soon, the time approached fifteen minutes until the 4 P.M. deadline. As Captain
Donaldson remembered, Major General Charles Griffin’s “shrill and penetrating
voice was heard above the awful silence—‘Shoot these men, or after 10 minutes
it will be murder. Shoot them at once!’”
Hastily, the sergeant of the guard tied handkerchiefs around the
condemned men and the chaplains offered a few last-minute goodbyes. Donaldson
narrated the next few minutes:
They hadn’t long to
wait. ‘Attention guard,’ in the clear ringing tones called Capt. [James D.]
Orne, ‘shoulder arms.’ ‘Forward march,’ and the solid steady tramp of the
detail sounded appalling on the ear. Within 6 paces, ‘Halt,’ ordered the
Captain. ‘Ready.’ ‘Aim.’ ‘Fire,’ and sixty pieces flashed full in the breasts
of the deserters, and military justice was satisfied.
Four of the deserters slammed back on their coffins, upon which they
were sitting, and the fifth remained upright. Captain Orne called up a surgeon
to ask if the upright man was dead, as he intended to use his pistol on him if the
musketry had failed to deliver a mortal blow. The surgeon pronounced the
upright man dead, and with that, the burial details began boxing the remains,
burying the coffins, and marking the graves. As the 5th Corps
marched off the field, the brass band played a cheery tune, “The Girl I Left Behind Me.”
The soldiers who witnessed the executions of the five 118th
Pennsylvania deserters tended to disagree on the results of what they had seen.
Some confirmed what Donaldson claimed, that the band played merry tunes as the soldiers marched off the
field. Others, however, argued that the exit was quiet and depressing. “Silently we viewed
the solemn spectacle,” wrote a Massachusetts soldier years later, “and as
silently returned to camp—not with cheerful, martial airs, as when a faithful
soldier, having met a soldier’s death, is left to his last repose, but with the
sad ceremony uneffaced, and all deeply
impressed with the ignominy of such an end.” A Pennsylvania officer expressed a
sterner opinion: “Men who sell their blood for money and then desert deserve no
sympathy.”
For the first two months, the Army of the Potomac had killed eight
veterans who had deserted the cause. Now, five “bounty jumpers” had been added
to the pile. They were not the last.
This sketch depicts the procession. Careful examination shows the coffins, the priest, the minister, and the rabbi.
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This sketch by Alfred Waud depicts the execution, although taken from a great distance.
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Here's another sketch, but this one emphasizing the firing party. |
Here's one more, based on the long shot above, showing the grandeur of the 5th Corps as it watched the five deserters die. |
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