This post is part of a series. Check out the Introduction, Part 1, and Part 2.
Johnson Hagood’s men were trapped! Due to poor intelligence from their division commander, they had foolishly charged into a moat at the base of a reentry angle in the Union line. Union infantry fire hit them from front and left flank, and Union artillery blasted canister from their right. How would they get out of this?
At this crucial moment, a Union officer offered Hagood’s men an olive branch. Amid the chaotic exchange of gunfire, Captain Dennis Burke Dailey of Brig. Gen. Lysander Cutler’s staff rode between the lines. (Capt. Dailey served as Provost Marshal for the 4th Division, 5th Corps.) Mounting his bay horse, he galloped toward the nearest sally-port, ordering the nearby Union infantry to cease firing. Dailey came out in front of the 27th South Carolina, and seeing the enemy color bearer in front of him, he demanded the surrender of the flag. It was a timely request. Hagood’s men had just reached their breaking point. In the center of the line, a cluster of men from the 27th South Carolina raised their hands as a token of surrender. So remembered Confederate staff officer Thomas J. Mackey, “The color-sergeant, seemingly dazed, or perhaps paralyzed by the sublime effrontery of the demand, surrendered the colors.”
This photograph depicts Dennis Dailey as captain. This is probably how he looked during the Battle of Globe Tavern. |
Promptly, Dailey grabbed the emblem, which happened to be a
state flag with the arms of South Carolina emblazoned on it. With the captured flag in
hand, Dailey shouted to all the rebels in the vicinity. If they
surrendered, the Union troops behind the earthworks would cease firing and spare
their lives. Dailey recollected, “A number of both officers and men, deeming
their plight a hopeless one, obeyed the order almost mechanically.” They tossed
their weapons aside. Slowly but surely, they forded the moat and began filing
up the escarpment.
Brig. Gen. Hagood was only 75 yards away from this scene. He had other ideas. Believing he could still extract his brigade from the
deathtrap into which it had charged, he shouted from his position behind the 21st
South Carolina that someone needed to shoot the intruding Union officer and reclaim the 27th
South Carolina’s flag. Unfortunately for him, no one listened. Recollected
Hagood, “They either did not hear me or bewildered by the surrender of part of
their number, failed to obey.”
Hagood was beside himself with shame. He was
a diehard rebel with a vicious hatred of abolitionists; he couldn’t bear to
witness his whole brigade march into enemy lines as prisoners. He recollected, “It
was a critical moment and demanded instant and decided action. In a few minutes
the disposition to surrender would have spread and the whole brigade [would] have
been lost.”
With a wounded orderly—Pvt. Dwight Stoney—behind him, Hagood
pushed his way through the ranks, turned right, and began running along the
front of his brigade. The Union soldiers, who were still inside the parapet, and
who were only 30 yards away, began firing at the fleet-footed general, but they
failed to bring him down. As he ran along the line, Hagood drew his pistol and
began firing at Dailey, but at such a great distance, his first shots had no
effect. Eventually, Hagood came face to face with Dailey, who was
superintending the movement of the Confederate prisoners into the Union
earthworks. It was then that they had their parley.
There are several postwar versions of the conversation that followed. They are all basically the same, but there is a little variation between them. By combining these accounts, I’ve cobbled together the most plausible exchange of words. So please keep in mind, the dialogue that follows is a composite version of what happened.
As soon as he came on the scene, with his free hand, Hagood seized
the bridle of Dailey’s horse. In his other hand, Hagood held his cocked
revolver, which he leveled at Dailey’s chest. Meanwhile, Dailey had one hand on
the reins and another hand on the furled flag, which he held
upright, ferrule resting on the pommel of his saddle.
Angrily, Hagood barked, “Give me that flag, sir!”
A bit shocked, Dailey asked, “Who are you?”
Hagood replied, “I command this brigade. I admire your
bravery. Give me the flag, and you shall return unmolested to your own lines.”
Dailey did not see any reason to believe Hagood’s bluster.
He replied, “Your command has surrendered and you are a prisoner.”
Hagood rejoined, “No one but myself has any authority to
surrender and I do not propose to do so. Return the flag and you are at liberty
to return to your own lines!”
Hagood’s posturing still had no effect. Dailey replied, “You
have made a brave fight, General, but if you will look behind you, you will see
that you are lost.” Nodding, Dailey gestured to the west.
Hagood looked behind him and could see a crowd of Union troops—men from Griffin’s division—had exited from the protruding
earthwork that encased Martin’s battery. They were now cutting off Hagood’s
retreat.
Before Dailey could say anything else, Hagood cut him off. Peremptorily,
he demanded, “Will you surrender that flag, sir, immediately, yes or no?”
Hagood had drawn his proverbial line in the sand.
This is the way Hagood later remembered what happened next:
Daly [sic] was a man of fine presence and sat with loosened
rein upon a noble-looking bay that stood with head and tail erect and flashing
eye and distended nostrils, quivering in every limb with excitement, but not
moving in his tracks. In reply to [my] abrupt demand, the rider raised his head
proudly and decisively answered, “No!”
As Dailey remembered it, his reply was: “By the living God, NO!”
With that, Hagood fired his pistol, just once, at close
range. The ball entered Dailey’s right side, passed through his abdomen, but
stopped inside his backbone. Dailey toppled over backwards, his hand still clutching
the 27th South Carolina’s flag.
Turning to the Confederate soldiers in his vicinity, Hagood
shouted, “Run for it, men!”
Pvt. Stoney pulled the 27th South Carolina’s flag
from the Dailey’s grip. Both he and Hagood assumed the pistol shot had killed
him. Meanwhile, Hagood mounted Dailey’s horse, and putting spurs to him,
dashed off to his own lines. Some of his soldiers obeyed his orders, turning
about and attacking Dushane’s Marylanders, who were in between them and
freedom. Shrapnel from an exploding shell likely fired by Hart’s battery
mortally wounded Captain Dailey’s horse.
The horse—whose name is lost to history—received a wound
in the loin. It went down in a tumble, trapping Hagood beneath him. Another
officer—Second Lieut. William J. Taylor of the 7th South Carolina
Battalion—arrived to help Hagood, pulling him from beneath the dying animal. In the
horse’s last gasps, he kicked Taylor in the head, which concussed him so badly
that an enlisted soldier had to lead him to the rear. According to a postwar source,
Taylor suffered a permanent brain injury from the kick. In 1894,
Hagood’s staff officer, Mackey, said that Taylor “never entirely recovered.”
Only a portion of Hagood’s brigade managed to escape. When
it collected near the Vaughn Road, 449 officers and men (60% of the original complement) were missing. Union
forces reported the capture of 517 prisoners. Most of these came from Hagood’s
brigade, but a few belonged to other units in Mahone’s division. The 5th
Corps infantry captured six enemy flags from the field and they buried 211 enemy soldiers.
Although the 27th South Carolina’s flag got away, thanks to the
efforts of Captain Dailey, many of Hagood’s brigade did not.
What happened to Dailey and Hagood after the battle? Find out in the last part!
Glenn Dedmondt in his book about South Carolina flags drew a color picture of the encounter between Dailey and Hagood. Do you know where to contact Dedmondt?
ReplyDeleteJohn, thanks for sharing! I didn't know that a modern artist had made a depiction of this event. I'll see if I can find a copy. I've never contacted Dedmondt before.
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