Sultana: Surviving the Civil War, Prison, and the Worst Maritime Disaster in American History
“One of the most riveting war stories I have ever read….Huffman’s smooth, intimate prose ushers you through this nightmare as if you were living it yourself.”
—Sebastian Junger, author of The Perfect Storm
The dramatic true story of the worst maritime disaster in U.S. history, Alan Huffman’s Sultana brings to breathtaking life a tragic, long forgotten event in America’s Civil War—the sinking of the steamship Sultana and the loss of 1,700 lives, mostly Union soldiers returning home from Confederate prison camps. A gripping account that reads like a nonfiction Cold Mountain, Sultana is powerful, moving, rich in irony and fascinating historical detail—a story no history aficionado or Civil War buff will want to miss.
Disciplined, thieving, rude to other soldiers and civilians, and gutless during a fight. The truth may be immediate and undeniable, but the record evolves over time. All the conflicting forces that war brought to bear—the weather, the individual soldiers’ moods, the acumen of the generals, and the lay of the land—were subject to continual change. In camp, on the battlefield, and on the march, everyone triangulated to determine the character of those they fought alongside, and a significant.
Best for my horses and am sorry for them;” Adams wrote, “but all war is cruel and it is my business to bring every man I can into the presence of the enemy, and so make war short. So I have but one rule, a horse must go until he can’t be spurred any further, and then the rider must get another horse as soon as he can seize on one.” “Every few weeks a veterinary surgeon would look over the sick-list of animals, and prescribe for such as seemed worth saving or within the reach of treatment, while.
Rain began to fall the morning of March 29 and continued all day. The men walked seventeen miles that first day, to near Bolton, Mississippi. After crossing the Big Black River, the prisoners made their way to the sprawling encampment of tents known as Camp Fisk, which straddled the rail line into Vicksburg. There they exchanged their dirty rags for clean clothes, wrote letters, rested, and gorged themselves on hardtack and boiled cabbage. Soon the rations would be limited because a few.
Was searching for his father’s body. “Together he and I opened more than a hundred coffins on the wharf,” Elliott wrote, “hoping to have the satisfaction of giving him a burial, that his body should not be lodged on some bar to become food for fishes.” It is hard to imagine a more daunting task than peering into a hundred coffins containing the remains of people who had died in every conceivable horrible way, and Safford was no doubt equivocal about finding his father there. Though he.
Way that brings to mind a nineteenth-century Edward Norton. Then, in the next photo, taken after his return, the real change comes. As in every other photographic portrait of him, his hair is carefully coiffed and he is dressed to the nines. But he looks much older, more rugged and worn. His expression is defiant. Though Tolbert moved back into his mother’s house and began trying to reconstruct his life, the war was clearly still on his mind. The Courier reported that he and Maddox attended the.