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THIS DAY IN CIVIL WAR HISTORY: President Lincoln presents the Emancipation Proclamation to his Cabinet. Announced one week after a Union victory at the Battle of Antietam, the edict redefines the Union's war aim from reunification to the abolition of slavery. Saying that all slaves in territory still in rebellion as of Jan. 1, 1863, will be free, it is one of the most important acts in American history, and sabotages Confederate attempts to gain recognition by foreign governments. STEALING THE GENERAL By RUSSELL S. BONDS WESTHOLME PUBLISHING, Yardley, Pa., 464 pages, $29.95

September 22, 2007 12:35 am

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This 1864 photo is probably of the General, which staged a daring Union raid on the Western & Atlantic Railroad. tcGeneral.jpg.jpg

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FEW EVENTS in the American Civil War have achieved the iconic status of the Andrews Raid. The Raid, also known as the Great Locomotive Chase, has become part of American folklore, a tale of daring and adventure made all the more remarkable because its events are true.

In April 1862, contraband trader and sometime Union informant James J. Andrews led a group of 20-odd Union soldiers, Ohio boys mostly, on a secret mission to steal a train and disrupt Confederate rail operations in northern Georgia. By damaging the state-owned Western & Atlantic Railroad line between Atlanta and Chattanooga, Tenn., the raiders hoped to prevent Confederate forces in Georgia from sending supplies and soldiers north to Tennessee.

A Union force led by Gen. O.M. Mitchell was thrashing about in northern Alabama, accomplishing little in the way of long-term strategic value. But Mitchell aimed to move eastward and liberate the largely pro-Union territory of eastern Tennessee, a long-held Union objective. Mitchell hoped that by neutralizing the rail line, he could move on eastern Tennessee without having to worry about Confederate reinforcements.

On the morning of April 12, Andrews and his party, dressed as civilians, boarded a northbound train at Marietta, Ga. When the train made a regularly scheduled breakfast stop at a railroad eating house at Big Shanty (now Kennesaw), Andrews and his men quietly stole forward, uncoupled the locomotive and three boxcars, and steamed north before anyone knew what was happening.

As they sped away, the raiders cut telegraph wires and tried to dislodge rails. One thing the raiders discovered, as would many a cavalryman during the war, was that rails are not easily loosened from their moorings. Even with many hands straining at the effort, the raiders managed to dislodge only one rail before resuming their flight north.

Back at Big Shanty, W&A conductor William A. Fuller was livid that someone had stolen his train. Amid the laughter and catcalls of those milling about the station, Fuller, accompanied by locomotive engineer Jefferson Cain and railroad foreman Anthony Murphy, took off on foot after the stolen train. Fuller and his posse soon encountered a track gang with a handcar, which they commandeered. At a spot where the raiders had dislodged a rail, Fuller and his men were thrown when their car was derailed, but soon righted the car and continued their chase.

Unaware that they were being pursued, the raiders continued northward at a normal pace, making their train's scheduled stops and informing the curious that they were running a special ammunition train to Gen. P.G.T. Beauregard in Tennessee. Unfortunately for the raiders, their forward progress was hampered by extra trains evacuating residents and property from Chattanooga southward on the single-track line as a result of Mitchell's actions in eastern Alabama. Also, the raiders' objective of burning bridges was thwarted by a steady rain that began falling.

After enduring several tense and agonizing delays at various points as they waited for southbound trains, the raiders eventually got a clear track and sped northward, their efforts to damage the rail line hampered by the rain, a lack of tools and the sudden realization that they were being pursued.

Conductor Fuller and his accomplices had traded up from the handcar to a couple of steam locomotives they encountered, until they finally met up with the W&A locomotive Texas, every bit as worthy a machine as the General. Running backward, the Texas soon caught up with the General.

From then on it was an even race, the raiders desperately trying to stave off capture by dropping ties onto the track and uncoupling their boxcars until they were left with only the General.

Despite the obstacles thrown at them, the Southern pursuers continued almost fanatically onward. Finally, out of both wood and water and losing steam pressure, the raiders abandoned the General near Ringgold, Ga., and took to the woods. All were captured within a week.

For the raiders, the key to their survival would hinge upon whether they would be considered soldiers or merely spies bent on causing harm. As soldiers, they would be treated according to the norms of wartime, with the likelihood of being exchanged as prisoners of war. But if they were deemed spies, the raiders could expect little else but a trip to the gallows.

The raiders soon found themselves on trial. The Confederate courts-martial ignored their claims of being soldiers, instead condemning them as spies. After being transferred to Atlanta, Andrews and seven of the raiders were soon hanged.

Expecting the same outcome, the remaining raiders plotted to escape. Despite being in the heart of the Confederacy, surrounded by guards and soldiers, eight raiders managed to overpower their captors and escape into the countryside. Traveling in pairs, the escapees somehow managed to elude capture and all made it to Union territory and eventually returned to active duty. The remaining handful were finally exchanged and likewise rejoined their former comrades.

In recognition of their efforts, Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton awarded the first batch of the newly authorized, newly minted Medal of Honor to the surviving raiders.

The story of the raid has been retold many times through dozens of books and countless magazine and newspaper articles. Twice, the raid has been the basis for a movie, one comical (Buster Keaton's "The General") and one serious (The Walt Disney Co.'s "The Great Locomotive Chase").

The locomotive at the heart of the matter, the General, is probably the most visually reproduced piece of machinery in history. It has appeared in drawings, photographs, paintings and sculptures. It has turned up in children's books and on playing cards. It has been re-created in models of all sizes, both serious and grotesque. It has even been used as a motif for liquor decanters.

At almost any given moment, items of "Generalabilia" can be found for sale on Internet auction sites, along with pamphlets and books about the raid.

The raid itself lasted barely seven hours. Yet almost since that time the General was abandoned near Ringgold, the raid has attracted the attention of researchers and writers, including many words written by the participants themselves. Honestly, the raid has attracted attention grossly out of proportion to its importance to the conduct or outcome of the war.

In 2000, the National Railway Historical Society published a bibliography of materials related to the subject of the railroads in the Civil War. Nearly three dozen entries were listed for the raid, far more than for any other single topic. Now, in spite of all the words already written, yet another book has appeared about the raid.

"Stealing the General" by Russell S. Bonds is the latest, and hopefully the last, such account. The first major book about the raid published in about 50 years, "Stealing the General" is the best book-length study of the raid and the only volume the curious reader should ever need. (A highly enjoyable photo history, "The General and the Texas" by Stan Cohen and Col. James G. Bogle, appeared in 1999, though it is far from comprehensive.)

Bonds, an Atlanta lawyer, does the best job of giving the reader an understanding of why Mitchell approved the raid, of what the raiders hoped to accomplish and how it fit into Union strategy. The depth of his research is evident from the amazing detail he provides on every aspect of the raid, including the yearlong aftermath of captivity, trials, escapes and executions. Further, Bonds dwells at length on the awarding of Medals of Honor and the relationships among the raiders, and even the pursuers, in the years after the war.

Bonds turns out to be the perfect person to write a book about the raid, by virtue of his legal training. Most of those involved in the raid, on both sides, left some sort of written account of of the event. The problem, though, is that quite a number of those accounts were written years, sometimes decades, after the raid, a point at which memories begin to fade. What is more, some used the opportunity to write as a means of building up their reputations or savaging the reputations of others.

Bonds, as an attorney, was able to sift through these depositions and glean what was truthful. He also points out occasions where conflicts exist among the accounts. By comparing and contrasting the conflicting memories, Bonds suggests the most likely scenario, giving us a much better understanding of the raid.

After its useful service ended about 1892, the General was restored to its wartime appearance and displayed at the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago. For many years thereafter, the General appeared at various exhibitions. In anticipation of the war's centennial, the General was again restored and, under steam, visited a number of Southern and Eastern states.

The General visited Fredericksburg in April and May 1963, parked for two days on the siding leading to the Janney Marshall Co. near the train station, where the public could visit. In a Free Lance-Star article on May 2, 1963, the Richmond, Fredericksburg & Potomac Railroad's longtime Fredericksburg station agent, Edward H. Cann, reported that at least 6,500 people had toured the General.

Today, the General is housed in the Southern Museum of Civil War and Locomotive History in Kennesaw. The locomotive Texas--the real hero of the day, as it was the Texas that chased down and captured the General, a point often overlooked--also survived the war and today resides in the Cyclorama Building in Atlanta.

Lawrence R. Duffee, a historian who lives in Stafford County, is a longtime member of the Rappahannock Chapter of the National Railway Historical Society. E-mail him in care of
Email: gwoolf@freelancestar.com.







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