“Every soldier who participated in that mission received the Medal of Honor, except for two soldiers who died because of that operation, but who never received that honor,” Biden said. “Today, we are righting that wrong.”
The event ended a decades-long campaign by the men’s families to rectify what they and many historians saw as an unfair error in recognizing all those involved in what became known as the Great Engine Race.
Shadrach and Wilson were part of a group of 24 men who carried out this audacious plan in April 1862, commandeering a train out of Atlanta and carving a 90-mile path of destruction through northern Georgia to the Tennessee border, with adversaries in hot pursuit. When the chase ended, the attackers were captured and eight of them were executed. Most escaped, but several were held as prisoners of war for nearly a year.
Nineteen soldiers received the Medal of Honor, including the first ever awarded, for their role in the mission. (Several were honored posthumously.) Another soldier, captured before the raid began, later refused the award, historians say. Two other soldiers involved were civilians and were not awarded the medal.
In an emotional discussion with reporters Tuesday, descendants of Shadrach and Wilson were filled with pride knowing that the efforts of their ancestors and the grassroots lobbying of their families, alongside historians, would finally be recognized.
Some of those who made the trek to Washington had known the story for a long time. Others, including Wilson’s great-great-granddaughter, Theresa Chandler, learned from the military only four years ago that her lineage included a prominent Civil War figure.
Now 85, she says it has reshaped a legacy almost lost to history.
“I would have given anything,” she said, “to be able to say, ‘Grandpa, tell me about it… What was it like?'”
The mission was born out of a desire to destroy the South’s ability to move troops and military equipment.
Major General Ormsby M. Mitchel, assigned by the Union to the Tennessee campaign, pondered how best to attack Chattanooga, a well-defended Confederate stronghold located along vital water and rail routes. If invaded head-on, the rebels could flood the area with wagon reinforcements from the south and overwhelm the American forces, he concluded.
James J. Andrews, a Northern civilian spy, came up with an innovative solution. A small team of volunteers was to travel 200 miles into Confederate territory, dressed as civilians, steal a locomotive, then destroy the tracks and burn the bridges to strangle the secessionists’ supply lines.
The plan ran into problems from the start, said Shane Makowicki, a historian at the U.S. Army Center of Military History. It had rained before the mission, making it difficult to light the bridges. Soldiers lacked tools and had to improvise, he said. And while some had experience with trains, little or no preparation had been made in advance.
“It’s a testament to the courage and heroism of these men who volunteered for this mission,” Makowicki said. “Today, if we were to send people out to do this, it would take months, if not weeks, of specialized training.”
The mission, led by Andrews, began north of Atlanta in present-day Kennesaw, Georgia, where the team seized a locomotive named the General and its three boxcars. Driver William Fuller gathered a posse and gave chase on foot before seizing a handcar and eventually several more locomotives to catch up with the Union soldiers.
The raiding party made periodic stops to tear up railroad ties and cut telegraph wires to prevent other Confederate troops from learning of the raid. Trains coming onto the single track forced the general to stop several times, according to an Army mission summary.
In other cases, the raiders used subterfuge to get past authorities. At one stop, Andrews told the stationmaster that he had orders from General P.G.T. Beauregard to deliver ammunition to Confederate troops in Chattanooga. The stationmaster let them pass.
As Fuller and his party approached, Union raiders aboard the General, short of wood to fuel the engine, abandoned the locomotive 18 miles from Chattanooga, according to the Army. The men scattered, but all were eventually captured within two weeks.
Chattanooga fell the following year.
Andrews and seven others, including Shadrach, 21, and Wilson, 32, They were tried as spies and saboteurs and hanged. Jacob Parrott, who was severely beaten in captivity, was among those who survived the ordeal and later made history as the first military member to receive the Medal of Honor.
Historians and family members can only speculate about why Shadrach and Wilson were overlooked for so long. The unit was subsequently involved in heavy fighting, and officers who might have followed such exploits were transferred to other units, said Brad Quinlin, a historian and author involved in the defense of the men’s Medal of Honor.
Some members of the Shadrach family have been pushing for the award since the Carter administration, they said. A 2008 budget bill called for the medal to be awarded to both men, but momentum didn’t pick up until 2012, when Quinlin and family member Ron Shadrach met. They then submitted new evidence to defense officials for review.
“There was nothing in any of my research, no documentation, that said these men didn’t do what other people did,” Quinlin said.
Although the mission ultimately failed, it is remembered as a defining moment of the Civil War and has spawned books and films, including Buster Keaton’s “The General” in 1926 and “The Great Engine Chase” in 1956.
Brian Taylor, Shadrach’s great-great-nephew, said he was amazed by the family history he learned, and doing it with his father strengthened their relationship. They affectionately call Shadrach “Uncle Robber,” and Taylor once went aboard the General, now a museum piece in Georgia.
Before the White House ceremony, Taylor strummed an acoustic guitar and sang a song he wrote about the mission. “Do it for the glory, boys,” he sang, “because you may not find your way home tonight.”
News Source : www.washingtonpost.com
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