One
of the most significant catalysts for the American Civil War took place
in Harpers Ferry, Va, in October of 1859. In his plan to free the slaves
by armed force, the abolitionist John Brown, along with a force of 18 men
which included several of his own sons, took nine citizens and one dog
hostage and occupied the engine house in the picturesque village that was
to change hands many times during the course of the coming conflict. One
of the citizen hostages, the owner of the dog, was Col. Lewis W. Washington,
grand nephew of George Washington. The dog, Bob, had been born without
a tail, and was known to be very aloof and surly, even to his master. However,
on the day of Col. Washington's capture, Bob's personality changed forever.
When Washington was abducted and confined to the engine house, Bob followed,
dogging his master's trail. No one, not even the charismatic John Brown,
could persuade the dog to leave, and Bob stayed with his master until the
hostages were released the following day after a battle between John Brown's
men and the local militia led by Col. Robert E. Lee. Brown, of course,
was arrested, charged, convicted and hanged in December of 1859, but Bob
lived for many years after the incident, much favored by his master. At
his death, Bob was buried in the plantation garden.
That would appear to be the end of the tale but for one thing. Stories
of the supernatural appearance of John Brown pervade Harpers Ferry to this
day. Some have reported watching a man that looks exactly like John Brown
walk along the street in front of the stores with a large dog at his side.
When they reach the fire engine house, both vanish through the closed door.
Could it be that even in death, John Brown cannot persuade Bob to leave?
Napoleon
wrote that when two armies are probing about, a battle can be brought on
by a dogfight. Indeed, at Gettysburg, it was the skirmishers that set the
pace for the hot fighting of the first day of that battle.
The battle waged fiercely in the sultry heat of July 1, 1863. At the
end of the Union battle line atop Oak Ridge near the Pennsylvania hamlet
of Gettysburg, a small dog took her position, barking as loudly as she
could at the Confederate enemy who could not hear her above the fusilade.
The dog named Sallie had been given to the 11th PA Infantry when she was
a puppy, and had become a comrade-in-arms, enduring the tedious marches,
the heat, cold and wet of camp life, and now, the danger of battle. Sallie
was said to hate three things: rebels, democrats and women. As the battle
wore on, the 11th PA was forced to retreat across the fields, and the men
lost track of Sallie in the confusion. Somewhere in those crop-filled fields,
Sallie must have been separated from the retreating men belonging to Pennsylvania,
Massachusetts, New York and Maine units as they fled into town, following
the railroad bed to the west and passing through the area that is now Gettysburg
College. Although she was tired, doggedly she kept going, searching for
her friends.
Unable to find her comrades of the 11th PA, Sallie returned to the ridge
where the battle had taken place, and there she lay down among her fallen
friends. Sallie stood guard over her dead and wounded, and when the Confederates
retreated, a member of the 12th Mass. found her still lying there, weak
from lack of food, but otherwise unharmed.
Sallie was returned to the 11th PA and served with them faithfully until
Feb. 1865, two months before the war's end. After the battle of Hatcher's
Run, Va, Sallie was found on the battlefield, shot through the head. The
men buried her on the field of battle, despite heavy fire from the enemy.
Today, visitors to the Gettysburg Battlefield will find a statue commemorating
the heroic dead of the 11th PA as they drive through Doubleday Ave. The
soldier atop the monument faces the field, not the road, and few visitors
bother to get out of their cars to examine the entire monument. If they
did, they would find another statue at the front base of the 11th PA monument,
that of a small, brave dog called Sallie.
Mrs.
Pfieff, like many other widows of Union soldiers killed in the battle
of Shiloh, had traveled all the way from Chicago to Tennessee to find her
dear husband's dead body and take it back home. Travel was hard in 1862,
especially for ladies traveling alone, but Mrs. Pfieff was determined that
her husband's remains be returned home for his reburial.
When she arrived at the battlefield, she searched tirelessly among the
markers of the thousands of hastily dug graves of the Union troops that
had died during the two days of fierce fighting on April 6 and 7. Casualties
numbered 10,000 on each side, she had been told, but she only cared about
one -- the casualty of Lt. Louis Pfieff of the 3rd Illinois Infantry.
At the end of the day, Mrs. Pfieff was about to give up. No one had
been able to direct her to the grave of her husband. Discouraged and grief
stricken, the widow looked up from the burial field and saw a large dog
coming toward her. As the beast approached, Mrs. Pfieff recognized her
own dog, one that her husband had taken with him when he had left Illinois.
The dog seemed pleased to see her and she knelt and hugged the animal,
burying her face in the animal's coarse fur.
When at last Mrs. Pfieff stood, the dog began to move away from her,
looking back at her from time to time, beseeching her to follow. The dog
led the widow to a distant part of the burial field and stopped before
a single unmarked grave that stood apart from the others. Trusting the
dog to lead her to her husband, Mrs. Pfieff requested that the grave be
opened. Sure enough, the grave contained the remains of Lt. Pfieff. Later,
the widow learned that the dog had been by Pfieff's side when he was shot,
and had remained at his master's burial site for 12 days, only leaving
his post long enough to get food and water.
Among the photographs that hang in the Allegheny County Soldiers
and Sailors Memorial Hall in Pittsburg, is a faded image of a black and
white dog with a woeful look that belies his battlefield bravery. However,
the feisty bull terrier named Jack became legend in his own time. The most
delightful version of Jack's exploits can be found in the book: Dog
Jack, by Florence Biros.
Dog Jack raced across battlefields in Virginia and Maryland with his
regiment, the volunteer firemen of Niagara, PA. His comrades claimed that
Jack understood bugle calls, and that after a battle he could be counted
upon to help search out the dead and wounded of his regiment.
Jack's military career was eventful. According to a regimental historian,
Jack was wounded at the battle of Malvern Hill, but recovered and was captured
by Confederates at Savage's Station. Somehow, he escaped. Jack survived
the battle of Antietam on Sept 17, 1862, in which over 23,000 were killed,
missing or wounded.
Jack's luck appeared to be running out when he was severely wounded
at Fredericksburg three months later, but his companions nursed him back
to health. Then, at Salem Church, he ws taken prisoner by the CSA for the
second time. Six months later, Jack was exchanged according to wartime
protocol, Yankee pirsoner traded for CSA prisoner, at Belle Isle. The spirited
terrier rejoined his regiment and stayed with them through the Wilderness
and Spotsylvania campaigns and the siege of Petersburg. Jack's regiment
was so grateful for his service and companionship that they collected enough
money to purchase a beautiful silver collar, worth $75.00, which they ceremoniously
presented to their canine friend in tribute to Jack's indomitable spirit
and scrappy character.
On the evening of Dec. 23, 1864, Jack disappeared from his regiment,
which was on furlough at Frederick, Md. His final disappearance, like his
life, is also the stuff of legend, for although the men looked all over
for their dog-gone mascot, Jack had simply vanished and was never seen
or heard from again.
