Download t`s astonishing just how small Fort Sumter, S.C., is. Five minutes at a

Some interiors and gun emplacements of the Fort Sumter National Monument,
Charleston, S.C., have been restored by the National Park Service to depict
their Civil War state, but the overall look of the fort is far different today.
t’s astonishing just how small Fort Sumter, S.C., is.
Five minutes at a saunter will take most who walk
it across its breadth, from the entrance gate to the
far gun line.
A dark gray blockhouse impedes those who stroll
there today. It encased the command-and-control
center during World War II. Fort Sumter was an operational part of the Charleston Harbor defenses from its
beginning as the Civil War’s flashpoint to nearly the
Cold War, and adaptations made during both World
Wars and the Spanish-American War changed the fort.
It looks nothing like the night after Christmas in 1860,
when MAJ Robert Anderson withdrew his garrison
there for better force protection.
The outer walls are only one story tall now, shaved
from a three-story height. The original interior build-
56 ARMY ■ April 2011
ings are gone. Any brickwork not bashed to smithereens
when Union forces returned to reclaim the fort in 1865
was downed by later upgrades. Anderson’s garrison
burned most of the wooden structures as the artillerymen ripped them apart one by one for fuel to survive—
the cook shack consumed last in the desperation to
hang on.
At the end of Anderson’s occupation of the fort, the
garrison was on short rations that had been cut again.
Not much more than a day’s worth was left at that
trickle. Water was scarce and bad. Clothing and bedding cloth went to make cartridge casings, which gunners stitched with the seven needles on the property
book. Approximately 80 soldiers were isolated there for
nearly four months, enduring all the petty problems
that being too close for too long brings. Stress made
things tighter. Dwindling hope of reinforcement or rescue made things even worse.
Gone are the vestiges of how the soldiers endured,
but at the fort’s seaward side, Confederate state flags
now fly atop a ring of flagstaffs around a taller central
flagstaff bearing the U.S. colors. Memorializing the
losses on both sides, its design symbolizes restored allegiance under one flag. Despite its physical changes, Fort
Sumter remains perhaps the strongest symbol of the
Civil War, bookending its course from beginning to end.
In early 1861, the situation at Fort Sumter grabbed the
nation’s attention and held it. Although other U.S. military facilities in the South faced similar siege situations
under varying degrees of menace, Sumter was the most
prestigious and received the most press. Its ongoing
story was reported extensively in American newspa-
pers, and news of it was disseminated worldwide by
telegraph taps. It was the story of the day almost every
day and became the public focal point in a high-stakes
test of wills—national and personal. Great political and
strategic questions came to be embodied by the struggle
over Sumter.
Newspapers, magazines and, uniquely, battlefield
photography came to carry significant influence, shaping public opinion and pulling politicians along magnetically. The media assumed a newfangled power, too.
The Associated Press came into its own during the
war—a media game-changer on par with CNN’s 24/7
news cycle breakout during the Gulf War. Meanwhile,
local Charleston tensions were heightened by the city’s
firebrand paper The Charleston Mercury, pro-secession
and pouring fuel on the city’s rage.
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57
An artillery projectile is stuck in an
interior wall of Sumter, apparently
fired during the heavy Union
barrage in the late stage of the
Civil War as Northern forces
sought to retake the fort.
A heavy gun on its carriage
points toward Charleston
Harbor from Battery Park.
and allegations that he also drank too much and led too little. He was replaced by MAJ Anderson.
The threat skyrocketed, however, when the South Carolina
legislature ratified the December 20, 1860, secession declaration passed by a state convention. It was the first state to secede, and it was the cornerstone of the Confederacy. Mississippi, Florida, Alabama and Georgia followed quickly.
The issue of Fort Sumter increasingly chained both sides
to their own honor. Like a duel, events there would decide
whose honor was upheld. And, as in duels of the day,
honor could be upheld without bloodshed.
Above, the harbor side of Fort Sumter:
Tied up at the wharf is one of the
contractor vessels that shuttles visitors to
the site. The open area largely was ringed
and dotted by living quarters and various
shops when the Charleston garrison
withdrew there in 1861, and the exterior
was three stories tall. Right, the
monument’s displays include heavy
cannons used during the Civil War.
At Fort Sumter, the matter centered
on when, or whether, federal forces
would abandon it and accede to secessionist demands that U.S. authorities
turn over all federal facilities, including military establishments, within a
seceding state—imposed first by the
state of South Carolina and later the
centrally organized Confederate States
of America (CSA) in its nascent form.
o long as the fort held, symbolic
accession to the demands and declarations pressed upon it was denied, and, by extension, denied to
the fundamental questions orbiting
secession itself.
For both sides, it became a matter of
honor at the state and national levels,
more so directly at the scene of the
Charleston standoff. There, honor was
close and personal, and it was manifested in many ways. The affair was
conducted in a rather gentlemanly
fashion, up to a point. Personal honor
S
Civil War-era mortars sit in Charleston’s
Battery Park. Batteries there were at too
great a range for the attack on Fort Sumter,
but the site served as an observation point
for the citizens of Charleston.
58 ARMY ■ April 2011
any on the southern side believed in a best-case scenario, which was that the federals, afforded generous
fanfare and flourish, would march out peacefully—
drums beating and a transport ship waiting. The U.S.
flag would be lowered, folded and taken with them, and
the new Confederate flag would be raised, achieving the
desired end state. Neither side wanted
to shoot first, nor did the South want
its actions to appear barbarous.
The Sumter garrison’s mission was
to fly the flag for as long as possible, allowing time for a political settlement,
or holding out at least until the newly
elected President, Abraham Lincoln,
took office and issued further orders.
Anderson’s original directives were
ambiguous, with versions delivered
verbally at several political command
levels. Taken in net worth, however,
the orders as Anderson understood
them ran along this general track:
Don’t start a war by shooting first, and, by extension, don’t
raise southern hackles in other ways; hold out as long as
humanly possible to buy time and not disgrace the flag,
and take necessary actions to protect the garrison.
As it played out, the last general order was viewed differently in Washington after MAJ Anderson spirited his garrison from Fort Moultrie, S.C., to Fort Sumter less than a week
after South Carolina’s secession. Anderson’s move frazzled
hypersensitive political nerves—everything at the fort was
M
among America’s officer corps (though
it was splitting apart) drove duty.
Personal honor also strongly led civil
conduct among the upper economic
classes, especially in the South.
The direct threat to Fort Sumter began as occasional less-than-cordial
brushes in Charleston’s streets. The
threat level spiked when, in November 1860, the then-commander of the
Charleston garrison, brevet COL John
C. Gardiner, tried to take ammunition
from the arsenal, which was situated
in the city. A crowd turned back the
fort’s working party, and the ammunition was returned to the arsenal. The
incident caused secondary effects: Fort
Sumter would be short of ammo when
it was needed, and the commander
soon would be sacked, taking into account his behavior during the incident
The dark hulk of
the fort’s Word War
II command-andcontrol center
dominates the
central portion of
Sumter today.
OK as long as it stayed quiet. Reaction asserted that the garrison’s move went beyond Anderson’s authority to protect
his force, although no specific encumbrances on force protection had been placed on Anderson beforehand.
The then-Secretary of War telegraphed Anderson on December 27: “Intelligence has reached here this morning that
you have abandoned Fort Moultrie, spiked your guns,
burned the carriages and gone to Fort Sumter. It is not believed because there is no order for any such movement.
April 2011 ■ ARMY
59
Explain the meaning of this report. J.B. Floyd, Sec’y of War.”
South Carolinians viewed Anderson’s move as breaking
an agreement (an “understanding,” at least) to keep the status quo, which excluded moving in any direction except
away from Charleston.
Anderson simply saw a bad tactical military situation
and took the most prudent action available. The garrison
headquarters at Fort Moultrie could not be defended from
ground assault by the number of soldiers he had: nine line
officers, one surgeon, 19 NCOs, 48 privates and eight band
members (who probably were crosstrained rapidly).
The garrison also had about 20 family members and 43
construction workers to consider.
ort Moultrie occupies a position across the wide harbor
from the city of Charleston on Sullivan’s Island, which
was a resort property for Charleston’s elite. Their summer homes crept to the shadows of the fort’s walls, and
the island was readily accessible by land. Anderson’s father, MAJ Richard Anderson, had served there during the
Revolutionary War (then Fort Sullivan and renamed for the
commander and victorious defender of Charleston, BG
William Moultrie).
Militiamen began to arrive. Picket boats started to guard
the water approach. One assault could finish them. It was
time to go.
Anderson moved everybody—soldiers and family members alike—and all the stores, ammunition and equipment
that could be ferried by small boats to the better protection
of Fort Sumter. He even took some civilian workers—given
a quick loyalty assessment—because Sumter was not yet
F
The Fort Sumter flag was lowered in
1861 and carried out by the Union commander, MAJ Robert Anderson. He raised it again in
1865 as a retired major general to mark the fourth anniversary of the bombardment that started the Civil War.
A gun port faces
the harbor from
Fort Sumter.
The fort’s interior
World War II
blockhouse today
houses a visitor
center. A display
informs visitors
about the
Confederate
commanding
general at
Charleston, Pierre
Gustave Toutant
Beauregard.
60 ARMY ■ April 2011
A model in
Sumter’s visitor
center depicts the
fort as it appeared
in 1861.
April 2011 ■ ARMY
61
Artillery pieces top
the wall at Fort
Moultrie, S.C. MAJ
Anderson withdrew
his garrison from
Moultrie to Fort
Sumter during the
night of December
26, 1860, for better
force protection.
Confederate forces
quickly occupied
Moultrie and held
Sumter under its
guns.
fully completed. Aside from two captains, he gave the garrison only 30 minutes notice in order to better preserve the
plan’s security and keep the clamor short.
The operation was complex and studded with deceptions and feints. For example, boats carrying family members first went to another harbor fort, which was observable from Charleston, and the women and children
appeared to bed down for the night. Observers thought
they had arrived in anticipation of the garrison following.
Wrong. The boats headed back out as if they could be returning to Moultrie and veered instead into Sumter. Some
might call this audacious; the people of Charleston considered it skullduggery. It was a good plan.
s the night wore on, each subsequent lift had to avoid
the picket boats for a couple of miles to make Sumter,
rowing back and forth to shuttle cargo and passengers.
Yet the move was accomplished undetected. The last
men to leave Moultrie spiked the guns and set gun carriages ablaze. The flagstaff also was broken to deny it to
the enemy for his flag.
One very old retired sergeant and his wife were left behind
at an emplacement that was long their home with the request
that South Carolina forces treat them with dignity. They did.
Militia occupied the abandoned facilities, and Anderson
himself raised the U.S. colors above
Fort Sumter at noon while the chaplain prayed and soldiers saluted.
Sumter’s situation stabilized, politically and tactically, into a siege without fire. The garrison found itself on
an island—occupying a speck in Charleston Harbor that was a persistent irritation to southerners and increasingly
isolated from Washington.
A
Artillery pieces are displayed at Fort
Moultrie, which is maintained by the
National Park Service as part of the Fort
Sumter National Monument.
62 ARMY ■ April 2011
identified and signals attempted, but batteries manned by the South Carolina militia
and cadets from The Citadel (The Military
College of South Carolina) by then had
spotted it and opened fire, eventually hitting the ship with three rounds, which did
no significant damage.
(In historical fact, of course, these were the
first shots of the Civil War, but the eventual
direct attack on the fort received that credit,
arguably by choice at the time to avert pressure for retaliation, although southern delegations raised hell about it.)
After a while, the situation settled into an odd normalcy.
Charleston remained angry but accepted that the fort
would not hold out for long, based on what was being
heard in Washington and from federal envoys allowed to
visit the fort over time (another gentlemanly act). The trouble was that the federals never hit the time line, no matter
how often it was adjusted and accommodated.
During the early stages, not only could Sumter receive
emissaries, it could use the telegraph and mail, and for a
while fresh beef and other foods were delivered under preexisting contracts.
Things got uglier after Washington sent an unsuccessful
rescue mission.
The steamship Star of the West was loaded with provisions
and some 200 fresh troops during the first days of January
1861 and churned out of New York Harbor. At the last moment, the contracted civilian vessel had been chosen as a replacement for the USS Brooklyn, diminishing, to the extent it
was possible, any fallout from a direct military clash involving a flagged U.S. warship. The ship slipped into Charleston
Harbor under the cover of darkness on January 9, but Anderson had not been made aware of the mission, and he had
not at that time specifically requested resupply. Soldiers on
watch were surprised by its arrival. Anderson was awakened and called for the guns to be manned. The ship was
Passageways inside Fort
Moultrie’s thick exterior
wall connect magazines
and other areas.
s the South Carolina batteries hurled
shots at the Star of the West, Anderson
held fire, seeing it within his orders
and as his personal duty to avert an
exchange of fire (and near-certain
nied. She rebutted with a somewhat
war) to the best of his abilities. The
scolding appeal to Pickens. Goaded by
ship turned about and steamed away
Mrs. Anderson, he thought better of his
with the men aboard wondering why
pettiness and approved Hart’s pass.
Fort Sumter had not chosen to help itShe was met at the sally port and tenself.
derly carried into the fort by her husNo other attempt would be made to
band. She told him that she had come
relieve or rescue Sumter until well
to put the sergeant at his side once
past the eleventh hour. Federal ships
again, which was the best thing that
(military, and flagged as such this
she could do for him.
time) arrived off Charleston Harbor
Two hours later, she left on the tide,
and anchored at a rendezvous point
having delivered her reinforcement.
that had a particularly good view of
She returned to New York by way of
the smoke rising from Fort Sumter on
Washington, congratulated for her
the day Anderson hauled down the
courage and honor but much more ill.
flag, folded it and marched out with it.
After taking office, Pickens had raced
The story goes that the only actual
to Charleston as state commander in
reinforcement Anderson ever received
chief. He had secessionist fever and
was a single retired sergeant, personwas a political product of it. He set
ally delivered by Anderson’s wife,
militia units to improving or building
Elizabeth. A general’s daughter, she
fortifications. Many working cannons
A frame hoist inside Moultrie shows
was in New York City and sick. When
and mortars were captured and emhow artillery pieces were raised from
word reached her about the Sumter
placed around Sumter, and cadets from
and lowered onto their carriages.
move and her husband’s peril, she unThe Citadel brought their own heavy
dertook extraordinary measures and
guns.
painful travel to make the delivery. She left her sickbed
South Carolinians also constructed a “floating battery”—a
and tracked down an old and trusted sergeant, Peter Hart, barge-like vessel armored with thick planking and armed
who had served with Anderson during the Mexican-Amer- with cannon fired through ports. It could get close, perhaps,
ican War and lived in New York. She went to his home, and was particularly feared.
asked him to leave his wife behind, risk his life and accomEventually, safe passage was requested for the Sumter
pany her to Charleston, then onward to Sumter. And she family members and given. They boarded a northbound
put the most difficult request to him: She asked that he ship.
stay with the garrison to be at her husband’s side and help
Despite his energy in getting things up and running and
him because she was too ill to stay.
his zeal for the cause, Pickens really didn’t want the reAlmost instantly, Hart agreed. Disguised as a servant, he sponsibility of ordering the first shot if it came to it, so he
traveled by train with her. In Charleston, Mrs. Anderson pe- was not disappointed when the new Confederate governtitioned for passes to proceed to the fort. She received one ment took charge at Charleston and dispatched a profesfrom the newly elected South Carolina governor, Francis W. sional to the job site. This was Pierre Gustave Toutant
Pickens, whom she knew personally, but Hart’s pass was de- Beauregard, a former U.S. Army officer, politically con-
A
April 2011 ■ ARMY
63
The visitor center
at Fort Moultrie
shows the fort’s
history, which
stretches back to
the Revolutionary
War.
nected and a newly minted CSA brigadier general, one of
the first generals commissioned by the Confederacy.
Beauregard was pure, distilled Louisiana aristocracy on
the hoof—short in stature, long in pedigree. He was an unapologetic dandy, fastidious in appearance, and he glided
into Charleston society like Cajun smoke. On his first night
in town, he went to the theater to mingle. He was a hit.
Ladies of the city sent food baskets to his headquarters.
Men sent liquor and cigars.
Beauregard and Anderson were colleagues and acquaintances, if not friends. Both were veterans of the MexicanAmerican War and had served under LTG Winfield Scott,
and both were graduates of West Point. (Anderson had, in
fact, taught Beauregard at West Point.)
The Confederate commander knew that Anderson would
not walk out of Sumter in disgrace. Over time, Beauregard
agreed to terms that would allow the federal garrison to
quit the post and walk out after a 100-gun salute. (Anderson had taken a hard-line stand on the number of guns.)
t one point, the southern commander sent a load of
champagne and victuals to Anderson, but he returned
it, saying he could accept nothing more than the agreed
rations. Again, it was a rather gentlemanly affair, but
the situation finally heated to the boiling point—constantly
stoked by the garrison’s failure to leave on several dates
(promises in the southern view and estimates in the northern). Time finally ran out.
The Confederate government, fed up and fearing that
the North would yet pull something, ordered Beauregard
to seek surrender once more. If last-ditch negotiations
failed, he was to open fire at the first advantageous moment. The talks failed.
At 4:30 A.M., on April 12, a mortar shot arced toward
Sumter and exploded in the air. It was the signal to commence fire. The barrage continued all that day and half the
next.
Little meaningful damage was imposed on the fort’s
hard outer shell, but several blazes started inside the fort.
The flagstaff was knocked down and reerected under fire.
The flag had been singed, but no casualties occurred at
A
64 ARMY ■ April 2011
Sumter during the artillery exchange. Two men, however,
died in the ceremony that followed.
Confederate envoys again went to Sumter, and Anderson agreed to an “evacuation” on April 14. Terms included
the 100-gun salute, and the two soldiers died in accidents
that occurred during the salute, causing the gunners to fall
short of the 100 mark.
Anderson marched out with the garrison flag, and the
men were put on a boat headed to New York. He was certain that he would return to face court-martial or severe
censure, but he was promoted to brevet brigadier general
and lauded roundly. The new war needed new heroes.
President Lincoln called for 75,000 volunteers to wear
blue, right the wrong and keep the Union together, asking
for six month’s duty in a war that most expected to be short.
Anderson would go on to achieve the rank of major general. He retired during the war, mainly because of bad
health that set in at Sumter including, by some accounts,
what we call today post-traumatic stress.
In the summer of 1861, Beauregard was a leader of victorious Confederate forces at the First Battle of Manassas/
Bull Run.
The Confederacy held Fort Sumter until the last stages of
the war. In 1865, MG William T. Sherman’s strong Union
forces swung up the Atlantic coast from their “march to
the sea” and headed to Charleston, among other cities,
bent on issuing a little payback. By sea and land, Sumter
was bombarded on a scale unimaginable in 1861, reducing
much of it. The Confederate garrison, however, did not
evacuate under fire. It, too, held out. A concrete slab
memorializing the soldiers’ stand was dedicated by the
Daughters of the Confederacy in 1929, and it remains inset
astride Fort Sumter’s entrance.
Anderson donned his uniform one last time to raise the
original garrison flag above Fort Sumter during a ceremony held on April 14, 1865, four bloody years to the day
from the Sumter evacuation.
That night, President Lincoln was shot, dying the next
day as the last casualty of the war that began and ended
with the U.S. flag flying above Fort Sumter, a battered but
enduring symbol.
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