For decades, Vicksburg, Mississippi did not celebrate July 4, at all. In 1945, as part of a wave of patriotism washing across the country, they held a “Carnival of the Confederacy.” That celebration lasted a couple of years. Then in 1947, Gen. Dwight Eisenhower spoke in Vicksburg on July 4. And still, July 4 remained a subdued holiday in Vicksburg, through the late 1990’s.
On July 4, 1863, Confederate Gen. John C. Pemberton surrendered to Gen. Ulysses S. Grant. For 47 days, the small city of 5,000 endured the Yankee siege. Although reduced to eating rats and mules, the Confederates believed they could have held out another week. But, Gen. Pemberton, a native of Pennsylvania, believed Gen. Grant would offer better terms on July 4. Although from the North, Pemberton had sided with the Confederacy during the war. His two younger brothers both served in the union army. But, the career US Army officer had married a woman from Virginia and had spent much of his career in the south.
The siege was tough on both the Confederates and on the Federals. But, it was devastating for the civilians. Much of the town is situated high on hills and a bluff overlooking the Mississippi river. Vicksburg was a thriving river port before the war. See the picture above. Because the town was situated high atop hills, the Union forces, dug into the low lying areas, was always shooting up hill. The town became the inevitable target of Union shot and shell.
Mary Longborough, a resident of Vicksburg, kept a diary that was later published as My Cave Life in Vicksburg. Her eyewitness accounts attest to many poignant incidents that occurred during the siege of the city:
“One afternoon, amid the rush and explosion of the shells, cries and screams arose—the screams of women amid the shrieks of the falling shells. The servant boy, George…found that a negro man had been buried alive within a cave, he being alone at that time. Workmen were instantly set to deliver him, if possible; but when found, the unfortunate man had evidently been dead some little time. His wife and relations were distressed beyond measure, and filled the air with their cries and groans.”
The families pitched tents in the ravines for protection. One family and their Negro servant (to use the contemporary term) pitched a tent a couple hundred yards from their house in one such ravine. In the morning, as young Lucy McRae woke, she watched as a spent artillery ball rolled into their tent. She screamed. The mother shouted to Rice, the negro servant, to take down the tent. The mother, the various children and Rice dashed to a wooden bridge to get back to town. Rice dropped the tent. The mother dropped the basket with their meager provisions. They tried to stay beneath a dirt embankment. Jumping behind trees, fences, diving into trenches, shells exploding over their heads. The children were crying, the mother praying. They finally approached the Glass Bayou bridge, indicating the edge of town. A mortar shell landed on the far end of the bridge. Mother shouted, “run!” The children all ran to their cave, where they felt safer. Finding their home later, they saw it had been struck several times, but remained intact. A minie ball had creased their father’s whiskers while he sat in the hallway of the house, but he was otherwise unhurt. This was day 34 of the siege.
That was the siege for the civilians. Today, the Vicksburg July 4 celebration is larger, but these sorts of memories endure.
For more information and a picture of the cave homes, see the Abbeville Institute website here.
Irish Confederates 