In January 1865, as the Civil War entered its final months, Henry F. Evans wrote home from aboard the USS Susquehanna following the bloody capture of Fort Fisher near Wilmington, North Carolina.
Evans, a native of Wales who had emigrated to Scranton, Pennsylvania in 1859, was serving as a sailor in the United States Navy’s North Atlantic Squadron. He had previously answered the call during the Confederate invasion of Pennsylvania in 1863 with the 49th Emergency Militia, before enlisting in the Navy in May 1864 as a landsman, the lowest rank aboard ship.
His letter provides a vivid, first-person account of one of the most important amphibious assaults of the Civil War. Sailors from the Susquehanna, including Evans, were ordered ashore alongside U.S. Marines to dig trenches, advance under fire, and launch repeated assaults on the Confederate works. Evans describes the thunder of naval bombardment, the chaos of failed charges, and the heavy losses suffered by “bluejackets” attacking fortifications designed to repel land forces.
The Second Battle of Fort Fisher took place from January 13-15, 1865.
The fall of Fort Fisher sealed the fate of Wilmington, the Confederacy’s last major Atlantic port, and marked one of the Navy’s most decisive contributions to Union victory. Few surviving letters capture so clearly what it meant for ordinary sailors – many with no prior combat experience – to leave their ships and fight as infantry on open sand under direct fire.
What follows is Henry F. Evans’s letter in full, published in the Pittston Gazette in February 1865.
Naval Correspondence
U. S. S. Susquehanna, Norfolk, Va. (Grounded in the river.) Jan. 22, 1865,
I have often thought of writing a few words to your valuable paper since we have been attached to this [North Atlantic] Squadron, but not having seen or done anything that I thought sufficiently interesting to write I did not do so.
Now, as our ship has taken an active part in the recent assault on Fort Fisher and adjacent batteries, resulting in the capture of it with 2,500 prisoners, I thought that both my friends and your readers would be gratified to learn something from a Pittston boy who was there.
On the 24th of December we made the first attack, forming three lines of battle off the Fort; every ship having an object to on as designated in the chart. The Monitors and Ironsides on the right of the first line and close in shore, fired the first shot in the Fort; the larger Frigates followed, and as the other vessels took their positions, and bringing their guns to bear, commenced talking to the Johnnies as intimately as their superiors.
The Fort returned the fire in the commencement until the fleet had determined the range. At 2 P. M. the combat became general, cannons talking loud from both parties, but the Johnnies soon found out that Admiral Porter had as skillful men at his guns as they had in the Fort; he soon silenced their guns, besides battering their mounds. The bombardment was continued until about 5 P.M. when most of the wooden ships withdrew out of range, leaving the Monitors and Ironsides to engage them during the night.
Gen. Butler succeeded in landing a part of his force some 4 miles distant up the beach. On Christmas morning all hands were in hopes of being able to present Father Abraham with a Christmas gift, one that he could not well put in the stocking; however, it was not the case.
At about noon we renewed the attack, and kept up an incessant fire until 4 P. M. when the troops ashore advanced on the works. It was fast getting dark, that we could not discern any object on shore from the ship, but could see the flash from the small arms which lasted about 40 minutes resulting in the repulse of our men with a small loss. That was all Butler did toward taking a large fortification like “Fort Fisher,” then garrisoned by only 400 men.
He re-embarked his troops with some 200 prisoners, and sailed the following day for Fortress Monroe, Va., leaving Admiral Porter to bustle with them the best he could, with the discouraging news that the Fort was impregnable and could not be taken. We left and proceeded to Beaufort, N.C., to fill up with ammunition and coal, and await the result of the failure.
When we arrived a heavy gale set in from the N. W., rendering coaling ships difficult and dangerous.
After the storm abated the fleet got in readiness and prepared for sea. On the 12th we were pleased to learn of the arrival of a fleet of transports loaded with troops, now under General Terry. On the 13th the Admiral came outside and signalized to “get under way,” which was done in a very short time, under the anticipation of having another good time with “Fort Fisher.”
We were soon outside and on our way with fine weather and smooth sea. On the passage down we had an order read to us demanding about 50 men, (Blue Jackets) and all the marines to go ashore to assist in storming the works. Our Commodore did not exactly approve of the drafting system, and wisely asked for volunteers; nearly all hands stepped on the quarter deck and offered their services, out of whom he selected the required number.
We sharpened our cutlasses and exercised target firing all the afternoon on the hurricane deck. We arrived off the Fort at 10 P. M. On the 13th we landed successfully and recommenced bombarding the Fort; we fired shot and shell at the rate of 100 per minute all day; at 8 P. M. the wooden ships withdrew, and as usual left the Ironclads to keep them from molesting our troops on the beach; many of their guns had been silenced on the 13th.
We did nothing this day but look on and meditate over what was to come. The Ironclads increased the fire toward night; at 9 A.M. on the 15th the signal was made to send the storming party ashore; the boats were quickly lowered, armed, equipped and under way, with 75 blue jackets and marines, and all the apparatus for the business in the boats.
We soon found out that we were not alone, the “Susquehannas” made the shore with the first. As soon as we discharged the boats we fell in rank and file on the beach, making about 2,000 men, some had shovels, some axes, others scaling ladders, while others had stretchers.
The shore brigade in which I was, marched off immediately to dig trenches. After advancing within 700 yards of the Fort we were deployed across the beach, and commenced operations on the sand; the rebs spied us and fired on us with grape and canister killing one man and wounding a few others. We dug the trench despite of their guns, and advanced and also dug two other lines of trenches successfully, the latter 300 yards from their guns.
At 1 P. M. the blue jackets and marines came up in columns led by Captain K. R. Breese; I left my shovel and fell in with my shipmates in the first division, led by St. Bartlett, of this ship. We advanced within half a mile of the works and laid down on the beach. An easy declivity of the beach near the water afforded us little shelter while we laid there. The fleet kept up a rapid and terrific fire in order to keep them in their bomb-proof; about 3 P.M. the fleet ceased firing and we got up and started toward the Fort with a loud yell from every Tar, with drawn cutlasses and cocked revolvers.
We maintained the distance and kept together wonderfully on the double-quick, until we came within a few yards of the Palisades where we were met with a deadly fire of grape, canister and musketry from the rebels on the parapets, and an enfilade fire from the mound battery on Federal Pt., causing great havoc in our ranks, and compelling us to retreat; some remained under shelter of the stockades, and succeeded in laying a few Johnnies out who popped their heads up over the epaulements. We were rallied again and faced them with a determination not to fall back without doing something toward distinguishing ourselves.
The order was given to advance, which we did, meeting with a more stubborn resistance than on the first charge; the sharpshooters taking deliberate aim at our officers, while grape and canister were thrown with more fury at the sailors. After coming to the stockades we divided, some going inside and driving the sharpshooters from behind their gabions, while others went along the stockade and engaged them at pistol shot, we were again repulsed with a loss of seven men, having nearly the whole force to contend with.
It is evident that they took us for the main body, consequently drew their attention from Gen. Terry’s forces, which was engaged at the N. E. part, and fighting its way through, capturing seven in succession. To this grand mistake they attribute the cause of their defeat.
At 8 P. M. we withdrew from the stockades and were marched up to the breastworks and relieved a regiment of colored troops who re-enforced our soldiers at the Fort. All hands thought nothing more would be done until morning, but Gen. Terry did not, he had taken the Fort; at 10 P.M. we heard a loud cheer from that direction and the “Susquehannas” started up the beach, followed by about 500 sailors; we had not gone far before the news was communicated to the fleet, and answered by as hearty three times three from the rigging and yards as I ever heard before, and some illuminated their vessels.
We were too much pleased to walk and commenced running, passing scores of our killed on the beach. We climbed over the parapet where we had fought in the afternoon after helping two of our wounded who had climbed up the battered works, we went inside of the Fort and joined the soldiers in a hurrah. The rebels had been badly cut up by our shells.
At the head-quarters they were lying in heaps of 60 or 70, some headless, others maimed up and covered with blood so that many of them could not be distinguished by their comrades. The Susquehanna boys built a fire and laid by it until morning; at daylight we took a walk to the mound on Federal Point, meeting with ghastly sights on all sides.
The field in the rear of the mounds reminded me of a navy yard; fragments of guns and gun carriages, solid shot and 15 inch shell unexploded, covering the ground. The light-house was screened with holes.
Many of their guns were dismounted on these mounds. At about 7 A.M. as we were returning and entering the Fort, a Magazine exploded killing and wounding about 300 of our men. I was prostrated by the shock and covered about a foot in the sand; one of my shipmates received a wound in the shoulder by a piece of wood falling on him.
We assisted in extricating a few of our soldiers, and then left to bury our shipmates who were lying among the killed on the beach; one of whom we found sunk in the sand, the surf rolling over him. We came off to the ship in the afternoon; our shipmates could not tell one from the other of us, being completely covered with mud and dirt.
We learned here that one of our Pivot guns had bursted and I am happy to say injured no one on board, and the other gun was also discovered to be cracked. The investigation at that moment made undoubtedly saved the lives of many men. Being directed transversely it would have raked the deck fore and aft.
We are now detached from the fleet and convoying the “New Ironsides” to Norfolk, Va. Our loss was three killed and 25 wounded in the charge. We had some of our rigging carried away, and a large shot penetrated our smokestack. We will probably undergo some repairs here, and await orders from Headquarters. All hands are well, feeling exultant over the victory, and anticipating a few days liberty soon.
We have not seen a newspaper of any kind since we left Beaufort, N. C.
HENRY F. EVANS.
After the Civil War, Henry F. Evans returned to Pennsylvania, but like many veterans, especially recent immigrants, he did not stay put. In 1868, he moved west to Utah, where he married, entered the grocery business, and became involved in local civic life. He served on the Salt Lake City Council and later worked in the city clerk’s office, building a career in public service.
When Evans died in November 1914, his obituary greatly exaggerated his Civil War service, claiming ranks he never held.
The record tells a more modest but no less meaningful story: a Welsh immigrant, a one-time Scranton resident, a private in an emergency militia, and later a landsman in the U.S. Navy, the lowest rank aboard ship.
In the fluid world of postwar America – especially in the West – men like Evans could reinvent themselves.
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