Brass-Pounders: Young Telegraphers Of The Civil War by Harlow Alvin F.;

Author:Harlow, Alvin F.;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Golden Springs Publishing
Published: 2015-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

VII — Bunnell on the Job

Late in June, 1862, the Federal Army of the Potomac, under General McClellan, had moved up the Virginia Peninsula, between the York and James Rivers, in a drive towards Richmond. It moved on both sides of the swampy little Chickahominy River, General Porter’s corps being on the north side of the swamp, the rest of the army on the south side. McClellan was hoping that Porter would be joined by 40,000 men under General McDowell, moving from the direction of Washington. {3}

On June 25th the Confederate army under General Lee moved to strike back at the invaders, and thus began the Seven Days’ Battles. The first assaults were on Porter’s corps. On the second day there was a brief but fierce battle in the afternoon along the glen of Beaver Dam Creek, which ended with the Confederates being repulsed. Now at nightfall it was over, but they were still out there, a mile beyond the creek, watching and waiting, their next move a mystery. General McClellan, the supreme commander, whose headquarters were on the other side of the Chickahominy, ten mile away, had ridden over with some of his staff, to join General Porter during the engagement. After it, he remained for discussion, Jesse Bunnell, Porter’s telegraph operator, in his tiny tent alongside the General’s, had his hands full, keeping the top commander in touch with his own headquarters, and through it, with his other corps and division commanders south of the Chickahominy.

At eighteen, Jesse was already a veteran telegrapher. He had begun at eleven as a messenger boy in his home town of Massillon, Ohio, and two years later as an operator. He had three more winters in school, meanwhile continuing his key-pounding, then was a railroad telegrapher at various places in Ohio. He became noted for his speed in sending and receiving. In December, 1860, at seventeen, he made a two-hour record of 38 words per minute—and there were some pretty long words in that document, too—in sending President Buchanan’s last Congressional message from Pittsburgh to Cincinnati, where it was received by L. C. Weir, another speed demon (later President of the Adams Express Company) without a break. When the war began, Jesse joined the Army Telegraph Corps.

Now in Porter’s tent, well back from the lip of the deadly battle ravine, the two generals, close friends since their West Point days, sat down to talk after the end of the fray. Once Jesse heard McClellan’s voice raised slightly in bitter vexation, saying, “As I feared, I am not going to get the help of McDowell’s corps. The Administration is too fearful for its own skin to let him get out of sight. So he is being kept up there to guard Washington—against what? Against Stonewall Jackson, whereas I believe that Jackson is moving around to your right, aiming to help crush my army if possible.”

Dusk deepened into darkness and still the talk went on, hour after hour, as Porter’s various division and brigade

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