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CIVIL WAR PHASES Chapter 2 CONTINUED Abraham Lincoln succeeded the Democrat president, James Buchanan. Mr. Buchanan had been a noted statesman, and stood high in the councils of his party. Suffice it to say, that his ability was rated as meeting all the requirements of the Chief Magistrate's office, barking the deals and strategies of the politicians. Mr. Buchanan was a strict party man. With him party was first, and consideration for his county lingered haggardly in the rear. He loved the Constitution and all its provisions which seemed to bear on the preservation of slavery, because the Southern wing of his great party was mostly slaveholders. Therefore, the Constitution was precious to him, and paradoxically, it must not be disturbed, even though the country should go to the everlasting bow-wows. The modern student of American history will note that Mr. Buchanan has not been recorded as a howling success as a patriot. To be much of a patriot then was to injure the success of his party, and so he assumed a modified attitude of neutrality with the impulse of generous readiness to accommodate his Southern brethren with all the warlike tools that they would find handy in case of a "break," as we call it today, with the new administration, including the entire North country. His Secretary of War took delight in "lending the loan" of all the cannon, small arms and awful but useful stuff known as war material that deserved a much needed vacation in the winter-resort section of our land. While this was being done Mr. Buchanan lost no sleep over the matter, nor stayed awake o'nights in perplexed anxiety as to whether the Union would be disrupted. He had cheerfully accommodated his Southern people, out of respect for the ever-to-be-depended-upon vote of his party, which he loved for the presidents it could make, and so came quiet slumber to his eye-lids and peaceful solace to his inward parts. Abraham Lincoln was a different kind of man. His slogan was "The Union must be preserved at any cost!" But the South was mad, madder than a wet hen; that is the "higher-ups," who had pictured to themselves the magnificence of a future empire, with crowned heads, dukes, counts and no-accounts, in which they along would figure, for the "poor white trash" would never be a menace, as they didn't aspire to own "n______". (We use the term in the parlance of the South.) The "n______," working for their board and doing their own washing, as well as their masters, had a supreme advantage over their white brethren, as we would call them in the North. Their masters owned the land and they tilled it; and about all the aforesaid "trash" had to do was to smoke their clay pipes feed the hound pups, and go fishing. A dazzling scheme was all this. It would add dignity to official position with perpetual security from outside interference and create a monopoly of boasted freedom, independence and other "sacred rights," all of which somehow, were imbedded in the institution of slavery. An oligarchy, of course; an aristocratic government in which the officials and plantation owners would reign indisputably and supreme, and the "n______" do all the work. This condition had long existed, but not in peaceful and unqualified security. But with Northern sentiment removed, and the household of states set apart to itself, who would then dare to molest or make afraid? A fine, pleasing theory to the few, but devoid of all morality, with its degraded and degrading basis perpetually debarring sincere attempts toward the betterment of mankind. Mr. Lincoln had to face and deal with all the false assumptions and affected superiority of the South. The supine course of his predecessor would make his impending duties all the more difficult to discharge. The South was in a hot fever of excitement, culminating in bitter wrath. It was from the first plainly to be seen that its motive was to secede from the union. Mr. Lincoln had to go under a strong guard to Washington City and was compelled to employ subterfuges to reach there in safety. But it should have been stated that in November the Southern States began to adopt ordinances of secession. South Carolina being the first, and Virginia the last. And all these events meant war, which, as now, was hard to realize, and would be until hostilities actually began; but although the South, by states, had raised an Army which faced Major Anderson, Union Commander, who occupied Ft. Sumpter, in Charleston Harbor, no shots had been fired. Gen. Beauregard had peremptorily demanded his surrender. But the brave Major declined to lower his flag. The North then began to show lively interest and deep concern. Though compromises had been essayed on the part of the South, these committees were not received, nor their proposals entertained by the Washington government. The attitude and continued preparations for war spoke louder and with more convincing argument of determined intentions than the willy overtures of a commission could possibly do. But all doubt was swept away, and the fact of war materialized suddenly into thrilling realization, when on the morning of the 13th of April 1861, came over the wires the starling announcement that "Fort Sumpter has been bombarded by Beauregard." The North then began to show lively interest; and deep concern. "Though compromises had been essayed on the part of the South, these committees were not received, nor their proposals entertained by the Washington government. The attitude and continued preparations for war spoke louder and with more convincing argument of determined intentions than the wily overtures of the commission could possibly do. But all doubt was swept away, and the fact of war materialized suddenly into thrilling realization, when on the morning of the 13th of April 1861, came over the wires the startling announcement that "Fort Sumpter has been bombarded by Beauregard." The firing on Ft. Sumpter was an overt act, and the real beginning of the War. Like a lighted match dropped into a powder magazine, was the effect of the tragic news on the people of the North. Simultaneously to city and village, and hamlet it came, and though not altogether unexpected, the startling truth was a great shock. It was the sad hour of realization for the North, that, if the Union were to be preserved in the iratricidal struggle, much blood must be shed. When the thrilling news reached Jamestown, the community was aroused to the highest pitch of excitement, and dread of what the future held in its unseen grasp. Groups of men, with serious countenances, gathered on the corners of the Public Square, and in the stores and groceries, and talked seriously of the impending war. There were many frank expressions of what should be done, and the probable course President Lincoln would pursue. It was a boy's part to listen to his elders as they discussed different phases of the war that arose as the days went by. One remark is recalled which was made in great earnestness by a stout, under middle age man, who employed what he deemed the proper emphasis: "If them fool Southrons have no more sense than to think they can untie our Union and shove our half to one side, without regard to how we feel about it, I will be one to go down there and help them not to do it." It was not a boast, for he meant it and kept his word. President Lincoln's first call was for 75,000 volunteers, for three months service. The quota was soon filled. There began to be a growing feeling, without substantial reason, that the war would be of short duration. On either side the same opinion prevailed, but there was a difference in conclusion as to where Victory would perch at the close of the struggle. So this mooted question had to bide the fortunes of war for actual settlement. The first volunteers from Jamestown to respond to Lincoln's call, were William Allen Dingess, William T. Jenkins, brother of Charles, and Clinton Timberlake, brother of Rufus. They joined Co. D., 12th Regiment Ohio Volunteers, the Company being composed mostly of Greene County boys, many of them from Cedarville. After a short time in camp, with little time for necessary training, the regiment, under the command of Colonel John W. Lowe, of Xenia, was hurried to West Virginia, where there was good fighting all along the line. At the battle of Scary Creek, Clint Timberlake was killed, the first sacrifice in battle made to the Union from this vicinity. Clint was a fine looking soldier, tall, well proportioned with a physique to command attention, and kindly eyes that smiled on friends, but in the dim of battle flashed with the unfailing light of determined purpose to do or die for his country. Almost every evening were martial airs, played with drum and fire, heard on the streets. In that day such men as George Humphrey and David Coleman, who had passed through the hey-day of the country dance, when the fife and the flute were recognized as honorable substitutes for the "fiddle," were sure to be on hand to blow patriotic inspiration into the bosoms of the crowds that gathered about them. Le us hold in grateful memory the patriots, too old to serve on the tented field, but young enough to Call to Arms through the magic of martial music.
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