Evening of June 18, 1864. Petersburg, Virginia
A full moon bathed the no-man’s land between the Union and Confederate lines in a bright blueish light. The war had gone from gallant adventure to wholesale slaughter and now men on both sides were just trying to survive until the South surrendered. On this warm and cloudless evening a sentry, Private Enoch Howe of the 100th Pennsylvania, struggled to stay awake. He knew the Confederates would not attack on this night. Night fighting was rare under ideal conditions. An attack under the blue moon would be foolhardy as it was bright as daylight for the three batteries of heavy artillery covering the Confederate lines.
“I’m just rest my eyes for a moment,” Howe thought as he leaned against a stump, “I won’t fall sleep.”
Soon he dreamt of a deer hunt with his father long ago. Once they had both fallen asleep against a tree on a warm autumn day. Enoch opened his eyes to find himself staring into the face of an equally surprised whitetail deer. As soon as his father cocked the rifle hammer, the deer just disappeared into the brush.
The next thing Enoch knows, something is poking him in the chest. The he is started awake with: “Wake up yank, you’re up.”
Before Enoch is a rebel officer, sword drawn, and behind him are a dozen or more armed soldiers.
“Up?”
“Yeah, we’ve been practicing. Now we’re going to settle this war with baseball.” The rebel winked to his men like he was sharing a joke, ”We’re challenging y’all to a moonlight battle.”
“John Walker, 15th South Carolina,” saluted the rebel as his sword sang back into it’s scabbard.
“Enoch Howe, 100th Pennsylvanian.”
“Pleased to meet you, Private Howe.” As he removed his hat, Enoch could see braid on his collar.
“You an officer?”
“Yes, but not on the baseball diamond.” He sized Enoch up and said, “Say, I’ve seen you instructing others… give me some tips on the way to the game?”
“Sure, like what?”
“Well, how do you hit the ball as far as you do for a little feller?”
“Ah. The secret is to hit the ball with your hips, not your arms. If you can get your hips and body behind the ball it goes much further.”
“Hit the ball with your hips?”
“Yep, hitting the ball far takes all your muscles working in concert, like the musicians in a band. Your body has to work together to make music.”
Just then, the Union’s regimental band struck up “Home Sweet Home.” As if charmed by the music and moonlight, Enoch and the rebel soldiers stop dead in their tracks to listen as the notes float across the field. When the final stanza fades away, the soldiers all murmur the last verse, “Home. Home Sweet Home, there is no place like home.”
As usual, this music provoked the Confederate musicians into a battle of the bands. From the Confederate side was heard the “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” to cheers from the Union trenches. Then the Union band reciprocated by playing “Dixie” to more cheering from both sides.
“Ya ‘know,” Walker said, “Dixie is old Abe’s favorite song. I’m fond of the “Bonny Blue Flag ” myself. “ He appraised Enoch and said, “Did you play baseball before the war?”
Enoch looked up at the giant moon, “It seems like another lifetime.” Then he met Walkers eyes, “Before I volunteered, I played for the Eckford Base Ball Club, and taught school.” He shook his head in wonder, “People would pay to watch us play.”
“People would pay you play baseball?” asked one of the confederates.
“Naw, not the players. They paid the man that owned the field. He’d charge us too. Union Field it’s called.”
As they stepped into a diamond shaped clearing Walker spread his arms and said, “Well this ain’t Union Field. But we’ll let you play for free.”
Enoch and the rebels walked up to a group of the 5th New York Cavalry. A captain who played for a Boston team was going over the ground rules and lording over the gathering with his Brahmin accent – leading to snickers from the crowd.
“The fortifications (fort-ah-fa-cah-shuns) over there (they-ah) between Fort Sedman and the 11th battery (baa-tah-ree) on the other (a-thu) side is the outfield (a-tuh-field) fence.” Pointing to a group of felled trees lining a trench, “Anything that goes into the abatis is a home run. Foul is anyone of the trenches. Pitching is underhand only due to darkness. We’ll play for nine innings.”
He motioned to Walker, “ Colonel Walker, CSA is our host. Colonel?”
“Thank you Captain. Please be aware that fraternization is punishable by time in the stockade and occasionally by firing squad. If either bands plays “Home. Sweet Home” it’s a signal to skedaddle back to your own lines. If Grant or Lee make a surprise inspection, they could hardly be expected to approve of our contest.”
Walker smiles broadly and all the soldiers laugh along. The Confederate and Union men slap each other on the back, shake hands and jog to their side of the diamond.
On a whim, Enoch yells out the new custom to start the game, “Play ball!”
At first, each band played “Dixie” or “Battle Hymn of the Republic” when their team scored. After each team scored 10 runs, they played other popular songs. The players heard: “John Brown’s Body”, “The Yellow Rose of Texas” and “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.” Baseball games of the era often had 30 points or more, even with experienced ball players. So at about 20 runs per team, the musicians grew tired and stopped altogether.
Enoch was a natural teacher and spent a great deal of time coaching players on both teams. Each time Walker came to the plate, Enoch would shout, “Hit it with your hips.” Walker would nod, spit on his hands, dig in, then swing right through the pitch – to the amusement of both teams who hooted with laugher. On the next pitch he’d always go back to his method of using just his arms. So that when he did make contact, the ball would barely dribble out of the infield.
In the bottom of the ninth inning the Union team is up by one run. The Confederates have a man on second base, and Walker comes up to bat with two outs.
From shortstop Enoch shouts, “Use your hips,” and he demonstrates with a thrusting movement – much to the delight of both teams.
Walker shakes his head and retorts, “You sir, should have been a sailor.”
Walker lays into the first pitch with his usual, arms only swing. The ball makes a flat sound off the bat and bloops just foul. With that he knows that he cannot hit the home run needed to win unless he uses his hips.
Walker looks over to Enoch at shortstop, “Like the musicians in the band?”
“Just like the band!” Enoch said, emphasizing with another hip thrust.
On the next pitch, Walker uses his hips to swing through strike two – almost falling over. The Union team hoots with laughter, but the Confederates moan quietly – they need Walker to hit the ball deep to win.
On the next pitch, the runner on second takes off as the ball leaves the pitchers hand, Walker digs in, throws his hips back – then just like the Philharmonic, brings all his strength in concert from the bat to the ball. The ball leaps of the bat with a CRRR_ACK and heads straight for the left field abatis of Fort Sedman.
At that, the Union bench stands and shouts their battle cry,“HURRAH! HURRAH!” This prompts the entire Union infield to run into left field after the ball, like novice players often do.
On hearing the Union cheer, and seeing Walker race around 1st base, the Confederates instinctively raise their Rebel Yell battle cry.
To the Union veterans who have been at the receiving end of the Rebel Yell during battle, it is as if they were struck by lightning. Even though these men had become brothers during the game, the Rebel Yell has the effect of a corkscrew twisting their spines.
Alarmed by the battle cries, Union Gun Battery #11 lights a Coston flair to see where their lines are being attacked. What they see is several Union solders running to their lines and a company of Confederate soldiers close by, so they open up with their 4.5-inch siege cannons. As soon as the cannons from Battery #11 shoot, two other Union batteries and several Confederate cannons open up on the baseball diamond. As shells rain in, the baseball players are caught in a violent orgy of crossfire. After several minutes, the giant Union rail mortar, Dictator, adds to the slaughter. Within an hour the baseball field is a bloody puree of bone, flesh and mud.
The next morning, a Union burial detail is sent to the field under a truce, but they never find enough of anyone to bury, just bits of cloth and several hardwood bats. Because wood was scarce, the burial party collected the baseball bats for firewood.
Today, many Civil War battlefields of Virginia are buried under strip malls, office campuses and subdivisions. The field at Fort Sedman has miraculously survived. And the baseball players of the Moonlight Battle are still there as well.
On some warm moonlit nights, the residents of nearby Early Court and Jackson Circle can hear strands of music wafting through the woods that abut their lawns. Most of the listeners are unaware they are murmuring to themselves, “Home. Home Sweet Home, there is no place like home.”
Tim Heaton is a HottyToddy.com contributor and can be reached at tim.h.heaton@gmail.com. His new book, “Momma n’ Em Said: The Treasury of Southern Sayings” is available on Amazon.
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