supremely happy in battle

This is Colonel William Ransom Johnson Pegram, one of the remarkable young men produced — and then taken, sadly when the outcome was already decided — by our Civil War. ¹ He was known as “Willy.” ² Looks more like a school boy or the professorial type than a warrior gunner, don’t you think? But he was one of the most fierce fighters in the Army of Northern Virginia. General Harry Heth would even remark that Pegram was “one of the few men who, I believe, was supremely happy when in battle.”

A law student at the beginning of the War, at the tender age of 19 (he would not turn twenty for several months), Pegram joined the Richmond “Purcell Artillery” in April 1861. Because he suffered from severe near-sightedness, he had to wear gold rimmed spectacles — even in the heat of battle.

This bookish appearing fellow was an especial favorite of A.P. Hill. ³ During the Gettysburg Campaign, Pegram had fallen ill with fever. He then had to ride to catch up with his men. “General Hill,” Lee said, “I have good news for you; Major Pegram is up.” Hill responded, “Yes, that is good news.” When a staff officer recited the exchange to Pegram, the officer noted that “Pegram valued those few words from the General of the army and the General of his corps more than another star upon his collar.”

Yet, Pegram would have liked promotion and it was richly deserved. Upon seeing a recommendation that Pegram be promoted to command of a brigade near the end of the War, Hill endorsed it: “No officer of the Army of Northern Virginia has done more to deserve this promotion than Lieutenant Colonel Pegram.”

But because Pegram served in the artillery and because he was a young man, he was not ever promoted above the rank of colonel. Speaking to Heth, Lee asked, “He is too young–how old is Colonel Pegram?”

Heth replied, “I do not know, but I suppose about 25.”

Lee answered: “I think a man of 25 as good as he ever will be; what he acquires after that age is from experience; but I can’t understand, when an officer is doing excellent service where he is, why he should want to change.” And the recommendation for promotion was thus returned, camp gossip had it, with the statement that “the artillery could not lose the services of so valuable an officer.”

And so on April 1, 1865, Pegram found himself still in command of his battalion of artillery at the battle of Five Forks. Freeman would recount the day thusly: to the artillerists, it was a day of disaster not to be recorded solely in terms of four guns lost or of good soldiers captured.

Willy Pegram had once sworn that his guns would not be taken from his while he lived; he finally suffered the loss of a gun at Five Forks, but it was only while lying mortally wounded, shot through the left side. He died the next morning. With great feeling his friend Gordon McCabe remembered his final hours,

At about 10 o’clock we reached Ford’s, and I obtained a bed for him . . . I had given him morphine in small quantities until he was easier, and he soon fell into a doze. The enemy advanced on the place about 12 o’clock, and I was left alone with him. I sent off our sabres, horses, spurs, etc., as I felt sure that we would be captured. I shall never forget that night of waiting. I could only pray. He breathed heavily through the night, and passed into a stupor. I bound his wounds as well as I knew how and moistened his lips with water. Sunday morning he died as gently as possible.

His men liked to say no bullet had been molded that could ever take down their young commander who had survived so many sharp fights and so many hails of lead; sadly, it was not so.

Like Pender, Willy Pegram was a devoted Christian and a pious, brave young individual. Of Pegram it was said, “he fell in the discharge of his duty, and died with the philosophy of a Christian.” Many would agree with John C. Haskell that Pegram was the best artillery officer in the Army of Northern Virginia. He was buried in Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, near his brother, General John Pegram, killed a few weeks before.

The following day, likely not knowing of Pegram’s fate, A.P. Hill was killed. Seven days after that, Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia surrendered at Appomattox.

The true scope of the tragedy of the Civil War was that it cost our country young, brilliant men like Willy Pegram, who would have been destined to be the country’s leaders. Pegram sadly illustrates that it was often the best and brightest who were killed. And adding to the senseless of his death was the timing — the outcome had been decided by that point, it had only become a question of when and where the final end would come.

1. Willy’s older brother, John, was a West Point graduate, class of 1854. He was a Confederate general and was killed at the battle of Hatcher’s Run in February, 1865, soon after his marriage to the “most beautiful woman of her generation,” Hettie Cary. The death devastated Willy who had always been close with his brother. [↩]
2. D.S. Freeman refers to Pegram as “Willie,” but his biographer Peter Carmichael points out that Pegram usually was called “Willy” by his family.  Although Freeman was a careful historian, a very good historian, I am deferring to Carmichael as a Pegram expert. [↩]
3. And as Hill was known to the men for his red shirt, so Pegram was known for his specs. Upon sighting Pegram, infantryman were said to remark “there’s going to be a fight, for here comes that damn little man with the ’specs’.” Pegram was cut of the same cloth as Hill, and if Pegram flaw it was he was sometimes too aggressive and eager in a fight. [↩]

Tags: A.P. Hill, Army of Northern Virginia, Artillery, Confederacy, Pegram