The Death of A.P. Hill

On the morning of April 2, 1865, 143 years ago yesterday, A.P. Hill was shot and killed by a member of the Union Sixth Corps as he tried to rally his broken lines at Petersburg.

Hill’s death was notable for the fact that it was so well-documented.  Much of A.P. Hill’s life is difficult to piece together.  A dearth of letters (one hopes the proverbial shoe box full of letters in some forgotten closet will yet turn up to shed light on, say, what exactly Hill did at Gettysburg) exists not only for Hill himself, but also for many of his men and officers.  Of the original commanders of the six brigades in A.P. Hill’s Light Division, only Edward Thomas¹ and Charles Field survived the War.  Neither wrote much of consequence about Hill or the Light Division.  Hill’s commanders managed for the most part to keep themselves out of the unseemly post-war feuds that caused many other Southern officers to pick up their pens.  The only seeming positive for understanding Hill is that at least D.S. Freeman had access to Colonel William Palmer, Hill’s long-lived chief of staff. ²

A.P. Hill’s death, however, was extremely well documented and written about.  The best source remains The Southern Historical Society Papers.  Writing for the Baltimore American, James P. Matthews contacted both Cpl. John W. Mauk of the 138th Pennsylvania (the shooter)³ and Hill’s trusted courier George Tucker.

Tucker, after having paid a proper eulogy to his chief noting simply that “we loved him”, recalled the events leading up to the fatal event by beginning by describing Hill’s actions the night prior.

During the entire winter of 1864-’65 General Hill was an invalid, and was absent in Richmond on a sick leave from about March 20th, returning to his command upon being advised of the operations on the right beyond Hatcher’s Run. April 1, accompanied by his staff and couriers, he spent in the saddle from early morning until about 9 P.M., returning at night along the works held by his corps as far as those in front of Fort Gregg, where the General halted a considerable time. He passed only a few words with his staff party or those very, very few in the trenches there. He seemed lost in contemplation of the immediate position, at which the Confederate line had become so terribly stretched that it broke that very night, letting in a deluge of the enemy, who, only partly checked by the wonderful defense of Fort Gregg, next morning flooded the country. We then returned to corps headquarters, which were at Indiana, on an extension of Washington street, Petersburg, and immediately adjoining “The Model Farm,” on the east. General Hill retired to Venable’s cottage, just across the road and within fifty yards of his camp, having had there, during the winter, his wife and two young children.

About midnight the cannonading in front of Petersburg, which had begun at nightfall, became very heavy, increasing as the hours went by. Colonel Palmer, Chief of Staff, woke Major Starke, Acting Adjutant General, and requested him to find out the cause and effect of the prolonged firing. This was between 2 and 3 o’clock on the morning of April 2. Major Starke returned before daylight and reported “that the enemy had part of our line near the Rives’ salient, and that matters looked critical on the lines in front of the city.” This he communicated to General Hill at Venable’s.

Tucker then began to recount the morning Hill was shot:

Before sunrise General Hill came over and asked Colonel Palmer if he had any report from Generals Wilcox and Heth, whose divisions on the right extended from the front of Fort Gregg to and beyond Burgess’s Mill, on Hatcher’s Run. The Colonel told him that he had heard nothing from them, and had nothing further to report beyond Major Starke’s statement.

The General then passed on to his tent, and a few minutes later the Colonel, noticing his colored servant, Charles, leading the General’s saddled horse to his sent, ran to him just as he was mounting and asked permission to accompany him. He told the Colonel no, and desired him to wake up the staff, get everything in readiness and have the headquarters’ wagons hitched up. He added that he was going to General Lee’s, and would take Sergeant Tucker and two couriers, and that as soon as he could have an interview with General Lee, he would return.

General Hill then rode to the couriers’ quarters and found me in the act of grooming my horse. (I did not then have the slightest intimation of what had taken place since our return from the lines the night before.) He directed me to follow him with two couriers immediately to General Lee’s headquarters. He then rode off rapidly. It was our custom, in critical times, to have, during the night, two of the couriers’ horses always saddled. I called to Kirkpatrick and Jenkins, the couriers next in turn, to follow the General as quickly as possible. I saddled up at once and followed them. Kirkpatrick and Jenkins arrived at General Lee’s together, only a few minutes after General Hill, who at once directed Kirkpatrick to ride rapidly back to our quarters (I met him on the road, going at full speed) and tell Colonel Palmer to follow him to the right, and the others of the staff, and couriers, must rally the men on the right. This was the first information received at corps headquarters that our right had given way. General Hill them rode, attended only by Jenkins to the front gate of General Lee’s headquarters (Turnbull House, on the Cox road, nearly one and a half miles westerly from General Hill’s), where I met them. We went directly across the road into the opposite field, and riding due south a short distance the General drew rein, and for a few moments used his field glass, which, in my still profound ignorance of what had happened, struck me as exceedingly queer. We then rode on in the same direction down a declivity toward a small branch running eastward to Old Town Creek, and a quarter of a mile from General Lee’s. We had gone little more than half this distance, when we suddenly came upon two of the enemy’s armed infantrymen. Jenkins and myself, who, up to this time, rode immediately behind the General, were instantly upon them, when, at the demand, “surrender,” they laid down their guns. Turning to the General, I asked what should be done with the prisoners? He said: Jenkins, take them to General Lee.” Jenkins started back with his men, and we rode on.

Though not invited, I was at the General’s side, and my attention having now been aroused and looking carefully ahead and around I saw a lot of people in and about the old log hut winter quarters of General Mahone’s division, situated to the right of Whitworth House and on top of the hill beyond the branch we were approaching. Now as I knew that those quarters had been vacant since about March 15th by the transfer of Mahone to north of the Appomattox, and feeling that it was the enemy’s troops in possession, with nothing looking like a Confederate anywhere, I remarked, pointing to the old camp: “General, what troops are those?” He quickly replied: “The enemy’s.” Proceeding still further and General Hill making no further remark, I became so impressed with the great risk he was running that I made bold to say: “Please excuse me, General, but where are you going?” He answered: “Sergeant, I must go to the right as quicly as possible.” Then, pointing southwest he said: “We will go up this side of the branch to the woods, which will cover us until reaching the field in rear of General Heth’s quarters, I hope to find the road clear at General Heth’s.”

From that time on I kept slightly ahead of the General. I had kept a Colt’s army pistol drawn since the affair of the Federal stragglers. We then made the branch, becoming obscured from the enemy, and crossing the Bowdtoin (not “Boydtown,” as some writers have called it) plank road, soon made the woods, which were kept for about a mile, in which distance we did not see a single person, and emerged into the field opposite General Heth’s, at a point two miles due southwest from General Lee’s headquarters, at the Turnbull House, and at right angles with the Bowdtoin plank road, at the “Harman” House, which was distant half a mile. When going through the woods, the only words between General Hill and myself, except a few relating to the route, were by himself. He called my attention and said: “Sergeant, should anything happen to me you must go back to General Lee and report it.”

We came into the field near its corner, at the foot of a small declivity, rising which I could plainly see that the road was full of troops of some kind. The General, raising his field glass, said: “They are there.” I understood perfectly that he meant the enemy, and asked: “Which way now, General?” He pointed to that side of the woods parallel to the Bowdtoin plank road, about one hundred yards down hill from where our horses stood, saying: “We must keep on to the right.” I spurred ahead, and we had made two thirds of the distance, and coming to a walk, looked intently into the woods, at the immediate edge of which were several large trees. I saw what appeared to be six or eight Federals, two of whom, being some distance in advance of the rest, who halted some forty of fifty yards from the field, ran quickly forward to the cover of one of the large trees, and, one above the other on the same side, leveled their guns.

I looked around to General Hill. He said: “We must take them,” at the same time drawing, for the first time that day, his Colt’s navy pistol. I said: “Stay there, I’ll take them.” By this time we were within twenty yards of the two behind the tree and getting closer every moment. I shouted: “If you fire, you’ll be swept to hell! Our men are here — surrender!” When General Hill was at my side calling “surrender,” now within ten yards of the men covering us with their muskets (the upper one the General, the lower one myself), the lower soldier let the stock of his gun down from his shoulder, but recovered quickly as his comrade spoke to him (I only saw his lips move) and both fired. Throwing out my right hand (he was on that side) toward the General, I caught the bridle of his horse, and, wheeling to the left, turned in the saddle and saw my General on the ground, with his limbs extended, motionless.

Mauk recalled his role in events a bit more succinctly, but very similarly to Tucker:

Just as we entered the swamp we saw two men on horseback coming from the direction of Petersburg, who had the appearance of officers. They advanced until they came to the men on the hill; they then turned and rode toward us. We had just entered the swamp, when they advanced with cocked revolvers in their hands, which were leveled at us. Seeing a large oak tree close to the road, we took it for protection against any movement they would be likely to make. Seemingly by direction of his superior, one of the rebel officers remained behind. The other advanced with his revolver pointed at us, and demanded our surrender, saying, “Surrender, or I will shoot you. A body of troops are advancing on our left (i.e., from the direction of Petersburg), and you will have to surrender, anyway!” The officer still advanced and peremptorily demanded, “Surrender your arms.” I said “I could not see it,” and said to Comrade Wolford, “Let us shoot them.”

We immediately raised our guns and fired, I bringing my man from his saddle.

Mauk stated he did not know the name of the officer who he killed until General Horatio Wright told him it was General A.P. Hill.  Mauk also noted that he ran into men from the 5th Alabama — Hill’s headquarters guard — who brought off the body.  Tucker had followed Hill’s directions, switched to Hill’s faster horse (almost certainly Hill’s gray charger Champ), and rode directly to Lee’s headquarters where he explained what happened to first members of Hill’s staff (including Palmer), then to General Longstreet, and finally to Lee himself.

As Walter Taylor put it, “Thus terminated the career of one of the most brilliant and successful leaders in the Southern Army. From the day he crossed the Chickahominy at Mechanicsville, in June, 1862, and opened the attack on the army under General McClellan, to the day of his death, he was a constant and reliable support to General Lee in the operations of his army.”

(Shameless self-promotion time.  If you would like to learn more about A.P. Hill, you can go to my website about him, And Then A.P. Hill Came Up.  The full-text versions of the accounts and information about Hill’s death is contained in the Last Campaign section of the biography.)

1. Technically, Thomas took command from J.R. Anderson, who commanded the brigade during the Seven Days. [↩]
2. For those interested in Gettysburg, unfortunately Palmer was hors de combat — he was still recovering from a dislocated shoulder sustained in a fall from his horse in the same barrage that mortally wounded Jackson at Chancellorsville.  One should wonder if the loss of his trusted chief of staff had some effect on Hill at Gettysburg.  Imagine Longstreet without Sorrel or Ewell without Sandie Pendelton, for example. [↩]
3. Mauk was from Bedford, Pennsylvania.  It was noted that “never boasted of the act which brought his name into the official report of the commander of the division in which he served, but he had no hesitation in telling the thrilling story when it became the subject of special inquiry.” [↩]

Tags: A.P. Hill, history, Petersburg