The Secret List of Lost Soldiers - For Memorial Day (Article 115)
Officially, Memorial Day is set aside to honor those who lost their lives in service to our country; however, custom has evolved to also recognize all other veterans who have died. The placing of flowers (and more recently, flags) on graves, pre-dates the Civil War, but the practice became common during that conflict. This is the story of one young Union soldier’s quest to honor those lost, not in battle, but in an atrocious prisoner-of-war camp.
Because of his brave efforts, many families, who only knew that their loved one was missing, were finally able to receive some closure, and in some cases, to put flowers on a grave.
Dorence Atwater was from New York, and he was only fifteen years old when the Confederates fired on Fort Sumter, igniting the Civil War. Although he was too young to serve in 1861, he lied about his age and a recruiter willingly signed him up; however, his father intervened and the enlistment was vacated. But that did not stop young Dorence. He traveled alone to Washington DC, introduced himself to New York military units, and for the next two years, he volunteered to serve as a scout and courier and was on the fringes of several early battles. Finally, in early 1863, he formally enlisted in the 2nd New York Cavalry in the Union Army. In June, 1863, he found himself in Pennsylvania, near the town of Gettysburg.
He was exercising horses in the rear of the battle lines when he was captured by a group of Confederate soldiers and, along with his horses, was taken behind Confederate lines. As the battles ended at Gettysburg, he was transferred as a prisoner to Richmond, Virginia. He was evidently a persuasive young man and, although still a prisoner, talked his guards into a job as a clerk for the Confederate Army distributing supplies sent from the north to prisoners in the city. He quickly saw how some Confederate guards were stealing from packages sent to the prisoners by families and by charities in the North. He noted that clothing and blankets were often taken by guards and officers for their own use, or even sold on the streets of Richmond. He kept quiet at the time, but he testified in 1869 in a congressional hearing, that he noted one Confederate officer had stolen so much from prisoners’ packages, that he (Dorence) estimated the thefts to be worth more than $50,000.
But two years into the war, the Richmond prison was becoming overcrowded and some of the Union soldiers were to be transferred to other locations. The Confederate Army had completed a large prison compound in Georgia, officially called Fort Sumter, but which was becoming known as Andersonville because of its proximity to that community. Atwater was transferred from Richmond to Andersonville in February 1864. At that time, the stockade was already overcrowded; however, Atwater, nor any of the other prisoners (or guards for that matter), could imagine how horrific the situation would become over the next year. He became aware of the presence of a rudimentary hospital on the grounds and asked the resident doctor for any position where he might help. He was assigned the task of maintaining the prison’s death register, in which he would inscribe the names of the deceased soldiers, their unit, their home (if known) and the place of burial. These internments were not in individual graves, but in mass trenches which were then covered; however, each trench, at least under Atwater’s watch, was numbered as to its location and the names of those it contained. At first this was not a full-time task, but that soon changed. Within a month, two other clerks were needed as the death toll from disease and starvation rapidly climbed. Also, the task was not simple because many soldiers carried no identification, so the clerks often had to interview other prisoners to learn an identity. At some point about August 1864, Atwater began to realize the enormity of what was happening and decided to keep a secret copy of the death register. Based on conversations he overheard, he said he became convinced that the Confederate army, after the war ended, would never release the official reports with so many deaths recorded. He went to great lengths to find paper and even pieces of cloth to keep his secret list, and for nearly a year, did not even disclose its existence to the other clerks; as he knew he (and they) would likely be hanged for the offense.
As the war was winding down, Confederate officials decided to move many of the prisoners, who were able to walk, from Andersonville to other sites farther South and West. However, thousands of prisoners were too weak to move and were left at Andersonville, many of whom died over the following two months. Atwater was healthy enough to be designated for transfer from Andersonville in February 1865, and was able to sneak his voluminous copy of the burial list out with him in a large cloth bag; due to the minimum oversight by guards and the chaos of moving so many other prisoners. Then, in a stroke of luck, Atwater and hundreds of prisoners along with him were “paroled” by Confederate officers rather than tying up the guards to monitor them for a journey to other prisons. Dorence headed north and, by March 15, 1865, he was home with his family in Connecticut.
He showed the list to his father and siblings and made arrangements to meet with Federal officials to give them control of the record. The officials realized the importance of the list in both the humanitarian opportunity to identify burial locations at Andersonville (Dorence’s reason), but also for seeking prosecutions of Confederal officials when hostilities ended (the Union Army’s and politicians’ reason). He received a telegram from the Army directing him to come to Washington, DC and bring his list for review. While on the train, he heard that President Lincoln had been assassinated and upon arrival in Washington, found the city in chaos and his Army contacts unavailable. He had not yet fully recovered from illness and exhaustion, but decided to remain in the city until he could meet with Army officials.
When he finally met with Army officers, Atwater was reluctant to simply turn over the list, and insisted that some arrangements be made for him to go to Andersonville and personally help with the identification processes. After several negotiating sessions, Atwater and the Army agreed that he could lead a mission to Andersonville and use the list to document the grave sites. The hope was to return the remains of as many of the soldiers to their families and home towns as possible. Atwater also contacted Clara Barton, who was heading a similar project to identify soldiers lost on battlefields and hospitals so their families could receive some closure. In July and August 1865, at Andersonville, Atwater and Miss Barton went through his records to mark graves and to write letters to families. While they worked on their sad task, the Federal Government designated the site as the Andersonville National Cemetery.
As Atwater suspected, however, the Confederate officials either destroyed or “lost” the official death records and, if he had not made his secret copy, there would have been no list to work from in identifying grave sites.
Although they had worked diligently and had identified several thousand soldiers’ grave locations (many in mass graves), he and Miss Barton had run out of time (and money) for the mission and were preparing to leave Andersonville. Atwater was not sure what Army officers might do with the list, so he tried to take it with him. When the Union officers discovered his plan, they charged him with theft, ordered his arrest, quickly Court Martialed him, and placed him in jail. Before the short trial, he was able to get the list to Miss Barton, who protected it, and promptly petitioned President Andrew Johnson to direct Atwater’s release. Based on Miss Barton’s intercession, he was pardoned by the President and went to work with her in her designated Missing Soldiers Office.
He still had not given the list to the Army, whose agents he now distrusted, and he wanted to assure it would not be “misplaced” by those in charge.
In 1866 he, with Miss Barton's assistance (and probably her insistence as she was a force of nature), the New York Tribune published Atwater's Andersonville Death Register and the story of its origination. As a result, Dorence Atwater became famous to many Americans; however, he was infamous to certain Army Generals and politicians who were frustrated by Atwater’s recalcitrance to bend to their demands. But he said he did not care what the Army thought, since he said he served the lost soldiers and their families. Until his death, he was confident that he had made the right (and courageous) decisions to first create the secret list and then to keep it out of the Army’s bureaucratic hands; at least until as many families had been served as possible. He finally gave the original list to the Army, but only after it was published.
Atwater circ 1870
For the next four years, he toured the country with Miss Barton lecturing on Andersonville and Civil War battle sites to raise money for her Missing Soldiers Office. In 1870, he joined the State Department as a diplomat and consul, distinguishing himself in several foreign assignments, including in Tahiti where he is still considered a national hero for his commitment to helping improving the lives of the people. During his years there, he married a Tahitian princess, who was by his side when he died in 1910, at age 65.
So, in Memoriam, on this Memorial Day, thank you for your service, Dorence Atwater.