Reuben DeLay Civil War Records

I have obtained our ancestor Reuben DeLay’s Civil War records. The do not provide much detail about his time in Confederate POW Camps, but some assumptions can be made from other historical records. The record is old, last recopied in 1883. I believe that the scribe was a single woman named Miss _______. She may have been in a hurry. The POW record is about the size of an old hand receipt. There is writing on both sides with some bleed through.

Here’s what we have been able to recover from it:

Reuben DeLay’s POW Record (Front)

MEMORANDUM FROM PRISO0NER OF WAR RECORDS\

(This blank to be used only in the arrangement of said records.)

NAME    Rank       ORGANIZATION                     INFORMATION OBTAINED FROM

                                 No of                    Area of                 Records   

                                 Regt     State     Service      Co      of               Vol   Page   Vol   Page

DeLay,Reuben       3          Iowa     Cavalry        I        Miss  ?     844

                2Lt                                                                             EX          10       81

                                                                                              ______       ___       41       57    39                                              

 Captured at Ripley, Miss  Feb 12[1], 1864  Confined at Camp Asylum Columbia  SC  

                                                                                                                   Date not given 186_

Admitted to Hospital at     (Blank)

Where he died   (Blank)

Paroled at N E Ferry, NC, Mar 5, 1865; Reported at Camp Parole MD Mar 7, 1865

6921. _AS_ 83                             Copied by _____________         

Rear Side Panel

(RECORD CONTINUED)

This is accepted as referring to Reuben DeLay

Co I,  3 Regt  Iowa Calvary

And records will be corrected accordingly.

         ___________________________

          Assistant Adjutant Gen’l

Reverse side

(Record Continued)

Furloughed Mar 12, 1865 for 30 days  to report  to  _______         

Deserted      (Blank)            186  ,  Rec’d leave of absence with ____

Report to     _____    BB ___.   No further record to ______report

Mustered in as Reuben DeLay  ___ Co I,  3  Iowa Garrison

No other  ____  form to ________ _report

Could refer to /3 Iowa Cavy

_______   _______  to ___________     August 9, 83


[1] Note the correct date should be June 11, 1864. Reuben was captured the day after the Battle of Brice’s Cross Roads near Ripley, MS.

Preliminary interpretation:

We know from this and other sources that Reuben was captured in the aftermath of the Battle of Brice’s Cross Roads which took place near Ripley, Mississippi on June 10, 1864. Other sources indicate he was captured the day after the battle (June 11) as the 3rd Iowa Cavalry was serving as the rear guard for the Union retreat after losing to Confederate forces under the command of General Nathan Bedford Forrest. (Yes, the same guy who founded the Ku Klux Klan.)

We don’t know much about what happened after that. I assume Reuben was held in at least four Confederate prison Camps. National Park Service records show he was initially held at Camp Cahaba, Alabama and Camp Sumpter, Georgia which is better known as Andersonville. The only one mentioned in his Prisoner of War record is Camp Asylum near Columbia, South Carolina. Though Andersonville was almost exclusively for enlisted prisoners, National Park Service records say a Reuben DeLay from Iowa was incarcerated there and survived. According to John McElroy’s book, Andersonville: A Story of Rebel Military Prisons, about 300 officers were discovered among the Andersonville prisoners in late August 1864 and sent to an officer’s prison at Macon. He wrote:

Reuben’s stay at Andersonville was about 2 months long. The capture of Atlanta by Sherman’s forces on September 1, 1864 meant that his stay at Oglethorpe would also be short. About half of the prisoners from Oglethorpe went to Charleston, South Carolina to serve as human shields against the Federals bombarding the city. The other half went to Camp Sorghum, South Carolina where the prisoners from Charleston eventually rejoined them. About 300 prisoners escaped, from the unwalled camp Sorghum but few reached Union lines. The primitive camp was replaced by Camp Asylum in December of 1864. Camp Asylum opened in mid-December. As the name implies it was the former South Carolina Lunatic Asylum. It had a 12 foot wall round it and some buildings to provide shelter. By February 14, 1865, it had been evacuated due to Sherman’s renewed march north through the Carolinas. We don’t know where Reuben was next moved to. In all probability they moved him further north. At about the same time Asylum closed, the Confederates also closed the Salisbury North Carolina and Florence, South Carolina camps.

Ultimately, Reuben was said to have been “paroled” at “N.E. Ferry” North Carolina on March 5, 1865, and made his way, permeably by ship, to Camp Parole, Maryland two days later. He was home in Iowa in April 1865 and secured a Doctor’s statement dated 28 April requesting 20 more days of leave because he was suffering from “Bilious Fever.”

Here is the text of the notarized copy of the affidavit:

Reuben R, DeLay Civil War Records

Medical Release   April 28, 1865

Page 8

Transcript:

Copy furnished Justice of Peace August 31, 1883

Second Lieutenant Reuben DeLay of the 3rd

Iowa Vol Cavalry appeared to me on the

10th of April 1865 for a certificate

I do hereby certify that I did

carefully examine this officer and found that

he was suffering from debility the result of

 an attack of Bilious fever 

and thus in consequence thereof is in my

opinion unfit for duty and not able to

travel. I further declare that he should

not be able to resume his duties in a l_ps

service? than 20 days and if nothing

else befalls him he could at that time

be able to travel and resume his duties.

The original leave of absence was

granted on the 24th day of March 1865

P.B. Audrey Centerville, Appanoose Co Iowa

______  at Centerville Iowa April 29 1865

                            Franklin Eills MD

                                             X

Sworn and subscribed to at Centerville,

Appanoose County, Iowa this 29th day

of April 1865    (Appears to be a Notary stamp and signature.)

I will keep you posted as I learn more and resolve discrepancies.

POW Record Front

POW Record Reverse Side

Depiction of Camp Asylum at Columbia, SC during the Civil War.

National archives record on Reuben DeLay’s time as a prisoner of the Confederacy. (Jun 1864-May 1865) (Note: This link will only work for 30 days ending about July 13, 20223. If you want the file in its most legible for, download it to your own device before then.

G11-811318067E Pvt. Reuben Delay Military Service Records.pdf – Onehub

Here is the NPS link where Reuben DeLay is show as having been imprisoned at Andersonville: Search For Prisoners – The Civil War (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov)

Complete record pdf:

Docs

Donald Trump0’s arraignment in the Mar-a-Lago
Documents Case.

Miami Federal Courthouse. June 13, 2023

I did not steal those SECRET docs,

I did not keep them with my socks.

And if I did, they were mine,

I didn’t even cross that line.

I can take them anytime.

This is not a real crime.

I did not share them with the Sheik,

I gave the Chinese not a peek.

Held safe by a K-Mart lock,

Hid the key behind a clock.

Then they told me once or twice,

To yield my docs would be nice.

I told them where they could go,

And spread my doc to and frow.

The Feds then raided my dear home,

Where Golden Showers I condone.

Surely, I declassified,

Every doc, far and wide.

It is just a big WITCH HUNT,

And Jack Smith is such a runt.

The only thing I will confess,

Is being Prez caused this mess.

I’ll get even one fine day,

And make the Feds have-to pay.

You can help me in this clash,

By sending me all your cash!  

 LDT 6/17/23

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Reuben DeLay’s Civil War Records

This page is under construction.

Check back later as I add more information from Reuben DeLay’s records

Reuben DeLay, my Grandmother’s Grandfather served in the 3rd Iowa Calvary during the Civil War.

Here is some information gleaned from His January 1, 1864 reenlistment papers:

Reuben joined the Union Army along with his brother and two cousins on August 20, 1861. He appears to have mustered in at St Louis, Missouri on Sep 6, 1861. His original enlistment was for 3 years.

On January 1, 1864, Reuben DeLay reenlisted as a Sergeant at Little Rock, Arkansas. He swore an oath that is very similar to that sworn by countless other members of the US military up to the present time.

He was examined by a Doctor who found him “free from bodily defects and potential infirmity.

The description given was:

-Eyes: Hazel

-Hair: Black

Complexion: Dark

-High: 5 Ft. 11 3/4

Here is the transcript of the actual document. Let me know if you see anything I missed due to my bad eyesight and inability to decipher ancient cursive.

Virtually all of the members of the 3rd Iowa Cavalry reenlisted along with Reuben. (Over 500 men.) They were returned to Keokuk, Iowa for thirty days of well-earned leave on Feb 12, 1864.

MAGAdonia

MAGAdonia, MAGAdonia, it’s a hell of a place,

With documents stashed in each empty space.

MAGAdonia, MAGAdonia, with its golden toilets,

Where John Rich and Kid Rock are singing duets.

MAGAdonia, MAGAdonia, it’s all up to you,

Where Bannon and Stone are plotting a coup.

MAGAdonia, MAGAdonia, it’s all for the best,

Where someone is serving under house arrest.

MAGAdonia, MAGAdonia, I’ll tell you no lies,

The whole place is full of con men and spies.

MAGAdonia, MAGAdonia, they raided his home,

Took back the docs, his socks and his phone.

MAGAdonia, MAGAdonia, he has a court date,

To be held in contempt if he’s one minute late.

MAGAdonia, MAGAdonia, it don’t look so good,

He may go to prison for all his falsehood.

MAGAdonia, MAGAdonia, it can stick in your craw,

When even ex-Presidents can’t break the law!

LDT June 11, ‘23

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Midway Survivor Harry Ferrier

Some say there was only one survivor from the ill-fated Torpedo 8 Squadron at the Battle of Midway. For the 15 Devastator crews that launched from the carrier Hornet that is true. Torpedo 8 was in the process of getting re-equipped with the newer, better Grumman Avenger when the battle took place. Six crews got their Avengers too late to make the Hornet’s sailing. They flew from Hawaii to Midway to join the attack on the Japanese fleet. Five of these planes were lost, but one badly shot-up Avenger made it back to Midway. The pilot , Ensign Earnest, and Radioman, Harry Ferrier joined Ensign Gay as the only survivors of Torpedo 8.

The badly shot up TBF Avenger of Ensign Earnest and
Radioman Ferrier after crash landing at Midway
.
The tarp covers the remains of the third crewman who did not survive.

Video of Harry Ferrier, one of three survivors of Torpedo Squadron 8 in the Battle of Midway

Harry Ferrier stayed in the Navy, eventually becoming an officer. Though I didn’t know it at the time our paths once crossed aboard the USS Princeton off Vietnam in the Mid-Sixties. Ferrier was the Aircraft Maintenance Officer on the ship while I was attached to the Marine Battalion Landing Team on board. He retired as a Commander in 1970 and died in 2016.

LDT June 11, ’23

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Mail Call

GySgt R. Lee Ermey of the long running show Mail Call on the History Channel

On a lonely hill

Above an emerald green valley

Indian Country

Scan the sky

Two Skyhawks roar in low

Whistling death

Napalm

Screams

Choppa Choppa Choppa

The supply bird

Pregnant Guppy

Skyhawks, Rockets this time

Keeps them hunkered down

We rush to the LZ

Chopper lands,

Dust stings our faces

A PFC steps out

Starched utilities

A.J. squared away

He’ll learn

Maybe

We rush to unload

Four Deuce rounds

Plasma, more plasma

C-Rations. Don’t eat the cheese!

Give it to the Vietnamese

Lucky Strikes, ordinance green cans

Mail! From the World! Playboys!

Four Marines load Murphy

Lance Corporal, USMC

Seven digits

Serial Number

Catholic

Bagged and tagged

Corpsman loads a limping Corporal Kempton

Flesh wound

He’ll be back

A round kicks up dust

Near-sighted Nhat

He’s out of his hole

An M-60 answers

Short bursts

We work faster

The chopper roars off

The A-4s make a strafing pass

Quiet

Store the ammo

Head for the hooch

An hour later Sergeant Tocki enters

With the mail and the Word

He’s gruff

No letter for him, the Word is not good

Mail Call!

We gather round

Gomez!

The local paper

Homecoming Queen

Normal

Black!

Corporal Black is White,

PFC White is Black

All Marines are green, and grungy

Perfumed letter, X’s and O’s

Ooo La La!

Smith!

Box of cookies

Crumbled and old

It’s the thought

Murph….

Tocki chokes, his face blanches

He puts the letter aside

Wilson!

Wilson rushes to grab it

A letter from Jen

It’s typed

Shaky hands tear it open

It begins

Dear John….

LDT June 10, ‘23

          As I wrote this I remembered going through my Mother’s things after she died in 1988. She had saved my letters from Vietnam. I grabbed them. They were part of my history, but best kept in a box. Then I wondered why she had kept these letters and no others. Today it hit me. She never knew which one would be the last.

Semper Fi!

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First They Came

Donald Trump hosting an LIV golf tournament.
Bedminster, New Jersey July 28, 2022.

First they came for the Yeminis,

And I did not speak out

Because I was not a Yemini

Then they came for the dissidents

And I did not speak out

Because I was not one they killed

Then they came for the journalists,

And I did not speak out

Because I was not Jamal Khashoggi

Then they came for the Twin Towers,

And I did not speak out

Because I was not in the towers

Then they came for the PGA

And there was no one left

to speak out for me

@#%&!

Note: this is a paraphrase of the famous Martin Niemöller poem

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Hey Ron!

Governor DeSantis signs Florida’s Don’t Say Gay Bill

Hey Ron!

I heard you crashed on Twitter Spaces,

And wed at Disney of all places.

What about those books you banned,

That tell the story of this land?

Hey Ron!

Have you seen a Drag Queen Show?

Maybe you should hafta’ go.

Is your pronoun him or her,

Or do we have to call you Sir?

Hey Ron!

Why did you make Mickey sore,

Are you that goofy at your core?

And what about all those guns,

You keep in case someone runs?

Hey Ron!

Are you ready to declare,

Your dystopian nightmare?

And are your panties in a snit,

Or are you just full of ..it?

Hey Ron!

Who will pick your rotting fruit,

Since you told them all to scoot?

Hope your pregnancies go alright,

Cuz all your Docs have taken flight.

Hey Ron!

Why do you ban Miss Ruby’s story,

Is she a threat to White Trash glory?

And what about Don’t Say Gay,

Did not the girls let you play?

Hey Ron!

You said you fixed Sanibel Bridge,

Or did you fudge it by a smidge?

Will the next big hurricane,

Send you fleeing on a plane?

Hey Ron!

Why do you, our votes suppress,

And will you make a bigger mess?

Do you support the KKK,

Because we took your slaves away?

Hey Ron!

What have you got against our history?

We made mistakes, that’s no mystery.

Why can’t we learn, with warts and all,

Or must we hide behind the pall?

Hey Ron!

What is up with your good friend Don,

Why does he hope that you are gone?

You are just as bad as he,

Is what it seems like to me.

Hey Ron!

As your state slips into the sea,

You worry about where to pee.

Why don’t you just look around,

At real problems that abound?

Hey Ron!

Maybe you should take a hike,

And stop acting like a tyke!

LDT May 28, ‘23

Ron shows his colors

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Valhalla’s Call

Captain Lawrence Wicks Jordan.
Commander, HQ Co., 9th Marines, 3rd Marine Div.

He was the first we lost, but he wouldn’t be the last,

The Skipper paid the cost, beneath Valhalla’s mast.

A Mustang from the ranks, he was one of us,

Deserving of our thanks, for his awesomeness.

He didn’t have to go, but he volunteered,

To fight the VC foe, a job that he revered.

He was off to Vietnam, steady, strong and calm,

He went without a qualm, but found a real maelstrom.

Somewhere in Bình Định, the word was mighty grim,

The Skipper had cashed in, it was the end of him.

He heard Valhalla’s call, his name is on the Wall,

Too bad he had to fall, too many gave their all,

He was the first we lost, but he wouldn’t be the last.

He paid a heavy cost, his valor unsurpassed.

L/CPL LD Thill

HQ Co, Ninth Marines, (1964-65)

29 May ‘23

This poem is dedicated to the memory of Capt. Lawrence Wicks Jordan and the twenty-one other men from Headquarters Company, Ninth Marines who died in Vietnam.

Semper Fi!

Captain Jordan left a wife and small daughter. In 2012 his daughter, Deb, left this letter on her Dad’s memorial page:

Dear Dad,

When I think about you there are so many things I want to remember. I want to remember walking hand in hand with you. I want to remember you reading me a bedtime story. I want to remember you throwing me in the air and catching me or riding high up on your shoulders. I want to remember the little things. I also want to remember the big things…teaching me to ride a bike, helping me with homework, threatening a first boyfriend, seeing me graduate, walking me down the aisle. But my memory jar is empty. You left to soon. I was too young. Though I didn’t know you, you taught me the most valuable lessons in life. You taught me to be strong. You taught me to bear pain. You taught me about honor, valor and what it means to die for a cause … for God and country. Big lesson for a little girl who just misses having a daddy. But life lesson for the adult daughter of a hero. You may think that I was too young, that I would miss it all, you may think I didn’t see, that I hadn’t heard, but I got every life lesson that you taught me even though you weren’t here. I got every word, it’s written on my heart. Without you I wouldn’t be woman I am today. Even without your physical presence, I’ve grown up with your values, understanding your courage, knowing your sacrifice, with you as my foundation. You weren’t there when I skinned my knee to chase away my tears to help me when things were hard in school to guide me through my fears as I navigated life. When I was old enough to drive a car, it wasn’t you who taught me how. But you have always been my guiding star teaching me about righteousness, justice, morality and honor. So this memorial day I say a prayer and thank the Lord for the father I never knew but taught me so very much. Semper Fi, Captain Lawrence W Jordan USMC, 1932-1965.
May 27, 2012

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Night Patrol

The Night Patrol

BY ARTHUR GRAEME WEST

France, March 1916.

Over the top! The wire’s thin here, unbarbed

Plain rusty coils, not staked, and low enough:

Full of old tins, though—“When you’re through, all three,

Aim quarter left for fifty yards or so,

Then straight for that new piece of German wire;

See if it’s thick, and listen for a while

For sounds of working; don’t run any risks;

About an hour; now, over!”

                                                    And we placed

Our hands on the topmost sand-bags, leapt, and stood

A second with curved backs, then crept to the wire,

Wormed ourselves tinkling through, glanced back, and dropped.

The sodden ground was splashed with shallow pools,

And tufts of crackling cornstalks, two years old,

No man had reaped, and patches of spring grass.

Half-seen, as rose and sank the flares, were strewn

The wrecks of our attack: the bandoliers,

Packs, rifles, bayonets, belts, and haversacks,

Shell fragments, and the huge whole forms of shells

Shot fruitlessly—and everywhere the dead.

Only the dead were always present—present

As a vile sickly smell of rottenness;

The rustling stubble and the early grass,

The slimy pools — the dead men stank through all,

Pungent and sharp; as bodies loomed before,

And as we passed, they stank: then dulled away

To that vague fœtor, all encompassing,

Infecting earth and air. They lay, all clothed,

Each in some new and piteous attitude

That we well marked to guide us back: as he,

Outside our wire, that lay on his back and crossed

His legs Crusader-wise: I smiled at that,

And thought on Elia and his Temple Church.

From him, at quarter left, lay a small corpse,

Down in a hollow, huddled as in a bed,

That one of us put his hand on unawares.

Next was a bunch of half a dozen men

All blown to bits, an archipelago

Of corrupt fragments, vexing to us three,

Who had no light to see by, save the flares.

On such a trail, so light, for ninety yards

We crawled on belly and elbows, till we saw,

Instead of lumpish dead before our eyes,

The stakes and crosslines of the German wire.

We lay in shelter of the last dead man,

Ourselves as dead, and heard their shovels ring

Turning the earth, then talk and cough at times.

A sentry fired and a machine-gun spat;

They shot a glare above us, when it fell

And spluttered out in the pools of No Man’s Land,

We turned and crawled past the remembered dead:

Past him and him, and them and him, until,

For he lay some way apart, we caught the scent

Of the Crusader and slide past his legs,

And through the wire and home, and got our rum.

Source: The Diary of a Dead Officer (1918)

West was killed by a Sniper’s bullet in France on 3 April, 1917.

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