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As a child, I remember my father telling me that any building in Texas
that had stood long enough to be called ‘old’ was either made out of adobe or
built by Germans. Traveling through the
Hill Country of Texas (roughly the center of Texas—atop the Edwards Plateau and
extending northwest and east of San Antonio), you run across countless little
towns with German names, and the center of each of those towns consists of
solid stone buildings.
Back then, many of these little communities still had German local
newspapers and it wasn’t hard to find the occasional German sign in the shop
windows. Several of these towns still
had small local breweries producing German-style beer. Sadly, most of those have either closed or
been absorbed into large multinational corporations that sell a watered-down
lager that should be labeled “American Lawn Mowing Beer.”
After Texas secured its independence following the victory at the Battle
of San Jacinto in 1836, Texas changed rapidly.
Where the original settlers had picked land along the coast, favoring
land where the annual crop of cotton could be floated down rivers to the Gulf,
the new immigrants established communities farther inland. Among the numerous immigrants moving westward
from the old South were thousands of European immigrants, mostly from Germany.
During the 1850’s, roughly 20,000 German immigrants poured into Texas,
encouraged by enterprising real estate entrepreneurs who advertised (meaning
they lied their asses off) in Germany about abundant cheap land in a peaceful
and settled paradise brimming with infrastructure.
The Allen Brothers, for example, bragged about the thriving metropolis
of Houston, situated along an active ship channel—a town “handsome and
beautifully elevated, salubrious and well-watered.” The last, at least, was true.
Actually, it was a mosquito-infested swamp along a bayou so muddy that
it took a week to travel the forty miles from Galveston. The first log cabin constructed there
sank. The "thriving metropolis"
of Houston had a population of twelve people residing in one log cabin
in 1837, when the first steamship visited.
Four months later, there were 1,500 residents and over 100 houses. What the Allen brothers lacked in honesty,
they made up in salesmanship.
One visitor who was more honest than the Allen brothers, said the city
was “one of the muddiest and most disagreeable places on earth.” Twelve months later, one out of every eight
inhabitants died of yellow fever—including one of the founding Allen brothers. By the time he was buried, Houston was the
temporary capitol of Texas and was receiving thousands of new immigrants
annually.
The Germans who arrived were a highly diverse group—Catholics,
Protestants, Jews, and Atheists. Though
most were farmers, there were stonemasons, intellectuals (teachers,
newspapermen), merchants, brewmasters, and clergymen among them. In fact, almost everyone except aristocrats
came to Texas from Germany.
Overwhelmingly, they were morally against slavery
and they moved inland in search of cheaper land, past the coastal plantations
where slavery was the norm. In the Hill
Country of Texas, they used the abundant limestone and granite hills to build
new towns. By the eve of the Civil War,
German immigrants numbered about 5% of the Texas population, a number roughly
equal to number of Tejanos.
Far from being peacefully settled land, this was a lawless land, plagued
by frequent attacks from the Lipan-Apache, the Comanches, and the Kiowa, who
resisted the loss of their lands. The
Army established a series of forts and posts across the area, helping to
protect the settlers as much by buying their agricultural surplus as by their
military activities.
By the time the Civil War started, these communities were predominantly
pro-Union, siding with Sam Houston—who was both a former president of the Texas
Republic and a former governor—against joining the Confederacy. The German immigrants correctly believed that
the movement to secession was primarily a political ploy to protect
slavery. The Germans were proud of their
new American citizenship, friendly with the local military and rightly
suspicious of the politicians in Austin pushing for secession. Though some German communities voted 95%
against secession, Texas seceded in 1861.
When Texas seceded, Governor Lubbock promptly enforced the Confederate
Conscription Law, which required all men between the ages of 18-35 to swear
allegiance to the Confederacy and to “volunteer” for service in the Confederate
Army. Unlike military commanders in
other Confederate states, Lubbock included male slaves in this
enforcement. The conscription law was
unpopular in all of the the Southern states, but nowhere was the resistance to
the mandate more violent than in Texas.
In May, 1862, the commander of the Confederate Military Department of
Texas, seeking to implement the law, put the entire state under martial law and
appointed provost marshals to administer conscription. These provost marshals were particularly
ruthless in the pro-Union German communities, confiscating wagons, horses,
mules and any material thought to be “critical to the success of the
Confederate forces.” Naturally, a lot of
this material made its way to the black market, enriching the provost marshals.
Despite the fact that the original law specified no punishment for
noncompliance, Captain James Duff, the provost marshal for the Texas Hill
country, began an outright reign of terror.
Employing night riders, his band began burning homes and hanging German
immigrants without trial. According to
one of his men, the best method of convincing men to become Confederate
volunteers was by hanging a few Union sympathizers.
The German communities attempted to resist the conscription act and
remain loyal to the Union. After a Union
Loyal League was founded in protest, the Confederate military declared
Gillespie, Kerr, Kendall, Medina, and Bexar Counties to be in open revolt and
declared war on them. Captain Duff
occupied Kerrville—which had voted 400 to 17 to remain in the Union—then
declared himself Provost, and began enforcing his personal version of the law
on members of the league. In a letter to
a friend, he declared, “The God damn
Dutchmen are Unionists to a man…I will hang
all I suspect of being anti-Confederates.”
The hangings became so frequent that Germans began to sleep in their
fields or in nearby woods at night for fear of being taken by “Die Haengerbaende” (the hanging
band). These guerrillas would arrive in
the night, take the young men, hang the parents, and burn the homes and barns
of those suspected of being pro-Union.
The Union Loyal League attempted to hide in plain sight—they formed
three companies of supposedly Confederate militias who were assigned the duty
of guarding the Hill Country against raids by the Comanche. Since they were in an active militia, this
would exempt them from conscription. As
you can imagine, their real duty was to guard against the thugs employed by
Captain Duff.
Duff retaliated by jailing most of the League’s officers, threatening to
hang or jail the remainder of the League.
The militia companies disbanded and word was quickly passed to the young
men that anyone desiring to flee to Mexico should meet along the Guadalupe
River. On August 1, 1862, sixty-eight
men—nearly all of them German immigrants—met and began riding south to escape
from Captain Duff. Believing that there
would be no active pursuit, the group’s progress was somewhat leisurely
(perhaps, either because they were unsure of where in Mexico to go, or of what
to do when they got there).
The group probably would have escaped successfully had it not run out of
supplies and robbed a settler to replenish them (ironically, their victim was
another German immigrant—who promptly reported the theft to the Confederate
authorities). Furious, Captain Duff sent
a force of nearly a hundred to intercept the fleeing Unionists, who—being
unaware of their eager pursuers—were still making their way at a leisurely pace
towards Mexico. Whether as a result of
the slow pace or the general lack of a plan of action after they arrived in
Mexico, twenty-eight of the Germans had abandoned the group and returned home.
On August 9, 1862, the Confederate force of ninety-six men under
Lieutenant Colin McRae caught up with the men on the banks of the Nueces River
about fifty miles from Mexico. The
fierce skirmish began at 3:00 AM, and left casualties on both sides. Of the Unionists, eight were killed, eleven were
wounded, and the rest managed to escape towards Mexico.
At first, the wounded were well-treated and received medical care for
their wounds. Several hours after their
capture, however, Lieutenant McRae ordered the men to be executed. The bodies of all of the dead Unionists—whether
killed in battle or subsequently executed—were left along the banks of the
Nueces River, where they remained for the rest of the Civil War, since the
Confederate authorities prohibited anyone from visiting the site. After the war, as family members gathered the
remains for burial, it was discovered that most of the men had been shot in the
back of the head.
When news of the Nueces Massacre reached Captain Duff, he organized
another force and arrested and hanged another fifty immigrants—including all of
the twenty-eight who had abandoned the earlier party—in town centers, and
fields across the Texas Hill Country.
Similar hangings were carried out in North Texas, particularly
Gainesville. These mass hangings are the
largest in American history.
When the war was finally over, the scattered bodies of the men slain
along the Nueces River were finally gathered.
Time, spring floods, and the ravages of wild animals had made
identification impossible, so the remains were returned to Comfort, Texas and
buried together in the town center. A
limestone obelisk was erected in their honor—one of the first to memorialize
the Civil War and it stands in a former Confederate state to honor the men who
remained loyal to the Union. It is the only Union monument erected in the former Confederacy.
On the side of the marker are listed the names of the men buried under
the inscription, “Trëue der Union”, or in the
language of the men who murdered them, “True to the Union”.
Rumor had it that some of my kin did some guerrilla warfare in East Texas during the Civil War - a little stealthy sabotage and aiding Union POW escapees.
ReplyDeleteTexas was seriously divided and Democrat leaders nearly lost their minds over those who were loyal to the Union. It's a shameful episode in Texas history and not the last one. Fortunately, the bad guys were eventually run out of power, but it took till the 1990s to do it. I was there. They did not go quietly.