A wave of patriotic fervor swept across the northern tier of states that summer of 1863.  It was the summer that saved the Union.  The offensive capabilities of Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia had been crushed during the three days of hell that ended on July 3 outside Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.  The next day, Union control of the Mississippi was guaranteed when the city of Vicksburg surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant’s forces following a six week siege, effectively splitting the South and severing the Southern supply chain that brought much needed food and materiel from the West to the major theaters of war in the East.  Many in the North mistakenly believed these victories heralded a rapid Confederate collapse.  Thousands of new recruits volunteered for duty that summer.  Many feared they would miss a great opportunity for adventure and martial glory.  Some were enticed by monetary signing bonuses.  Surely, however, pure patriotism played a role, as more and more men sought to play a part in the preservation of the Union.

One of those volunteers was a young man from Jay County, Indiana, named John Jefferson Williams.  He was 20 years old.  He reported for duty in September, 1863, and trained at Indiana’s Camp Joe Holt, on the Ohio River just across from the slave state of Kentucky.  Later that autumn, Private Williams was assigned to the Indiana 34^th Regiment Infantry in Louisiana, where he briefly helped patrol Union-occupied New Orleans and the Mississippi Delta, with a short stint along the quiet Central Texas coast.  In December, 1864, came the fateful orders to move the Indiana 34^th Regiment to the island of Brazos Santiago, near the mouth of the Rio Grande River.  Here they joined with the 62^nd U.S. Colored Troop Regiment to maintain control of the South Texas coast.

Although far removed from the major battlegrounds, far South Texas was not without danger, even at this late stage of the war.  While the Union blockade had effectively closed most southern ports, a bustling boomtown with the peculiar name of Bagdad had sprung up in Mexico just south of the mouth of the Rio Grande.  At this time, Mexico was little more than a French puppet state ruled by Napoleon III’s cousin, Emperor Maximilian.  Smugglers, often aided by Napoleon’s French forces, snuck cotton and other materials across the river to Bagdad’s docks to avoid the Union blockade.  It was a dangerous business, both for the Confederate smugglers as well as the Union occupiers.  It was not uncommon for Union patrols along the Rio Grande to come under fire from Confederate, Mexican, French, or even Native American snipers across the river. 

In March of 1865, with the war drawing to a close, the commanders of both Union and Confederate forces along the Rio Grande reached a gentleman’s agreement to end hostilities.  This decision did not sit well with some, however.  One who resented this unofficial truce was the white commander of the 62^nd U.S. Colored Regiment, Col. Theodore Barrett.  

No one knows why Col. Barrett decided to march on Brownsville, Texas.  It was late spring, and Bartlett knew that Lee and Johnston had surrendered their Confederate forces the previous month.  Surely, it was just a matter of a few weeks, or even days, before the remaining Confederate forces in remote places like South Texas would lay down their arms.  Why, then, did he decide to attack and occupy Brownsville?  Having missed the opportunity to lead men in major combat operations, did Col. Barrett desire a last chance for glory before the war came to an end?  Or were his motives more pecuniary?  Perhaps he wished to seize for himself the large stores of cotton in Brownsville before they could be carried across the river to the wharves of Bagdad.

Regardless of his motives, the decision was poorly executed.  Leaving the 34^th Indiana Regiment behind at Brazos Santiago, Col. Barrett ordered about 300 men of the 62^nd U.S. Colored Regiment to cross the unusually rough waters that separated Brazos Santiago from the mainland.  Once the crossing was complete, the regiment rested for the night to prepare for the next day’s march across the thorny chaparral to Brownsville.  Losing the element of surprise due to Confederate and Mexican sentries on the south bank of the Rio Grande, Union forces engaged a small contingent of Texans at Palmito Ranch, on the north side of the river.  Although Barrett had the advantage of superior numbers, his troops were unable to push through to Brownsville.  With daylight waning, they retreated from Palmito Ranch to safer shelter a few miles away. 

The next morning, Union forces once again marched toward Brownsville.  The attack this time included 200 reinforcements from the 34^th Indiana Regiment.  Again, Barrett’s men engaged the Confederates at Palmito Ranch.  The Confederates were forced to retreat, and the 62^nd Colored Regiment formed a long defensive line to protect Union gains, while the Indianans pushed on about a mile past the ranch to high ground within a bend of the Rio Grande.  Although this position was well protected, Union forces were still short of their objective.  Brownsville lay several miles upstream.  Worse yet, by positioning themselves inside the river bend, the 34^th Indiana regiment was effectively surrounded.  The Confederates were well positioned against their forward lines, while Franco-Mexican forces blocked any potential escape across the river.

By early afternoon, the battle was at a stalemate.  However, at about 3:00, Confederate reinforcements arrived.  There were now 490 Confederates confronting 500 Federals.  The situation had clearly shifted in the Confederates’ favor.  They enjoyed better positioning and had the advantage of allied arms across the river.  Perhaps even more importantly, their reinforcements had brought a six-gun battery of artillery. 

At 4:00 PM, Union forces came under heavy bombardment from Confederate 12 pounders.  The 62^nd Colored Regiment retreated back to Brazos Santiago, leaving the Indiana 34^th skirmish line unsupported.  The Confederate commander, an experienced Indian fighter and colonel with the Texas Rangers named John “Rip” Ford, ordered his cavalry to charge the Indianans.  During the charge, one of the Confederate cavalrymen noticed a young Union infantryman trying to reload his rifle.  The Confederate aimed his Colt revolver at the center of the opposite soldier’s blue coat and pulled the trigger.  Private John Jefferson Williams, the young volunteer from Indiana, fell back into the prairie grass and breathed his last breath. 

The Battle of Palmito Ranch pales in comparison to most of the battles of the Civil War.  The number of combatants only numbered in the hundreds, a very small figure for that war.  The casualty count was also quite small.  Confederate losses are not really known, although there were probably a few dozen wounded and one or two killed.  Union casualties were not much greater.  About 30 soldiers were wounded or killed, and a little over 100 were taken captive.  They would not remain in captivity for very long.  Just a few days after the battle, Colonel “Rip” Ford ordered their release, and he told his own men to go home.  The Civil War was over.

With the disbandment of Confederate control in South Texas, the bodies of those killed at Palmito Ranch were turned over to Union authorities for burial.  Ironically, they were interred on the grounds of Fort Brown, which is located in Brownsville, Texas, the town Union forces had failed to take during the battle.  In 1867, the bodies of soldiers buried at Fort Brown were disinterred and reburied at Alexandria National Cemetery in Louisiana.  The remains of Private Williams lay there still. 

Approximately 625,000 Americans perished during four and a half years of Civil War.  John J. Williams was one of them, as much a victim of his commanding officer’s hubris as he was of Confederate arms.  He died on May13, 1865, the last battlefield death in our nation’s bloodiest war.