At banquet hall, regimental reunion or campfire, whenever mention is made of the glorious record of Minnesota volunteers in the great Civil war, seldom, if ever, is the First Minnesota battery given credit for its share in the long struggle. Probably very few of the present residents of Minnesota are aware that such an organization existed. This battery was one of the finest organizations that left the state during the great crisis. It was in the terrible battle of Pittsburg Landing, the siege of Vicksburg, in front of Atlanta and in the great march from Atlanta to the sea, and in every position in which they were placed they not only covered themselves with glory, but they were an honor and credit to the state that sent them. The First Minnesota battery, light artillery, was organized at Fort Snelling in the fall of 1861, and Emil Munch was made its first captain. Shortly after being mustered in they were ordered to St. Louis, where they received their accoutrements, and from there they were ordered to Pittsburg Landing, arriving at the latter place late in February, 1862. The day before the battle, they were transferred to Prentiss' division of Grant's army. On Sunday morning, April 6, the battery was brought out bright and early, preparing for inspection. About 7 o'clock great commotion was heard at headquarters, and the battery was ordered to be ready to march at a moment's notice. In about ten minutes they were ordered to the front, the rebels having opened fire on the Union forces. In a very short time rebel bullets commenced to come thick and fast, and one of their number was killed and three others wounded. It soon became evident that the rebels were in great force in front of the battery, and orders were issued for them to choose another position. At about 11 o'clock the battery formed in a new position on an elevated piece of ground, and whenever the rebels undertook to cross the field in front of them the artillery raked them down with frightful slaughter. Several times the rebels placed batteries In the timber at the farther end of the field, but in each instance the guns of the First battery dislodged them before they could get into position. For hours the rebels vainly endeavored to break the lines of the Union forces, but in every instance they were repulsed with frightful loss, the canister mowing them down at close range. About 5 o'clock the rebels succeeded in flanking Gen. Prentiss and took part of his force prisoners. The battery was immediately withdrawn to an elevation near the Tennessee river, and it was not long before firing again commenced and kept up for half an hour, the ground fairly shaking from the continuous firing on both sides of the line. At about 6 o'clock the firing ceased, and the rebels withdrew to a safe distance from the landing. The casualties of the day were three killed and six wounded, two of the latter dying shortly afterward. The fight at what was known as the "hornet's nest" was most terrific, and had not the First battery held out so heroically and valiantly the rebels would have succeeded in forcing a retreat of the Union lines to a point dangerously near the Tennessee river. Capt. Munch's horse received a bullet In his head and fell, and the captain himself received a wound in the thigh, disabling him from further service during the battle. After Capt. Munch was wounded Lieut. Pfaender took command of the battery, and he had a horse shot from under him during the day. On the morning of April 7, Gen. Buell having arrived, the battery was held in reserve and did not participate in the battle that day. The First battery was the only organization from Minnesota engaged in the battle, and their conduct in the fiercest of the struggle, and in changing position in face of fire from the whole rebel line, was such as to receive the warmest commendation from the commanding officer. It was the first battle in which they had taken part, and as they had only received their guns and horses a few weeks before, they had not had much opportunity for drill work. Their terrible execution at critical times convinced the rebels that they had met a foe worthy of their steel.
* * * * *
Among the many thousands left dead and dying on the blood-stained field of Pittsburg Landing there was one name that was very dear in the hearts of the patriotic people of St. Paul,—a name that was as dear to the people of St. Paul as was the memory of the immortal Ellsworth to the people of Chicago. Capt. William Henry Acker, while marching at the head of his company, with uplifted sword and with voice and action urging on his comrades to the thickest of the fray, was pierced in the forehead by a rebel bullet and fell dead upon the ill-fated field.
Before going into action Capt. Acker was advised by his comrades not to wear his full uniform, as he was sure to be a target for rebel bullets, but the captain is said to have replied that if he had to die he would die with his harness on. Soon after forming his command into line, and when they had advanced only a few yards, he was singled out by a rebel sharpshooter and instantly killed—the only man in the. company to receive fatal injuries. "Loved, almost adored, by the company," says one of them, writing of the sad event, "Capt. Acker's fall cast a deep shadow of gloom over his command." It was but for a moment. With a last look at their dead commander, and with the watchword 'this for our captain,' volley after volley from their guns carried death into the ranks of his murderers. From that moment but one feeling seemed to possess his still living comrades—that of revenge for the death of their captain. How terribly they carried out that purpose the number of rebel slain piled around the vicinity of his body fearfully attest.
The announcement of the death of Capt. Acker was a very severe blow to his relatives and many friends in this city. No event thus far in the history of the Rebellion had brought to our doors such a realizing sense of the sad realities of the terrible havoc wrought upon the battlefield. A noble life had been sacrificed in the cause of freedom—one more name had been added to the long death roll of the nation's heroes.
Capt. Acker was born a soldier—brave, able, popular and courteous—and had he lived would undoubtedly been placed high in rank long before the close of the rebellion. No person ever went to the front in whom the citizens of St. Paul had more hope for a brilliant future. He was born in New York State in 1833, and was twenty-eight years of age at the time of his death. He came to St. Paul in 1854 and commenced the study of law in the office of his brother-in-law, Hon. Edmund Rice. He did not remain long in the law business, however, but soon changed to a position in the Bank of Minnesota, which had just been established by ex-Gov. Marshall. For some time he was captain of the Pioneer Guards, a company which he was instrumental in forming, and which was the finest military organization in the West at that time. In 1860 he was chosen commander of the Wide-Awakes, a marching-club, devoted to the promotion of the candidacy of Abraham Lincoln, and many of the men he so patiently drilled during that exciting campaign became officers in the volunteer service in that great struggle that soon followed. Little did the captain imagine at that time that the success of the man whose cause he espoused would so soon be the means of his untimely death. At the breaking out of the war Capt. Acker was adjutant general of the State of Minnesota, but he thought he would be of more use to his country in active service and resigned that position and organized a company for the First Minnesota regiment, of which he was made captain. At the first battle of Bull Run he was wounded, and for his gallant action was made captain in the Seventeenth United States Regulars, an organization that had been recently created by act of congress. The Sixteenth regiment was attached to Buell's army, and participated in the second day's battle, and Cat. Acker was one of the first to fall on that terrible day, being shot in the identical spot in the forehead where he was wounded at the first battle of Bull Run. As soon as the news was received in St. Paul of the captain's death his father, Hon. Henry Acker, left for Pittsburg Landing, hoping to be able to recover the remains of his martyred son and bring the body back to St. Paul. His body was easily found, his burial place having been carefully marked by members of the Second Minnesota who arrived on the battleground a short time after the battle. When the remains arrived in St. Paul they were met at the steamboat landing by a large number of citizens and escorted to Masonic hall, where they rested till the time of the funeral. The funeral obsequies were held at St. Paul's church on Sunday, May 4, 1862, and were attended by the largest concourse of citizens that had ever attended a funeral in St. Paul, many being present from Minneapolis, St. Anthony and Stillwater. The respect shown to the memory of Capt. Acker was universal, and of a character which fully demonstrated the high esteem in which he was held by the people of St. Paul.
When the first Grand Army post was formed in St. Paul a name commemorative of one of Minnesota's fallen heroes was desired for the organization. Out of the long list of martyrs Minnesota gave to the cause of the Union no name seemed more appropriate than that of the heroic Capt. Acker, and it was unanimously decided that the first association of Civil war veterans in this city should be known as Acker post.
THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN.
* * * * *
The terrible and sensational news that Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated, which was flashed over the wires on the morning of April 15, 1865 (forty years ago yesterday), was the most appalling announcement that had been made during the long crisis through which the country had just passed. Every head was bowed in grief. No tongue could find language sufficiently strong to express condemnation of the fiendish act. The entire country was plunged in mourning. It was not safe for any one to utter a word against the character of the martyred president. At no place in the entire country was the terrible calamity more deeply felt than in St. Paul. All public and private buildings were draped in mourning. Every church held memorial services. The services at the little House of Hope church on Walnut street will long be remembered by all those who were there. The church was heavily draped in mourning. It had been suddenly transformed from a house of hope to a house of sorrow, a house of woe. The pastor of the church was the Rev. Frederick A. Noble. He was one of the most eloquent and learned divines in the city—fearless, forcible and aggressive—the Henry Ward Beecher of the Northwest. President Lincoln was his ideal statesman.