20 Pounder Ammunition
- Hi Everyone!
I'm busy trying to figure out the ammunition available to the 20-pdr Parrot rifles on the
Based on the need (during the day) to request an emergency train of 2,500 rounds sent to
the AoP, I'm assuming that the available rounds were (or were expected to be) expended
in the battle of the 17th.
The data showing the number of rounds actually fired is, as far as I know, lost to time. I'm
trying to estimate the total from the ground up.
To do so, I need to get an idea of the number of rounds per gun in the basic load for a 20
Two questions arise:
1) What is the quantity of rounds in the standard ammunition chest for a 20 pdr? I believe
the chest held 32 for 12 pdr weapons, I'm assuming the number will be less, but I don't
know what was standard.
2) I'm assuming a gun carriage-caisson combination for these guns held the same
number of such chests as other guns (4). Is this correct?
This leaves the amount of such ammunition available in reserve in the army trains. It
appears the amount there is pretty slim, suggested by the report of Lt Benjamin (IX Corps
artillery) who was only able to get a resupply of 40 rounds after refilling his stocks on the
night of the 16th.
Thank you for your help!
- Dear Paula,
Blame it on Yahell...............
Yr. Obt. Svt.
G E "Gerry" Mayers
To Be A Virginian, either by birth, marriage, adoption, or even
on one's mother's side, is an introduction to any state in the
Union, a passport to any foreign country, and a benediction from
the Almighty God. --Anonymous
----- Original Message -----
Sent: Tuesday, February 05, 2008 4:07 PM
Subject: Re: [TalkAntietam] Barbara Frietchie - Is it real or a
Ok, where was this?? I mailed this out DAYS
Just so you guys don't think I am losing this - if you recall
when this posted originally, I stated it was a duplicate. So
this is the original - so where has it been?
That is a rhetorical question BTW.
-------------- Original message --------------
> This topic comes up from time to time on various lists that I
> belong to. I
> think part of the myth has been fueled by this poem by
> Whittier(and of course I
> am going to post it here to add even more fuel to the fire! )
> Barbara Frietchie
> John Greenleaf Whittier
> UP from the meadows rich with corn,
> Clear in the cool September morn,
> The clustered spires of Frederick stand
> Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
> Round about them orchards sweep,
> Apple and peach tree fruited deep,
> Fair as the garden of the Lord
> To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,
> On that pleasant morn of the early fall
> When Lee marched over the mountain-wall,—
> Over the mountains winding down,
> Horse and foot, into Frederick town.
> Forty flags with their silver stars,
> Forty flags with their crimson bars,
> Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
> Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
> Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
> Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;
> Bravest of all in Frederick town,
> She took up the flag the men hauled down;
> In her attic window the staff she set,
> To show that one heart was loyal yet.
> Up the street came the rebel tread,
> Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
> Under his slouched hat left and right
> He glanced; the old flag met his sight.
> “Halt!”—the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
> “Fire!”—out blazed the rifle-blast.
> It shivered the window, pane and sash;
> It rent the banner with seam and gash.
> Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
> Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf.
> She leaned far out on the window-sill,
> And shook it forth with a royal will.
> “Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
> But spare your country’s flag,” she said.
> A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
> Over the face of the leader came;
> The nobler nature within him stirred
> To life at that woman’s deed and word;
> “Who touches a hair of yon gray head
> Dies like a dog! March on!” he said.
> All day long through Frederick street
> Sounded the tread of marching feet:
> All day long that free flag tost
> Over the heads of the rebel host.
> Ever its torn folds rose and fell
> On the loyal winds that loved it well;
> And through the hill-gaps sunset light
> Shone over it with a warm good-night.
> Barbara Frietchie’s work is o’er,
> And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.
> Honor to her! and let a tear
> Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall’s bier.
> Over Barbara Frietchie’s grave,
> Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!
> Peace and order and beauty draw
> Round thy symbol of light and law;
> And ever the stars above look down
> On thy stars below in Frederick town!
> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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