The firing of Confederate cannons was unrelenting on this second day of the battle. From positions all around Charleston Harbor, forty-three hostile guns were trained on the United States fort on a man-made island, raining down solid shot and hot fire. The overmatched Federal garrison inside Fort Sumter fought back. Able to service less than ten guns, with the bulk of the force furiously stitching together ammunition bags to help the gunners keep firing back, the eighty-five members of the Federal contingent did their best for Old Glory as it whipped in the whirlwind above the ramparts. The sun was high this Saturday, April 13, 1861, but it was the heat and smoke from Rebel projectiles exploding on the parade ground that wore down the fort’s defenders.
The last of the cooked rations had been served at daybreak to the officers and men of the garrison. Now they would have to subsist on dried provisions, assuming their ammunition and the structure held out. One Rebel gun fired every quarter-hour during the night, and the full Confederate firepower opened up soon after dawn on day two. This day’s bombardment had better accuracy and greater effect. The walls and casemate took a fearful pounding; explosions of shot and shell shook the fort as in an earthquake. Mortar rounds sailed high into the air and plummeted almost vertically into the open space within the fort, endangering anyone who emerged from shelter. One shell arced through the roof of the officers’ quarters, and within moments, the building was fully engaged in flames. Men rushed to protect the ammunition and magazine from explosion. A glance at a timepiece would show it was near one o’clock in the afternoon on this desperate day.
Suddenly, the main flagstaff toppled and gave way, succumbing to the damage from two Rebel shell hits. Broad stripes and bright stars fell to the parade ground, and one of the officers sprang into action. “Lieutenant Hall rescued the precious bunting before it took fire,” it would be recounted; that would be Second Lieutenant Norman Hall, United States Army, formerly of Monroe, Michigan. With the assistance of two others, Hall raised the shot-strewn banner onto a temporary flagpole, where it spread out its folds in the breeze and began to fly defiantly over the fortress again. Hall’s feat of bravery was but the latest act of service to his country during the tense times leading up to the battle. He had yet to reach his twenty-fifth birthday.
Norman Jonathan Hall had graduated from the United States Military Academy at West Point less than two years earlier. Ranking thirteenth in the 1859 class of twenty-two cadets, he would become twenty-two that year. Born in New York State on March 4, 1837, Hall moved with his family to London Township, Michigan, a bit west of Monroe, when he was still a boy. On March 19, 1854, he received an appointment to West Point from Michigan approved by the secretary of war, Jefferson Davis, the future Confederate president. Upon graduation, Hall received an appointment as second lieutenant in the Fourth U.S. Artillery and became ranking second lieutenant in the First U.S. Artillery on January 10, 1860.
Norman Hall.
He was assigned to the Charleston, South Carolina garrison on September 1, 1860, where he served as post adjutant and in acting capacities as assistant quartermaster and commissary of subsistence. As November approached, it had proven more and more difficult to obtain supplies in Charleston because of tensions over the coming presidential outcome. Once Abraham Lincoln was elected, South Carolina passed an ordinance of secession—official withdrawal from the United States of America—portending a total interruption of supply, and worse. The commander of the garrison, Kentucky-born major Robert Anderson, took stock of the anti-Federal sentiments of the populace. On the day after Christmas, he relocated his small force from a position on shore to Fort Sumter in the middle of Charleston Harbor. Since this action failed to account for South Carolina’s newly declared independent status, all of Charleston erupted. Within a short span, South Carolina’s military forces occupied the Federal installations ringing the harbor around the island fortress. Anderson had bought some time, but he had also stirred up a hornets’ nest.
On January 9, Anderson pressed Hall into more hazardous duty than a quartermaster was accustomed to facing. He was ordered to carry a dispatch to Governor Pickens seeking information on South Carolina’s intentions. After delivering the message and receiving a response (which was uncooperative), Hall and his small party returned to the dock for the return trip to Sumter. They encountered a boisterous crowd who were agitated about a rumored Federal plan to attack the city. Hall tried to make assurances that no such plan existed, but the angry confrontation between Southerners and a uniformed Army officer was the latest signal that peace at Charleston was only temporary. Several days later, Hall and the South Carolina attorney general set out by train for Washington, D.C., as emissaries of their superiors to see if authorities in the capital might devise a resolution of the crisis. The trip did not succeed. The outgoing Buchanan government would not evacuate the fort, but neither would it reinforce its garrison. The status quo would persist.
After Lincoln’s inauguration on March 4, 1861, the new government requested Anderson to report on his strength and provide recommendations for a course of action. On March 15, Lincoln and his cabinet, General Winfield Scott, commander of the U.S. Army, and other military officers gathered in the White House to hear the report. It revealed that subsistence would be exhausted within a few weeks and insisted that twenty thousand troops were needed to hold the fort. One of Anderson’s aides, Abner Doubleday of later baseball fame, estimated ten thousand were necessary. Lieutenant Hall’s plan was also laid before the meeting, and it was not nearly as pessimistic: only two or three thousand soldiers were needed, and they could be delivered by small ships under cover of the fort’s guns. Whether Hall’s input convinced the Lincoln administration not to evacuate the fort is uncertain. History does record, however, that within several days a decision was made: the fort would not be surrendered, and provisions would be forwarded to sustain its defenders.
On April 1, the guns at Fort Moultrie fired on a vessel bearing the U.S. flag as it attempted to enter Charleston Harbor. Major Anderson observed the incident and polled his officers on what response should be made. Lieutenant Hall and four others urged firing back, but Anderson sided with those who urged no hostile action at this delicate juncture. Within days the situation escalated further. Hall was unable to obtain further supplies, and the South Carolina and Confederate governments were moving toward imposing a deadline for surrender of Sumter. When informed of the resupply expedition that was on its way to Charleston, the governments reached their decision. On April 11, three Confederate officers rowed out to the fort to deliver a demand for evacuation. Again Anderson convened his staff, and this time all the officers concurred in refusing the ultimatum. Anderson replied accordingly—except that he left the door slightly ajar as to how diminishing supplies might soon force him to leave rather than starve. Shortly after midnight, four Confederate officers paid another trip and inquired more specifically about Anderson’s intentions. Would he firmly commit to a date to abandon Fort Sumter? Yes, he replied, by April 15—if not by then reinforced, resupplied or instructed by Washington to undertake some other course of action. The Confederates caucused and responded, in accordance with their instructions, at around 3:30 a.m.: the time for negotiation had ended. The fort would be fired upon in one hour.
At 4:30 a.m. on Friday, a signal gun went off. Cannonades immediately commenced from all Confederate positions. Anderson divided his officers into three reliefs of two hours each to service Fort Sumter’s guns and returned fire. Outgunned, outnumbered and outprovisioned, the garrison’s only hope was that the relief expedition would run the gauntlet into the harbor and attempt resupply. It did not. By midafternoon on Saturday, the American flag had fallen, albeit temporarily until Hall raised it again, and provisions were running out. Southern emissaries soon appeared to inquire if striking the banner meant a signal to surrender. Although the Stars and Stripes were flying again, Anderson decided that his force had defended it long enough and—if permitted to evacuate safely, saluting the flag and removing it as they left—said he would abandon Fort Sumter to the Confederacy. Agreement was reached; on Sunday, April 14, the Federal garrison saluted the colors one final time, left the fort and boarded a vessel for New York, where it arrived three days later.
The nation hailed the heroes of Fort Sumter, chiefly Anderson. An engraving of him with six of his officers appeared soon in a Harper’s Weekly pictorial, circulating their images to the largest weekly periodical readership in America. What were the whereabouts of a seventh officer? Hall was already on assignment in Michigan to help raise and lead a regiment of infantry to reclaim Federal installations being appropriated by secessionists all across the South. Major Anderson, however, did not overlook his aide, for in an after-action report on promotions and commendations for service during the Charleston crisis, he called attention to the role of Lieutenant Hall “to whom I was greatly indebted.”
Norman Jonathan Hall would reappear in other key roles on the Union side during the next several years of the escalating conflict that had begun in the South Carolina harbor. He would again be in harm’s way now that a great civil war, long feared, had begun. Though miles away, Michigan—in the person of one of her brave sons—had been on the firing line already.1