A Portrait and Biographical Record of Hendricks County (Chicago: A.W. Bowen & Co., 1895)--pages 1037-1041
Judge John V. Hadley, of Danville, Ind., the present judge of the Fifty-fifth Circuit, is a native of Guilford Township, Hendricks County, Ind., and was an officer in the Civil War. He was born on his father's farm, October 31, 1840, and is the son of Jonathan and Ara (Carter) Hadley, who were pioneers of this county, Jonathan being the son of Jeremiah Hadley, who was the son of Joshua and Ruth (Lindley) Hadley, of North Carolina. (See history and genealogy of the Hadley family).
John V. Hadley was hardly twenty-one years of age when he enlisted in Company B, Seventh Indiana Infantry, August 21, 1861, under Capt. W.C. Banter, Col. Ebenezer Dumont, for three years, or during the rebellion. He served out his enlistment, was six months longer on detached service, and was honorably discharged at Washington City, in March, 1865. He was in the battles of Greenbrier, Winchester, Front Royal, Port Republic, second battle of Bull Run, Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Mine Run, and the Wilderness (where he was promoted to be first lieutenant). He was wounded at the second Bull Run fight, being shot through the hip, and was in hospital four months, and two months on furlough. (He was then promoted second lieutenant and was detailed as an aide to Gen. J.C. Rice). On partial recovery he rejoined his regiment, and during the battle of the Wilderness his horse was shot from under and fell upon him, while on the run, breaking two of the lieutenant's ribs. He was left senseless upon the field, and after regaining his senses, found himself in a Confederate hospital. He was seven months a prisoner, and after the war described his capture, adventures, and escape in a book of 180 pages, which is well and graphically written. At the battle of the Wilderness Mr. Hadley had been promoted first lieutenant, and the following extract from his book describes the situation, prior and at the time of his capture:
“The morning of the 5th day of May, 1864, opened up very fair. A few guns reported early three or four miles to the southwest, where Gen. Crawford lay with his division. Rumors were current that Lee was falling back to Gordonsville, and the firing was supposed to be on his rear guard, but events that followed soon proved that this supposition was wrong. At an early hour we moved out in the road in the direction of Crawford, but had not gone more than two miles before we met an aide hurrying from Crawford with the news that the enemy was advancing through the Wilderness, close upon us. Our regiments were at once doubly-quicked into line, batteries thrown into position, wagons sent to the rear, and in five minutes everything presented the appearance of work. In the meantime Gen. Rice directed me to cover the brigade with skirmishers, which I did, by taking five companies of the Seventy-sixth New York and two companies of the Ninety-fifth New York, and deploying them 400 or 500 yards in the front. We were now fairly in the ill-omened Wilderness. So dense was the foliage that the skirmish line was entirely obscured from the line of battle. Matters went on until 11 o'clock a.m. without any appearance of the enemy, and Gen. Warren, commanding corps, somewhat doubting the correctness of the report, rode up and said: 'Gen. Rice, you will advance your brigade skirmishers two miles southwest, and if you find the enemy before reaching that distance, hold all the ground you gain until the line of battle gets up, you moving your line forward as soon as the firing begins.' Similar orders had been given to all the brigades of our division, and Gen. Rice, turning to me, said: 'Lieutenant, you will see that these orders are executed.' I replied by calling for my horse, but at the same time looking significantly at my friend Chisman, who was lying at ease on the ground. He well knew that I had been in the saddle my full share that morning, and well read my wishes, for he sprung to his feet with: 'General, with your permission, I will assist in advancing the skirmishers.' 'I would be very glad if you would, sir,' was the answer, and he joined me before I reached the line. We moved in conjunction with the skirmishers of the first brigade on our right, carefully feeling our way through the woods. We crept along for a mile as noiselessly as possible, making or hearing no sound louder than the cracking of a bush, when suddenly an owl in our front went, 'hoot, hoot, hoot.' 'Hello,' says Chisman to me, 'that owl is not used to his son, or he could do better than that.' 'Hoot, hoot, hoot,' went another way off to the right, and we hurried along the line and told the boys to keep a sharp lookout. A few rods further on and the next signal was—bang, whiz, spat, from a rebel musket. The enemy was at hand; and whether we fired the first guns on that great campaign is no matter, but right here began the bloody battle of the Wilderness. A brisk firing at once began in our front and soon it extended along the whole line; the results were various, charging and being charged, advancing and retiring; two or three times our line was broken like a reed, and hurled back several hundred yards; and it was in trying to withstand one of these violent onsets that my horse received a shot in the hip, which made him almost unmanageable. For fifteen minutes we had it hot, and got no signs of the brigade coming up. We had no protection on our left, and the rebels overlapped us on that flank, we knew not how far. For a slight protection we swung back fifty men at right angles with the front, yet with this, 1,000 men might have marched around to our rear and swept off the last man. A volley of musketry broke forth to our right, probably in the rear of the first brigade. Roar after roar came rumbling through the forest, shaking our hearts with fear, for the thought came into our mind that it might be our brigade that had mistaken the direction, or the whole like had borne too much to the right and left us without support. At this time Lieut. Mitchell rode up and confirmed our fears. * * * * I soon galloped off to the right in the direction of the battle to see what was the matter. I rode as fast as I could, dodging under the limbs, and from the trees. * * * * I found the battle was raging it its fury. Col. Miller had just fallen, and the major but a few minutes before had been carried back. Bullets were hitting and hissing everywhere. My horse was wild as a ranger, and I headed him northward, gave him the rein, and he went flying through the timber, squatting, dodging at the bullets and trees. While in full speed a ball struck him, near my leg—saw him fall—saw his nose plough along the ground and double under his breast—I saw or remember no more. Boardman, of the One Hundred and Forty-seventh New York, afterwards told me how it was. In the rear of their regiment my horse was killed while in full speed, and in falling threw me against a tree, then plunged headlong upon me. Soon after my misfortune, our battle line gave way, and the enemy possesses the place and me. I awoke, as if from sleep, about 7 o'clock in the morning, of the 6th of May, 1864, at Parker's store, around which lay 1,000 Confederate and fifty Federal soldiers, bleeding and dying. I tried, but failed, to get up. My left eye was entirely closed, and I had misery in my left breast and shoulder. I was hurt, but knew not how or how much. The first thing that attracted my attention was a column of troops hurrying along the road silently. I said, 'What! Have they grey clothes on? No, it is my injured sight.' I rubbed my eyes and tried it again, with the same result, then I turned on my elbow and looked around me. Those immediately near had on the blue, as had also a soldier bending over a prostrate form with a canteen. 'Soldier, come here. Am I a prisoner?' 'Yes!'”
Lieut. Hadley made two attempts to escape; the first immediately after his capture, accompanied by Lieut. Shelton of the First New York light artillery, who was badly wounded in the leg below the knee. They had no difficulty in escaping from the field hospital in the confusion existing so soon after the battle, and after a series of adventures in the darkness, came upon the battle ground, where the fight had been thickest.
“We lingered in the society of the dead for an hour and verily it was a task to leave them. Like the dog on the plains that finds society and will starve by his dead master's side. For, as ghastly as the decaying bodies appeared in the moonlight, there were spirits that seemed to arise from them and to hold communion with us. They were all strangers to me at this point, but had I known where the bones of Thomas Ashley, John Horniday, of Henry Hoadley, of Capt. Clayton and many other friends who were resting, I should have been constrained to see them before leaving the field.”
After several days of wandering they found shelter with a Virginia woman of Union sentiments, although her son Charles was in the Confederate Army. This patriotic and kind hearted woman fed them, dressed their wounds and concealed them in her garret, for several days, although the house was frequently visited by rebel soldiers. Her son Charles visited the house several times without discovering their whereabouts, but finally did so and speedily betrayed them to the rebels, much to the dissatisfaction of his mother, who protested strongly against the outrage. They were left at the house several days on parole, but were soon taken back to the rebel lines, the good woman having supplied them with several articles of clothing and comfort. Lieut. Hadley was soon taken south through Lee's army by the way of Gordonsville, Charlottesville, Lynchburg, Danville, Jamestown, Augusta and Macon, to camp Oglethorpe—whence they were taken to Savannah—thence to Charleston and from there to Columbia, where they were confined at a place they nicknamed Camp Sorghum, of which the following is a description.
“No suitable enclosure could be found for us at Columbia and we marched across the Broad River two miles south of the city, to an old barren field that had been abandoned fifteen years and was now sparsely overgrown with pine bushes from ten to fifteen feet high. These bushes were our only wood supply, and with a few exceptions, the second day saw their ashes scattered to the winds. This camp was large enough, probably six acres in all. There was no stockade, no fence, no water but branch, no shelter—not even for the sick the first ten days. The well men never had any only what they contrived with their blankets, etc. Around us here was a row of pins from twelve to fifteen inches high, standing fifty feet apart. The line marked by these pins was the famous dead line, which the prisoner passed at the peril of his life. Outside this line thirty feet was the guard line maintained by sentinels fifteen steps apart. Such was Camp Sorghum at Columbia where the rebels reduced us to a condition as nearly to the level of beasts as it was possible for them to do. I would not wrong them much if I were to say that they did not give us anything here but air, branch water and room, but I will do them full justice and add, that they did also give us each, daily, a pint of unsifted cornmeal mixed with cobs and beans pulverized and mixed with sorghum molasses. I am faithful to the fact, when I say that during the month that I stayed with them at Columbia they did not give us one board or tent for shelter, nor one ounce of meat or bread, and if I would except a half pound of flour they gave us each two or three times and a couple of spoonfuls of salt as often, then with the meal and molasses I have told it all. Not even a pan or skillet, bucket or kettle in which to save or cook our rations, and had it not been that a few of these articles were clandestinely carried away from other prisons, it is hard to imagine how we would have got along. As it was, if we put in the count, flat rocks, pieces of tin, scraps of old iron, etc., we had a cooking utensil for about every twenty-five men. The most valuable of anything I saw in use was a slab of cast iron 2 x 3 feet, that would turn off at a single baking cakes enough for six men. This thing was kept in the fire nearly all the time and accommodated more than 100 men. Meal for five, and once for nine days, was issued at one time, and if it rained the next day we had one dough kneaded for four days to come, and if it was sour for the last three days, it was only our misfortune. We received our meal anyway we could. Some were driven to the extremity of cutting off their pant's legs, others, more fortunate, got along by tearing the lining from their coat sleeves, or by appropriating a spare garment. Anything and everything that could be used was brought out on ration day. The sorghum molasses was given to us in such abundance that it was a source of much merriment.”
The escape was made by taking advantage of the custom of permitting the prisoners to go out of the camp for their firewood. A party of fifty men were each morning taken out of camp on a written parole of honor not to escape; then they were turned loose with liberty to go one-half mile from camp without guard. It was something like freedom to get wood, and there was always a general rush to get on the detail. The guards were instructed to be very vigilant to prevent any other prisoners from going through the guard line with those on parole. Upon the fourth of November, 1864, it rained and snowed incessantly, and Lieut. Hadley resolved to escape from his miserable condition. Counseling his friend Chisman, it was planned to escape by means of the parole party, and with a few implements and a little corn bread, some salt, matches, thread, and tobacco in their haversacks, and with thin blankets over their shoulders they started for the scene of action. As a parole party of eight or nine men approached the dead line from the outside, Lieut. Hadley signaled them and they gathered in a knot at the dead line. Seeing that no guard was looking in his direction, he hastily slipped over the dead line and mixed with the parole men, and was soon in the woods with the party. He was soon joined by his friend Chisman who had followed the same tactics. Two other officers, Lieut. Baker, of the Sixth Missouri, and Lieut. Good, of the First Maryland Cavalry, joined them. They assisted in cutting wood until night, and when the evening drum beat and the parole men went back to prison they concealed themselves in the brush pile. After tattoo had sounded they crawled out in the dark and struck through a South Carolina forest for freedom. They suffered a great many hardships and privations, and had many adventures. They were thirty days in the woods and mountains, traveling a distance from Columbia to Knoxville, Tenn., 200 miles, and had many a hair-breadth escape. Their escape would not have been possible were it not for the friendly assistance of the negroes. To show the fidelity of the colored man to the Union cause and his faithfulness to the escaping prisoners, we will quote the following from Judge Hadley's book:
“We depended mostly upon the negroes for direction and food. We applied for their assistance nearly every night; when everything was quiet, we would approach their quarters. All would go up to within 200 yards, then two stop, a third would go to within 100 yards, and the commander of the party go alone to the huts. The negroes were remarkably familiar with each other and the country for a radius of fifteen miles. Really they seemed to be acquainted with every tree, or stone, or cow-path within that distance. Say we were among a lot of negroes tonight, before leaving we would ask them to give us the names of the most reliable negroes ten, twelve or fifteen miles ahead, or as far as we would aim to go that night. They were always able to give the names, being plain Joe, Jim, Jerry, as well as tell us precisely where to find them. They were very minute in descriptions, could generally give the number of the cabin in the row, the position from the cotton gin, pig-pen or Massa's house, and just the way to approach safest; if there were any dogs; if so, how many and how fierce. There is not an instance on the whole route where we were misled by a negro's description. We not only advised, but asked advice of these negroes in turn. We spoke to them of trying to reach our lines in Georgia, which they unanimously opposed—they urged that it would not do at all. The country was not only full of swamps in that direction, but there was the Savannah River to cross, and “Hood's Bigamy”, and worse than all else, the colored people in Georgia would not be our friends. 'Dey is all secesh over dar.'”
There were two great ranges of mountains between them and Knoxville, Tenn., which was 200 miles away in a northwest direction, and taking direction at about forty-five seconds from the North Star, they began their march which was full of hardships, adventures and narrow escapes. They relied upon the negroes until they reached North Carolina, when they were assisted by the Union settlers and procured a guide among the mountaineers, who piloted them through to the Union lines, which they reached, ragged and footsore, after a perilous journey of six days.
After his return from the war, Lieut. Hadley married Mary J., daughter of Samuel and Rebecca (Hornaday) Hill. He read law with Jesse S. Ogden, Esq., an old army comrade, and attended the law school at Indianapolis, conducted by Federal Judge David McDonald, and became the law partner of his old friend, Jesse S. Ogden, in 1869, and was elected judge in 1888 of the nineteenth circuit, then composed of Marion and Hendricks Counties, and held this office until the circuit was divided, in 1889, and has since been judge of the fifty-fifth circuit, being re-elected in the fall of 1894. He was a member of the state senate in 1869 and in 1872. Politically he has been a stanch Republican since the organization of the party. The judge was president of the First National Bank for twelve years and resigned to take his present position. He was a member of the national convention that nominated General Harrison for the presidency, and has always taken an active part in politics. He is a member of the G.A.R., Jesse S. Ogden post, No. 164, Danville; fraternally he is a Mason and member of Western Star lodge, Danville. Judge Hadley and wife are members of the Christian Church, of which he has been trustee for many years. They have three children: Kate, Hugh H. and Walter G.