The Ghost of Olustee

This story isn’t just a forgotten footnote—it’s a haunting tale of vengeance, conscience, and the unraveling of a man.

Battle of Olustee,
by Kurz and Allison, 1894

In the chill of early 1864, amid the swamps and uncertainties of the Southern warfront, the men of the 7th Connecticut Volunteer Infantry Regiment were preparing for battle—but one soldier was carrying more than a rifle and rations. He had a grudge heavier than any kit bag - and a score to settle.

The 7th Connecticut had fought across the Southern coastline—from the siege of Fort Pulaski to the storming of Forts Wagner and Fisher. By winter, their ranks swelled with 112 reinforcements: "draftees" and “substitutes,” [*] described by one veteran as “a bad lot…mostly young foreigners.” [1]

About that same time in December, re-enlistments began, and those veterans who “reupped” were promised a thirty-day furlough, beginning in late January. Three quarters of the regiment – three hundred and thirty-three men – re-enlisted and were given the promised furlough. While the veterans were gone, these newcomers stepped into their place—ill-prepared, mistrusted, and unknown.

As fate would have it, just seven days before the scheduled return of the furloughed veterans, the Seventh was detailed as part of an ambitious - but poorly planned - Union expedition to secure Florida and cut Confederate supply lines.

The Confederates, however, anticipated such a move and surprised the overconfident but smaller Union forces at Olustee on February 20th, and drove them from the field. For a unit that was basically manned by green troops, the 7th Connecticut fought well. According to one soldier's account:

“We gave the rebels a galling fire and they opened their artillery on us and advanced their infantry...We held our position for one hour without any support...” [2]

In the haze of withdrawal, Private Jerome Dupoy, one of the new substitutes in Company D, was killed - but not by enemy fire.

Although his death - at first - was reported as a battle casualty, whispers spread quickly among the men. Dupoy, it was rumored, had been shot by fellow substitute, Private John Rowley.

Captain Benjamin Skinner, commanding Company D, investigated but found no proof. The incident faded—until it refused to.

What came next could have stepped straight from the pages of Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart, where guilt becomes its own witness. 

Back in Jacksonville, Rowley - tormented by sleepless nights and ghostly visions - began to unravel. The Danbury Jeffersonian published his chilling confession:

“When on picket duty I always see Dupoy stand a little away in front, his face full of blood and the bullet hole in his forehead… I could not keep the horrible crime a secret any longer.” [3]

Their feud had begun months earlier. Dupoy once attacked Rowley with a knife, leaving him wounded and vowing vengeance. Rowley followed through—not in a tavern or an alley, but in the chaos of battle.

Transferred to Petersburg, Virginia, Rowley was tried by court martial. On September 3, 1864, he was hanged for murder—one of the few documented battlefield executions for a crime committed in combat.

A Story Left in the Shadows

This isn’t a tale that makes it into textbooks. It was found buried in newspaper archives and soldier recollections—a single thread in the frayed tapestry of war. It’s a story about rage, trauma, and remorse. About the kind of violence that doesn’t wait for enemy uniforms.

This was one of the millions of forgotten stories from the Irrepressible Conflict.

Mac

If you enjoyed this, here's another true - but very chilling - story: The Man in Irons

═══ ⚔ 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒔 ⚑ ═══

Works Cited

[*] “Draftees and substitutes” were terms that came into being after the draft laws – officially the Enrollment Act – were passed in 1863. While draftee is self-explanatory, a substitute was the option a draftee could choose to avoid serving in the military by providing the government with a “substitute person” to serve for him for the duration. The cost of hiring a substitute (called a “bounty”) varied, but some men paid as much as $1,000. (Many people are under the mistaken impression that the “bounty” was a fixed amount – $300. That’s the cost a draftee paid to the government to avoid ONE draft lottery. To avoid ALL the lotteries for the duration, one had to provide a “substitute person”.) 

The practice was used in both armies, but it was more wide-spread in the North because the pool of available “substitute persons” was greater with the constant flow of immigrants [like Dupoy and Rowley]. While many substitutes served admirably, the rate of desertion was often high because some – called bounty jumpers – used it as a means of easy money by deserting and re-enlisting elsewhere. [4]

[1] Unless otherwise noted, all facts and figures are from Stephen Walkley’s book History of the Seventh Connecticut Volunteer Infantry: Hawley’s Brigade 1861-1865. (1905)

[2] Richard Ferry Collection. "Letter from Pvt Carroll E. Kingsley, Company G, 7th Connecticut Infantry - February 24, 1864". Battle of Olustee.org. Retrieved January 18, 2025.

[3] Thanks to Jerrold H. Davis of Danbury, Connecticut for the newspaper information on the murder. Mr. Davis (1927-2018) was the past President of the Danbury Old Timer’s Association, and served on the board of the Scott Fanton Museum. In 1988, he was appointed by Mayor Joseph Sauer as Danbury’s official City Historian, a position he held until 1995. Mr. Davis served in the U.S. Army Counter-Intelligence Corps from 1951-1953.

[4] This information was well researched by Carolyn P. Schriber for her 2012 post: “Hired Soldiers – Substitutes During the Civil War” on the blog Katzenhaus Books – Roundheads and Ramblings. Retrieved May 2, 2021.