Kinston, Whitehall and Goldsboro (North Carolina) expedition, December, 1862

In Short

This volume serves as a detailed chronicle of Major General John G. Foster’s December 1862 expedition to capture Kinston, Whitehall, and Goldsboro, North Carolina. By assembling contemporary reports from the New York Herald and New York Times, the text documents a calculated effort to cripple Confederate logistics by severing the vital Wilmington and Weldon Railroad. It remains a valuable, granular memento of mid-war strategy, offering a rare, ground-level look at the mechanics of mid-nineteenth-century combat, bridge destruction, and the personal cost of service as recorded by those who lived through the campaign.

The Story

The expedition commences in mid-December 1862, as Union forces depart New Berne with the specific, aggressive aim of penetrating inland to dismantle the Confederacy’s regional rail infrastructure. The narrative follows the column as it pushes toward Kinston, with the Ninth New Jersey leading the vanguard. The movement is marked by sharp, sudden skirmishes; the terrain—dense woods, swamps, and river crossings—dictates the pace of the advance. As the soldiers close in on Kinston, the fighting intensifies into a formal engagement. The Union artillery, particularly the Third New York, plays a decisive role in forcing the Confederate retreat. After a brief parley under a flag of truce, Union forces occupy the town, securing significant stores and prisoners, though the Confederate command under General Evans manages to withdraw his remaining strength toward Goldsboro.

The campaign then shifts to Whitehall, where the Union force encounters a new set of challenges, specifically the need to neutralize a partially completed Confederate gunboat. The action here is characterized by inventive tactical aggression: the soldiers set fire to turpentine to illuminate the riverbank, and a volunteer cavalryman makes a daring swim across the Neuse to attempt a sabotage. While the vessel is ultimately destroyed by artillery, the fighting reveals the persistent resistance of the Confederate troops concealed in the woods.

The final and most critical phase of the expedition targets the railroad bridge at Goldsboro. The Union objective is the total destruction of this link between the cotton states and the Confederate capital. After heavy fighting, which sees the arrival of Confederate reinforcements, the Union troops successfully set the bridge ablaze. The work of destruction is systematic; infantry regiments stack arms and descend upon the tracks to tear up rails and ties with manual labor, ensuring the line is impassable. Having fulfilled its strategic mandate, the column executes a complex series of rapid, deceptive movements through woods and swamps, bypassing Confederate strongpoints at Mosely Hall to safely return to their base at New Berne. The narrative concludes by memorializing the fallen—specifically Colonel C. O. Gray—and later, with the death of General Foster, providing a posthumous retrospective of the commander’s long and distinguished military career. The text functions both as a tactical report of the 1862 campaign and a respectful, valedictory tribute to the individuals who served and died in the effort.

How It Unfolds

The march begins The expedition departs New Berne on December 11, moving with strict discipline, prohibiting fires and loud noises to mask their progress through the Trent River region. Small-scale cavalry skirmishes immediately test the nerves of the advance guard, signaling a campaign that will rely heavily on mobility and speed.

The engagement at Kinston The forces converge on the town in a general battle, where artillery duels and flanking maneuvers through swamps force the Confederate troops to yield the bridge. The occupation of the town yields significant prisoners and materiel, though the enemy escapes to continue the fight further inland.

The struggle at Whitehall Facing an entrenched enemy and an unfinished gunboat, the troops use fire and artillery to force a tactical standoff. The narrative highlights the ingenuity of the soldiers, including a volunteer's swim to the far bank, before the focus shifts to the final objective.

The destruction at Goldsboro The expedition reaches the critical railroad bridge, where volunteers face heavy fire to secure its destruction. Once the structure is in flames, the infantry systematically destroys the surrounding tracks, effectively severing the vital rail link.

The return and commemoration Having accomplished their mission, the soldiers execute a series of deceptive, rapid movements to evade Confederate forces while returning to their base. The book closes by detailing the casualties and offering a somber, respectful account of the life and later death of the expedition’s commander.

The People

General John G. Foster stands as the architect of the operation, characterized by his "commanding presence" and an executive ability that balances tactical caution with the necessity of bold strikes. He remains the central authority, directing his diverse brigades of Massachusetts, New York, and Pennsylvania volunteers with a clear focus on the strategic goal: the railroad bridge. Colonel C. O. Gray represents the human cost of these maneuvers; his death in the fighting at Kinston is noted with particular gravity, marking the loss of a leader whose sacrifice serves as a rallying point for the memory of the regiment. Colonel Heckmann of the Ninth New Jersey emerges as a key field commander, frequently leading the vanguard and executing the difficult orders required to bring the fight to the enemy. Finally, the narrative spotlights individual soldiers like Henry Butler, whose daring, if unconventional, volunteer mission to swim the river and sabotage the gunboat highlights the individual courage that defined the campaign. These figures, from the high-ranking strategist to the individual private, are framed as parts of a single, cohesive unit, united by their service in the arduous conditions of the 1862 winter.

In Its Own Voice

"Just as the sun was sinking in the west we came upon two regiments of rebel infantry and two of their pieces of artillery, posted on a rise of ground behind a dense woods."

The opening day of the march toward Kinston is marked by the sudden appearance of the enemy as the sun begins to set, signaling the start of the campaign's first major friction.

"The mudsills are a little ahead of the chivalry this time."

This observation, appearing in a report from the field, uses the period’s sharp, contrasting political rhetoric to characterize the Union's success in capturing Kinston.

"In one of the advances a former adjutant of the Seventeenth was dangerously wounded."

This brief mention occurs during the intense efforts to burn the Goldsboro railroad bridge, highlighting the precarious nature of the mission.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work explores the transition from strategic planning to the raw reality of conflict in the American Civil War. It interrogates the efficacy of modern military campaigns—how a swift, targeted strike on infrastructure can shift the balance of regional power. Beyond the tactical, it asks what it means to be a "memento" of a lost time, as the author attempts to preserve the memory of the "absent ones" and the survivors alike. It juxtaposes the clinical, cold destruction of railroad bridges and supply lines with the warmth of the dedication to the "mothers" who waited at home, framing the entire expedition as both a military necessity and a profound, shared personal history for the veterans who survived it.

Why Read It Today

Readers with a deep interest in the logistical and tactical realities of the Civil War will find this a rewarding, precise document. Because it is composed of contemporary field reports, it provides a sense of immediacy—the "fog of war" is tangible as reports shift from the excitement of a successful charge to the somber listing of casualties. It does not possess the polished, retrospective narrative style of modern military history; instead, it offers the raw, fragmented, and sometimes repetitive voice of the front lines. Those who enjoy primary source documents—lists of regiments, casualty tables, and the technical details of artillery and railroad sabotage—will appreciate its thoroughness. It is, however, a product of its time, reflecting the stark, partisan language of 1862 and the specific, often brutal, attitudes toward the enemy that defined that era. Reading it feels like holding a piece of history that has been left largely untouched by modern interpretation. It is a quiet, modest book, intended originally for a specific circle of veterans, and it retains that intimate, memorial quality today. It is recommended for those who want to understand the rhythm of a nineteenth-century campaign without the gloss of later commentary.