Scott Umstattd
At 11:30 am on the morning of December 9, 1861, several thousand Confederate soldiers formed a three-sided square outside their camp near Centreville, Virginia. The men were quiet and the mood was somber, for this was no ordinary muster. A military court had convicted two of their comrades for attacking an officer while attempting to free some prisoners from a guardhouse. The sentence was death by firing squad.
The condemned men were Pvts. Dennis Corcoran and Michael O’Brien of the Louisiana Tiger Rifles. Outfitted in colorful Zouave uniforms, the Tiger Rifles was a company in Major Roberdeau Wheat’s 1st Special Battalion. The battalion had gained considerable fame for its bravery at First Bull Run, but it was the men’s behavior off of the battlefield that garnered the most attention. Since its arrival in Virginia, Wheat’s Battalion had engaged in highly publicized drunken brawls and other misdeeds, and the army’s patience was at an end.
Despite the seriousness of the men’s crimes, Major Wheat opposed the sentence. Wheat loved his Tigers, and one of the condemned men had risked his own life to help carry the wounded Wheat from the Bull Run battlefield. Wheat pleaded for leniency, but brigade commander Gen. Richard Taylor approved the sentence because he felt strict discipline had to be established to bring the Tigers under control.
A few days before their execution, Corcoran and O’Brien published a farewell letter in a local newspaper in which they blamed their criminal behavior on liquor and pleaded for others not to fall victim to the same vice. The two Tigers also forgave everyone who was involved in their execution. This forgiveness even extended to their twelve comrades in the Tiger Rifles who were chosen by Taylor to make up the firing squad. Many of the soldiers who were forced to watch the execution recalled this touching farewell and felt sympathy for the two condemned men.
The silent division watched as a band approached playing the mournful “Dead March.” Then a covered wagon, escorted by two companies of soldiers with fixed bayonets, slowly drove to the open side of the square. One witness described what happened next:
"Then six men get out of the wagon—two 'Tigers,' a Catholic priest . . . and three officers. These step forward a little when the Colonel rides up to them and, speaking to the 'Tigers,' reads to them the charges of which they have been found guilty and the sentence of the court condemning them to death. The two 'Tigers' have their hands tied behind them with rope. They are then led backward a short distance and made to kneel with their backs resting against two strong posts driven into the ground. Their hands are also tied tightly behind them to the posts. The priest is seen going constantly from one to the other of the two criminals, comforting them in preparation for the awful death. . . He holds to their lips a crucifix, which they passionately kiss and over which they pray. In a few minutes the signal is given, the priest leaves them alone with an officer, who put a bandage over their eyes and retires."
Once Corcoran and O’Brien were tied to their posts, the firing squad took up a position just twenty-five yards from the kneeling men. Unknown to the Tigers, one company of Col. Henry B. Kelly’s 8th Louisiana was standing behind them with loaded muskets. Some of the officers were concerned that the Tigers might refuse to fire when ordered, so Colonel Kelly was prepared to execute the executioners if the need arose. Their concern was unwarranted, however, for the company commander ordered, “Ready! Aim! Fire!” and a dozen muskets split the crisp December air with a thunderous volley.
In the hushed silence that followed, a lone Tiger broke ranks, ran up to one body, and gently held and caressed it. “It was heart-rendering [sic],” a correspondent wrote, “to see the poor brother’s agony.” Wheat, the only man in the division who was excused from attending the execution, broke down and cried in his tent upon hearing the discharge of muskets.
The execution of Corcoran and O’Brien was the first in what would become Gen. Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia, but it would not be the last. Approximately five hundred Union and Confederate soldiers were shot or hanged during the Civil War for various crimes. That is more military executions than in all of our other wars combined.
Dr. Terry L. Jones is professor emeritus of history at the University of Louisiana at Monroe who has received numerous awards for his books and outdoor articles.
