Civil War for the day

The New York Times has a continuing column on the history of the War:

Old Jedediah Spalding fell dangerously ill at his Connecticut home in early 1862. Word of his condition traveled hundreds of miles south and soon reached his son, Captain J. Lewis Spalding (photo, at left), at Camp Barnes, located on the Virginia side of the Potomac opposite Washington. On 6 February, Spalding requested a furlough to go home and care for his father. He had not been home in months; an energetic and ambitious young man, he had been busy rising through the military ranks. But his career would be a rocky one.
Back in April of 1861, the 22-year-old Spalding had joined other enthusiastic men in the frenzy of patriotism that followed the bombardment of Fort Sumter. He left his family and clerical job in the bustling manufacturing hub of Norwich, Connecticut, and enlisted in the First Connecticut Infantry. A whirlwind of promotions marked his first week in uniform: On Friday, 19 April, he entered military service as a private; he received his corporal’s stripes on Saturday and his sergeant’s chevrons on Sunday. The following Thursday, 25 April, regimental staff officers elevated him to sergeant major.
He served in this capacity at the First Battle of Bull Run. At one point, enemy cavalry surrounded a portion of the regiment that included Spalding and his lieutenant colonel, John Speidel. Three Southern horsemen descended on Speidel, who reportedly killed one attacker and drove the others away. Meanwhile, Spalding was in the act of pulling a pistol from his waist belt when a Confederate seized him and grabbed the revolver. The aggressive trooper “was almost instantly shot by another of the Connecticut boys, when Spalding recovered the pistol, shot another of the assailants, and the others turned and left,” according to a period account.
Spalding and the survivors retreated with the rest of the defeated Union Army later that day to Washington. The regiment soon disbanded after its three-month term of enlistment expired. Spalding went home, but immediately rejoined the Army, crossing state lines and accepting a captaincy in the 18th Massachusetts. “Our Captain is as fine a man as you can find any where I think and that is the mind of the rest of the Company,” declared a private in Spalding’s new command. (Spalding was an officer on the rise— literally. In September of 1861, he floated above the defenses of Washington in Professor Thaddeus S.C. Lowe’s military balloon. Spalding later made at least two aerial reconnaissance trips.)
His service in the 18th ended abruptly in 1862 after a routine assignment went wrong. On 30 September, a month after the regiment suffered serious losses in its baptism under fire at the Second Battle of Bull Run, Spalding was detailed to go to Washington and escort convalescent soldiers from area hospitals to the regiment for active duty. Weeks passed, during which he failed to report his whereabouts or return with the soldiers. A suspicious staff officer reported his long absence. The case made its way to the headquarters of Major General Ambrose Burnside, the commander of the Army of the Potomac, and an arrest order went out.
Authorities tracked down Spalding and allowed him to resign his commission rather than face charges— a common practice in the Army. He officially left the regiment with a disability discharge. Though the exact circumstances of his disappearance are unclear, evidence suggests that a woman was the real cause. What is clear is that, rather than going to Washington, he went back to Connecticut. Ten days after he had left camp, he married Lucy “Lu” Billings in Norwich. A poet educated at Cooper Institute, she “possessed rare literary ability and artistic talent”, noted the writer of a biographical sketch. Spalding also likely saw his father, who had made a full recovery from the illness that had sidelined him earlier in the year.
Eventually, the exigencies of wartime blurred the black mark on Spalding’s record, and he returned to the Army in 1864 as adjutant of the 29th Connecticut, a new infantry regiment composed of black troops and led by white officers. The 29th distinguished itself in Virginia during the campaign to capture Petersburg and Richmond, including a sharp fight near the frontline defenses of Richmond on 13 October 1864. The unit suffered heavy casualties that day, including Spalding, who took a bullet in his foot. He recovered from his injury and returned to duty before the end of the year.
Spalding mustered out of the army with the rest of the 29th in 1865. His good conduct removed any tarnish that had stained his record earlier in the war. Interestingly, the next year he joined the regular Army as a staff officer to Colonel Joseph Mower, intending to make the military a career. (A respected wartime leader, 'Fighting Joe' Mower had earned his nom de guerre under General William T. Sherman.) Spalding tackled his staff duties energetically, leading an appreciative Mower to endorse a recommendation for him to receive the brevet, or honorary, rank of major in mid-1867.
Two weeks later, Spalding was busying himself around the headquarters when a bounty hunter, Patrick Flannery, showed up with paperwork to be paid for two deserters he had apprehended. Spalding told Flannery that the army required several weeks to process the payment. But Flannery needed cash immediately. Spalding suggested a way to bypass the bureaucracy: His friend (a police officer) would buy Flannery’s papers at a reduced cost and put at least some money in the bounty hunter’s pocket. Flannery agreed to the deal. Spalding hooked Flannery up with the policeman, who later cashed in the papers for their full value.
Flannery rounded up more deserters in the weeks ahead, and sold his papers to Spalding’s policeman friend until wind of the shady deal made its way up the chain of command. Military authorities arrested Spalding, charged him with conduct unbecoming an officer, and hauled him before a court martial. A four-day trial in August 1867 resulted in a guilty verdict and Spalding’s dismissal from the Army. He successfully appealed the verdict and was reinstated.
Restoration to duty saved him from humiliation and embarrassment, but set the stage for a final fall from grace and an ignominious end to his military career and his marriage. In March of 1870, Spalding was relieved of his responsibilities as an Indian agent in Northern California after an officer reported him “for running after” Indian women “to the neglect of his duty”. Military authorities did not reassign him to active command following the incident. Spalding mustered what little dignity he had left and resigned. He and his wife divorced soon after. She had just published a volume of poetry, dedicated with affection to her husband.
Spalding returned to Norwich. In 1884, at age 46, he entered a Soldier’s Home in Virginia. He died there four years later, alone and forgotten.

Rico says the guy just couldn't stay out of trouble...