The Heroes and Villians Series - Civil War: The Naval Forces During the Civil War

“Down the Torpedoes!”: Union Navy in the Civil War – Told by Admiral Farragut

When the war between North and South broke out in 1861, I had already spent decades upon the sea. Born in 1801 and a midshipman by the age of nine, I had saltwater in my veins long before the thunder of cannon fire echoed across the nation. But nothing in my long career compared to the scale, scope, and stakes of the Civil War. The Union Navy, a modest force at the outset, was about to be transformed into a behemoth of iron and steam—and I would ride its wave into history.

A Fleet Forged in Urgency

At the start of the conflict, our naval force was hardly prepared for war. We had around 90 vessels, but only about 42 were in commission, and most were scattered across the globe on foreign missions. The Confederacy, for all its bluster, had no real navy—yet. But that didn’t mean we could be complacent.

By the war's end in 1865, the Union Navy had swelled to over 670 ships—a staggering force, larger than any navy in the world at that time except for the British Royal Navy. This rapid expansion was due to sheer necessity—and the brilliant use of American ingenuity and industry.

Iron and Industry: The Arsenal of Shipyards

The lifeblood of our navy came from the northern shipyards, which hummed like hives of steel and timber. Places like Philadelphia, New York, and Boston turned out ships at breakneck speed. The New York Navy Yard, also called Brooklyn Navy Yard, was a marvel—launching steam frigates, gunboats, and ironclads like they were toys. Mare Island Navy Yard on the West Coast, though far from the main theaters of war, also lent its strength.

Private shipbuilders were conscripted into the cause. John Ericsson, the brilliant Swedish-American inventor, designed the famous USS Monitor, which would change naval warfare forever. Civilian yards across the Great Lakes and river towns were retrofitted to build gunboats and timberclads for inland operations.

A New Breed of Warship

We sailed more than just ships—we sailed transformation. The types of vessels we deployed during the war covered a wide range of missions:

• Steam Frigates and Screw Sloops: These were the backbone of our blue-water navy. The USS Hartford, my own flagship, was a sloop-of-war armed to the teeth, fast and maneuverable, and it led the charge at the Battle of Mobile Bay.

• Ironclads: The future had arrived. These heavily armored vessels, like the USS Monitor, brought terror to wooden Confederate ships. They were used in both coastal assaults and river operations, especially in the Mississippi campaigns. Their low profiles and rotating turrets made them perfect for pounding forts and engaging enemy ironclads like the CSS Virginia at the Battle of Hampton Roads.

• Gunboats and Timberclads: On rivers like the Mississippi, Tennessee, and Cumberland, we used a flotilla of shallow-draft vessels to push deep into Confederate territory. Timberclads were converted riverboats, armored with thick logs, while gunboats carried powerful armaments to batter enemy positions and protect Union supply lines.

• Torpedo Boats and Ram Ships: Though limited in number, experimental vessels like the USS Spuyten Duyvil were created to deploy torpedoes (what you might call mines today) against enemy ships or obstacles. Ram ships were reinforced to charge enemy vessels head-on—brutal, but effective in tight river battles.

Blockade and Control: The Anaconda Strategy at Sea

Our strategy was as much about strangulation as confrontation. President Lincoln’s Anaconda Plan, crafted with General Winfield Scott, called for a massive naval blockade of over 3,500 miles of Southern coastline. That required a staggering number of ships—and brave men to patrol waters teeming with Confederate blockade runners and privateers.

We split the coast into blockading squadrons: the Atlantic, the Gulf East and West, and later the Mississippi River squadron. These vessels intercepted Confederate trade, cutting off cotton exports and military supplies from Europe. Over 1,500 blockade runners were captured or destroyed during the war.

Seizing the Rivers: Turning the Tide in the West

No tale of the Union Navy is complete without mention of the Mississippi River Campaigns. Under the command of officers like Admiral Andrew H. Foote and later David Dixon Porter, we pounded Confederate fortifications and split the South in two.

My own part came when I steamed past the guns of Fort Jackson and Fort St. Philip to seize New Orleans in April 1862—an operation that secured the South’s largest city and gave us command of the Gulf’s mouth. Later, at Mobile Bay, I faced torpedoes (what we now call mines) and famously barked the order, “Down the torpedoes, full speed ahead!” Victory there closed the last major Confederate port on the Gulf.

Legacy on the Waves

We did not win this war on land alone. The Union Navy proved decisive in strangling the Confederacy’s lifelines, controlling key rivers, protecting northern commerce, and delivering crushing blows to Southern morale and infrastructure.

The age of sail had ended, and the age of steam, iron, and innovation had dawned. I was honored to sail at the helm of this transformation. My name may be etched into the annals of Mobile Bay, but I stand for all the men—sailors, shipwrights, engineers, and inventors—who turned tides with timber and steel.

New Naval Technology in the Civil War" – Told by Admiral David Farragut

When the Southern rebellion tore the country apart in 1861, our Navy was little more than an aging relic of a past era—wooden hulls, sail power, and muzzle-loading cannons. But war has a way of dragging innovation forward by the collar. And over those four years of bloody struggle, I witnessed the United States Navy undergo a revolution that would change sea power forever.

I had spent my life on the water—entered the Navy as a boy, served through the War of 1812, and fought pirates in the Caribbean. But nothing in my early years prepared me for what we would accomplish during the Civil War. We didn’t just fight with courage—we fought with ingenuity.

Steam Power and Screw Propulsion

The most obvious change was the shift from sail to steam. While many ships, including my own flagship USS Hartford, still carried sails, we relied more and more on steam engines to power us into battle—regardless of wind or tide. This gave us control, mobility, and speed, which proved crucial in narrow river channels and coastal waters.

But the true innovation wasn’t just the engines—it was the screw propeller. Mounted beneath the waterline at the stern, the screw replaced the vulnerable paddle wheels used on earlier steamships. It gave us greater protection and efficiency, allowing our vessels to move faster and turn tighter. It changed how we maneuvered, how we positioned in battle, and how we ran down enemy ships.

Ironclads: Floating Fortresses

No invention stunned the world more than the rise of the ironclad warship. When the Confederates raised the burned hulk of the USS Merrimack and refitted it with sloped iron plating—creating the CSS Virginia—they shattered centuries of naval tradition in a single stroke. Wooden warships had no chance against such a beast.

But we responded in kind. The brilliant John Ericsson, a Swedish-American engineer, gave us the USS Monitor, a vessel like none the world had ever seen. She was low in the water, iron-armored, and equipped with a revolving gun turret—a complete departure from broadside warfare.

When the Monitor met the Virginia at the Battle of Hampton Roads, it was the first time two ironclads had ever faced off. The world took notice. Naval warfare had entered a new era—and we were leading the charge.

Rotating Gun Turrets and Rifled Cannons

The turret changed everything. Mounted on a central pivot and rotated by steam power, it allowed gunners to fire in nearly all directions without turning the entire ship. This gave our ironclads and monitors a tactical edge—we could hold position in front of forts or enemy vessels and continue to fire with devastating accuracy.

Alongside this innovation came rifled artillery, which replaced the old smoothbore cannons. These new guns fired shells with far greater range, force, and precision. We could now blast fortifications from a distance, sink ships with fewer shots, and force enemy batteries to surrender without ever landing troops.

Naval Mines and Torpedoes

Another grim innovation that shaped our naval experience was the introduction of torpedoes—not the self-propelled kind you think of today, but what we now call naval mines. The Confederates deployed them heavily in harbors and rivers, floating barrels filled with explosives and anchored beneath the surface.

By the end of the war, we were deploying our own offensive mines, and even experimenting with torpedo boats and underwater charges, hinting at the deadly undersea warfare to come.

Submarines and Spar Torpedoes

Perhaps the boldest innovation came from the depths. The Confederacy launched the H.L. Hunley, a primitive submarine powered by a hand-cranked propeller. In 1864, she sank the USS Housatonic—the first submarine in history to sink a warship in combat. Though she was lost in the attack, the message was clear: the oceans were no longer safe from attacks beneath the waves.

To counter such threats and to make our own advances, the Union began experimenting with semi-submersibles and spar torpedoes—long poles with explosive charges that could be rammed into the hulls of enemy ships. These tactics were risky but revolutionary.

Support Vessels and Communications

Beyond weaponry, we saw massive strides in logistics and communication. Steam-powered supply ships, repair vessels, and hospital boats became part of every major operation. Signal flags evolved into more complex systems. Lantern codes, telegraph wires, and shore-based signal stations allowed us to coordinate multi-ship assaults and communicate with land forces in ways never seen before.

A Navy Reborn

By 1865, the United States Navy was unrecognizable from the fleet I had known as a young midshipman. We had gone from wooden walls and wind to iron armor, steam engines, underwater weapons, and rotating turrets. We had built river fleets, enforced a coastline blockade across thousands of miles, and launched joint amphibious operations in harmony with the Army.

The Civil War did not just test our resolve—it remade our fleet.

And I, David Glasgow Farragut, had the honor of sailing through this transformation, leading men who fought not only with bravery, but with tools forged by a new age of war. We didn’t just win victories—we set the course for every navy that followed.

My Name is Admiral Franklin Buchanan of the Confederate Navy

I was born on September 13, 1800, in Baltimore, Maryland—a city bustling with trade and promise along the Chesapeake Bay. From a young age, the sea called to me with a voice that would never let go. Though my family had respectable roots—my grandfather was a physician and my lineage tied to the earliest settlers of Maryland—I was not content to stay on land. By age 14, I began my naval career, entering the United States Navy as a midshipman in 1815, just after the War of 1812 had ended.

A Life of Blue Water and Duty

For the next several decades, I sailed nearly every sea under the Stars and Stripes. I rose through the ranks, becoming a lieutenant by 1825, and eventually a captain by 1855. During my service, I commanded ships like the USS Vincennes, the USS Germantown, and even served in the Mexican-American War, where I helped enforce blockades along Mexico’s coast.

I also played a significant role in founding the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis in 1845. As its first superintendent, I took pride in shaping young minds for service to the Republic—never imagining that one day I would stand against that very flag I served.

The Rift of Secession

When Southern states began to secede in 1861, my heart was torn. I had spent my life in service to the Union, but my loyalty lay with Maryland, my home—and with the South’s rights, as I saw them. Initially, I resigned from the U.S. Navy, believing my state would follow the Confederacy. When Maryland remained in the Union, I offered to return—but was rejected.

My fate was sealed. I joined the Confederate States Navy, where President Jefferson Davis recognized my value and made me the Confederacy’s first and only full admiral.

Iron Against Iron: The Battle of Hampton Roads

My most well-known moment came in March of 1862, when I commanded the mighty CSS Virginia—the refitted and ironclad former USS Merrimack. This ship was a floating fortress, plated in iron and bristling with guns. We wreaked havoc on Union wooden warships at Hampton Roads, sinking the USS Cumberland and setting the USS Congress ablaze.

But the next day, the Union unveiled its own iron creation—the USS Monitor. We engaged in the first battle of ironclads in history. Though neither ship was destroyed, the age of wooden warships was over. I was wounded in the leg during the action and had to turn over command. Still, I knew then that naval warfare had changed forever—and I had helped shape that transformation.

The Defense of Mobile Bay

In 1864, I was called once again to defend the South—this time at Mobile Bay, Alabama, one of the last major ports still in Confederate hands. I oversaw the defenses, including torpedoes (mines), forts, and the ironclad CSS Tennessee, which I personally commanded.

But then came Admiral David Farragut and his Union fleet. The man charged boldly through the torpedo field with his famous cry: “Down the torpedoes, full speed ahead!” Despite a fierce battle, the Tennessee was surrounded and battered. I was wounded and captured. My ship had fought valiantly, but the odds were overwhelming.

Honor in Defeat

After my capture, I was treated with respect, and I recovered from my injuries. The war soon ended, and with it, the Confederate cause. I returned to my family in Maryland, where I lived out the rest of my days quietly, reflecting on the choices I had made and the tides of war that had swept us all away.

I died on May 11, 1874, near my home in Talbot County. Though history will forever debate the right and wrong of our cause, I served with duty, skill, and unwavering belief in the South’s sovereignty. My legacy is bound with iron, steam, and the twilight of a wooden navy.

"Iron Willed”: The Confederate Navy I Helped Build – Told by Admiral Buchanan

When I cast my lot with the Confederacy in 1861, I knew we were entering a war of impossible odds. The Union had wealth, industry, and the largest navy this side of the Atlantic. The South? We had no navy to speak of—no standing fleet, no naval tradition outside of a few officers like myself, and no proper shipyards capable of sustaining a war at sea. But we had spirit. And we had ingenuity.

From the ashes of disunion, we forged the Confederate States Navy, and I—once a proud officer in the United States Navy—was now called to shape and defend a nation with little more than grit and iron.

Starting with Nothing

At the war's beginning, we possessed only a handful of small ships—no more than 12 usable vessels, including aging revenue cutters and riverboats. To face the Union's mighty blockade, we would need dozens more.

Over the course of the war, our navy grew to include just under 130 commissioned warships—a fraction of the Union’s enormous fleet, which numbered over 600 by the end. But what we lacked in size, we made up for in innovation and boldness. We could never meet the Union ship-for-ship. Instead, we focused on asymmetrical warfare, disrupting their dominance wherever possible.

The Ironclads: Our Floating Fortresses

Our greatest answer to the Union’s superiority was the ironclad warship. The most famous of these was the CSS Virginia, which I had the honor of commanding during the Battle of Hampton Roads. She was built from the salvaged remains of the scuttled USS Merrimack, raised at the Gosport Navy Yard in Norfolk, Virginia.

We built other ironclads in inland shipyards and converted river towns into production hubs. Places like Savannah, New Orleans, Memphis, and Richmond did what they could, often with limited supplies, using whatever materials were at hand—railroad iron, oak planks, and even scrap metal.

The ironclads were used to defend key ports and rivers. The CSS Tennessee, which I commanded during the Battle of Mobile Bay, was a fearsome opponent, built for close-range combat and armored with thick iron plating. Though she was ultimately captured, she held her own against superior numbers and firepower.

Commerce Raiders: The Sea Wolves

Another arm of our navy lurked on the open seas. These were our commerce raiders—sleek, fast vessels designed to attack Union merchant shipping. Commanders like Captain Raphael Semmes of the CSS Alabama terrorized Northern trade routes, capturing or sinking over 250 Union merchant ships during the war.

These ships were built in secret by our agents in Europe, especially in British shipyards, under the direction of James D. Bulloch, our naval agent in Liverpool. The CSS Florida, CSS Shenandoah, and others carried the fight to the Union across the Atlantic, in the Caribbean, and as far as the Indian Ocean. While we couldn’t defeat their navy directly, we could strike where they were vulnerable—on the seas of commerce.

Submarines and Torpedo Boats: War Below the Surface

We also pioneered new technology beneath the waves. In Charleston, the H.L. Hunley was built—the first submarine to sink an enemy warship, the USS Housatonic, in 1864. Though the Hunley sank after its attack, her success made history.

Alongside her were spar torpedo boats—small, stealthy craft that carried explosive charges on long poles to ram into enemy hulls. They were desperate measures, but sometimes, desperation breeds invention.

Blockade Runners and the Lifeline of the Confederacy

Though not warships, our blockade runners were a vital part of the naval effort. Slim, fast steamers with shallow drafts and painted gray for stealth, they slipped past the Union blockade under cover of night. They brought in weapons, medicine, and supplies—everything the South desperately needed. Ports like Wilmington, North Carolina and Galveston, Texas became havens for these daring vessels.

Without them, our armies would have withered. With them, we prolonged our resistance.

The Shipyards: Southern Struggles, Southern Steel

Our greatest obstacle was our lack of industrial infrastructure. The Union had shipyards in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. We had to build our own from scratch, using inland locations safe from naval bombardment.

The Selma Naval Foundry in Alabama produced cannons. The Tredegar Iron Works in Richmond manufactured armor plating. Every nail, every bolt, every cannonball had to be forged in the South—often under fire, always under pressure.

Despite limited tools, scarce iron, and blockades that choked our supply lines, we managed to build over 20 ironclads, dozens of gunboats, torpedo boats, and support vessels. It was nothing short of a miracle of southern resourcefulness.

A Final Reflection

We did not win the war. Our ships were eventually lost, our shipyards captured or burned. But let it never be said we did not fight with every ounce of fire in our hearts.

The Confederate Navy, though small, stood as a testament to innovation in the face of adversity. We challenged the world’s greatest naval force, introduced technologies that reshaped future warfare, and dared to dream that iron and steam might tip the scales of destiny.

I was there when that dream began—and I saw it burn on the waters of Mobile Bay.

How the Civil War Revolutionized Naval Warfare – Told by Admiral Farragut

When the first shots were fired at Fort Sumter in 1861, no one could have imagined how quickly war would transform. I had served under sail and cannon my entire life, but this war—the War Between the States—brought with it inventions that reshaped the very nature of combat at sea.

Navies across the globe watched as the American Civil War became the proving ground for the future. The Confederacy, though starved for resources, became desperate innovators. And the Union—our great fleet—drew from its immense industrial power to lead the charge into a new era of naval warfare.

Ironclads: Wood Gave Way to Iron

The first and most defining leap forward came with the introduction of ironclad warships. The Confederacy took the burned-out hulk of the USS Merrimack and transformed her into the CSS Virginia, a monster of war. She was plated in railroad iron, built to shred wooden ships like kindling—and she did just that at Hampton Roads, crushing the USS Cumberland and USS Congress in her rampage.

In response, our own engineers, led by the ingenious John Ericsson, unleashed the USS Monitor. A low-profile vessel with a revolutionary rotating turret, she engaged the Virginia in the first battle between ironclads in world history. That clash didn’t end in victory for either side—but it ended the era of wooden navies. Forever.

Steam Power and Screw Propulsion

Both sides moved away from sail and embraced steam power. Ships like my own USS Hartford combined steam engines with traditional masts, giving us control no matter the wind. But more critical was the adoption of the screw propeller, which replaced the side paddlewheel.

Screw propulsion allowed for faster, more protected, and more maneuverable vessels. Whether fighting upriver or chasing blockade runners through narrow channels, steam and screw engines gave us the edge.

Naval Mines (Torpedoes)

The Confederates were the first to weaponize what they called torpedoes—what today we’d call mines. These floating or submerged barrels, filled with explosives, were anchored in rivers and bays to deter Union ships.

I encountered them firsthand at Mobile Bay. When one of our lead ships struck a mine and sank, the column hesitated. But I ordered us forward.

In time, the Union began deploying mines as well, particularly in defensive positions or around captured forts.

Torpedo Boats and Spar Charges

Necessity bred invention for the South. They lacked a strong fleet, so they built small, stealthy torpedo boats—low-profile vessels designed to dart toward Union ships and detonate spar torpedoes (explosive charges mounted on long poles).

The most famous Confederate attack came from the CSS David, which damaged the USS New Ironsides in Charleston Harbor. It was a bold demonstration of how a small vessel could threaten even the most formidable warships.

Submarines: The Silent Hunters

Yes, even the depths of the sea became a battlefield.

The Confederacy constructed the H.L. Hunley, the world’s first successful combat submarine. It was crude—powered by a hand-crank and barely large enough for a crew of eight—but in 1864, it sank the USS Housatonic off Charleston with a spar torpedo.

The Hunley never returned, lost to the deep, but her success signaled a new kind of naval warfare. We on the Union side were shocked and soon began developing semi-submersible craft and improved underwater defenses of our own.

Rotating Turrets and Heavy Artillery

The Monitor’s rotating turret was just the beginning.

Both navies saw advances in artillery—with rifled cannons, shell guns, and turret-mounted weapons allowing for greater accuracy, power, and range. Our river gunboats, used heavily in the Western Theater, carried heavy-caliber artillery capable of smashing fortifications and enemy vessels alike.

The Union's river fleet, under the command of men like Admiral Andrew Foote and David Dixon Porter, used these advances to open the Mississippi and Tennessee Rivers, dividing the Confederacy and choking their supply lines.

Communication and Coordination

We also improved how we communicated and coordinated.

Signal flags had been used for years, but now we refined and expanded them. We established signal stations, used lantern codes, and in some cases, even employed telegraph wires strung along temporary lines between ships and shore. These systems gave us quicker reaction times and allowed for synchronized assaults in complex operations like New Orleans and Vicksburg.

Blockade Runners and International Technology

While we patrolled the Southern coast with hundreds of ships, the Confederacy relied on blockade runners—fast, low-profile steamers that slipped past our fleets to bring in arms and supplies.

Most were built in British shipyards, thanks to agents like James D. Bulloch, and fitted with the latest marine engines. Their very existence pushed us to expand and innovate our blockading squadrons, forcing us to adapt with faster vessels and wider coverage.

The Legacy of Innovation

In four years, the American Civil War advanced naval warfare by decades. Iron armor replaced wood. Steam replaced sail. Turrets replaced broadside batteries. Mines, submarines, and torpedo boats rewrote the rules of engagement.

And I, David Glasgow Farragut, sailed at the heart of this transformation. I watched our Union fleet rise from uncertainty to supremacy—not just by strength, but by adaptation and vision. We didn’t just win battles—we laid the keel for the navies of the future.

My Witness to the War’s Greatest Naval Battles” – Told by Admiral David Farragut

When the first shots rang out at Fort Sumter, I knew that the war ahead would not be won solely on land. The rivers and coasts of the Confederacy would become just as critical as the fields of Gettysburg or Shiloh. And I, having served at sea since I was a child, would live to see the American Civil War transform naval warfare forever. Some battles I led. Others I watched closely from afar. But every one of them taught us something new about courage, technology, and the power of the sea.

Battle of Hampton Roads (March 8–9, 1862)

I was not present, but I watched the world change from a distance. The clash between the CSS Virginia and the USS Monitor was the first meeting of ironclad warships in history. The Virginia tore through our wooden ships—Cumberland and Congress—with ease. But then came the Monitor, our answer in steel, with a revolving turret and a flat, almost alien profile. The two battered each other to a standstill, but the message was clear: the age of wooden warships was over.

I knew then that our navy would never be the same again. And I knew I’d soon command fleets that looked more like floating fortresses than ships of sail.

Battle of New Orleans (April 24–25, 1862)

This was my proving ground—and my first great victory. New Orleans was the Confederacy’s largest city and its most vital port. My orders were clear: take it. I led a squadron of 17 ships up the Mississippi River, past Forts Jackson and St. Philip, which guarded the waterway with heavy guns and chains across the channel.

We fought through a fiery gauntlet. My flagship, the USS Hartford, caught fire under a barrage of shells—but we kept moving. Our steam-powered ships overwhelmed the Confederate defenses, and we seized the city.

That victory opened the Mississippi and broke the Confederate line in two. It remains one of my proudest moments.

Battle of Memphis (June 6, 1862)

I did not command this battle, but I supported the strategy behind it. While I pressed from the south, Admiral Charles Henry Davis led the Union’s ironclad river fleet from the north. At Memphis, his forces crushed the Confederate River Defense Fleet in a matter of minutes, securing another key stretch of the Mississippi.

This battle showed how powerful our inland navy had become. Gunboats, many armored and steam-powered, could now push into the heart of the Confederacy.

Battle of Vicksburg (May–July 1863)

Though not on the front line, I watched this campaign with immense pride. Admiral David Dixon Porter and General Ulysses S. Grant coordinated a land and naval siege of Vicksburg. Porter’s river fleet supplied the army, bombarded the city’s defenses, and ran gauntlets at night to bring in reinforcements.

When Vicksburg fell, the Mississippi River belonged to the Union. The Confederacy was split, and its western lifeline was severed. This victory validated everything we had worked for since New Orleans.

Battle of Galveston (January 1, 1863)

I was not present, and it was a dark day for our efforts. The Confederacy, in a surprise counterattack, reclaimed Galveston, Texas. Our ships, isolated and unsupported, were unable to hold the port against land forces and Confederate gunboats.

It was a reminder that no matter how advanced our fleet, coordination with ground forces was vital.

Battle of Mobile Bay (August 5, 1864)

This was my greatest test—and the moment that history remembers. Mobile Bay was the Confederacy’s last major port on the Gulf. Its entrance was fortified by Fort Morgan and laced with torpedoes (mines). Inside waited the CSS Tennessee, one of the South’s most powerful ironclads.

As our fleet advanced, one of our ironclads struck a torpedo and sank. My column hesitated. But I refused to falter. I shouted the words that would echo through history: “Damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!”

We surged through the minefield, engaged the Tennessee at close range, and forced her surrender. With Mobile Bay under our control, the South’s access to foreign trade was effectively closed.

Red River Campaign (March–May 1864)

I observed this campaign from afar, but the lessons were clear. Admiral Porter and General Banks launched an ambitious move up the Red River. Though our navy performed admirably, low river levels and poor coordination led to a Union retreat.

It was a painful reminder that rivers, like the sea, had their own temperament. Logistics, timing, and topography were as dangerous as enemy fire.

The Blockade and Global Disruption (1861–1865)

Though not a single battle, this campaign was one of our greatest victories. From the war’s start, I supported Lincoln’s call for a naval blockade of the Southern coast. Over the years, our squadrons intercepted over 1,500 blockade runners, choking the South’s supply lines and crippling their economy.

Our work was slow, thankless, and relentless. But it worked. Cotton exports collapsed. Munitions dried up. Hunger spread. The war effort withered from within.

No glory was found in this campaign, but victory was.

The Lifeblood of War: Why Waterways Mattered Most – Told by Admiral Farragut

Many remember the Civil War for its land battles—Gettysburg, Antietam, Shiloh—but I tell you now, as one who saw the tides turn: it was control of the rivers, bays, and ports that determined whether those armies lived, moved, or starved. A soldier’s musket might win a skirmish, but it was the waterways and supply lines that sustained a campaign and shaped a nation’s fate.

When the war broke out, President Lincoln and his commanders knew that controlling the sea and rivers would be as critical as winning fields and hills. And I, having spent a lifetime at sea, understood it deeply. The Union Navy’s mission wasn’t just to sink ships—it was to choke the Confederacy, support our armies, and sever the South’s ability to fight.

The Anaconda Plan: Strangling the Rebellion

The Union strategy, often called the Anaconda Plan, envisioned a vast blockade and river campaign to wrap around the Confederacy like a snake. Our job? Blockade over 3,500 miles of coastline to stop the South from trading cotton for weapons and supplies abroad, and seize the major rivers that flowed like arteries through the Confederate heartland.

The Mississippi River, in particular, was the spine of the South. Whoever controlled it, controlled the flow of men, food, and munitions across a thousand miles. The moment we severed it—cutting the Confederacy in two—we would deprive the enemy of its western lifeline.

The Mississippi: The River War Within a War

It was the river campaigns that changed the course of the war. Working alongside General Grant and Admiral Porter, we captured New Orleans in 1862, dealing a devastating blow to the Confederacy. New Orleans was the South’s largest city and its most important port. From there, we sailed up the Mississippi, hammering our way past forts and batteries to Vicksburg, the last major stronghold on the river.

Vicksburg was tough. It sat high on cliffs, defying every attempt to be taken easily. But after a long siege and coordinated river-lane assaults, it fell on July 4, 1863—the same day as Gettysburg. And with it, the Mississippi was ours. The Confederacy was now cut in two, and their western troops and supplies were marooned.

Supply Lines: The Hidden Front Lines

War is not won by courage alone. A rifleman needs bullets. A cannon needs powder. An army needs bread. These needs ride upon supply lines—and in the 1860s, water was the fastest, safest, and most reliable highway for them all.

The Union’s control of the coastal ports—like Port Royal, New Bern, and eventually Mobile—meant we could deliver fresh troops, arms, medicine, and food directly to our forces by ship, rather than risk slow, treacherous overland routes.

We could also interdict Confederate shipments, capturing or destroying the goods they desperately needed to continue the fight. Every successful blockade or port seizure didn’t just hurt the South’s economy—it starved their war machine.

Rail Meets River: Cutting Across the Confederacy

Rivers weren’t just roads—they were connected to Southern railroads, the veins that linked their armies. When we took cities like Memphis, Nashville, or Petersburg, we weren’t just capturing ground—we were cutting the South’s ability to move men and materials from one theater to another.

The Union used combined arms operations, working hand-in-glove with the Army, to secure these chokepoints. Our gunboats protected troop landings, shelled entrenched positions, and guarded the logistics routes that made entire campaigns possible.

Mobile Bay and the Gulf: Final Nails in the Coffin

By 1864, one of the last major ports the Confederates held was Mobile Bay, Alabama. My job was to take it. The harbor was filled with torpedoes (mines) and defended by Fort Morgan and the mighty CSS Tennessee. Still, we sailed in—through hellfire—and closed the last significant Gulf port.

Without Mobile, the South had no real access to international trade. The blockade became absolute, and the Confederate economy—already reeling—collapsed further into starvation and desperation.

Victory Rides the Current

In the end, control of the waters made victory possible. The rivers let us move faster, hit harder, and stretch farther. Our sailors didn't just sail ships—they carried armies, fed men, and held the noose tight around the Confederacy’s neck.

It’s no exaggeration to say: the Civil War was won on the rivers and coasts as much as on the battlefield. I was proud to lead men who understood that—men who braved cannon fire, torpedoes, and the unknown to make sure the Union endured.

So when you look at the map of the war, don’t just trace the armies. Trace the rivers. Follow the supply routes. For in every bend of the Mississippi, every harbor on the Atlantic, and every bay along the Gulf, you’ll find the beating heart of Union victory.

The Union Blockade and the Anaconda Plan – Told by Admiral David Farragut

When the Southern states tore themselves away from the Union in 1861, it wasn’t just a political crisis—it was a logistical one. The Confederacy, vast in land and rich in agriculture, lacked the manufacturing, shipping, and infrastructure needed to sustain a war. They counted on exporting cotton to Europe and importing weapons, medicine, and machines. President Lincoln knew if we could cut off that lifeline, the rebellion would slowly suffocate. Thus was born what we came to call the Anaconda Plan.

Named after the great constrictor snake, the plan was simple in theory and monumental in execution: surround the South by sea and river, cut it off from the world, and squeeze until it could fight no more.

The Union Blockade: Cast Net Over the Coastline

My comrades and I were charged with enforcing one of the most ambitious naval blockades in world history. Over 3,500 miles of Confederate coastline stretched from Virginia to Texas—every port, inlet, bay, and river mouth a potential supply route for the Southern cause.

At the war's beginning, the Union Navy had less than 50 active ships. But the North’s industry roared to life. Within four years, we had over 600 vessels, patrolling every channel, harassing blockade runners, and tightening the grip on the Southern economy. We divided the coast into sectors—the Atlantic Blockading Squadron, the Gulf Blockading Squadron, and later, additional subdivisions—to ensure no harbor remained unchecked.

Blockade Runners: The South’s Desperate Gamble

The Confederates responded with fast, low-profile blockade runners, often built in British shipyards. These sleek steamers—painted gray to vanish in moonlight—slipped in and out of ports like Wilmington, Charleston, and Mobile, carrying everything from Enfield rifles to quinine.

But they ran a high risk. Over 1,500 blockade runners were captured or sunk during the war. Each one lost meant thousands of dollars and tons of precious cargo gone. Over time, the risks outweighed the rewards, and the Confederacy found itself increasingly cut off from the outside world.

Economic Starvation: Breaking the Southern Will

The effects of the blockade were not immediate—but they were devastating over time. Cotton exports, once the South’s economic engine, collapsed. The Southern people—civilian and soldier alike—faced shortages of food, clothing, salt, and medicine. Rail lines fell into disrepair, and inflation skyrocketed. The Confederate government resorted to impressment, seizing goods from its own citizens to support the army.

Without access to the sea, the South’s economy crumbled, its armies weakened, and its morale fractured. No amount of battlefield bravery could replace a broken supply chain.

A War Won by Wind and Steel

The Anaconda Plan was not dramatic like Pickett’s Charge or Sherman's March—but it was just as lethal. It was the quiet pressure that never let up. The blockade isolated the South, drained its lifeblood, and shortened the war by years.

And I, David Glasgow Farragut, was proud to serve in that long, patient, grinding campaign. While soldiers marched on land, we held the line at sea—day and night, storm and calm, from the Potomac to the Rio Grande.

In the end, the blockade didn’t just choke the Confederacy. It proved that sea power—when properly wielded—could win a war without ever stepping ashore.

“Choked”: Blockades and the Fall of the Confederacy – Told by Admiral Buchanan

When the war began in 1861, we in the South believed we could fight for our independence just as our forefathers had fought the British. We had our cotton, our land, our resolve—and we thought that would be enough. But we underestimated one thing: the power of the sea and how thoroughly the Union would use it against us.

President Lincoln’s proclamation of a naval blockade, early in the war, was no empty threat. It was the first tightening of the rope that would slowly, methodically, squeeze the life out of our Confederacy. As the war dragged on, I witnessed firsthand how that blockade struck at the very heart of our economy, our army, and the will of our people.

A Navy Outnumbered and Outbuilt

At the outbreak, we in the Confederate Navy had to build from the ground up. We had no established fleet, no overseas allies willing to openly support us, and no major shipbuilding industry. The Union, in contrast, had hundreds of ships by war’s end—over 600 vessels patrolled more than 3,500 miles of Confederate coastline.

Our blockade runners—sleek, fast steamers built to evade Union patrols—were our only hope to maintain contact with the outside world. They brought in rifles, salt, medicine, and machinery. But even at their peak, blockade runners could not replace what we lost. As Union ships prowled every harbor and inlet, our ports began to fall silent.

Cotton Piled High, but No Buyers in Sight

Before the war, cotton was king. We believed “King Cotton” would win us allies in Europe, force Britain and France to intervene, and fund our war through international trade. But the blockade made cotton all but useless.

By 1863, bales of it sat stacked along Southern wharves, unsold and unshipped. Our railroads, strained and starved of iron and repair, couldn’t carry it to the few working ports we had left. With the blockade in place, our most valuable export became dead weight.

Worse still, the lack of imports meant factories couldn’t function, workshops went idle, and the Confederate treasury—already fragile—spiraled into economic chaos. The value of our currency plummeted. Inflation soared. A pair of boots might cost a month’s wages—if they could be found at all.

The Army Felt It First

You cannot fight a war without powder, rifles, blankets, and salt. The blockade didn’t just starve our people—it starved our soldiers.

By the latter years of the war, Confederate troops were marching in threadbare uniforms, often without shoes, and with fewer rounds of ammunition than their Union counterparts had in a single skirmish. Hospitals ran out of anesthetics. Men died of infections that could’ve been treated if only a blockade runner had made it through with medicine.

The South’s ability to reinforce, resupply, and even feed its armies diminished with every passing month under blockade. Even General Lee’s great campaigns could not outmatch an army fed by global industry when his own men were sustained only by shrinking rations and bitter resolve.

Ports Lost, Hope Faded

City by city, the Union tightened its grip. New Orleans, the South’s largest port, fell in 1862. Mobile Bay, my final command, was wrested from us in 1864 after a brutal engagement against Admiral Farragut’s fleet. With every port lost, the noose drew tighter.

By the end, only a few inlets like Wilmington remained in Confederate hands—and even those were heavily threatened. The fall of Fort Fisher in early 1865 sealed Wilmington’s fate, cutting off the last great artery to the outside world.

The Southern people felt it deeply. Bread riots broke out in Richmond and other cities. Civilians grew resentful. Confederate loyalty, once fiery and unshakable, began to fray under the weight of hunger and loss.

The Blockade’s Silent Victory

Let the record show: the Union blockade did not break our lines with cannon or bayonet. It broke us with silence—the silence of empty docks, empty warehouses, and empty bellies. The Union didn’t just conquer us with armies—they starved us into submission.

I, who had once commanded the CSS Virginia and watched her hammer Union ships into splinters, lived long enough to see how even iron could not overcome economic strangulation. The Confederacy did not fall in one battle—it crumbled under years of isolation and deprivation.

Our Commerce Raiders and War Beyond the Coast – Told by Admiral Buchanan

From the beginning of our struggle, we in the Confederate Navy knew we could never match the Union ship-for-ship. Their navy outnumbered us, outgunned us, and had the full might of the Northern industrial machine at its back. But war is not always won with size. Sometimes, it is won with audacity—and on the high seas, we found our answer in commerce raiders.

If we could not break the Union’s blockade directly, we would hit them where they never expected it—on the open ocean, far from our shores. We would make the Northern people feel the sting of war not just on battlefields, but in their wallets, their shipping ports, and their insurance offices.

The Strategy of Disruption

Our plan was simple: attack Union merchant shipping, disrupt their global trade routes, raise the cost of insurance, and force the Union Navy to spread itself thin trying to defend thousands of miles of ocean. Every cargo ship we captured or burned was a blow to their economy and a victory for our cause.

And we did not need dozens of ships to make an impact. We needed a few well-built, fast, and fearsome vessels, and men bold enough to sail them.

Agents Abroad and Ships in Shadow

We owed much of our success to James D. Bulloch, our chief naval agent in Europe. Operating mostly out of Liverpool, England, Bulloch orchestrated the construction and outfitting of our commerce raiders in foreign shipyards, often under false names and through back-channel dealings.

These ships were built in British yards with powerful engines, long ranges, and sleek hulls for speed. Many were launched under neutral flags and only revealed their true purpose once they reached international waters.

Despite Union protests, Britain turned a blind eye, or acted too late to stop them. These vessels would slip away before the ink on the complaints dried.

The CSS Alabama: Queen of the Raiders

No ship struck more fear into Union shipping than the CSS Alabama, commanded by the daring Captain Raphael Semmes. Launched in 1862 from the Birkenhead yard of John Laird & Sons, she became a scourge of the seas.

Over her two-year career, the Alabama captured or destroyed over 60 Union merchant ships, from the North Atlantic to the South Pacific. She never stayed in one region long—always moving, always hunting. Her presence alone drove up insurance rates and caused Northern merchants to reroute or delay their cargoes.

When she was finally cornered and sunk by the USS Kearsarge off the coast of France in 1864, her legacy was already etched in salt and steel.

Other Raiders of Renown

The Alabama was not alone. The CSS Florida, CSS Shenandoah, and CSS Sumter all joined in the campaign. The Florida operated in the Caribbean and off the coast of South America. The Shenandoah, remarkably, circled the globe and even continued operations after the war had technically ended, due to delays in communication.

The Shenandoah fired the last shot of the Civil War, capturing and burning Union whaling ships in the Arctic in June 1865, unaware that General Lee had surrendered two months earlier.

A Global War of Nerves

Our commerce raiders forced the Union to divert warships from blockading our coast to patrol distant waters, from the Atlantic to the Indian Ocean. While their Navy was chasing raiders across the globe, we bought time, sowed fear, and weakened the morale of their merchant class.

The United States government would later demand reparations from Britain, blaming her for allowing the construction of our ships. These became known as the Alabama Claims—a testament to just how deeply our raiders had wounded their pride and commerce.

Boldness in the Face of Giants

We were few, and we were hunted, but we were never idle. Our commerce raiders showed that with daring, strategy, and a bit of wind at our backs, even a smaller power could shake the foundations of a global giant. We could not match the Union’s might—but we could make them bleed across the seven seas.

As Admiral of the Confederate Navy, I take pride in what these men accomplished. They carried the flag of a beleaguered nation into distant waters and wrote a chapter of our history not with massed fleets, but with steel nerves and smoke on the horizon.

Britain, France, and the Confederate Cause – Told by Admiral Franklin Buchanan

When we fired the first shots at Fort Sumter in 1861, we knew we were outmatched in numbers and industry. The Union had shipyards humming with iron and steam, miles of railroads, and a fleet that grew by the day. We in the South, proud though we were, had limited means to build or sustain a navy.

So, while our ships patrolled the rivers and coasts, our eyes turned across the ocean—to Britain and France, the world’s great naval powers. If we could not match the Union in factories, we might match them in diplomacy. And if we could not build the ships ourselves, perhaps we could buy them where the wood was strong and the forges hot.

King Cotton’s Gamble

We believed “King Cotton” would be our key to Europe’s heart. Both Britain and France relied heavily on Southern cotton to feed their textile mills. Our diplomats argued that if our ports were closed and our cotton choked off, European economies would suffer. This, we believed, would compel them to recognize our independence—or at least turn a blind eye as we armed ourselves on their shores.

And for a time, that gamble seemed to pay off.

James D. Bulloch: The South’s Man in Liverpool

In this effort, James D. Bulloch was our greatest asset. As our naval agent in Liverpool, England, he moved among the shipbuilders and financiers with the skill of a seasoned diplomat and the secrecy of a spy.

Bulloch arranged for the construction of vessels that would become legends: the CSS Florida, CSS Alabama, and later, the CSS Shenandoah. These ships were built in British yards, launched under neutral flags, and only revealed their true identity once at sea.

The Alabama, built by John Laird & Sons, was perhaps the most famous of all. She sailed the world’s oceans, striking fear into Union merchantmen and proving that a well-armed raider could bleed the Union from afar.

British Complications and the Alabama Claims

But this dance with Britain was dangerous.

The Union was not blind to what we were doing. American diplomats lodged protest after protest, warning Britain that by allowing the construction and departure of Confederate ships, they were violating international neutrality laws.

Under growing pressure—and after the Alabama had sunk dozens of Union ships—the British government cracked down. Several of our planned ironclads were seized before they could be delivered. The most significant of these was the Laird Rams, a pair of ironclads that would have posed a serious threat to Union blockaders. Britain, fearing war with the United States, ultimately detained them.

After the war, the U.S. would sue Britain for damages caused by the Alabama and others. These became known as the Alabama Claims, and they were a bitter reminder of the shadow diplomacy that had taken place during the war.

French Interest and Silent Support

While Britain played the central role, France under Emperor Napoleon III also showed interest in our cause—but always from a cautious distance.

Napoleon III had ambitions in Mexico and was wary of antagonizing the Union too directly. He listened to our envoys, showed sympathy in private, and allowed limited commerce. French shipyards offered to build vessels for us as well—ironclads of considerable power. But unlike the British, the French government was even more hesitant.

A pair of ironclads built in Bordeaux were ultimately blocked, not by France, but by Union diplomacy. President Lincoln’s administration made it clear that any foreign recognition or material aid would be seen as an act of war. And France, like Britain, chose peace over intervention.

A Hope Unfulfilled

We in the Confederacy hoped that foreign recognition would turn the tide. We pinned our ambitions on the belief that economic pressure and shared enmity toward the Union would force Europe’s hand. And while we did receive sympathy, quiet aid, and even ships, we never received official recognition, nor the open alliance we so desperately needed.

In the end, diplomacy failed us. The Union’s naval strength, economic pressure, and political skill proved stronger than our hopes of European intervention.

A Legacy in Iron and Intrigue

Still, the ships we gained—especially from Britain—proved powerful. The Alabama, the Shenandoah, and the Florida carried our banner across oceans, disrupted Union trade, and made the North feel our presence far from the battlefield. Without British and French shipbuilders, these feats would have been impossible.

As Admiral of the Confederate Navy, I will always honor the courage of our sailors—and the quiet hands in foreign lands who helped us, even when their governments would not.

How the Civil War Shaped Modern Naval Warfare – Told by Admiral Farragut

When the Union split and war descended upon our nation, few could have imagined how quickly the tide of naval warfare would change. I began my naval service in the days of tall ships and salty wind, when battles were fought by cannon-lined broadsides and every maneuver depended on the sail. But by the end of the Civil War, I stood at the helm of a navy that no longer resembled the one I’d grown up in. We had moved from sail to steam, from wood to iron, and from traditional line-of-battle tactics to new forms of naval strategy. It wasn’t just a transformation—it was the birth of modern naval warfare, and I witnessed it with my own eyes.

The Ironclad Revolution

The first great leap forward was the advent of the ironclad warship. When the Confederates launched the CSS Virginia, armored and brutal, and we responded with John Ericsson’s USS Monitor, we watched centuries of wooden warfare vanish in a single weekend at the Battle of Hampton Roads. The clash of these two iron titans heralded a new age where armor plating could deflect cannon fire and rotating turrets made static firing lines obsolete.

Ironclads became the future—not just because of their strength, but because they made naval engagements less about wind and more about position, propulsion, and firepower. That single duel sparked a global race among navies to abandon tradition and embrace technology.

Steam Power and Independence from the Wind

Steam changed everything. It freed us from the mercy of the wind and the rhythms of the sea. With screw propulsion, our ships could hold formation, approach enemy lines with precision, or retreat under fire—all without waiting for a favorable gust. In battles like Mobile Bay, steam gave us the power to push through torpedo-riddled waters, past fortress batteries, and confront ironclads head-on.

Commanding a steam-powered fleet meant rethinking tactics entirely. Every mile moved became a matter of coal, boiler pressure, and timing, not wind direction. Strategy began to resemble a game of engines and mathematics more than maritime instinct. The navy would never go back.

The Rise of River Warfare and Joint Operations

Before the war, naval strategy focused on blue water—vast seas and foreign coasts. But during the Civil War, the battle shifted inland. The great rivers of the South—Mississippi, Tennessee, Cumberland—became frontlines. We built flotillas of gunboats, ironclads, and timberclads designed for shallow waters, narrow channels, and fierce currents.

And for the first time, naval forces worked hand-in-hand with the Army. At Vicksburg, New Orleans, and Fort Henry, the cooperation between ship and soldier was critical. We learned to coordinate bombardments, supply lines, troop landings, and sieges. That joint strategy—combined arms warfare—is now standard doctrine in every modern military.

Submarines and Torpedoes: The Undersea Frontier

We also glimpsed the next great battlefield: below the waves.

The Confederates launched the H.L. Hunley, the world’s first submarine to successfully sink a warship. Though it was primitive and cost its crew their lives, the Hunley’s strike against the USS Housatonic proved that underwater attack was no longer a fantasy.

At the same time, both sides began deploying torpedoes—what we now call naval mines. These submerged explosives transformed harbors and river mouths into deathtraps. These early steps into undersea warfare paved the way for the submarines, destroyers, and mine warfare that would dominate the conflicts of the 20th century.

Global Attention and the End of Wooden Empires

The world was watching. British, French, and Russian admirals studied our battles and innovations closely. The Union blockade, enforced by a growing, steam-powered navy, became a model for future naval sieges. Our use of ironclads convinced European powers to abandon centuries of wooden shipbuilding. And the very structure of navies began to shift—from fleets of majestic sailing vessels to engineered machines of metal and steam, designed with scientific precision and industrial power.

Naval warfare was no longer the domain of tradition-bound captains. It had become a battlefield for inventors, engineers, and forward-thinking commanders.

A Legacy Carried Forward

By war’s end, the United States Navy had more than 600 ships—an incredible rise from the modest fleet we had in 1861. We had developed doctrines, designs, and technologies that would influence naval strategy for the next hundred years.

Today’s warships—armored, turbine-driven, radar-guided—trace their ancestry not just to shipyards and blueprints, but to the desperate, inspired innovations of our Civil War. The ironclad duels, the mine-ridden bays, the night chases after blockade runners—all of it shaped the world’s understanding of what navies could be.