First Episode “The Mystery of the Missing Captain” Premieres Today

A NEW HISTORY PODCAST BRINGS THE HUMAN SIDE OF THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR TO LIFE THROUGH THE STORIES OF ORDINARY SOLDIERS

Company D brings to life the untold stories of Company D of the Third Maine Infantry Regiment—ordinary soldiers caught in extraordinary times. The podcast premieres today.

Episode 01, ‘The Mystery of the Missing Captain,’ is now available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, and more. The episode focuses on the life of Captain Alfred S. Merrill, the third and final captain of Company D, who vanished on the battefield on May 10, 1864.

In Bath, Maine, Merrill’s hometown, newspapers captured the chaos: within weeks, he was reported killed, missing, wounded, and captured.

Captain Merrill’s fate has been a mystery for more than 160 years.

Until today.

Now, today, the listerners of Company D will finally learn what happened to Captain Merrill. Through meticulous research, Company D discovered what happened to Captain Merrill on that smoky, chaotic battle back in 1864.

Episode 01 Transcript

May 5, 1864. Northern Virginia. Near Locust Grove.

The Third Maine Infantry Regiment formed a battle line across Orange Turnpike, a rutted dirt road that cut through a tangled oak and pine forest.

The smoke from distant wildfires and musket shots filled the woods, curling through the underbrush like fog. The visibility was poor. The sun blotted out.

The Third Maine was dug in, bracing for a Confederate assault during the Battle of the Wilderness, one of the of most hellish battles of the American Civil War. Then, as the sun dipped lower, the order came: Fall back. As the Third Maine left its post, the Fortieth New York Infantry Regiment moved up to take its place. The two regiments passed each other in the woods.

Boots crushed pinecones. Muskets clanged. The men gave each other grim nods. It seemed like it would be an orderly transition. But then-. Confusion. The thick smoke disoriented the Fortieth. They became lost, unsure of where the battle line was. The Fortieth drifted, stumbled, and splintered in the fog.

The Rebels saw an opportunity. They charged.

Under a withering Confederate attack, the Fortieth panicked and ran.

Amos Bean, a private with Company E of the Third Maine, described the Rebel charge as sounding like a pack of screeching wolves. The Third Maine was just settling down, when they were ordered back in.

They rushed into the fray—bayonets gleaming—and passed the Fortieth sprinting in full retreat. One regiment running to escape and the other running into battle. The Third Maine collided with the Confederates, and brutal hand-to-hand combat erupted. Smoke, fire, flashing steel—the fight was desperate, ugly, and merciless.

Then a miracle. The Fortieth saw the Third Maine repelling the Rebel advance and regrouped. Together they pushed the Confederates back. They repelled the Rebel attack, but at a terrible cost.

Dozens of men lay dead or dying. But the Union forces held their ground.

The Third Maine was praised for its courage that day. General Thomas Egan said the Third Maine prevented a Confederate rout. Their discipline and courage saved the day. But war humbles even the boldest.

The Third Maine would learn that lesson five days later, at the Battle of Spotsylvania.

May 10th.

After being held in reserve all day, the Third Maine was ordered forward. The air was thick with gunfire. With the golden twilight burning through the battlefield smoke, they were ordered to attack.

Their mission? Take a Confederate breastwork along the Po River.

Private Amos Bean charged with his rifle gripped tightly in his hands.

He was twenty yards from the enemy line when a bullet ripped through his left thigh. He tried to turn and retreat—using his rifle as a crutch. He hobbled only a few steps before he was shot again in the right hip.

Down he went. The assault failed. Bugles sounded the retreat. This time, it was the Third Maine breaking and scattering. Men ran for their lives. Chaos reigned on the battlefield. The Third Maine left its dead and wounded behind—including Amos Bean.

But Amos wasn’t the only one left behind. As the Third Maine regrouped that night, the men took stock of their losses. And that’s when Company D made a grim discovery. Their captain, Alfred S. Merrill, was gone.

Alfred, a 38-year-old ship’s carpenter from Bath, had become lost in the smoke, the blood, and the chaos of the battle.

For more than 160 years, Captain Merrill’s fate has remained a mystery.

Until today.

—–

Today, on Company D, we solve the Mystery of the Missing Captain.

Hello and welcome to the first episode of Company D—a history podcast that brings to life the forgotten stories of the everyday soldiers from the American Civil War.

We have chosen to spotlight one regiment: The Third Maine Volunteer Infantry Regiment. And one company within that regiment: Company D. These are the soldiers, mostly from Mid-Coast Maine and the city of Bath. Carpenters. Farmers. Shopkeepers. And fishermen.

Not a general among them. Regular soldiers.

By choosing one regiment and one company, we have personalized the war’s magnitude and impact while telling some amazing stories. We have collected a series of true-life adventures we think you’ll find fascinating—while giving you a different—and very personal perspective of this important period in American history.

Why the Third Maine and Company D? Because this is personal. My great-great-grandfather, Charles F. Snell, fought for Company D. An 18-year-old volunteer who left behind a diary of his experiences. This diary has become the foundation and the inspiration for this podcast.

So get ready. We solve mysteries. We uncover forgotten history. We find lost men.

This is Company D, and I’m your host, George F. Snell III

In today’s episode, we solve a 160-year-old mystery. We discover the fate of Alfred S. Merrill, the Company D captain who disappeared on the battlefield.

His body was never found. His fate unknown. Until now.

So put on your Sherlock Holmes caps, because today on Company D, we solve the Mystery of the Missing Captain.

Chapter One: The Farm Boy

Alfred S. Merrill was born on July 23, 1825, in the quiet, inland town of Pownal, Maine. Pownal was a farming community 25 miles west of Bath–a town of about a thousand people. A community built on faith, family, and hard work.

Alfred’s grandfather was one of the town’s first settlers and a founding member of the Pownal Congregational Church.

The church was an important part of the Merrills’ life in Pownal.

The family was well-known in the town for their musical talents—especially their singing.

Their voices would fill the white clapboard church on Sunday mornings—their harmonies echoing up to the rafters.

The whole family joined in. Grandpas and grandmas. Aunt and Uncles. Fathers and Mothers. Even the children.

Let’s face it—the Merrills were the Partridge Family of Pownal, Maine.

Sans the painted bus.

Alfred grew up on a farm, on land originally cleared by his grandfather. His parents, Edward Merrill and Sarah Blackstone, were married in Pownal on Christmas Eve, 1819.

Yes, it’s near certain that the Merrill family did a lot of singing on that day.

Alfred was the third of ten children. His older siblings were Elizabeth and John. His younger brothers and sisters were Roxanna, Giles, Lewis, Priscilla, Edward, Ambrose, and Leander.

Alfred’s father was a successful farmer, his land valued at $4,000, the equivalent of about $400,000 today.

Their 150-acre farm blended fields and woodland. They raised cattle, horses, oxen, and sheep. In 1860, the farm produced:

500 bushels of Irish potatoes

140 bushels of oats

800 pounds of cheese

And enough butter, hay, and wool to keep the household and local market well supplied.

The Merrill farm no longer exists today, but the road it sat on, Merrill Road, still does.

Off of that road is Merrill Cemetery, a grassy field surrounded by trees and behind an old fence. That’s where Alfred’s parents and many of his family were laid to rest.

But Alfred isn’t there. He wasn’t destined to die in Pownal, or to be a farmer.

There were no quiet fields in his future.

Chapter Two: Desperately Seeking Alfred

Alfred’s biography gets murky when he reaches young adulthood. By 1850, when he’s 25, he’s no longer living in Pownal with his parents.

So, where did he go?

We don’t know for certain. But it’s likely he went to California.

Three of his younger brothers—Giles, Lewis, and Leander—were there. They were all in San Francisco in the early 1850s. His brother Edward would head to California after the Civil War.

Did Alfred go with them?  A 1850 census record lists Alfred S. Merrill in Sierra County, California.

Was it him? Maybe. But there’s a complication—the record states that this Alfred S. Merrill had previously lived in Louisiana, not Maine.

But it could still be our Alfred. Because in the mid-1800s, Mid-Coast Maine had deep ties to Louisiana. Maine’s shipbuilders supplied the sugarcane and cotton trade, linking places like New Orleans and Bath in a vast maritime network. Many Maine captains and shipowners owned property in Louisiana and had personal and business connections there.

If Alfred went to Louisiana first, it’s possible he secured work there through these connections. If the census record is correct, by 1850, Alfred—like his brothers—was in California. And in 1850, there was only one reason for a farm boy from Maine to go to California. Gold. The California Gold Rush.

In 1848, gold was discovered at Sutter’s Mill, and within months, the entire country was gripped by gold fever. Between 1848 and 1855, 300,000 people, mostly young men, flooded into California with dreams of striking it rich. They became known as the 49ers—just like the football team.

Alfred’s younger brothers eventually settled in San Francisco. What happened in San Francisco encapsulates the impact of the Gold Rush. Before the Gold Rush, San Francisco was an unimportant outpost of 200 people. By 1852, it had swelled to 36,000 residents, becoming a major port city and the economic center for the new state of California.

Some of the earliest 49ers got filthy rich, mining thousands of dollars in gold each day. But as more prospectors poured in, fewer succeeded. Sierra County was where many ended up. The Sierra Nevada is a rugged region filled with cold rivers and breathtaking waterfalls. If Alfred was in Sierra County, he joined 16,000 other miners there. He likely spent long stretches in a tent, panned for gold in the North and Middle Forks of the Yuba River, and moved on whenever gold was found in a new area.

Alfred, like most of the 49ers, didn’t strike it rich. While his brothers stayed in California, Alfred headed back home to Maine.

Chapter Three: Soul-Crushing Sorrow

Back in Maine, Alfred settled in Bath, a city renowned for its shipbuilding. He became a ship’s carpenter at one of the dozens of shipyards lining the Kennebec River. At some point in the mid-to-late 1850s, Alfred met Abigail McIntosh. He called her Abbie. He was fourteen years her senior. Abbie was the second of seven children born to Alexander McIntosh and Hannah Jordan. Her father was a laborer and a firefighter with the Bath Fire Department.

Abbie was close to her siblings: Hannah, Jeremiah, Elizabeth, Frances, George, and William. There’s no record of when Alfred and Abbie got married. But by 1860, they lived together in Bath, with a newborn son named Melvin. For a time, it must have seemed like a new beginning. But tragedy was about to strike.

And once it did, it would be relentless. 1854. That’s when the first blow struck, likely before Alfred and Abbie were even married. Alfred’s sister, Roxanna, died in March. She was 27 years old and recently married. Six months later, Abbie’s brother Jeremiah lost his wife, Susan. She died at 20. Then Jeremiah followed. He was dead at age 24.

Three young adults cut down in their prime. We don’t know the cause, but there was an outbreak of cholera in nearby Lewiston, Maine, that year. More than 200 people died. Could the Merrill and McIntosh families have caught the disease?

Whatever the cause—the rapid succession of death must have been a blow to Alfred and Abbie. Little did they know that the worst was yet to come.

In the winter of 1860—the unthinkable. Their infant son, Melvin, only 10 months old—not even walking yet—was the next victim.

Melvin was laid to rest at Maple Grove Cemetery in Bath. As his grieving parents stood over the fresh earth, they couldn’t have known the terrible truth. Melvin would not be alone very long.

Soon, one of them would be joining him.

Chapter Four: Becoming a Bluebelly

Abbie’s youngest brother, 12-year-old William, came to live with his sister soon after Melvin’s death. Abbie’s parents lived just three houses down and probably sent William to live with Abbie to help her through her grief.

We don’t know how Melvin’s death affected Alfred and Abbie, but we do know that once the Civil War broke out in April of 1861, Alfred was among the first volunteers.

He enlisted with Company D of the Third Maine Infantry Regiment.

The Civil War had been brewing for decades. But after Abraham Lincoln’s election in November of 1860, the wheels came off. The South saw Lincoln as a threat to slavery. In December, they seceded.

First, South Carolina—then Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas. They formed the Confederate States of America and named Jefferson Davis president. Then came Fort Sumter. Confederate forces bombarded the U.S. fort for 34 hours. No one was killed, but the fort surrendered, and the Civil War began.

Lincoln called for 75,000 volunteers to crush the rebellion, and more Southern states joined the Confederacy. Across the North, men responded with a frenzy of patriotism and enlistments. In Bath, Alfred was personally recruited by Charles A.L. Sampson, who would soon be appointed the first captain of Company D.

He collected a $34 bounty and signed his name. He was appointed Fourth Sergeant of Company D.

Alfred was 35 years old. He cut an imposing figure. He stood 5 feet 7 1/2 inches tall, with a dark complexion, brown hair, and blue eyes. In a photograph taken of Alfred in 1864, he wears a double-breasted frock coat with brass buttons, typical of Union Army officers.

He has a squared jaw, a bushy mustache and goatee, and thick, dark hair. He looks dashing, like a man of action. There’s a passing resemblance to the actor Daniel Day-Lewis. But there’s also a sadness in his eyes. Maybe Alfred was thinking about Abbie. He had to know that leaving behind his wife so shortly after the death of their only child would be hard on her.

She was only 22. When he left with the Third Maine for the training grounds in Augusta in June—Alfred must have known there was a chance he’d never see his young wife again.

And truth be told, we don’t know if he ever did.

Chapter Five: War is a Force that Gives Us Meaning

Alfred proved to be an outstanding soldier. He was promoted to Second Lieutenant within months of enlisting. The promotion was the result of Captain Charles A.L. Sampson being bumped to major. William H. Watson was promoted to Captain of Company D.

Watson saw something in Alfred. Company D needed a leadership reshuffle under its new captain. And Watson knew exactly who he wanted. He handpicked Alfred to be his First Lieutenant. His second choice was Sergeant Woodbury Hall for Second Lieutenant.

To Watson, Alfred was everything an officer should be—trustworthy, faithful, and loyal. But there may have been another reason Watson chose him. Watson was a wealthy, educated Bath merchant.

Alfred wasn’t. He was a farmer’s son. A carpenter. He had no family wealth or political connections. Even his writing gave him away. Alfred’s letters are often riddled with misspellings, poor syntax, and the rough grammar of a man with limited schooling.

So, to Watson, that may have made Alfred the perfect second-in-command. Loyal. Reliable. And non-threatening. Not everyone agreed with Watson’s choices. The promotion process got ugly. We’ll cover that fight in a later episode. Company D got a new second in command: First Lieutenant Alfred S. Merrill.

With his promotion, the regiment gained a leader unlike any before him. Captain Sampson was a wealthy artisan. Captain Watson a successful businessman.

Alfred was something else. A man forged in hard labor on a farm and in the shipyards. And within a year, he would be the third and final captain of Company D.

But before that happened: Alfred would be struck down on the battlefield

Chapter Six: First Blood

May 31, 1862. The Battle of Fair Oaks. The battle ended in a bloody stalemate—but was a disaster for the Third Maine. One third of the regiment was killed, wounded, or captured.

The Third Maine was part of Major General David Birney’s Second Brigade. Their orders were to cross the Chickahominy River at Savage Station and attack the Confederate left flank. But for some reason, General Birney halted his troops and formed a battle line. And then did nothing. The Second Brigade didn’t move for the rest of the night.

Birney was court-martialed and stripped of his command for disobeying orders and holding back his troops less than a mile from the battlefield. The charges were eventually dropped, and the matter was recast as a misunderstanding. Birney was reinstated to his command.

But Birney’s hesitation didn’t prevent the Second Brigade from combat. They saw it the next day, on June 1, with the Third Maine leading the way.

In the late afternoon, they were attacked by a heavy Confederate advance at Williamsburg Road. Confederate troops overran the Union front line and slammed right into the Third Maine.

The battle was a close combat. Brutal. Muskets and pistols fired at point-blank range. Rifles used as clubs. Men stabbed each other with bayonets. The regiment was shredded. But they held—and repelled the Rebel advance.

But the cost was enormous.

The regiment had been shredded. Alfred was shot in the arm during the fray. Alfred was among seven wounded in Company D. Others included Corporals William Higgins, Samuel Merry, and Henry Shaw, and Privates Benjamin Brookings, Hartley Dunton, Richard Dixon, and Newman Kennerson.

Major General Phillip Kearny Jr., the hard-charging commander of the Third Corps, gave high praise to the Third Maine for its valor and courage during the battle. Alfred survived the Battle of Fair Oaks. He was lucky. But Abbie wasn’t as fortunate.

Back in Bath, Abbie’s sister, Frances, died in the early morning hours of April 10, 1863. Another loss for Abbie, her dear sister passing away to add to her grief. We don’t know the cause, but shortly after Frances was laid to rest, Abbie fell ill. The evidence seems to suggest tuberculosis, but we just don’t know.

Abbie lingered, then passed away on June 14. She was only 24 years old. Abbie was buried at Maple Grove Cemetery next to her infant son, Melvin.

Now, Alfred’s entire family was gone. He was alone. This was the man who, eleven months later in Spotsylvania, vanished on the battlefield.

Let’s return now to the Battle of Spotsylvania on May 10, 1864. The day that Private Amos Bean was shot twice and fell on the battlefield. And the day that Company D lost their third captain in the chaos of the battle.

Chapter Seven: The Last Captain

The confusion about what happened to Alfred played out in the newspapers back in Bath.

On May 17, the Bath Daily Sentinel & Times reported: “Captain Merrill, Co. D, killed.”

A week later, on May 24, the newspaper walked back its initial report. Now, it reported, Merrill was “supposed to be killed.”

Four days later, on May 28, the Third Maine Surgeon Thaddeus Hildreth wrote a letter to the Sentinel & Times to correct the report: Merrill, he said, was missing.

In two weeks, Alfred had gone from killed, to possibly wounded, to missing in action.

Then on June 2—a new twist.

Colonel Moses B. Lakeman, commander of the Third Maine, said Alfred had been shot in the leg and taken prisoner. Now, Alfred was wounded and a POW. The uncertainty continued. On August 20, Lieutenant Woodbury Hall, Alfred’s second-in-command, said Alfred was either dead or a prisoner.

That certainly didn’t clear things up.

The truth was, even months after his disappearance, the soldiers of Company D had no idea what had happened to their captain. The regiment listed Alfred as being discharged from service.

Even after the war, the confusion remained. In 1866, the Third Maine’s final report to the state indicates that Alfred survived the war and was mustered out of service with the rest of the regiment.

But Alfred never came home. The citizens of Bath, when they erected a Civil War monument to the Civil War dead in 1867, added Alfred’s name to the stone. Honored as one of the fallen.

So, what really happened to Alfred Merrill?

There’s one man who has the answer. Remember Amos Bean from Company E? The private left wounded on the Spotsylvania battlefield?

Amos has the answer.

Chapter Eight: Amos Tells His Tale

Rain pattered on the tin roof of an old slave shanty on the outskirts of Spotsylvania, Virginia, two days after Amos Bean was shot and captured by the Rebels.

Twenty-one-year-old Amos lay inside on a filthy straw mattress with dozens of other wounded soldiers, mostly Confederates. Amos had two bullet wounds, one in the left thigh and the other in the right hip. He was in a lot of pain, but even the wounds weren’t as bad as his growing thirst and hunger.

He hadn’t eaten or drunk in more than 48 hours. A Confederate surgeon had treated his wounds and left him in the cabin. He wasn’t sure if he would live.

Finally, a few hours later, Amos was given a tin plate with a slice of bread soaked in ham fat and a cup of coffee made from burnt rice. The food made him feel better. Feeling more alert, he noticed the dark outline of a Rebel soldier, a silhouette against the open door. The soldier made his way to Amos and crouched down next to him.

“They tell me you belong to the Third Maine Regiment,” the soldier said. “What Company?”

Bean told him Company E. The soldier wanted to know if Amos knew the captain of Company D. Of course he did. He told the soldier Company D’s captain was Alfred Merrill.

That’s when the soldier handed Amos a book, perhaps a Bible or a diary. Amos never specified. The soldier told him they were the last effects of Captain Merrill. He told Amos that Merrill had died hours earlier at a Confederate hospital tent from a gunshot wound.

Before he passed away, Alfred pleaded with the Rebel soldier, who was an orderly at the hospital, to find another soldier from the Third Maine and give him his belongings. Get them home to my family, Alfred had pleaded.

The soldier pressed the book into Amos’s hands. The message was clear: It was now Amos’s job to get Merrill’s belongs back to his family in Bath. Amos survived his wounds. He was taken to the notorious Andersonville Prison in Georgia, a place where thousands of Union soldiers died from disease, starvation, and exposure. While locked in Andersonville, Amos managed to write to officials in Bath, desperate to return Alfred’s things.

The Bath postmaster instructed him to write to “McIntre,” which was likely William McIntosh, Alfred’s now 16-year-old brother-in-law, Abbie’s youngest brother, who moved in with them after Melvin’s death.

Finally, Amos was able to mail Alfred’s things to Bath. But they never arrived.

But thanks to Amos Bean’s diary, a document resurfaced by Amos’s ancestors more than 150 years after the war, we now know what happened to Captain Alfred S. Merrill.

At 39 years old, he died of gunshot wounds as a prisoner of war.

No one knows what happened to his body. Or where he is buried. There is a tombstone for Alfred next to his wife and child at Maple Grove Cemetery in Bath, but Alfred doesn’t rest with Abbie and Melvin.

Like his possessions, Alfred never made it home.

—–

That brings us to the end of the Mystery of the Missing Captain and the first episode of Company D.

We hope you enjoyed the show. We’d love to hear from you. Please visit our website or engage with us on social media. If you want to listen to more of our episodes, please subscribe on your favorite streaming platform.

Our website has additional information about the podcast and Captain Merrill, including two photographs of him. Company D would like to extend a very special thank you to Barry York for sharing Amos Bean’s diary with us.

Thanks for listening. I’m your host, George F. Snell III. See you next time. And remember—if you’re going to have a war. Make it civil.