This Day in History: April 27 —The Sultana Disaster. The Forgotten Dead
The largest Maritime disaster in US History and you never heard about it!
A slow, black river under a moonless sky.
A steamboat churning heavily against the current — overcrowded with broken men, thin as scarecrows, packed shoulder to shoulder.
The timbers creak.
The patched boiler rattles.
No one is singing. No one is cheering.
Only the hollow slap of the paddlewheels and the low murmur of prisoners talking of home.
They had survived Andersonville.
They had survived the long march to freedom.
Now they were going home.
Until —
a sudden crack —
a roar —
and the river itself caught fire.
Men flung into the black water, clawing at the night.
Fire rained down.
Bodies drifted and sank without a sound.
And across tbe country, in the warm houses, the world kept sleeping.
Because tomorrow would be another day.
Because the war was over.
This Day in History: April 27 — The Forgotten Dead and the Unchanging God
A Boat made to hold 376 passengers was loaded with over 2300 souls. For 5$ being collected for soldiers and 10$ for officers.. and bribery to certain Union military folks in charge to ignore safety and limits…
On April 27, 1865, the Sultana steamboat exploded on the Mississippi River, killing over 1,800 Union soldiers — men who had survived the worst horrors of war, only to be betrayed by greed and corruption at the very gates of home.
They were packed onto a leaking ship, promised safe passage, and left to burn or drown in the cold dark water.
The nation barely noticed.
Lincoln was dead. Booth had just been caught. The headlines had bigger things to sell.
The bodies of these men sank with little ceremony — heroes when needed, collateral damage when convenient.
It wasn’t only in transport that human life was so easily discarded.
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The Forgotten Mercy and Manufactured Justice
During the war, the Union had shifted from fighting armies to fighting populations.
Total war was unleashed — no longer distinguishing soldier from civilian.
The Union Army burned cities, seized crops, and let prisoners rot in captivity.
In 1862, President Abraham Lincoln, often remembered as the “Great Emancipator,” personally signed off on the largest mass execution in U.S. history — the hanging of 38 Dakota Sioux warriors at Mankato, Minnesota.
Originally, over 300 men were sentenced to death after rushed tribunals, many with no real evidence presented.
Lincoln “mercifully” reviewed the cases, hand-picking which men would die, paring the number down.
The hangings were carried out swiftly the day after Christmas.
The Dakota uprising had been fueled by the U.S. government’s own broken treaties, starvation, and fraud —
but when political pressures mounted, human lives were weighed like coins on a scale.
Some were spared for political expedience, and others hung for the comfort of settlers.
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The Long Shadow of Andersonville
Meanwhile, at Andersonville Prison in Georgia, Union prisoners starved behind Confederate lines.
Yet even there, the story is not as simple as North vs South.
The South was collapsing. Its citizens were themselves starving.
There is evidence that local civilians tried to help, that even Confederate officers like Captain Henry Wirz begged for food, medicine, and exchanges.
It was the Union government, under General Grant’s orders , that refused — choosing to let their own men die to further drain Confederate resources.
After the war ended, someone had to be blamed for the suffering.
Not the Union officers who abandoned prisoner exchanges via the orders of Mr Lincoln,
Not the Confederate high command that was unable even of they wanted to provide relief.
Instead, a convenient scapegoat was found:
Captain Henry Wirz — a crippled, war wounded ,half-broken Swiss immigrant, worn down by the weight of war.
Wirz was arrested, tried by a military tribunal under questionable and manufactured evidence and many false witnesses and even offered his life in exchange for a lie —
testify falsely against Confederate President Jefferson Davis, and he would be spared.
Wirz refused.
He chose death over dishonor.
On the gallows, he declared:
“I know what orders are, Major. I am being hanged for obeying them.”
The rope tightened, that knot was placed on his neck and the trap door opened…the crowd cheered, and history found its villain — whether or not justice was served.
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A Century Later, a Familiar Silence
History does not change as much as men pretend.
In 1987, halfway around the world, the Philippine ferry MV Doña Paz collided with an oil tanker and exploded in the Tablas Strait.
Over 4,000 souls perished in the flames and waters — four times the death toll of the Titanic.
The ship was also unlawfully and dangerously overcrowded.
Safety rules were ignored.
Profits were prioritized over lives.
And once again, the media barely blinked.
The story was buried under Christmas cheer and holiday shopping.
No hour-by-hour live coverage.
No national days of mourning.
Because poor Filipinos dying far from American shores was not good press during the season of good tidings
From the fields of Minnesota to the waters of Memphis to the burning seas of the Philippines,
the pattern repeats:
• Leaders weigh human lives like commodities.
• The powerful escape accountability.
• The dead are forgotten when memory becomes inconvenient.
Governments cry “freedom” while sacrificing the wounded.
Newspapers fan the flames of outrage when it sells — and snuff out sorrow when it doesn’t.
And yet, over it all, beyond the wreckage of human injustice, stands One who never forgets.
The Scriptures remind us:
“They sold the righteous for silver, and the poor for a pair of shoes.” (Amos 2:6)
“For I am the LORD, I change not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.” (Malachi 3:6)
Nations may forget the fallen.
Empires may rewrite their sins.
But God sees.
God remembers.
In His kingdom, no man is cannon fodder.
No woman is collateral.
No child is forgotten.
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Invitation
There is only one King who is faithful.
One Judge who is righteous.
One Savior who is true.
Jesus Christ did not come to claim power by corruption, but to offer salvation by sacrifice.
He was betrayed by both government and religion, yet He remained without sin.
He gave His life not to extend an empire, but to redeem the souls of all who will trust Him.
“Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.” (Acts 4:12)
Today, you are not asked to pledge allegiance to a flag, a party, or a cause.
You are called to bow your heart before the only King who cannot lie, who cannot fail, and who cannot forget you.
Pledge your loyalty to Christ.
Claim the only honest salvation the world has ever known.
The kingdoms of this world will fall.
His kingdom will stand forever.
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Historical Clarification: The Prisoner Exchange Issue]
Some of the following g information was found on Myth: General Ulysses S. Grant stopped the prisoner exchange, and is thus responsible for all of the suffering in Civil War prisons on both sides - Andersonville National Historic Site (U.S. National Park Service)
Some might argue that Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant were not fully responsible for Union prisoner suffering because an exchange program existed.
It’s true that in 1862, the Dix-Hill Cartel was signed — establishing a formal exchange of prisoners between North and South.
However, the cartel broke down when the Confederacy refused to treat captured black Union soldiers as legitimate prisoners of war, instead re-enslaving or executing them.
Lincoln, in the Emancipation Proclamation (which, notably, did not free slaves in Union-held territory), demanded that black soldiers be treated equally — a fair and just stipulation.
But by 1864, the context had changed.
When Confederate officials approached Union General Benjamin Butler in the late summer of 1864 about resuming exchanges — including black prisoners — General Grant intervened.
Grant wrote to Butler on August 18, 1864, stating that he approved exchanging soldier for soldier, but opposed fully reinstating the Dix-Hill Cartel.
Why?
By that time:
• Confederate prisoners far outnumbered Union prisoners.
• A full resumption of the cartel would have flooded Confederate ranks with thousands of refreshed soldiers.
• Many Union prisoners had already completed their enlistments and would likely go home, not return to the fight.
In short:
Grant and the Union leadership calculated that allowing their own soldiers to suffer and die in camps like Andersonville was better for the war effort than replenishing Confederate armies.
The decision was strategic — not merciful.
And the result was tragic:
Thousands died not because exchanges were impossible, but because they were deemed unwise in the brutal mathematics of total war.