American Rifle - Alexander Rose [79]
Ramsay had been far-seeing enough to grasp the importance of repeaters and metallic cartridges, as well as breech-loaders. It was he who recommended gradually shifting production away from linen and paper cartridges and investing more resources in metallic technology. “The repeating arms,” he noticed, “are the greatest favorite with the army . . . the demand for them is constant and for large quantities. It seems as if no soldier who has seen them used could be satisfied with any other.” Of these repeaters, Ramsay believed the Spencer to be the “cheapest, most durable, and most efficient.” In August 1864, just before he was sacked, Ramsay announced that he had ordered 78,000 repeaters and 89,950 single-shot breech-loaders.141
The “details for effecting these measures,” Dyer pledged in turn, “will receive the early attention of this Bureau.”142He was as good as his word. The January 2, 1865, issue of Scientific American cheered, “BREECH-LOADERS TO BE ADOPTED—The Government has appointed a commission of seven military officers, to meet at Springfield Armory on the 4th of January, for the purpose of testing breech-loading carbines and muskets, in order to select the best for army use.”143 It marked the end of the muzzle-loader and the final victory of the breech-loading rifle.
Not so readily apparent was whether single-shot or repeating breech-loaders were the coming thing. Deciding the issue boiled down to weighing the pros and cons of mass firepower versus one-shot marks-manship in the modern age. There was no clear-cut answer to the dilemma, which was fraught with complications and contradictions.
Ripley had been castigated as simply an out-of-touch reactionary, but by insisting on retaining single-shot muzzle-loaders, he had in fact struggled to reconcile the most advanced European and Ordnance thinking on scientific ballistics with the superior proficiency of American riflemen to hit their targets. Likewise his foes, such as Oliver Winchester, who boasted of their weapons’ technologically advanced ability to unleash dozens of bullets, were unwittingly rehearsing the antique, eighteenth-century justifications for rapid-fire, unaimed musketry.
Both sides’ advocates were further frustrated by the Civil War’s ambiguous lessons. Ripley’s partisans pointed to the impressive hit rates—as measured by the number of bullets expended for every casualty inflicted—racked up by combatants compared to their extravagantly wasteful overseas equivalents. Union and Confederate troops did not need repeaters precisely because they made their shots count.*
This remarkable disparity was produced by several factors, not least of which was Americans’ greater familiarity with firearms before they ever donned a uniform. Confederates, drawn more from rural areas, enjoyed an advantage in this respect over urban Northerners. Then again, Union men were generally armed with more modern, more accurate weapons than their Southern foes, who often carried ancient pieces into action. The Confederate advantage in experience could be canceled out by Northern manufacturing prowess.
Not every American was a fine shot. Still, they did not all have to be for their armies to rack up impressive scores. Careful observers perceived that overall unit lethality hinged on the performance of a few key individuals. Take a hundred-man company whose hit rate is a mediocre 0.5 percent, and replace just ten of the laggards with the same number of new sharpshooting recruits who achieve a 10 percent rate. The unit’s subsequent hit rate will be a spectacularly deadly 1.45 percent.
Such skilled killers were spoken of with no little reverence. Lieutenant Josiah Favill, commanding a detachment of civilian volunteers at First Bull Run, recalled that among them was a “tall, elderly gentleman, wearing plain clothes and a tall silk hat, in the front rank, who