The Angel of Death seemed to hang over Charleston on the morn­ing of April 12, 1861, as Cap­tain Gus­tavus Fox aboard the Baltic strug­gled to find his fel­low Union ships. Despite the treach­er­ous weath­er, Fox searched the dark waters for any sign of the expect­ed Powhatan, but all he could find were the stormy seas and the uncer­tain­ty of the sit­u­a­tion. The Baltic was dan­ger­ous­ly close to Rat­tlesnake Shoal, near­ly run­ning aground, but with quick maneu­ver­ing, the ship was freed. It was then that Fox spot­ted the Har­ri­et Lane—the only ship cur­rent­ly in sight. How­ev­er, its crew was already in a state of tur­moil, hav­ing received orders that were out of the ordi­nary for a ves­sel that had pre­vi­ous­ly only been used for diplo­mat­ic mis­sions. Cap­tain John Faunce, the cap­tain of the Har­ri­et Lane, had trou­ble keep­ing his crew under con­trol, and only after a tense stand­off were the orders accept­ed and the ship sent to Charleston, uncer­tain of what they would face there.

Mean­while, at Fort Sumter, Cap­tain Abn­er Dou­ble­day and his men anx­ious­ly pre­pared for the inevitable bom­bard­ment. Hav­ing received an ulti­ma­tum from the Con­fed­er­ate forces, Dou­ble­day under­stood that retal­i­a­tion would be nec­es­sary, but the lim­it­ed vis­i­bil­i­ty caused by the ear­ly morn­ing light made fir­ing imprac­ti­cal. With patience, he wait­ed for the light of day to guide the bat­tle, know­ing full well that the Con­fed­er­ate forces would not remain idle for long. On the oth­er side, Charleston’s civil­ians gath­ered on the Bat­tery, anx­ious­ly watch­ing the hori­zon, uncer­tain of what was com­ing. The weight of the moment was felt by many, espe­cial­ly by Cap­tain Fer­gu­son, who not­ed how silence hung thick in the air, almost as if the pres­ence of death itself loomed over the city. For many, this marked the begin­ning of a new chap­ter in their lives, one that would be shaped by the fate of Fort Sumter.

As the day con­tin­ued, the ten­sion mount­ed until the ear­ly morn­ing hours of April 13 when the long roll of drums sig­naled the Con­fed­er­ate troops to pre­pare for bat­tle. The rain fell soft­ly on the sol­diers as they gath­ered, and the qui­et antic­i­pa­tion of the com­ing con­flict set­tled over them. At 4:30 AM, the silence was bro­ken by the first shell fired at Fort Sumter, and the war offi­cial­ly began. The blast illu­mi­nat­ed the sky, and the Con­fed­er­ate forces, led by Edmund Ruf­fin, proud­ly fired back, while the Union forces on the fort remained eeri­ly silent. This lack of imme­di­ate response raised ques­tions among the Con­fed­er­ate offi­cers as they wait­ed for the Union to fight back, but their con­cerns were met with an eerie calm as the fort’s guns remained dor­mant. This delay in action fueled the ten­sion, and as the bom­bard­ment con­tin­ued, the stakes of the con­flict grew ever high­er.

The sound of shells explod­ing against the fort’s walls echoed across the har­bor, and inside Fort Sumter, the defend­ers scram­bled to respond. For two full hours, the Union forces held their fire, which only inten­si­fied the Con­fed­er­ate bom­bard­ment. Cap­tain Dou­ble­day, who had ini­tial­ly been wok­en by the first blasts, rose from his quar­ters to wit­ness the onslaught and decid­ed that action was nec­es­sary. Despite the chaos sur­round­ing them, the defend­ers main­tained their dis­ci­pline, work­ing to hold their posi­tion under a con­stant bar­rage of incom­ing fire. The fort was slow­ly being torn apart, and the morale of the Union forces was test­ed by the relent­less assault, but their resolve to hold the fort remained unwa­ver­ing.

In Charleston, the city’s res­i­dents watched the spec­ta­cle from their rooftops, some filled with excite­ment and oth­ers with dread. Mary Ches­nut, one of the board­ers at Mrs. Gidiere’s board­ing house, not­ed the atmos­phere of uncer­tain­ty as she and oth­ers observed the bom­bard­ment. At one point, she found her­self near­ly catch­ing fire when an ember land­ed too close to her, but she was saved just in time by a fel­low board­er. The ten­sion was pal­pa­ble, as the civil­ians in Charleston knew that their city was now at the heart of the con­flict, their futures uncer­tain. The sounds of war echoed through the streets, and every per­son in the city could feel that a new era had begun. They were no longer mere spec­ta­tors in the polit­i­cal debate about slav­ery and seces­sion; they were par­tic­i­pants in the chaos that was begin­ning to unfold.

By mid-morn­ing, the can­nons con­tin­ued to roar, send­ing shock­waves through Fort Sumter as the Union forces did their best to defend the fort. Despite being out­num­bered and out­gunned, the defend­ers con­tin­ued to fight with deter­mi­na­tion. The loss of struc­tures with­in the fort was evi­dent as walls crum­bled under the weight of con­tin­u­ous bom­bard­ment. Out­side, the Con­fed­er­ate sol­diers showed no signs of slow­ing their attack, eager to dri­ve the Union forces from their posi­tion. How­ev­er, as the fort stood firm against the onslaught, the bat­tle for con­trol of Fort Sumter was just begin­ning. The con­flict, which would soon engulf the nation, had its first moments of dev­as­ta­tion and defi­ance as both sides pre­pared for the long road ahead. The bat­tle for Fort Sumter would not only mark the start of the Civ­il War but also define the courage and resilience of those involved on both sides of the con­flict.