tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89434235866517824582024-03-14T19:40:53.471-07:00Civil War Stationery JournalAmerican Civil War 1861-1865
Sharing personal reflections and ideas on letter writing as a part of reenacting, and on our family's reenacting experiences. Offering Resources for reenactors, teachers & homeschooling families who want to make history "come alive".Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-59677281702972412422024-01-01T09:02:00.000-08:002024-01-01T09:16:52.446-08:00Kindness and Honesty Change Lives in the 33d Illinois Normal Regiment<p><b>In the midst of the danger and the drudgery of war, do little things matter?</b> Is sending a box with some gifts and books worth the effort? Is striving to live out one’s faith in Jesus worth the effort? Here is a description of how a woman in Chicago helped encourage the Union soldiers through a box of gifts she sent to them. And also a description of a young servant boy’s determination to keep serving Christ even as he served the officers of the 33d Illinois Regiment from <u>Incidents of the U.S. Christian Commission</u> [pp 58-60]:</p><div><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>The first Delegation to the West, from the central office, was to the Cumberland Army, immediately after the Stone River battles, December 31st, 1862. Earlier in the war, much valuable work was done in the Western armies, upon every principle battle-field, by various “Army Committees,” organized in Chicago, Peoria, St. Louis, etc. (These “Army Committees” were appointed by the Young Men’s Christian Associations of the places named.)<br /></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>The war in Missouri was a succession of forced marches, toilsome retreats, and desperate battles between comparatively small armies. Gens. Fremont and Hunter were successively displaced from the chief command, and Gen. Halleck, in November, 1861, assumed charge of the Department.<br /></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>Among the troops campaigning in Missouri was the famous “Normal School” regiment, the 33d Illinois. Mr. B. F. Jacobs, of Chicago, (Secretary of the Chicago Army Committee, and of the Northwestern Branch of the Christian Commission, until the close of the war) gives the story of a Friday evening prayer-meeting, held in the First Baptist Church of that city, in the Fall of 1861, which is connected with the history of the regiment:<br /></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>Towards the close of the meeting, an officer rose and said: “I am a stranger to you, and in this city. My reason for speaking is that I have a trust to execute. Our regiment, the 33d Illinois, in the early part of its campaign, at a town in Missouri, received a box containing a few hymn-books and Testaments, some papers, housewives, and other soldier comforts. A little ticket within the box informed us that it came from a lady of the First Baptist Church, Chicago. So anxious were the men for the hymn-books that on account of the short supply, they loaned the precious volumes to each other, and more than one hundred committed to memory the principal hymns, that they might be able to sing readily at the meetings. The books penetrated into the hospital. One of my men sent for me to visit a dying soldier there. His words were few but full and precious:<br /></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>‘Captain, I am dying. I long to see my wife and children, but I know I shall die without that. I’ve been trying to think what I could send my wife. I have nothing except these books,’ and taking one of the Testaments and hymn books from under his head, he added ‘Send these; and Captain, if you are ever in Chicago, I want you to go to the First Baptist Church, and tell the lady who sent those hymn books that the 27th hymn has led me to Jesus. I am going home to wait for her.’”<br /></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>The story of the stranger Captain deeply impressed the audience. There was a pause in his talk for a moment, when he went on again: “Among others in the regiment, there was a little boy, the servant of one of the Captains, who on account of his known religious principles was nicknamed ‘Little Piety.’ The Christian soldiers of the regiment organized a prayer meeting; and were holding it one evening in a tent, near the quarters of the officer of the day, a very profane man, who hearing the singing, started out, exclaiming with an oath, ‘I’ll stop that noise.’ As he approached the tent, the fly-door was up; Little Piety was speaking, standing near the cracker-box which served as a desk, so that the light of the only candle in the tent lit up his face. The little fellow was telling of his mother’s last counsel to him as he went away from home: ‘My son, there are a great many men who don’t love Christ, and who will tempt you to swerve from your fidelity and purpose. You may be subjected to trials on account of your faith; but, my son, I want you to promise that whatever else you forget, you will not forget your mother’s Savior.’ With tears in his eyes the little fellow told how he was trying not to forget Him. The sight of the boy and the tone of his voice stopped the Captain. He listened till the meeting closed, when the leader asked –<br /></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>’Where shall we hold our next meeting?’<br /></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>Stepping forward out of the darkness, the Captain responded, ‘In my tent.’<br /></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>That Captain was afterward converted to Christ, and since that time has been one of the most earnest Christians in the regiment.”<br /></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><span> </span>The stranger sat down; and we felt in our prayer meeting, that night, our hearts somehow knit closer to the men who had gone out from our midst, and we owed them thenceforth more of prayer and more of work.</span></div><div><br /><b>33d Illinois Normal Regiment</b> was organized at Camp Butler, Springfield IL and mustered in on Sept. 3d 1861. <br /><span> </span>It was also known as the “Teacher’s Regiment” because many of its initial recruits were both teachers and students from Illinois State Normal School. The school founded in 1857 chose that name because it was established to prepare teachers. The term “normal school” is based on the French école normale, a sixteenth-century model school with model classrooms where model teaching practices were taught to teacher candidates to prepare them for teaching on the elementary level in public schools.<br /><span> </span>Once officially mustered into the Federal Army, the 33d Regiment was sent to serve in the Missouri-Arkansas territory. During the fall of 1861 they were stationed at Ironton, MO. In October they were involved in the battle at Fredericktown in southeastern Missouri. They would later also fight at Vicksburg in 1863. </div><div><br /><b>The box of gifts explored</b><br /></div><div><u><br /></u></div><div><u>What are “Housewives”?</u> </div><div><span> </span>It is a Civil War tag for a soldier’s sewing kit. Civil War soldiers did not have many extra items of clothing, so the clothing they wore took a lot of wear and tear. When a soldier left his home, he left behind often needed help he had typically depended upon to fix a fabric rip or a lost button. The “housewife” became the soldier’s tag for his sewing kit. Not being government issued, each one varied in design and content. These compact fabric strips were made to be folded or rolled up to keep the spools of thread, thimbles, needles, pins and spare buttons from falling out of the pockets attached along the main strip. Some were plain. Others were made fancy. Some even had leather for the main outer strip. The compact flexible construction of the “housewife” allowed the men to roll them up and stuff them in their pockets or knapsacks for easy storing.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0oiFbAX07la9yA-XFgK6ZBaWjBN4ZT-EUf2cd0OpLf_aTJDrrzZNj5EqrVaLBkeEwlN8idPPlbOYat9KYhzFzIxddOZfDQoLuyxBDfQbGvb4kfNpCJq-V-EHtiIGGKCxa1wV-F8yGbl_w0ocPmICcpjVQk7RX6Espuz2tkH5ayfJVLd0QtfUxSTl4vJ7g/s494/john-lando-housewife-medium.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="494" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0oiFbAX07la9yA-XFgK6ZBaWjBN4ZT-EUf2cd0OpLf_aTJDrrzZNj5EqrVaLBkeEwlN8idPPlbOYat9KYhzFzIxddOZfDQoLuyxBDfQbGvb4kfNpCJq-V-EHtiIGGKCxa1wV-F8yGbl_w0ocPmICcpjVQk7RX6Espuz2tkH5ayfJVLd0QtfUxSTl4vJ7g/w640-h414/john-lando-housewife-medium.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Wilson's Creek National Battlefield, carried by Captain John C. Landis, <br />Missouri Light Artillery, CSA</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br />John Billings has an enjoyable description in his book <u>Hark Tack and Coffee</u> [p.85-86]:<br /><span> </span>“In the department of mending garments each man did his own work, or left it undone, just as he thought best; but no one hired it done. Every man had a “housewife” or its equivalent, containing the necessary needles, yarn, thimble, etc., furnished him by some mother, sister, sweetheart, or Soldier’s Aid Society, and from this came his materials to mend or darn with.<br /><span> </span>Now, the average soldier was not so susceptible to the charms and allurements of sock-darning as he should have been; for this reason he always put off the direful day until both heels looked boldly and with hardened visage out the back-door, while his ten toes ranged themselves <i>en echelon</i> in front of their quarters. By such delay or neglect good ventilation and the opportunity of drawing on the socks from either end were secured…<br /><span> </span>Then, there were other men who, having arranged a checker-board of stitches over the holes, as they had seen their mothers do, had not the time or patience to fill in the squares, and the inevitable consequence was that both heels and toes would look through the bars only a few hours before breaking jail again. But there were a few of the boys who were kept furnished with home-made socks, knit, perhaps, by their good old grandmas, who seemed to inherit the patience of the grandams themselves; for, whenever there was mending or darning to be done, they would sit by the hour, and do the work as neatly and conscientiously as any one could desire. I am not wide of the facts when I say that the heels of the socks darned by these men remained firm when the rest of the fabric was well spent.”</div><div><br /><span> </span>You have to appreciate Billings’ humorous description of the need for and the use of the sewing kits by the soldiers. While many of the men might have gotten a housewife from family when they marched off, the sewing kits could get lost or used up. So the ones in the box the lady sent the 33d Illinois would have been treasured. <br /><span> </span>On personal note, my wife in the 1990s made up housewife kits for the men in our reenacting unit which we handed out at one of the events we were at. She put in needles, thread, buttons etc. Some of them actually got used occasionally, usually to sew on a button that came off. She did this to represent to the men something the US Christian Commission had done during the war. She invested time and creativity in sewing and assembling the housewives. Knowing my wife’s heart to help and encourage the reenactors, I can honestly appreciate the heart of this unnamed woman who assembled the box shipped to the soldiers of the 33d Illinois.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here is a copy of instructions given out by the US Christian Commission for making "housewife" kits to be passed along to the soldiers. Obviously it is a more basic version than the one pictured above. But it would hold the essentials needed to do the mending.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0iEMbcln1yHerUxlzXnbBp44gU9cZL84QeinZiVP8Qdh-KixJ-SVUWDFikJbvdC2GNvfLaQtHeBdB2uOYQoznzRzT1q1FmnoamL2cFhsNjALPcg6ryZlS1cGHDyC-B6be7wb9TwKQRDdK_Alshe-joywMeOzswO3PxrdKzXIsiPt0ikkxFcIFFWDkE_SL/s563/USCC%20housewife%20pattern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="474" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0iEMbcln1yHerUxlzXnbBp44gU9cZL84QeinZiVP8Qdh-KixJ-SVUWDFikJbvdC2GNvfLaQtHeBdB2uOYQoznzRzT1q1FmnoamL2cFhsNjALPcg6ryZlS1cGHDyC-B6be7wb9TwKQRDdK_Alshe-joywMeOzswO3PxrdKzXIsiPt0ikkxFcIFFWDkE_SL/w538-h640/USCC%20housewife%20pattern.jpg" width="538" /></a></div><div><u><br /></u></div><div><u>How valuable would a little book of religious songs be?</u> </div><div><span> </span>I would expect you should be able to understand that the New Testaments would be treasured, but did you ever think a hymn book would also be considered precious? Remember this is before you could just hit a button and listen to music. You had to make you own music. The scan of the hymn book attached is of a U.S. Christian Commission hymn book that I have (3” by 4”). The paper cover is so badly worn that you can barely see the printed picture on the front, and you can barely make out the USCC tag on the back cover. The soldier’s name is C R Taylor. I don’t know any more details than it was purchased in an estate sale in Glen Ellyn, Illinois. Am not sure if he wrote his name in the book, or someone else in his family wrote it in memory of him so it would be a treasured family memory. Because it’s covers are so badly worn, he must have kept it with him a long time. God made us to enjoy and respond to music. Singing songs together is something that can unite us in focus.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3F8O7YQEMXxmEZXNEAXy4PvTZtrfdLdEadel966JBHs47L29aky1xeSduGAkd2Jn3wxY0ZsS_ZqZowTHDke8aFNDKEdphR0tFhRHGuYK1eb6Ay2WutM7-zahkZ4uwKHCrLVD6pd6gb1u2x6zc0uHEBNgTzun8PyhUNBShJnYZsN0JKdUPi3cqS5IYAnn/s916/USCC%20Hymn%20bk.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="687" data-original-width="916" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3F8O7YQEMXxmEZXNEAXy4PvTZtrfdLdEadel966JBHs47L29aky1xeSduGAkd2Jn3wxY0ZsS_ZqZowTHDke8aFNDKEdphR0tFhRHGuYK1eb6Ay2WutM7-zahkZ4uwKHCrLVD6pd6gb1u2x6zc0uHEBNgTzun8PyhUNBShJnYZsN0JKdUPi3cqS5IYAnn/w640-h480/USCC%20Hymn%20bk.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvoVlnBo2IJghvukh4ltMNyUiRviLYZdSjCRk0NHdHnjTrXaBRi0emwj7XTW84KuzmcAN7bckc_EWTT6sYv0wMxrW0BsD_1TQE1MhoMHGwwOzZERCfuc-qvr0XmYQTujr2IkhSj1DdQQ-DhfhN3_jTsOleQ7MEyNWHZvesZhkLkpE5TPMM8DBEzRog5TRf/s1259/hymn%20book.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="1259" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvoVlnBo2IJghvukh4ltMNyUiRviLYZdSjCRk0NHdHnjTrXaBRi0emwj7XTW84KuzmcAN7bckc_EWTT6sYv0wMxrW0BsD_1TQE1MhoMHGwwOzZERCfuc-qvr0XmYQTujr2IkhSj1DdQQ-DhfhN3_jTsOleQ7MEyNWHZvesZhkLkpE5TPMM8DBEzRog5TRf/w640-h466/hymn%20book.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span> </span>The officer’s description of how the hymn books were used by the soldiers of the unit shows how little things can be most precious. I also think that the captain who shared this information valued the hymn books and Testaments since he made the trip to Chicago, which was not his home town to share how encouraging the small box of gifts was to the men in his unit.</div><div><br /><b>In tough situations do little things matter?</b> </div><div><span> </span>More often than we might think -- “yes”. A small gift, a simple gesture, a kind word might be the encouragement needed to enable someone struggling to “get through it”. Share what you have, not for fame or glory, but to be helpful and God honoring to others. “Little things” really can make a big difference.</div><div><br /><b>Children Projects</b><br /><b>1. Explore how the unknown woman’s gift box with the hymn books and housewives shows how little things matter.</b> Maybe then move on to discussing what “little things” your children could share or do for others today that might be encouraging and helpful. And challenge them give things or help not to benefit themselves, but to encourage the one they are giving to.</div><div><br /><b>2. Explore how Little Piety made an impact on his Captain’s life.</b> Remind them that long before the speech in the tent that his Captain responded to came many days of showing his faith in actions. Remind your children that “talk” can be affirmed as true or shown to be fake by the “actions” of our lives. Yes, actions do speak louder than words.</div><div><br /><b>3. Discuss how and why music is important in our lives.</b> Explore the fact that the content of songs we listen to and sing can either positively or negatively affect our lives. Will knowing this challenge your children to evaluate what music they listen to? It should.</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-78958049111736243572023-12-24T15:26:00.000-08:002023-12-24T15:26:56.874-08:00Christmas Eve -- Apart Yet Still Drawn Together<p> Christmas Eve in a challenging time</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYpFwQ_Dcl2BhwJExgCbHFEBmhVb_BdEfPUo_LD_HwL8mfUorajKvpJuTDow99kpuaQSE-FVaKLzrOe2LTZA4iQ0XmpXYisatGXll-ZIEfpLD_Liv_tOrQLxPxo_DTq7sNPWUY80AQ4DsrSf7w-7EuVFPz5jXlgENGcyMQC6BzdgCrJNvHX2Jer70npeP/s920/Christmas%20Eve%201863.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="920" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFYpFwQ_Dcl2BhwJExgCbHFEBmhVb_BdEfPUo_LD_HwL8mfUorajKvpJuTDow99kpuaQSE-FVaKLzrOe2LTZA4iQ0XmpXYisatGXll-ZIEfpLD_Liv_tOrQLxPxo_DTq7sNPWUY80AQ4DsrSf7w-7EuVFPz5jXlgENGcyMQC6BzdgCrJNvHX2Jer70npeP/w640-h418/Christmas%20Eve%201863.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas Nast "Christmas Eve 1862" Illustration<br />published in Harper's Weekly January 1863</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span> </span>As the wife prays for the safe return of her husband, he sits alone by the fire looking at a picture of his family back home.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span> The most treasured gift on Christmas is to have others to love and to have them love you back. I feel sad for hearts that think "things" will satisfy. Yes "things" are interesting and enjoyable for a brief moment. But it is relationships with others that long-term give us stability and true joy. God created us this way from the beginning. God created us to need others, and to especially need Him. Jesus came into the world to open the door to an honest relationship with God the Father. Don't reject the greatest gift ever offered by rejecting God's forgiveness of your sins and adoption into His family through faith in Jesus' sacrifice on the cross and resurrection from the dead. "For God so <u>loved</u> the world that He gave His only Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life" John 3:16.</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span> Life's circumstances can affect human relationships, but God's love for those looking to Him for grace is never affected by life's challenges. God remains faithful and involved in hearts who have put their trust in Him. Treasure God's love even in the hardest of situations. </span><br /></span></span></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-46544774226531795722023-10-06T13:54:00.002-07:002023-10-06T13:55:26.580-07:00Hardtack in the Petersburg trenches -- A Soldier’s “Explanation”<div> <b>What might be a creative way to point out the deficiency of army rations to a superior?</b> Here is one interesting account:</div><div><span> </span>While before Petersburg, doing siege work in the summer of 1864, our men had wormy “hardtack,” or ship’s biscuit, served out to them for a time. It was a severe trial, and it taxed the temper of the men. Breaking open the biscuit, and finding live worms in them, they would throw the pieces in the trenches where they were doing duty day by day, although the orders were to keep the trenches clean, for sanitary reasons.<br /><span> </span>A brigade officer of the day, seeing some of these scraps along our front, called out sharply to our men: “Throw that hardtack out of the trenches.” Then, as the men promptly gathered it up as directed, he added: “Don’t you know that you’ve no business to throw hardtack in the trenches? Haven’t you been told that often enough?” Out from the injured soldier heart there came the reasonable explanation: “We’ve thrown it out two or three times, sir, but it crawls back.” </div><div><span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>[H. C. Trumbull <u>War Memories of an Army Chaplain</u></div><div><span> </span><span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>(Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York 1898) p.52-53]</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglT4DiMzrFTGotHTA92sl0difUgeB1i0JFfXJ0FYRddwyOROPV3Mejq1jxRSANoz1g5Fy54yUM5G-SdaKWl4akoa5Su9bV4qBZtqNHFG2CGcB6LDJMaQ1n9h4ea32psxaFwW6obOHB7odK0IrpvrdKUVtZCp3BES6vgck_fSm_oCaohVX74e5njLXsfg/s768/petersburg-trenches.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="768" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglT4DiMzrFTGotHTA92sl0difUgeB1i0JFfXJ0FYRddwyOROPV3Mejq1jxRSANoz1g5Fy54yUM5G-SdaKWl4akoa5Su9bV4qBZtqNHFG2CGcB6LDJMaQ1n9h4ea32psxaFwW6obOHB7odK0IrpvrdKUVtZCp3BES6vgck_fSm_oCaohVX74e5njLXsfg/w640-h310/petersburg-trenches.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Troops in the trenches<br />Library of Congress/ Getty Images<br />(Location is debated. Some sites tag this as picturing men in trenches at Petersburg.<br />But other sites say the location is unknown or at Fredericksburg.)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /><span> </span>I heard this joke about hardtack early on when we started reenacting many years ago, and have often used it myself over the years to explain to spectators, especially kids, about the “glories” of hardtack. No one I talked to knew the source, even though they had heard the joke. Some years later I finally learned the source of the story is from Henry Clay Trumbull, who served as a Chaplain in the 10th Regt. Connecticut Volunteers. Was glad that I confirmed to myself that it had historical background instead of being just a modern reenacting joke.<br /><span> </span>But what was Trumbull source? Was it his personal slam on hardtack he would tell in a fictional story to make it sound good? The joke about hardtack appears in his book in Chapter 3 entitled “Disclosures of the Soldier Heart”. In this chapter Trumbull uses several incidents which he witnessed to give insight into attitudes and motivation of the soldiers he served with. He cites various incidents of soldiers enduring hardship while still showing great dedication and fortitude in their service to their unit and their country. Then he makes the following summary statement:</div><div> <span> </span>“There was no show of heroism on the part of the average soldier, any more than there was a show of sentiment. He simply was a loving-hearted hero, without saying anything about it, or making a demonstration of his feelings. Indeed, a soldier tried to cover up his emotion; and in this effort he would frequently act as if he were ready to laugh, when he felt a good deal more like crying. A joke, indeed, often took the place of an oath, starting a laugh instead of a groan or a sob, as the feelings must find vent in some way.” [p.50]</div><div><span> </span>Trumbull is saying the men he served with were not focused on being famous. Their focus was on diligently doing their duty to comrades and county. Trumbull follows the introductory summary with some examples of how humor helped the men handle the tedium or difficulty of their circumstances. The Petersburg hardtack joke cited above is one of the examples he gives of humor being a vent for frustration.</div><div><span> </span>He then shares a second hardtack joke from the same Petersburg situation:</div><div><span> </span>About the same time, I was accompanying our brigade commander in a tour of observation along our front. As he stopped in the trenches where the men were keeping up a sharp fire, he saw them opening a fresh box of ammunition, of which they constantly needed a new supply. Noting the careful wrapping of the cartridges in their neat packages of a dozen each, he said pleasantly to the soldier who was taking them out:<br /><span> </span>“’Uncle Sam’ is very careful that his boys shall have good cartridges while in his service.”<br /><span> </span>“Yes, sir; I wish he was half as careful of their hardtack,” was the keen and respectful reply.<br /><span> </span>This dry humor in the expression of strong feeling showed itself in the ordinary soldier in every phase of his service.” [p.53]</div><div><br /><span> </span>Trumbull then moves on from examples of humor giving vent to frustration over poor rations to explaining how general humorous contempt toward cowards helped the man in the ranks resist the temptation to shirk his own duty in the next few pages. </div><div><br /><span> </span>Trumbull does not tell how the officers reacted to the hardtack jokes. Possibly his being silent on that aspect might mean the officer in each situation caught the point, knew it was an honest challenge about the poor quality of rations, and chose not to seek punishment on the man who said it. Can’t say for certain.</div><div><span> </span>I do not present this information as being some profound historical discovery to impress you, the reader. I just appreciate knowing the historical background of a joke I’ve often told. And when I tell it to spectators now, I can add the insight which Trumbull gives about humor being a relief for the struggle to deal with difficult challenges like poor quality rations. I have often thought reenacting the incident in front of a crowd of spectators would be ‘humorously educational’.</div><div><br /> <b> </b><b>Henry Clay Trumbull (1830 to 1903)</b> was Chaplain of the 10th Connecticut Infantry starting in 1862. The troops enjoyed his eloquent sermons, his dedication to helping and encouraging them, and his personal courage. He was captured at the battle of Fort Wagner on July 19,1863 while searching for wounded Union soldiers, and held as a prisoner of war until exchanged on Nov.24, 1863, when he then rejoined the 10th Conn., serving with them until they mustered out in Aug. 1865.<br /><span> </span>After the war, Trumbull became a prominent lecturer, an advocate for Sunday School being incorporated into the American church, and a scholar who wrote many books. Among them was <u>The Knightly Soldier</u> (1865 biography of his friend, Adjutant Henry Ward Camp, who was KIA Darbytown Road, Oct 13, 1865), and <u>War Memories of an Army Chaplain</u> (1898).</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WQTVemDxRFJVJWDxvQGxKij6-G-3bHpMBiFOffzy_T_dw0tpsEmBuxXaJgwEAPuzF45d8BZBdMrtubeyxUxJyROFEOe6c_MnHRZ3Ps1TWLtk5cqU9WnjRykbHoLoCHSBu-eMGE93uXxiLetvv065M-Ld6A_a2TADIg-h43LWwuFsDi_g7MrPJBCY8w/s776/CH%20Trumbull%20Pulpit.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="776" data-original-width="513" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WQTVemDxRFJVJWDxvQGxKij6-G-3bHpMBiFOffzy_T_dw0tpsEmBuxXaJgwEAPuzF45d8BZBdMrtubeyxUxJyROFEOe6c_MnHRZ3Ps1TWLtk5cqU9WnjRykbHoLoCHSBu-eMGE93uXxiLetvv065M-Ld6A_a2TADIg-h43LWwuFsDi_g7MrPJBCY8w/w424-h640/CH%20Trumbull%20Pulpit.png" width="424" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chaplain Henry Clay Trumbull<br />Picture from Connecticut Historical Society collection.<br />Rustic pulpit built by Army Engineers<br />below Richmond Va. in the winter of 1864-65.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /><span> </span><b>The 10th Connecticut Infantry Regiment</b> was one of Connecticut’s most exemplary units, having fought in twenty-three battles and many smaller skirmishes. It was formed in the summer of 1861, serving in the early war coastal campaign from the battle for Roanoke Island to the assault on Fort Wagner, then on to fight in the trench as the Union Army pressed in on Petersburg and Richmond. They were present at Appomattox when Lee surrendered to Grant. The Tenth was one of the top 300 Union regiments in the Civil War (out of over 1,700), according to historian William F. Fox.</div><div><br /><b>Children Projects:</b> </div><div><span> </span>Might be an interesting opportunity to discuss options of handling frustrations. Also, how humor could be better than outright anger, but can also lead to punishment if the superior gets angry. Might look at Proverbs 15:1ff.<br /><span> </span>For hardtack projects check out my other posts tagged with “hardtack” such as Oct.22, 2022 “Why was hardtack so disdained by the Civil War troops?”</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-4546771473385278492023-04-22T05:04:00.000-07:002023-04-22T05:04:49.284-07:00Which Is More Frightening? The Disease Or The Doctor?<div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span>So how skilled were the doctors treating sick soldiers early in the war?</b> Here is an interesting evaluation by Garret W Moore, a soldier in the 25th IL. Infantry</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Rolla, Missouri<br />January 5, 1862</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />My old friend Achley,<br /><span> </span>I just received your most kind and welcome letter which I read with great pleasure. I was truly glad to hear from you. I wish you could be in camp with me awhile. I think we could have a good time although you seem to think that we have a pretty hard time. Well, it is partly true, but our berth is not as hard as you think it is. We have pretty good winter quarters and we drill two hours a day and the balance of the time we play poker and euchre and put the time in pretty well and we have plenty to eat—such as it is.<br /><span> </span>Perhaps you would like to know what we do here to eat. Well, we have plenty of fresh beef and flour and crackers and light bread and beans, rice, coffee, sugar, salt, vinegar, side meat shoulders and sometimes we get hams. We can buy eggs at twenty cents per dozen, butter 25 per pound, chickens 20 cents apiece, rot gut whiskey at one dollar per pint which is good enough for soldiers.<br /><span> </span>It is true [that] on a march, it is pretty hard on some of the boys but I have stood it pretty well until the 28th of December when I was taken sick with the intermittent fever and I was most down sick with the fever for five days and I got over that. Then I was taken with the m____ diarrhea and the doctor gave me turpentine. I took a half pint of turpentine and I got so sick and weak that I could not hardly stand up so the Dr. wanted me to go to the hospital but I told him that I preferred staying in camp. Then I told him that his medicine was not doing me any good and he told me that he could not do me any good but he advised me to take turpentine so I made up my mind that he was a damned fool and I would not take any more of his medicine. Then I told him that the medicine that I had been taking would kill nine out of every ten men that took it so he thought I was a damn fool. He told some of the boys that I would die before one month. He told me I had better go to the hospital. I told him that I would not go to the hospital. Then the doctor left and I have not seen him since but I am not dead nor I am not a going to die for I am getting well as fast as a man can. I have been most down sick for twenty days but if the Lord is willing and no preventing Providence, I will be the best man in camp in one month. Our doctors hain’t worth a damn. There is a great deal of sickness in camp but I think the health in camp is better than it has been for the past two months.<br /><span> </span>We are under marching orders but I think that we will spend the winter here. There is four hundred men in this regiment that is fit for duty and that is all that can be got out on drill out of one thousand. no more on this subject now.<br /><span> </span>You said that you and Jack tried to get on a spree on New Years and Christmas and could not make it go off. Well, if I had of been there, we would of had some fun or I would of raised hell with the preachers. I would like to be at home awhile to see you and Jack and have some fun but I would not quit the service if I could, If you and Jack were with me, I would rather be here than at home for we have lots of fun. I think you and Jack had better come and go with us. We will have some fun when we get after them damned rebels.<br /><span> </span>Well, Jack, I have been looking for a letter from you for a long time but it has all been in vain and in your letter you offer an excuse for not writing to me sooner and oftener. Well, your excuse is a very poor one. You said that you was a poor hand to write. You write very well if you would think so. Now I am a poor hand to write but I can write so you can make it out. So can you, and I would be glad to receive a letter from you every week if I could. Now, Ach, you can spend one hour every week writing to me. It always does a soldier good to hear from his friends—at least it does me.<br />With these few remarks, I will close hoping to hear from you soon. Give my love and well wishes to all my friends, to Jack [ ] and by the grace of God you must keep a share of my well wishes for yourself. No more at present. Your ever affectionate friend, — G. W. Moore<br />— to J. A. Smith</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />[Letter transcription above and biographical information below is from Will Griffing in Billy Yank and Jonny Reb Letters website]</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>The letter was written by Pvt. Garret Moore (1838-1865) of Co. C, 25th Illinois Infantry. Garret was the orphaned son of Garret Moore (18xx-1838) and Catherine Bailey (18xx-Bef1850) of Champaign county, Illinois. He had some older siblings but he was raised by others. In the 1850 US Census he was enumerated in the household of the Alexander Argo family. In the 1860 US Census, he was enumerated in the household of the James Swearingen family.<br /><span> </span>Garret enlisted on 4 August 1861 at Homer, Illinois, and was with his regiment in Rolla, Missouri, from mid-November 1861 until early February 1862 when they embarked on the campaign that would eventually lead to their first engagement—the Battle of Pea Ridge in northern Arkansas. Garret was seriously wounded at Kennesaw Mountain on 23 June 1864 and died of his wounds a week later at Chattanooga, Tennessee. His muster records indicate he stood 5′ 9″ tall, with brown hair and hazel eyes.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtjha17AauDSHJCloR7YTt-PbUFs69KIDKM-NA_h0fpI9XhYV9nsTy9CNrNoeW-i29n7XIlYYK0Mom26NfQ7_PY0o2fvs10DKauDQJhi_wFfMgsyeaGiOnRitP4oQx5-kFtTRjSD5V-VowL0q3h1Dt_WwZEfy-UFUyk4taAUD1J80drK53YuNK_rVUA/s165/medicne%20bottles.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="165" data-original-width="73" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtjha17AauDSHJCloR7YTt-PbUFs69KIDKM-NA_h0fpI9XhYV9nsTy9CNrNoeW-i29n7XIlYYK0Mom26NfQ7_PY0o2fvs10DKauDQJhi_wFfMgsyeaGiOnRitP4oQx5-kFtTRjSD5V-VowL0q3h1Dt_WwZEfy-UFUyk4taAUD1J80drK53YuNK_rVUA/w177-h400/medicne%20bottles.jpg" width="177" /></a></div><div><b><span> </span>Was Pvt. Moore justified in questioning the doctor’s medical advice? Who would not want to drink turpentine?</b> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><span> </span>An informative article on the medical use of turpentine is found in <u>Oil of Turpentine: Sheet Anchor of 19th Century Therapeutics</u> by Vincent Cirillo, Medical History Society of New Jersey 2021:</div><div><span> </span>“Oil of turpentine is an essential oil extracted and distilled from the gum resin of several species of pine trees. It was used by laypeople for relief from blisters, burns, corns, lumbago, sciatica, sore gums, abscessed teeth and insect bites. Physicians, on the other hand, employed oil of turpentine to treat some of the major diseases of the nineteenth century. It was an effective, orally administered therapeutic agent against intestinal disorders such as typhoid fever and worms (esp. tapeworms), and somewhat effective topically against hospital gangrene, and myiasis [infection in the body by maggots].” (p.2)</div><div><span> </span>“Typhoid fever, endemic in 19th–century America, was a major killer of U.S. soldiers during the Civil War (1861-1865) . . . It is a contagious disease characterized by prolonged fever, diarrhea, abdominal pain, skin rash (rose-colored spots), prostration and, toward the end, delirium.” (p.5)</div><div>Unsanitary conditions mixing with contaminated flies easily allowed the spread of typhoid from the latrines to mess halls and hospital wards.</div><div><span> </span>Cirillo cites Charles Johnson (1843-1928), a hospital steward with the 130th Illinois Volunteer Infantry, in his Civil War memoir <u>Muskets and Medicine</u> (published in 1917): “In that era most medical men regarded turpentine as little short of a sheet-anchor in the treatment of typhoid.... It was a standard remedy in our regimental hospital.” “Sheet anchor” is an old nautical term for a large spare anchor used only in emergency to save the sailing ship. The term came to describe something or someone viewed as ‘very dependable and relied upon as a last resort in a dangerous situation.’ So, in this context, turpentine oil was viewed as the last best medical hope to deal with the dangerous disease of typhoid.</div><div><span> </span>Cirillo’s article has a lot of additional details both positive and negative about the use of turpentine oil during the Civil War by both Northern and Southern medical personal. In a time of limited medical medicinal resources, it was viewed as a “good option” to combat certain deadly diseases. Turpentine oil was part of the standard medical supplies issued during the Civil War. Its side effects were not well understood at that time, but in the face of death “use what you have.”</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span> </span>Clearly Private Moore does not have a high opinion of the medical advice he is getting.</b> You have to give him credit for following the medical instructions at first. He drank a half pint of turpentine – that’s 8 ounces (one cup) of it – a lot more than I would want to drink. Then because of his reaction to the “prescribed drug” he chose to go a different route. His refusal about going to the hospital is not unusual. Soldiers often refused to go to the hospital unless in dire need because the treatments there were often not positive in results. From Moore’s letter we see that he is recovering. Possibly Moore’s drinking of the turpentine did help him if he had a touch of typhoid even though he only drank it once. Evidently his body was strong enough to recover from whatever he was dealing with.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span> </span>Typhoid fever cuts deep into General Sherman’s heart -- an example of its dangerous speed in cutting short a life.</b> Peter Cozzens shares this example of a death from typhoid fever in his book <u>The Shipwreck of Their Hopes – The Battles for Chattanooga</u> (1994) pp.113f:</div><div><span> </span>“Grant’s complete confidence in Sherman was obvious for all to see. Yet his friend was not himself. His soul ached from a deep personal tragedy that had shattered his façade of gritty manhood. In late September [1863], after learning that he was to march his army to Rosecran’s succor, Sherman had hastily packed his family aboard a streamer at Vicksburg bound for Ohio; he would accompany them as far as Memphis. As the boat prepared to cast off, Sherman noticed that his son, ten-year-old Willie, was missing. The general had supposed Willie to be with his wife, Ellen; she assumed he was with the general. An officer of the Thirteenth United States Infantry, which had given Willie a sergeant’s uniform and adopted him as one of its own, disembarked to look for him. A few minutes later he returned, leading the young boy who, all smiles, was carrying a small double-barreled shotgun with the pride of a soldier about to sail off on a grand adventure.</div><div><span> </span>As the steamer puffed languidly up the hot, malarial river, Sherman passed the time pointing out to his family old campsites along the bank that his troops had occupied during the Vicksburg campaign. Glancing at Willie, he noticed that the boy’s face looked strangely pallid. Ellen hurried the child off to bed and army surgeons were summoned. Their diagnosis: a life-threatening case of typhoid fever.</div><div>Willed died twenty-four hours after the boat docked at Memphis. It was the most painful emotional blow of Sherman’s life. His marriage had long been strained, he and Ellen had stayed together largely for the sake of their children. And of all their children, Willie was the general’s favorite. He was ‘that child on whose future I based all the ambition I ever had,’ To Halleck, Sherman wired: ‘His loss is more to me than words can express.’”</div><div><span> </span>This short glimpse into Sherman’s family loss does show why the treatment of the disease was a serious concern for Civil War doctors. In desperate situations you use whatever you have as a sheet anchor to stop it. Maybe it stops the shipwreck or maybe you still get swamped and drown, but it’s worth a try.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span> </span>Don’t overlook his brief descriptions of camp life and food.</b> He lists a nice variety of rations, as well as options available for purchase. This variety is likely because they are in encampment and not on the march. When looking at the 20 cents per dozen eggs, remember his pay for the month was $13.00. Camp life seems a bit relaxed, with creativity providing variety, but again this is during winter encampment.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Children’s Projects</b></div><div><b>1) Explore the tension between medicines can be helpful yet have negative side effects.</b> Cirillo makes this observation [p.3]: “Not unlike today’s patients, their nineteenth-century counterparts expected to be prescribed medicine when they presented with an illness. A physician could not simply genuflect before the precept vis <i>medicatrix naturae</i> (the healing power of nature) and do nothing. He had to be a man of action; in short, a therapeutic interventionist.”</div><div><br /></div><div><b>2) Explore why turpentine oil became tagged as a “sheet anchor.”</b> It was helpful in combating certain deadly disease like typhoid, even though its negative effects could do damage. Then explore the broader concept of “idiom” (words grouped together to convey meaning that the individual words don’t convey). I grew up hearing and saying “take the whole shebang” (= take it all) but didn’t know its Civil War background was from one soldier taking all for himself the poor quality shelter of a half tent or hut to the detriment of his comrade who also needed shelter in tough circumstances. You might explore other idioms like “the whole nine yards” which has a WWII background.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-66994879968624648122023-04-07T18:21:00.000-07:002023-04-07T18:21:23.747-07:00Rock of Ages -- A Hymn Treasured by Civil War Soldiers Both North and South<div style="text-align: left;"><b>The hymn “Rock of Ages” opened soldiers hearts to Jesus’ mercy and grace during the war. <br /></b><span> </span>Rev. George Bringhurst of Philadelphia, one of the first Delegates of the U.S Christian Commission serving the soldiers in the spring of 1862, shares how he saw this well-known hymn bring positive change in some who heard it being sung [<u>Incidents of the U.S. Christian Commission</u> by Edward P. Smith 1869. Pages 24-26]:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><span> </span>In how many instances was the precious Gospel brought to the soldiers, in the strains of music set to Psalms and Hymns. In camp and hospital, on march and field, the sweet songs of Zion wooed many a prodigal back to the Father’s loving embrace. None possibly were more effectual than that familiar hymn, “Rock of Ages.” We heard it sung for the first time in the army, on the beach at Fortress Monroe, by some Delegates of the Christian Commission, just beneath the “Lincoln Gun”. Its grateful truth, borne by the winds, fell upon the ear of a soldier on the parapet; not only so, but touched his heart, and in time led him to build on the “Rock of Ages.”<br /><span> </span>Again, we heard the same hymn at Yorktown, sung by some of the same Delegates. After its singing, as we were returning to our quarters, one of the Delegates was overtaken by a soldier, who belonged to the “Lost Children” – (the name of a New York Regiment, “Enfans Perdus”). He asked “Won’t you please tell me how I may build on the ‘Rock’ you sang about? I was thinking of it while on guard the other day.” He told his story in brief: he was from New York City, had received his mother’s dying blessing. Before she breathed her last, she sang this hymn, and said “George, my son, I would not feel so badly about your enlisting, if you were only built upon that ‘Rock.’”<br /><span> </span>These sacred memories were revived by the singing of the hymn; and as the Delegate and the soldier knelt on the dusty roadside, beneath the stars, the wanderer lost his weariness and thirst for sin, in the shadow of the “Rock of Ages.”<br /><span> </span>Eighteen months after this incident, the same Delegate, going to Fortress Monroe, on a boat which had as part of her passengers a gay and happy company of the Signal Corps, conversed, sang and prayed with them. He related to them the foregoing incidents, sang “Rock of Ages,” and retired to his state-room. Soon after, a gentle tap called him to the door, where he found a tall graceful Lieutenant, who, with tears streaming down his face, said “O sir! I could not let you go to bed tonight until I had told you what you have done. As I sat, with my head leaning against a spar, and listened to your words and to that hymn, you brought back my dead mother with all her prayers and love. I have been a wanderer until this night, now by God’s grace I want to hide myself in that Rock of Ages.”</div><div><br /><b>“Rock of Ages” was the song JEB Stuart requested to be sung as he was dying.</b> </div><div><span> </span>At 7 p.m., everyone in the house gathered around Stuart’s bed. Rev. Joshua Peterkin, an Episcopal minister, led them in prayers and the singing of “Rock of Ages,” Stuart’s favorite hymn. Stuart made a feeble effort to sing along, then turned to Brewer, and said, “I am going fast now. I am resigned; God’s will be done.” He then drifted into unconsciousness. On May 12th, 1864 at 7:38, James Ewell Brown Stuart passed into the hands of his God.</div><div><br /><b>Exploration of the Hymn “Rock of Ages”</b> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCgLYuZMEH3ekj1v3q26ABiX-Fgmlqdmp6NbfRwdhtdz7q8vc8WhQeGvvnXSbypraTOBkkE3AhYgkj6sLwx4NUvPsmz7aaWEEfeBtyl9vfRhKRmhrACRIwPpvX0MfbZXfaVp7rKZEbEpH3RuoL_UjToYCe0Fkm19UNzlVyaGS9-rCOL3teKLgka_KwIA/s436/Augustus%20Toplady.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="436" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCgLYuZMEH3ekj1v3q26ABiX-Fgmlqdmp6NbfRwdhtdz7q8vc8WhQeGvvnXSbypraTOBkkE3AhYgkj6sLwx4NUvPsmz7aaWEEfeBtyl9vfRhKRmhrACRIwPpvX0MfbZXfaVp7rKZEbEpH3RuoL_UjToYCe0Fkm19UNzlVyaGS9-rCOL3teKLgka_KwIA/s320/Augustus%20Toplady.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>Written by the Reformed Anglican minister, Rev. Augustus Toplady in 1763 and first published in The Gospel Magazine in 1775.</div><div><br />Rock of Ages, cleft for me,<br />Let me hide myself in Thee;<br />Let the water and the blood,<br />From Thy riven side which flowed,<br />Be of sin the double cure,<br />Cleanse me from its guilt and power.</div><div><br />Not the labor of my hands<br />Can fulfill Thy law's demands;<br />Could my zeal no respite know,<br />Could my tears forever flow,<br />All for sin could not atone;<br />Thou must save, and Thou alone.</div><div><br />Nothing in my hand I bring,<br />Simply to Thy cross I cling;<br />Naked, come to Thee for dress;<br />Helpless, look to Thee for grace;<br />Foul, I to the fountain fly;<br />Wash me, Savior, or I die!</div><div><br />While I draw this fleeting breath,<br />When mine eyes shall close in death,<br />When I soar to worlds unknown,<br />See Thee on Thy judgement throne,<br />Rock of Ages, cleft for me,<br />Let me hide myself in Thee.</div><div><br /><span> </span>Though there is some debate about Toplady writing the first verse of the hymn as he took refuge in a rock cleft himself during a strong storm, the Biblical Background for the hymn is likely the incident recorded in Exodus 33:12-34:9 where Moses is hidden in a cleft of the rock so that he is protected as he witnesses the Lord’s glory passing by and hears the Lord’s proclamation. Psalm 18:2 also declares: “The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower [KJV]” from which Toplady may have also drawn inspiration.<br /><span> </span>In the Dictionary of Hymnology, John Julian cites the 1775 article “Life a Journey” (printed in the Gospel Magazine) in which Toplady published the first stanza of his hymn “Rock of Ages.” As introduction to the first stanza’s words Toplady wrote: “Yes, if you fall, be humbled, but do not despair. Pray afresh to God, who is able to raise you up, and set you on your feet again. Look to the blood of the covenant; and say to the Lord from the depths of your heart” the prayer which Toplady lays out in his hymn.<br /><span> </span>This gives insight into Toplady’s heart in writing this hymn of praise to Jesus. Toplady points us to Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross as our only hope in this life of struggle with sin and our only protection when we come before Him on the judgment day. Toplady correctly points out in verse 2 our own “goodness” cannot protect us on that day of judgement as the Apostle Paul teaches us in Ephesians 2:8-9. Just as God placed the sinner Moses in a protective place, so in the day of judgment Jesus will be the protective place for those who have put their trust in Him alone for grace and mercy. Toplady’s song calls on hearts to realize their need for Jesus and depend on Him to “be of sin the double cure, cleanse me from its guilt and power”.<br /><span> </span>From the Civil War incidents shared above by Bringhurst, we see that the hymn written 87 years earlier did indeed touch hearts of those who had heard the gospel before but had shrugged off God’s call to them. Through the hymn’s succinct call to look to Jesus, along with the perilous circumstances of that time, some hearts did respond in faith to the promise that Jesus alone saves us from the condemnation we justly deserve.</div><div><br /><b>The Lincoln Gun</b><span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOLsAxAkwIZweG6dZJ-1PnKQzsXC_5wwptbkdpNHoyBV0e5gITs3xCCM3nXWUc0Hu6KLDrFBXjvQnD_iMX4TeEwHtExDIL-1wlgxrrUVO1HvKYXa0NMrMvN8-Du389y76qQIMWBc0rtPGDVtRVglubBEmDZePkQTbI9adIPaaG6UIuHssP8pb-wERew/s1024/Lincoln%20Gun%20Fort%20Monroe.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="936" data-original-width="1024" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOLsAxAkwIZweG6dZJ-1PnKQzsXC_5wwptbkdpNHoyBV0e5gITs3xCCM3nXWUc0Hu6KLDrFBXjvQnD_iMX4TeEwHtExDIL-1wlgxrrUVO1HvKYXa0NMrMvN8-Du389y76qQIMWBc0rtPGDVtRVglubBEmDZePkQTbI9adIPaaG6UIuHssP8pb-wERew/w400-h366/Lincoln%20Gun%20Fort%20Monroe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> </span>The Rodman Gun, cast in 1860, shipped from Pittsburgh to Fort Monroe in March 1861 to help guard the Hampton Roads and prevent Confederate ships from fighting their way through the channel, was one of the largest smoothbore cannons ever made, weighing 49,000 pounds, 15’10” long and 4 feet in diameter with a 15” bore. It is said it could fire a 330lb explosive projectile or a 437lb solid shot more than four miles. It was named the “Lincoln gun” by Secretary of War Edwin Stanton.</div><div><br /><b>The “Lost Children” battalion</b> <br /><span> </span>This unit was formed between Nov.22, 1861 and April 1862 mostly of French & German European immigrant volunteers, who served in the Carolina area during the War. They did not muster enough men to form a regiment, so it was classed as a battalion and eventually assimilated into the 4th Corps, Army of the Potomac. “Lost Children” – Enfans Perdus – Enfants Perdus – with its European background means the “forlorn hope” – small groups of soldiers assigned dangerous tasks like the first to charge through the breach, or hold a strategic but dangerous position. The “Lost Children” name tag was likely taken as a challenge to these volunteers to step up and show courage no matter what they would face in battle.</div><div><br /><b>Children Projects:</b><br /><span> </span><b>1) God has created us to respond to music.</b> Studies have shown music can help focus, can change moods, can help memory, can create connection with others listening to it. Discuss how music can be both good and bad in our lives, depending on what is stirs up within us. Music can motivate us to do great and good things. It can also be used to draw us into evil and sinful actions. While “music” in itself is neutral, how it affects us is what we need to be discerning about. What words are in the song? Who is it connecting us with? What is it motivating us to do?<br /><span> </span><b>2) Help your children explore how Toplady moves verse by verse, developing the theme of the hymn.</b> He is not simply playing on emotions as is often the case in music today by repetition of the same few phrases over and over and over again. Instead, he leads the singer/listener through a developing thought process – ballad style writing. Yes, his song does stir up emotions, but it is through a development of thought. Maybe explore having your child write their own song/poem where they present an important truth that they want others to better understand.</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-69302931394248545622023-03-18T05:18:00.000-07:002023-03-18T05:18:24.970-07:00Loyal to the Union vs. Disloyal Copperheads -- A Missouri Union Soldier's Perspective<div><b> If you loyally stand for the Union, how do you deal with family that doesn’t?</b> The following letter written by Thomas M. Coleman (6th Missouri Infantry) to his sister, Elizabeth Coleman in 1863 gives sad insight into the divisions that were personal, not just national. (The letter is from a private collection; punctuation and misspellings reproduce author’s writing style.)</div><div><br />Camp Sherman, 3rd Sept. ‘63<br />Dear Sister,<br /><span> </span>‘Tis with the greatest of pleasure that I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well at present and hoping that these few lines may find you all the same. I was on picket when I received your letter, and could not answer your letter any sooner. We were out on picket on Black River six miles from our present camp. We had one man shot by guerrillas from the opposite side of the river. If the officer had not sent out guards on the other side of the river the men would have burnt all of the houses within five miles of the river, for some of them follow nothing but shooting Union soldiers such me. Are not worth wasting powder and lead, for the rope is the thing for them, and that is the best thing for the Copperhead. If that is true what you said in your letter, about father, I shall never go near where there is a Copperhead. I am going to get a furlough and go to Missouri in one week from today. You need not look for me at home. Old George Crane sent for me to come there. He wants me and Martin and Steiner to come back as soon as our time is up I will go there, for I will never go after what he passed around there, for I can get along myself. I don’t think very well of that, for I have undergone hardships of every description for the old Union. Thank the great ruler off all being, that He spared me this long, but if I am spared through this time, and I am needed, I will still fight for the old flag that I followed many days, till it is restored master of this continent once more. Then I will be satisfied. If those Copperheads were in the rebel army, I would serve another five years, till they were all killed and under the sod. I am in good earnest. As for me coming home, that is played. I must stop for this time. Uncle Bill Reel is going to Illinois, and they are going on a farm there. So nothing more at present, but remain your brother until death. </div><div>Thomas M. Coleman</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdGsMKyp_eM7fd9OlQGzyuk5zlCCj1fTUtUuin1ozi_6p8jiM-_SzKeyTQ_HH_2iS8O3KbXbaxWnSFUtw_4ExMMgxcLoCF6LvorRvywL6iZXRXNvajL-gUYlFwk-JWIvID2QxAGEm3hXzQNziiFMGtxAxMjOpvmwNTA6HH6b4sOoHZq6WjJhybRKaGDQ/s1094/Missouri.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="1094" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdGsMKyp_eM7fd9OlQGzyuk5zlCCj1fTUtUuin1ozi_6p8jiM-_SzKeyTQ_HH_2iS8O3KbXbaxWnSFUtw_4ExMMgxcLoCF6LvorRvywL6iZXRXNvajL-gUYlFwk-JWIvID2QxAGEm3hXzQNziiFMGtxAxMjOpvmwNTA6HH6b4sOoHZq6WjJhybRKaGDQ/w640-h344/Missouri.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>The 6th Missouri Infantry Regiment</b> was organized at St. Louis, Missouri, June 15 - July 9, 1861, mustered in for three year service; mustered out of service on August 17, 1865. Involved with the Vicksburg Siege May 18-July 4. Assaults on Vicksburg May 19 and 22. Advance on Jackson, Miss., July 4–10. Siege of Jackson July 10–17. At Big Black River Camp Sherman until September 25, 1863.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Reading this letter shows the loyalty Thomas Coleman feels for the Union, and also the divisions that are occurring in his family because not everyone agrees with him in his loyalty to the Union. He chooses to stand by his decision to fight for the Union even if it means he must walk away from family.<br /><br /><b>Who were the “Copperheads” and what did they stand for?</b><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Copperheads” were people in the North who opposed using force to bring the southern states back into the Union, and instead wanted at first an immediate or then as the war progressed a negotiated peace settlement, (also called “Peace Democrats” or “Butternuts”). These “Peace Democrats” were tagged “Copperheads” by the Republicans for two reasons: first, they choose to wear badges made from one cent copper Liberty coins, and secondly, just like deadly snakes, they were traitors trying to kill the Union. So “copperhead” is an interesting political play on words. Obviously for those who supported the war effort, “copperhead” was not a positive moniker to be tagged with. <br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There were variations on why people opposed the war to preserve the Union, and how they opposed it. Some saw the conflict as a result of the extremist abolitionists stirring up trouble, or due to rich Northerners seeking more power and money through tariffs on the south, or an attempt to increase Federal power over the states. Many southerners who had migrated north of the Ohio River saw it as an attack on their culture. Immigrants were also drawn toward this approach as the war progressed in order to avoid being drafted into service. In Missouri, Copperhead groups often came out directly in support of the Confederacy and fought against Unionists in the state. The reasons why people, mostly Democrats, opposed the war varied. Not everyone in the North was pro-war, just as not every Southerner fought to preserve slavery. Generalizations make good politics, but do not accurately present the complexity going on in our nation at the time. Sadly, it is true that out of the Civil War, there has come a now constantly increasing “federalization” power grab which defies what the founding fathers wrote into the Constitution. But I digress.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>For an interesting survey of historical interpretations of the meaning and effects that the Copperhead movement had on the Civil War, see the article “Copperheads” by Jonathon W. White on Essential Civil War Curriculum website. It’s an interesting survey how views of the Copperheads have changed, depending on culture and time.</div><div><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>The Copperhead badge</b> was made by cutting the Liberty Head symbol out of a copper large cent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59aWTd9IyAL-eEdToT8Do3Liv6goyF5FAjEXacP5ZqPA-1sz7vMaJPoGnMd_Bh4wXukD-RJRNxRXqyEpX0k7RFwbXGuhwI2VIV2Qx9v5F6iv0GUwp3D7WNk336LThVJfEBxpM_2BNR7dS02iVMOQ5JH56XfbK_jxnqBFMXSt7sCIyb8KAIwj9EIGBMA/s454/Copperhead%20badge.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="454" data-original-width="395" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh59aWTd9IyAL-eEdToT8Do3Liv6goyF5FAjEXacP5ZqPA-1sz7vMaJPoGnMd_Bh4wXukD-RJRNxRXqyEpX0k7RFwbXGuhwI2VIV2Qx9v5F6iv0GUwp3D7WNk336LThVJfEBxpM_2BNR7dS02iVMOQ5JH56XfbK_jxnqBFMXSt7sCIyb8KAIwj9EIGBMA/w174-h200/Copperhead%20badge.webp" width="174" /></a></div> and soldering a pin on the back side, or by drilling a small hole in the top so a ribbon could be threaded through it so the copper badge could be worn to show you were opposed this terrible war. The wearing of Copperhead badges appears to have peaked in 1863 as the Union victories at Gettysburg and Vicksburg seemed to evidence that things were turning in the Union’s favor.</div><div><br /><b>Returned Soldiers Punish a Copperhead</b> -- An interesting news report from The Commercial Times Newspaper– Oswego, NY – May 21, 1864:<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>An exciting affair took place last evening at Shunpike, a small station on the Central [rail]road, a short distance west of Auburn. When the train containing the 26th regiment reached there, the station keeper made his appearance wearing a copperhead badge on his coat, in plain sight. This disloyal exhibition incensed the soldiers, and in less time than we are relating the occurrence, the odious emblem was torn off. The station keeper, allowing his zeal in a bad cause to out-do his discretion, got very mad, and starting for his house, declared that he would get his pistol and shoot his assailants. Upon this some two hundred of the soldiers surrounded the house, smashed in the windows and doors and nearly destroyed the structure. They would have severely handled the misguided copperhead himself, if he had not made haste to escape by a back door. The conductor of the train, upon hearing of the occurrence, hurried up the departure of the train. The copperheads will learn speedily that the soldiers look upon them as no better than rebels in arms, and woe be to them if they do not keep their unpatriotic feelings within due bounds.</div><div><br /><b>Children Projects:</b><br />1) <b>Explore some articles on Civil War Copperheads</b> to get a better idea of the variations in what they believed and how they operated during the war. Explore what might have been the effects in both the North and the South if their idea of “peaceful negotiation” to the split had been followed. Explore what might have happened if Lincoln had lost the 1864 election and been replaced by McClellan and the Peace Democrat Party. <br />2) <b>Discuss how people today show their support/allegiance to various causes.</b> Clothing items/ flags/ internet postings/ bumper stickers – oops ignore the last one, sorry am old school. During the Civil War period, Patriotic Envelopes both helped to shape public opinion on issues as well as enabled people to show their support of various causes during the Civil War. Explain to your children what a “letter” is and how in the old days people used to write and mail them as a means of communications. Yes, am being sarcastic.<br />3) <b>Explore the issue of family division, in the Civil War and today.</b> May not be a comfortable discussion, but it has happened down through the ages for multitude of reasons. Does it make sense that Coleman, who is clearly dedicated to preserving the Union, would walk away from his father? Why or why not? Is it better he walks away than keeping going back home and maybe increase the anger into open hostile confrontation? Also look at the Commercial Times article. Does it make sense that the soldiers who have been putting their lives on the line would be upset with a Copperhead? In the discussion, remember that both “sides” (those for secession and those against it) insulted and openly attacked their opponents. </div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-29564788791096970352023-02-18T04:37:00.001-08:002023-02-18T11:35:05.414-08:00Handling Attack and Retreat in the Chancellorsville Campaign -- Spring 1863<div><b>How do men in the ranks handle tough costly battles?</b><br /><span> </span>In spring of 1863, starting on April 27th, the Army of the Potomac under Gen. Hooker begin attacking Lee’s forces across the Potomac River in the Chancellorsville Campaign, pursuing a victory that would then allow Union forces to push on to Richmond.<br /><span> </span>Gen. Hooker had replaced Burnside after the failures of the first Fredericksburg assault in Dec.1862 and then the Mud March Jan.1863. Hooker reorganized and raised moral in the Army of the Potomac, so the men were ready for the spring assault on the rebels. Hooker intended to keep Confederate forces pinned down in Fredericksburg while he outflanked them with a greater force from the west coming through Chancellorsville. Union troops began moving on April 27th. Hard battles with Confederate forces in the distractive assault on Fredericksburg and also around Chancellorsville resulted in Hooker giving up and ordering retreats by May 5th/ 6th. Another gloomy defeat for the Army of the Potomac.<br /><span> </span><b>Wilbur Fisk</b>, a Vermont soldier serving in the 6th Corps involved in the assault on Fredericksburg shares his perspective on the campaign to his hometown newspaper in a letter written a few days after they had retreated back across the Potomac for safety. Enjoy this interesting analysis of the failed campaign from a man-in-the-ranks perspective -- <b>yes, it was tough, but do not believe everything you read in the newspapers:</b></div><div><br />Camp near White Oak Church, Va. May 19, 1863</div><div><br /></div><div><span> </span>The smoke of the battle has cleared up [Second Battle of Fredericksburg], giving us a chance to look over the ground and count the cost and consequences of our late bloody campaign. As we are considered fighters by trade, the last attempt in our line of business will have prominence in our thoughts and be the leading topic of conversation till another “rip” comes off. It may be an old story in Vermont by this time but it is not exactly so here. We all have our stories to tell, and where they are deficient in fact we supply the lack from imagination.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-9lCIL1Cg3ZYUZV8yW_gPpJbt4gL3EjVH0wB6bAhOZTi4YCNsr3rRaxQktHMlMLuxcrhHupBGe6h7dNRGVpDGtVFWbTWlEBqL8WRl3vFZMEeMKKgiuM96SwfhQ12GNQIvy0iO7BccL0OR_7PM23ykZxANbHMlcwYm2SfrAy3RhpazNStJhi1KcgTvQ/s1024/Marye's%20hieghts%20stone%20wall%20May%206th%201863.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="1024" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-9lCIL1Cg3ZYUZV8yW_gPpJbt4gL3EjVH0wB6bAhOZTi4YCNsr3rRaxQktHMlMLuxcrhHupBGe6h7dNRGVpDGtVFWbTWlEBqL8WRl3vFZMEeMKKgiuM96SwfhQ12GNQIvy0iO7BccL0OR_7PM23ykZxANbHMlcwYm2SfrAy3RhpazNStJhi1KcgTvQ/w640-h456/Marye's%20hieghts%20stone%20wall%20May%206th%201863.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marye's Heights Stone Wall<br />May 3d, 1863<br />Library of Congress/ Andrew Russel Image</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /><span> </span>It is quite amusing to see the accounts the newspapers give of our proceedings here subsequent to coming this side of the river [back north of the Rappahannock]. Hooker, it was coolly said, was over the river again and pursing Lee’s fleeing forces into the last ditch. The Philadelphia Inquirer (I believe) shrewdly observed that the next battle would probably be fought somewhere on the Pamunkey and then the door to Richmond would be thrown open to the victorious Yankees. The backbone of the rebellion, so long on the point of breaking, would be able to sustain the pressure no longer, and the starved-out confederacy would succumb at once, letting peace and prosperity once more shine into that slavery-darkened region, while the Flag of our Union should float triumphantly over all. This looks very fine in print, and if the papers would only fight the battles for us and give us an open road to the rebel capital we should be abundantly satisfied to walk in and make that noted, as well as notorious, city ours. It is vastly easier to win victories on paper than on land, and the experiment has proved that to drive Gen. Lee and his army from the Rappahannock to Richmond is an operation attended with considerable personal danger. We had no idea that we was to start for Richmond again after being drove to this side, till we saw it in some of the leading dailies, and then, it is needless to say, we didn’t believe it.<br /><span> </span>I noticed the New Jersey papers claim that the 26th New Jersey regiment with the Vermont brigade captured the rebel stronghold on the heights of Fredericksburg. That is strictly true, but it strikes us that the mention of the 26th is entirely gratuitous and unnecessary. It reminds one of the Dutchman who in the excess of his vanity to make a display for himself, boasted that he and the Squire owned forty cows, when it would have been equally true had the “he” been left out, for the forty cows all belonged to the Squire.<br /><span> </span>But after all, that regiment contains some as brave boys as the country affords, and it is a pity they should have to serve in such a miserable organization. It is not necessary to have the men all cowards to have the regiment break and run. Fear is one of the most contagious diseases that ever afflicted a soldier, and when one timid fellow loses his heart, others are apt to be affected in the same way. It takes a fellow of more than ordinary courage to come up to the scratch when others desert their post to hide away from the bullets of the enemy. Every man that leaves and runs, encourages the enemy, and prompts them to crowd a little harder, and when one after another has skulked away and the ground is getting covered with wounded and dying men, while all the time the enemy are pressing harder and harder and bringing up heavy supports as they did in the second day’s fight, leaving our men no hope of driving them back, but only of holding their ground and gaining time, it takes but a word to start a panic that no power on earth could stop.<br /><span> </span>No matter how brave a man may be when that event takes place, nor how much he may deplore the event, if the rest run, he must run too, or be overwhelmed.<br /><span> </span>When the Jerseys broke in the 5th, on Monday afternoon, some of them fell in with us, willingly, and some fell in with the 6th regiment, to show the Vermont boys that they were not a set of cowards, and when that regiment charged, they charged with it, and they kept a long ways ahead, making themselves the most conspicuous mark for the enemy, and plunging first and foremost in every encounter, doing their utmost to retrieve their honor, and the honor of their regiment. Bully for such fellows as that, and all like the, belong to what regiment they will!<br /><span> </span>The anxious question, when is the Army of the Potomac going to move, has been practically answered. We have moved on to the enemy’s works, and moved off again. We slept one night in the rebels’ nest, and should have slept longer there, perhaps, had we not been forcibly reminded by them that it was a safer place for us this side of the river. Some sanguine writer said, ‘When Gen. Hooker moves on the enemy, God help them;’ but the prayer was unnecessary; they were able to help themselves. On the whole, the most of us are willing to admit that we got a very neat little whipping over there, and General Hooker will have to be more successful than he has been, or his boys will think Old Lee, the rebel General, is too much for him. Our reports claim a sort of victory on whole, and so do the rebels, but the rebel newspapers will lie, and ours won’t. If we accept the rebels’ own calculations that one Southerner is equal to two Yankees, we may safely infer that battles like the last ones pay pretty well, after all; but the rebels can hardly make out as much for them, unless they change the premise of their argument, for they, by no means, killed twice as many of us as we did of them.<br /><span> </span>Let no one say that the recent battles have had a tendency to demoralize the army. Far from it. The more we get used to being killed, the better we like it. Positively, the army is in just as good fighting spirits to-day as they were the day we left our old camp. I was talking to some New York boys a few minutes ago, whose time of service has nearly expired. The late battles, I found, had not discouraged them in the least, and a large majority said they contemplated re-enlisting after they had enjoyed the luxuries of home a while but they would not bind themselves to any paper at present, preferring to wait and see what would “turn up,” as they expressed it. </div><div><span> </span><span> </span><u>Hard Marching Every Day -- The Civil War Letters of Private Wilber Fisk</u> (University Press of Kansas) p.85-87</div><div><br /><b>What?!?” Newspapers do NOT always get the story right?!?</b><br /><span> </span>Wilbur Fisk is indeed a gifted writer. Over the course of the war, he wrote many letters to the Green Mountain Freeman newspaper under the name “Anti-rebel.” He was born in Sharon, VT (June 7 1839) and lived until March 12, 1914. Mainly self-educated, he taught in a rural school district for seven terms. 1861 he enlisted in Co.E 2nd Vermont Volunteers. After the war he tried his hand at farming in Kansas for a decade before turning to the ministry and serving as the Congregational pastor in Freeborn, Minnesota, for more than 30 years.<br /><span> </span>Fisk is writing this letter to his hometown newspaper after he has read how various newspapers are describing the latest failed Union push into Virginia.<br /><span> </span>Now you may say that Fisk is just rambling on, but as you walk through his analysis of this latest Union failure, catch how he is putting the strategic set-back (big picture) into perspective with explanations of tactical insights (on the ground small pictures). Yes, units did get routed, and there were reasons for that happening, but individuals often stepped up giving their fullest even amidst the harsh defeat. Even though Fisk shares about retreats, he also affirms that the honorable men in the ranks can handle such things and will rise to the challenge again in the future.<br /><span> </span>Is Fisk “lying” about the moral of the army to whitewash the campaign failure to his hometown people? I honestly think he is trying to explain that even though ‘once again’ the road to Richmond still has not been traveled, many Union soldiers are still committed to finishing the task of putting down the rebellion. He is also trying to give a more realistic perspective to people back home than what they might read in the newspaper headlines. He is trying to balance out the “failure” with “all is not lost.” The newspapers may project big picture victory . . . then oops . . . pushed back across the river in defeat once again!?! Which is it?!? Once again, we see while the soldiers value the newspapers which they get in camp from ‘back home’, they also evaluate the content for accuracy. Fisk is attempting to give better perspective for the readers back home to both “headline grand oversimplification” as well as “local news focus” which downplays the part of other units in the conflict to highlight the favored local unit.</div><div><span> </span>Is Fisk's perspective the 100% true one? I'm not saying that. Fisk's letter is an interesting illustration of the discussions that were certainly happening around the campfires by the men in the ranks all the time about what was going on and why. I really enjoy Fisk's sense of humor that he uses to make his points.</div><div><br /><b>2nd Vermont Volunteers</b><br /><span> </span>Mustered in June 1861, becoming part of the Old Vermont Brigade in Sept.1861, they fought in many battles including the first assault on Fredericksburg in 1862. They were also went marching on Burnside’s glorious Mud March in Jan. 1863 (see my post on January 2022 for a humorous tidbit of history on that march). As part of 6th Corps, in the Chancellorsville Campaign sent to keep the Confederate forces pinned down at Fredericksburg while the majority of the Union troops attempted to outflanked the Rebs, on May 3d they assaulted Marye’s Heights, then were involved in the Salem Church battle before retreating back across the Rappahannock as the campaign failed.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Nkp95yInvRr0zZK1cGnH4Frll-m_WLNVlFISFFmTCUlQji04zVOewUKCx3q-LK8BVUUKNf42US2OGCEOHkdSEKuHTNtqKmXjkdrl01Q5S3HFXMYSm7MtM3olJwjOavApRWV_YhaeGZdJ7nwfjnNoOsfQovSRBUCZSN2i0agPYNh84vKVmETVdLGaWg/s808/2nd%20Vermont%20Reg.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Nkp95yInvRr0zZK1cGnH4Frll-m_WLNVlFISFFmTCUlQji04zVOewUKCx3q-LK8BVUUKNf42US2OGCEOHkdSEKuHTNtqKmXjkdrl01Q5S3HFXMYSm7MtM3olJwjOavApRWV_YhaeGZdJ7nwfjnNoOsfQovSRBUCZSN2i0agPYNh84vKVmETVdLGaWg/w594-h640/2nd%20Vermont%20Reg.jpg" width="594" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div> A more detailed unit description is given in <u>The Union Army: A history of military Affairs in the Loyal States 1861-65</u>, (Federal Publishing Company, Madison, WI, 1908), p.108-109:</div><div><div> <span> </span>The 2nd Vermont Regiment was organized at Burlington and there mustered into the U. S. service for three years on June 20, 1861. It left Burlington for Washington, June 24, and encamped on Capitol Hill until July 10, when it was ordered to Bush Hill, Va., where it was attached to Howard's brigade, Heintzelman's Division, with which it fought at Bull Run on July 21. It was next sent to Chain bridge for guard duty along the Potomac, and assisted in the construction of Forts Marcy and Ethan Allen. In September it was formed with the 4th and 5th Vermont regiments into the Vermont Brigade (later known on many battlefields), the 2nd brigade of Smith's division.<br /><span> </span>Winter quarters were established at Camp Griffin and occupied until March 10, 1862, when the regiment marched to Centerville, thence to Alexandria, where it was ordered to Newport News and participated in the Peninsular campaign. It was in action at Young's Mills, Lee's Mills and Williamsburg. In the organization of the 6th Corps, the Vermont Brigade, to which had been added the 6th Vt., became the 2nd brigade, 2nd division. From April 13 to May 19, 1862, the brigade was posted at White House landing. On June 26 it shared in the battle of Golding's farm and in the Seven Days' battles it was repeatedly engaged. It was ordered to Alexandria and to Bull Run late in August. The corps was not ordered into the battle and was next in action at Crampton's Gap and Antietam in September. It fought at Fredericksburg Dec. 13, 1862, after which winter quarters were established near Falmouth and broken for the Chancellorsville battles in May, where the 6th Corps made a gallant charge upon the heights. It fought at Gettysburg, and from Aug. 14 to Sep. 13, 1863, the brigade was stationed in New York to guard against rioting and then rejoined the corps. </div><div><span> </span>Winter quarters were occupied with the Army of the Potomac near the Rapidan and a large number of members of the regiment reenlisted. The command continued in the field as a veteran organization and broke camp May 4, 1864, for the Wilderness campaign. On the opening day of the fight at the Wilderness, Col. Stone was killed and LtCol. Tyler fatally wounded. A number of the bravest officers and men perished in the month following, during which the Vermont Brigade fought valiantly day after day with wonderful endurance, at the famous "bloody angle" at Spotsylvania, at Cold Harbor and in the early assaults on Petersburg. On July 10 it formed a part of the force ordered to hasten to Washington to defend the city against Gen. Early, and shared in the campaign in the Shenandoah Valley which followed - the fatiguing marches and counter-marches and the battles of Charlestown, Fisher's Hill, Winchester and Cedar Creek. During the last named battle the brigade held its ground when it seemed no longer tenable and only withdrew when it was left alone. Returning with the 6th Corps to Petersburg in December, it participated in the charge on March 25, 1865, and the final assault April 2, after which it joined in the pursuit of Lee's army and was active at the battle of Sailor's Creek, April 6, where it is said to have fired the last shot of the 6th Corps. </div><div><span> </span>The service of the 2nd closed with participation in the grand review of the Union armies at Washington, after which it returned to Burlington. The original members who did not reenlist were mustered out on June 29, 1864, the veterans and recruits at Washington, July 15, 1865.<br /><span> </span>The total strength of the regiment was 1,858 and the loss by death 399, of which number 224 were killed or died of wounds and 175 from other causes. In his well-known work on 'Regimental Losses," Col. Fox mentions the 2nd Vt. infantry among the "three hundred fighting regiments" of the Union army.</div></div><div><br /><b>Children’s Projects </b><br /><b>1) Explore Fisk’s sarcasm about what Newspapers are proclaiming and the realities of the situation</b> for those actually doing the work of fighting the battles. This would be a good occasion to also explore how “media” in its various forms can influence our thoughts and how we have an obligation to evaluate and challenge broad proclamations.<br /><b>2)</b> <b>Explore how Fisk blends the descriptions of the ‘big picture failure’ with ‘small picture incidents’</b> to give his readers a better understanding of what is going on at the moment. I find it interesting that he does admit there were serious defeats and retreats, yet courage and commitment was not totally lost individually.</div><div><b>3)</b> It is interesting that Fisk who clearly has excellent writing skills was mainly self-educated. And that he was a teacher in a rural area for several years. Times and expectations have certainly changed. Maybe remind your children that it is what they develop <u>within</u> that will allow them to best use whatever they might get from without.</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-30985245586889980162023-01-21T05:43:00.000-08:002023-01-21T05:43:43.367-08:00New Enlistee’s Camp Life Reflections – T R Sterns – 29th Wisconsin Infantry<div> <b>What was life like for a newly enlisted Union soldier?</b></div><div><span> </span>The following transcript of a letter by Thomas Rescum Sterns, enlisted Aug.1862, to his wife Lavinia [in Iowa University Digital Library – Civil War Diaries and Letters] has some interesting perspectives on camp life’s challenges:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi86v4SNTBzsycDtACHtWs_zKpYT3JLTsU7VFw63dnlXwr_8KYKgDs-jNLyENySIk5NYtQVfvShzqteT8I3s-H3cEe7b5lA54MOnPygHF1eHofSpX6bHfc0q-YubGDECzyrXGohZZq3tsU1dSgwlA-Ql7PbDZzZF0Zzp0hRiJwyKUhLxnxiTPPGFiQikA/s938/TR%20Sterns%20Sept62%20cover.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="938" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi86v4SNTBzsycDtACHtWs_zKpYT3JLTsU7VFw63dnlXwr_8KYKgDs-jNLyENySIk5NYtQVfvShzqteT8I3s-H3cEe7b5lA54MOnPygHF1eHofSpX6bHfc0q-YubGDECzyrXGohZZq3tsU1dSgwlA-Ql7PbDZzZF0Zzp0hRiJwyKUhLxnxiTPPGFiQikA/w640-h342/TR%20Sterns%20Sept62%20cover.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><br />Camp Randall, Madison, Wis. Sept 24, 1862</div><div><br />Dear wife <br /><span> </span>I take the pleasure of writing a few lines to you to let you know how thing are here in camp. We arrived here last Saturday about 8 o'clock in the evening. After we arrived each one eat his allowance and went to repose. Our bunks as they are called are just wide enough for two to sleep in. In which is put about a handful of straw and then we spread down a blanket and crawl on that and spread another over and in this we start for the land of dreams. After we arrived here on Saturday night, we ate our supper and the next morning we had our breakfast about noon. I have a headache today caused from the loss of sleep being on guard duty last night but when I get my regular sleep again, I shall be all right. My duty was last night when on guard was to guard prisoners, that is men from our regiment that got drunk and was shut up in the guard house. We had three last night but none from our company. <br /><span> </span>Tell Mrs. Parsons that if she take the blanket back again I will much obliged as I drew one and shall not want more than one. I merely speak of it for she will be looking for the money for it. I cannot get a furlough until we are mustered in U. S. service which we expect to be this week and if we are I think I can get home next week and when I come, I shall bring home all of my old clothes for I expect to get my uniform as soon as we are mustered into U. S. service. The 29th is all here in camp now we are quartered new barracks. For breakfast we have bread, meat and tea or coffee. For dinner coffee, bread and meat. For supper meat, bread and coffee. Sometimes we have in addition to the above potatoes or beans. <br /><span> </span>I suppose you have heard what news there has been. I have not heard much and all I have heard is the President has issued a proclamation declaring all slaves free after the 1st of Jan, and also for 400,000 more troops. <br /><span> </span>Everybody that wants to hear from me must write me a letter and I will answer it; for if I have any more regular correspondents than I have got some of them will get neglected. I shall have five regular correspondents. They are yourself, mother, George, aunts [Huldah?] and [Bethia?]. I have not time nor space to write much more this time. Next time I will try to write something about this city as I have not seen much of it yet. Write as soon as you get this for I shall want to hear from home soon. If I should not get home next week, it would be lonesome if I should not hear from you. How is the little boy? No more at present. so good bye. </div><div><br />From your Husband, Rescum <br />Direct yours to Camp Randall Madison Wis. If you direct as I have told you I will get it for I am acquainted with the P. M.</div><div><br /><b><span> </span>Camp Randall, in Madison, Wisconsin</b> was established in 1861 and named after governor Alexander Randall who served from 1858 to 1861. (Guess it has always paid to be a politician.) It served as a training facility for over 70,000 recruits from the area during the Civil War. Here they received basic training, uniforms and gear. But they did not get weapons until they arrived at federal depots in other states. During the course of the war 27 infantry regiments trained at Camp Randall as well as nine heavy artillery companies, two batteries of light artillery and a company of sharpshooters. The army also set up a hospital there. In the spring of 1862, it served briefly as prisoner-of-war camp. Today there is an arch monument erected in 1912 by veterans of the war, and a marker to the confederate dead buried in Forest Hill Cemetery; at least as I write this, the monuments haven’t been torn down yet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj21iPOP_QxCDxctBl5zCYmyao41Ka-KpUp_9eGwDoBjVZo5rP43kK0gSPpzmjmMDQMsav6DhaIF8zPwCEBtEnjBdZkoL3YoxRK7IwMFaw2iFGoCSZfWjcgf5aGOVQQ5YZDf82epuioeDCoRcFqKcS9K1JgHopOqMtgrqbBQLnHFZJbrSLvj8nHNHnOcA/s620/Camp%20Randall%20WI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="620" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj21iPOP_QxCDxctBl5zCYmyao41Ka-KpUp_9eGwDoBjVZo5rP43kK0gSPpzmjmMDQMsav6DhaIF8zPwCEBtEnjBdZkoL3YoxRK7IwMFaw2iFGoCSZfWjcgf5aGOVQQ5YZDf82epuioeDCoRcFqKcS9K1JgHopOqMtgrqbBQLnHFZJbrSLvj8nHNHnOcA/w640-h462/Camp%20Randall%20WI.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><b><span> </span>Thomas Rescum Sterns</b> was born January 18, 1839 in Amsterdam NY. He married Lavinia on April 25, 1860 in Jefferson County, Wisconsin. He farmed and also taught in the local school. In August 1862 he enlisted for a three year service, received a $25 bounty and was mustered in as a private in Company F of the 29th Wisconsin Infantry on Sept.27.<br /><span> </span>Sterns’ letter gives a brief glimpse into camp life from an enlisted man’s perspective. Sleeping quarters sound luxurious, don’t they? Food rations actually seem pretty good. Wonder if it was all organic? Evidently there were a few ‘troubled souls’ that had signed up, which had to be held in confinement until they ‘slept it off’. Interesting that he wants to return the blanket bought with ‘credit’ since he has gotten a government issue one.<br /><span> </span>There is mention of the Emancipation Proclamation issued on Sept.22, 1862 to go into effect on Jan.1, 1863. Sterns does not have an accurate understanding of the details of Lincoln’s executive order (it only freed slaves in states in rebellion against the government), but shows it was evidently a topic of conversation at the camp.<br /><span> </span>Again, we see that he highly prized letters. He assures his wife he will write regularly to certain correspondents. And he will try to answer letters from others as he gets them. McCown says that Sterns wrote at least 77 letters to his wife (Books at Iowa, p.38), so we see Sterns was diligent in correspondence with Lavinia until he died Sept.2, 1863.</div><div><br /></div><div> <b>The Patriotic Envelope -- </b><u>The saying printed on it</u>:</div><div><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>The union of lakes -- the union of lands -- the Union of States none can Sever</span><br /></div><div><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> The union of hearts -- the union of hands -- the Flag of our Union Forever</span></span></div><div><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span> <span> </span><span> <span> </span></span></span>Sold by Bliss, Eberhard & Festner Madison</div><div><span> Since he is in Madison WI, it makes sense that Sterns bought this envelope from a local merchant, maybe even the printer directly. </span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> <u>The stamp position</u>: I've always heard an upside down stamp means "I love you". Did just a bit of research on stamp positions and found that meaning varies with time period as well as position like straight or at an angle etc. At one angle it could mean "Do you still love me?". At another angle it could mean "Write no more", which obviously Sterns does not mean. And people could have their own personal messages via the stamp's placement on the envelope. So I will not pontificate on the meaning of the stamp Sterns put on the letter.<br /></div><div><br /><b>Children’s Projects:</b><br /><b>1) Explore a bit about the Emancipation Proclamation that President Lincoln issued.</b> No, it did not resolve the issue of slavery. But it was an honest step in that direction, and led to the 13th amendment being adopted in 1865. In an imperfect world, steps in a good direction should be praised, not condemned “because it didn’t go far enough”.<br /><b>2) Should the post-war monuments erected on the site to the Wisconsin veterans and also the confederate dead prisoners of war be torn down?</b> Discuss the attack on American history being waged today. Or ignore it, to your children’s future detriment. As I always say to spectators at Civil War reenactments: Study history, learn from it, improve upon it. Do not white wash it. Also do not erase it.</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-88316049352673405432023-01-15T05:10:00.001-08:002023-01-19T18:18:16.681-08:00Sleep Lovely Youth of Infant Years, Death Claims Thee for His Own<div><b>In the 1800s a common saying upon the death of a child was: “The Lord has spared the child the trials and tribulations of this world.”</b> The following is a poem written by Maria Gilbert Webber as she grieved the loss of her young daughter, March 14th, 1840. I read this poem at the memorial service for my grandson, Jedidiah who died at birth on January 15, 2018. Maria’s poem reached across the years to touch and encourage hearts 178 years later. Read the poem, and then the information background to see why I value exploring history.</div><div><br />Sleep lovely youth of infant years,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgkhlY5Md7eG0ASZ-9ejj3Y8OU4JRn5dY6dLQYRsGVT6t848n7QdybFxN_YHB6sNlridKgwSJsnzD4Guiy-ddbX4av3446WGvbgda_sXUgNkwf9aZhGYBSU36KurjWU23Pl4YzjNaPAvkT9cOPkPjnNL38UrML8-0dGd0cVGzntnK3gUPMERX07k2iQ/s889/Sleep%20lovely%20Child%20cross.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="668" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRgkhlY5Md7eG0ASZ-9ejj3Y8OU4JRn5dY6dLQYRsGVT6t848n7QdybFxN_YHB6sNlridKgwSJsnzD4Guiy-ddbX4av3446WGvbgda_sXUgNkwf9aZhGYBSU36KurjWU23Pl4YzjNaPAvkT9cOPkPjnNL38UrML8-0dGd0cVGzntnK3gUPMERX07k2iQ/w300-h400/Sleep%20lovely%20Child%20cross.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div>Death claims thee for his own;<br />That form so charming to our view,<br />From our embrace is torn.<br />Thine infant prattle oft had cheered<br />A mother’s happy home;<br />Thy riper age in hope appeared,<br />That age can never come.</div><div><br />The hope of future years thou wast,<br />A father’s joy and pride;<br />The idol of his heart – sweet child,<br />Would that thou had’st not died.<br />Oft have they watched thy growing charms,<br />Thy mind’s expanding grace –<br />The sweetness of thy smiles had won,<br />What time could ne’er erase.</div><div><br />The deep affection of their hearts;<br />Love of the purest cast,<br />The anxious care of sleepless nights,<br />The soul’s eternal fate;<br />Yet none of these could e’er avert<br />Death’s arrow from its mark;<br />The summons came – disease was there,<br />To quench the vital spark.</div><div><br />Angelic form! Human, divine!<br />Thy spirit has winged its flight.<br />Now robbed in righteousness alone,<br />It sheds ethereal light.<br />Bles’d spirit we would not call thee hence,<br />To thee we fain would go –<br />Our Father’s there – our Saviour too, --<br />How mournful all below.</div><div><br />Our Father did we say was there?<br />To us, is ‘the promise’ good?<br />Our Saviour too! These souls of ours--<br />Have they been washed in blood?<br />They were purchased by the Son of God:<br />Lord seal them with Thy blood;<br />Let justifying faith be ours –<br />And fill our hearts with love.</div><div><br />Fill these our mourning hearts with peace,<br />Shed on them healing grace.<br />Give us Thy Spirit for our guide,<br />Grant we may see Thy face.<br />And when from earth Thou us remove,<br />Be heaven our destined home,<br />Where sin and sorrow ever cease,<br />And death can never come.</div><div><br />In that blest region of the skies,<br />We’ll join angelic lays,<br />We’ll spend eternity home,<br />In chanting Heavenly praise.</div><div><br /><b>History of this poem</b><br /><span> </span>This poem is from the journal of Maria Gilbert Webber, the mother of Samuel Gilbert Webber who was a Civil War Union Navy assistant surgeon. A friend of mine bought a collection of Samuel Webber’s Civil War letters which also had the journal among the items. He gave the journal to me as a Christmas gift in 1996 because he thought it would give me a resource in exploring thoughts and attitudes about life and faith prior to the Civil War. I had no idea then that a poem written so long ago would be an encouragement to my family in our time of loss of a child.<br /><span> </span>“Samuel Gilbert Webber was born July 24, 1838 in Boston, Massachusetts, son of Aaron D. and Maria (Gilbert) Webber. He graduated from Harvard with a bachelor's degree in 1860. Webber joined the Union navy in 1862 as an assistant surgeon. He served on board the receiving ship Ohio in 1862 and then on Rhode Island in December 1862. He later served aboard the ironclad Nahant. In February 1864 he was again on board the Rhode Island. He was on board while Rhode Island was towing US Steam Battery Monitor toward Wilmington, NC, a voyage that was interrupted by the sinking of the ironclad. He married Nancy Pope Sturtevant in 1864 and mustered out of the Navy a year later. Harvard awarded Webber his medical degree in 1865; his experience in the Navy took the place of actual classes. He continued study for two years in Vienna, Austria and returned to Boston. Webber served in various hospitals, clinics and medical schools in the Boston area and lived in Boston suburbs. He was appointed member of the first faculty of the Tufts College Medical School, and finally retired from all appointments in 1917, at age 79. Webber died on December 5, 1926.” [quoted from the Mariner’s Museum & Park Letters Archival Collection]<br /><span> </span>The journal has on its first page a notation that Samuel Gilbert gave it to his daughter, Maria Gilbert on November 3, 1831 with this inscription "May you grow up in virtue and goodness, prove an ornament to society, and live to a good old age, is the prayer of your parents". Later in the journal is the notation that she at age 21 married Aaron D Webber at age 29 on Oct.29, 1835. Maria wrote on a variety of topics, some in poetic form, others in just regular script. She has entries on family relationships, hardships, prayer, faith in Christ, loss of loved ones, as well as some quotes from other people which she found inspirational and wanted to preserve for herself. She wrote poems celebrating the birth of her first child, a daughter named Maria, born on Oct.7th 1836 and then of Samuel (the Union Navy assistant surgeon) born July 24th, 1838.<br /><span> </span>Then comes the poem quoted above when her daughter dies of “dropsy on the brain” on March 14th 1840. There is also a second poem about her struggle with grief over the death of her daughter. Among later entries by her are ones about two other children who also died at young ages, one 3 days old and another a year and half old. Through all her experiences of sadness shines her faith in the Lord and His strength to help her walk through the valley of the shadow of death. Her son who did live to grow up, Samuel Gilbert Weber, learned from his mother a deep faith in Jesus as his letters show.</div><div><br /><b>Encouragement to my family through Maria’s poem</b><br /><span> </span>When my son asked me to do the memorial service for my grandson, Jedidiah Josiah Rowe, who had died at birth, I remembered reading Maria’s poem years ago and wanted to use her words as a part of the message I would share. I had to hunt up the journal which the Lord was kind in helping me find. I read Maria’s’ poem at the beginning of the message. After the service I had several people mention that they found the poem helpful and encouraging in dealing with the loss of Jedidiah. <br /><span> </span>So the Lord used the grief mixed with faith of a woman from 178 years ago to help my family and friends as we faced a similar loss of a young child. God gave my family this providential gift of encouragement. Maria’s daughter and my grandson are both in heaven by the forgiving grace that comes through Jesus. Maria is with her daughter because as an adult she chose to put her faith in Jesus’ atoning sacrifice on the cross – His shed blood. My grandson is with his grandma, my wife Vicki who died in 2016 because she put her faith in Jesus. Someday because I trust in what Jesus did on the cross, I look forward to seeing my wife and my grandson at the tent in heaven. And I also look forward to meeting Maria Gilbert Webber, and thanking her for her gift to my family. Discovering her family story gave some aid and comfort to my family story. Who would imagine that exploring history would be so helpful? </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuTSKifARC3OGT71tNDCboKoT3GK3_A-ivVCsHyZy8utbSXdLfquj-h_DChVON3n3PJvsjTvL8W_6JVc9niKZXO14iyE71M_wj84KfjjKvW0lI-OW2wGohAbqadTxJvDEAwjUOsnJoBWezilYUaY2767pX8jyic6D3VJJ96OCez0Sk7qFsh5eWsS8hA/s1030/Jedidiah.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1030" data-original-width="933" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinuTSKifARC3OGT71tNDCboKoT3GK3_A-ivVCsHyZy8utbSXdLfquj-h_DChVON3n3PJvsjTvL8W_6JVc9niKZXO14iyE71M_wj84KfjjKvW0lI-OW2wGohAbqadTxJvDEAwjUOsnJoBWezilYUaY2767pX8jyic6D3VJJ96OCez0Sk7qFsh5eWsS8hA/w363-h400/Jedidiah.jpeg" width="363" /></a></div><div><br /><b><span> </span>“At the tent in heaven” is one of our family sayings.</b> It originated from a post that I put up on Facebook shortly after my wife Vicki died. I said it would not surprise me if she had already setup just inside Heaven’s gate a tent where she was welcoming newcomers in with “Welcome Home! God’s love is free and so is this! Come on in and get something to eat and a nice cold cup of lemonade!” The reenactors who knew her and had often been to our tent at reenactments agreed. And among my grandkids the saying became “Can’t wait to see Grandma at the tent in Heaven.”<br /><span> </span>Well on the day that Jedidiah died we gathered as a family in the hospital room with many tears and hugs, trying to encourage each other. My eldest grandson Jonas, came over to me and gave me a hug and was crying. As I hugged him, I said “your brother is with Grandma at the tent in Heaven.” He looked up at me and exclaimed “Then he’s alright! She’ll take really good care of him!” I said “yes, she will teach him to make lemonade and serve goodies just like she taught you.” For Jonas it was a visual that gave him comfort that his young brother was OK, even as we grieved over our loss of Jedidiah.</div><div><br /></div><div><span> The poem is not copyrighted. Feel free to pass it along to someone else who might be encouraged by reading it. But please also share the background of Maria Gilbert Webber as that will make it more meaningful to people who read it.</span><br /></div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-17592164704999276522022-12-17T08:50:00.000-08:002022-12-17T08:50:53.940-08:00Acts of Kindness Encourage the Wounded after the Battle of Chickamauga -- Sept.18-20, 1863<div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span>In difficult and distressful situations of pain and suffering, how much do "little things" really matter?</b> Consider the following account of a USCC delegate working among wounded soldiers as you answer the question about the value of "little things".</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span> </span>The battle of Chickamauga took place in northwest Georgia along the Chickamauga Creek</b> between the Union Army of the Cumberland commanded by Maj Gen William Rosecrans and the Confederate Army of Tennessee commanded by Gen Braxton Bragg. The Confederate forces were attempting to stop Union forces from entering deeper into Georgia and instead retake Chattanooga TN back from Union control. The small city of Chattanooga, with 2,500 inhabitants, lay on the banks of the Tennessee River where it cut through the Appalachian Mountains. It was the crossroads for four major railroads. Capturing it allowed Union forces to cut off vital Confederate supply lines. The Battle of Chickamauga was a costly Confederate victory in stopping the Union army from advancing into Georgia. In fact, its casualty rate was second only to Gettysburg. Of the 60,000 Union forces, 1657 were killed, 9756 were wounded, and 4757 were missing or captured. Of the 65,000 Confederate forces, 2312 were killed, 14674 wounded, and 1468 missing or captured. The Union army withdrew from Chickamauga, GA area back to Chattanooga, TN to regroup. Gen. Bragg’s Confederate forces then besieged the Union forces occupying Chattanooga, but were later driven back when more Union reinforcements arrive. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPak3d1FffFZEC3Y-veydybm2PqxUUFclPcYpG_mKijC1xpDCN4Fzuk71wIKcZVBVRdP4Q93COpRDhsulnpScRP8MHBPkwh_IYXKYmG7EcOlXeyYHhq64GP_OXvWKJx6Ldz1vOpJPGDFXGGfo-StqKcVHsv61lgC689lgvQ6pOJbu3evJgK5LXIzJfQ/s437/Wounded-in-hospital.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="437" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiPak3d1FffFZEC3Y-veydybm2PqxUUFclPcYpG_mKijC1xpDCN4Fzuk71wIKcZVBVRdP4Q93COpRDhsulnpScRP8MHBPkwh_IYXKYmG7EcOlXeyYHhq64GP_OXvWKJx6Ldz1vOpJPGDFXGGfo-StqKcVHsv61lgC689lgvQ6pOJbu3evJgK5LXIzJfQ/w640-h354/Wounded-in-hospital.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wounded in the Hospital</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><b>The following is a description of a U.S. Christian Commission delegate creatively doing whatever he can to encourage the wounded men after the battle:</b><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Rev. Edward Hawes recalls these scenes of his service as a USCC delegate working among the wounded in Chattanooga after the battle of Chickamauga: <br /><span> </span>Pushing aside the canvas, I enter a hospital tent. In one corner lies a wounded man: “Can I do anything for you, my friend?”<br /><span> </span>“Yes, sir, if you please. I have lost my Testament, and would like to get one.” I give him one.<br /><span> </span>On the next cot is a man who lies quiet, seemingly without pain. All save his face is covered: “You are not much injured, I suppose, my dear fellow?”<br /><span> </span>He looks up with a faint smile, “Not much, sir,” -- but he has been hit in nine places by a bursting shell!<br /><span> </span>I pass along and the steward says “Chaplain, won’t you come here? We think this man is dying. Can’t you say something to him?”<br /><span> </span>I bend over him; the cold sweat is already upon his brow; his eyes are fixed, fastening themselves in death, but they grow brilliant, and he mutters something: “See! A star! Oh, how bright! It’s the star--,” and his voice dies away in death. Perhaps he is thinking of the Star of Bethlehem. We hope so, and that it will light him through the dark valley.<br /><span> </span>I go to another man in the next tent, and with the Surgeon’s permission give him a single swallow of wine; he looks such a beam of gratitude from those brightened eyes!<br /><span> </span>“O sir, that’s good. What is your name? I shall always remember you.”<br /><span> </span>“How are you getting along, my brother?” I say to the next.<br /><span> </span>“Oh, very well, thank you.”<br /><span> </span>“Have you a family?”<br /><span> </span>“Yes, a wife and two little children in Ohio.”<br /><span> </span>“Have you written to them since the battle?” – It is a foolish question, for I see in a moment that his right arm is shattered; “Sha’n’t I write for you?”<br /><span> </span>He hesitated; why don’t he say gladly “Oh, yes, sire, if you please?” I repeat, perhaps he does not understand. He looks at me with a queer air:<br /><span> </span>“How much do you charge, sir?”<br /><span> </span>Oh, how that cuts the Delegate’s sensitive heart: -- “My dear brother soldier, that is what I am here for, -- to write for you, or to do anything for you. I will thank you for the privilege.”<br /><span> </span>“Oh, thank you! Thank you! I will be so glad.”<br /><span> </span>We get paper and pen ready: “What shall I write?”<br /><span> </span>He begins with expressions of Christian trust, and then briefly describes his condition. We read what is written, but the man is not there, -- his eyes are shut, the big tears are rolling down from the beneath closed lids, and he makes no effort to wipe them away, -- ah! The shattered arm perhaps; but no, that is not the reason; he is in Ohio, with his dear wife and children; we will not disturb his dreams. After a pause he opens his eyes, and we tell him the letter is finished, -- “Will it do?” With a look of overflowing gratitude he answers –<br /><span> </span>“Oh, yes, sir; yes, sir; thank you!”<br /><span> </span>In the corner lies a man burdened with a sense of his guilt. After talking some time, I ask him “My dear friend, can’t you trust Jesus now?”<br /><span> </span>“Oh! If I only could! It would be the happiest day of my life. Won’t you pray for me?”<br /><span> </span>I kneel at his side; -- there may be card-playing in the opposite corner, -- no matter, God’s Spirit is with us and prayer ascends, and God hears us, for I leave the soldier with a trembling hope in Jesus.<br /><span> </span>Passing out, I come to a little shelter-tent, under which a man is lying. I bend over and ask – “You have the Christian’s hope, I trust?”<br /><span> </span>“Oh, yes, sir.”<br /><span> </span>I see no Testament by him, -- “Have you no Testament?”<br /><span> </span>“No, sir.”<br /><span> </span>“Well, you must have one”, and I begin opening my haversack; but he tells me he cannot read.<br /><span> </span>“You cannot read? Then I shall read for you.”<br /><span> </span>We begin at the precious words, “For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heaves.” [2Cor.5:1] We read through the chapter, and then leave him peering up through the rent in the canvas covering into the deep blue beyond, longing after the country above, where his spirit must soon be with the multitude of the redeemed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><u>Incidents of the U.S. Christian Commission</u> by Edward P. Smith 1869. P.224-26.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /> <b> </b><b>“Little things” make a big difference -- USCC delegates were civilian volunteers who helped the soldiers in any way they could during the Civil War.</b> This account shows the delegate creatively doing whatever he can to encourage the wounded men in a variety of situations. Sometimes it is giving them something he has that they need, like a New Testament, a sip of wine, or an envelope set to write home. Other times it is engaging in conversation about their situation and sharing encouragement and most importantly pointing them to Jesus.<br /> The account of the letter writing for the wounded Ohio soldier shows the heart of the USCC: “God’s love is free, so is this soldier.” It was a “small thing” in the “big picture” of history, yet to that man far from home it was indeed a most precious gift to help him connect with his loved ones.<br /> I can understand Rev. Hawes’ reaction to the Ohio soldier’s hesitancy to accept his offer of help by asking “how much?” Our family has reenacted the USCC for almost 30 years. At our tent we have offered something to drink and goodies to eat as encouragement to the reenactors at events. From time to time someone would look in at the mix of goodies (cookies, pumpkin bread slices, brownies, lemon bars etc), pause, and ask “how much”? So over the years we started saying to anyone who hesitated “God’s love is free, so is this soldier! Come on in!” To the spectators we would explain that we were reenacting an organization that did whatever they could to help and encourage the soldiers of the Civil War era. (And also explain that the USCC would not have served goodies like we put out, but more basic food to supplement the army “good old hardtack” rations.) My point, Rev. Hawes was not offended by the soldier’s question. Rather he was saddened that his offer to freely help the man was being wrongly rejected “because everyone knows nothing is free in this world.” And you can sense his joy when the soldier accepts his offer of help.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> I believe "little things" in difficulty make a difference. To the one who is struggling with sad distressing difficulty such actions can be an encouragement to enable them to better face the challenge. And to the giver of the "little thing" it brings a smile of joy just knowing that you helped someone else.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8KViWY14W8Kk93Dw9B2Jh-HOLELupPAxARh28Dxs6i2f_b0w_P7PyOExkzJpxwXb1-au6Z7hzeG6Xkg5uhhSxSM0n0kbZo6-OzECZjWp0FGNtgwhq3gSEaXBCw5klDRW9MlVVcL4a6WNTpohXVZVF9EFf1z9xNuCrn-AlRfTQwrYEfNSNP-YL88ALw/s1559/USCC%20envelopes.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1487" data-original-width="1559" height="610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8KViWY14W8Kk93Dw9B2Jh-HOLELupPAxARh28Dxs6i2f_b0w_P7PyOExkzJpxwXb1-au6Z7hzeG6Xkg5uhhSxSM0n0kbZo6-OzECZjWp0FGNtgwhq3gSEaXBCw5klDRW9MlVVcL4a6WNTpohXVZVF9EFf1z9xNuCrn-AlRfTQwrYEfNSNP-YL88ALw/w640-h610/USCC%20envelopes.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Examples of U.S. Christian Commission Envelopes</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">These are reproductions of original envelopes that I have in my collection. The USCC gave the soldiers envelopes and stationery for free so they wouldn't have to buy writing sets from the sutlers at high prices. This helped out the men who didn't have money to buy stationery and helped those who did have money to be able to use their money to buy other things they needed or to send back home to support their family. In the spirit of the USCC doing little things to encourage, I have handed out many of these reproductions at the tent and in camp walk throughs over the years. Additional USCC designs are shown on the website Roweclan Haversack.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><b>Children’s Project:</b><br />Read through this account with your child. Talk about how the USCC delegate creatively did his best to meet the need of each wounded soldier. Talk about how we need to be creative in helping others. Explore about how your child can help their friends in little ways, especially in sharing with their friends about Jesus’ love for them.</div><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-35473683403062585882022-11-12T12:39:00.000-08:002022-11-12T12:41:24.092-08:00Ohio Civil War Soldiers Creativity with Letters, Stamps and Ration Supplies<div><b><span> </span>What can you do to stay connected with family and get a little variety beyond the normal army rations?</b> Well, two brothers from Ohio found creative ways to deal with the challenges they faced as they served in Co.I, 11th Ohio Volunteer Infantry. Both brothers enlisted in August 1862 -- Isaac “Wyke” Maurice and David Wheldon Maurice – in response to Lincoln’s call for 300,000 more volunteers in July 1862. These letters were written as their unit waited for orders while stationed in [West] Virginia. I always enjoy learning “little details of camp life” from letters like these. I hope you find the contents interesting also. [Transcripts for these letters come from Billy Yank and Johnny Reb Letters site]<br /><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Challenges of staying in touch with family.</b> David Maurice gives us some insights into the challenges of getting stamps and paper to write home. We also learn about delays and limitations of the mail system. The letter is written to his cousin, Joseph Wheldon.</div><div><br />Summerville, [West] Virginia<br />December 29th 1862<br />Dear Joe,<br /><span> </span>Your long looked for letter came to hand on Saturday. We was glad to hear from you but it did [not] to contain any stamps which would have been very acceptable at this time. We are nearly out of stamps and paper but the sutler has got a new stock of goods and I expect he has got some good paper now.<br /><span> </span>Tuesday, December 30th. Now I set me down to finish this letter as I could not get it done last night. We are not allowed to have light burning after 8 o’clock at night. The big drum beats three loud taps which is called “Taps.” All lights must be put out at that time—that was the time I stopped writing last night.<br /><span> </span>The mail just brought two papers directed by your hand. Last Thursday brought two from Woodside. Those are the first we have received. I suppose you sent some before that. If you did, we didn’t get them. No matter. Your head is alright anyway.<br /><span> </span>In one of my letters to you, I sent for some money. I have not received any yet. I merely wanted 50 or 75 cents at a time—just enough to get paper and envelopes or any little thing like that. If you have not sent any, you need not for we expect. to get paid off before the 20th of next month. Postage stamps will be accepted at any time but not more than 20 cents worth at a time. We make the stamps get when we start. We can’t get them here for ten cents apiece. Old Jery sent us a lot or we would have been out before this. We would send you letters and make you pay when you got them out of the [post] office. [but] I know that makes you mad—it would me anyway.<br /><span> </span>Wyke has borrowed a fife from the drum major. He sits down at night and blows till his eyes stick out so you could snare them with a grapevine. He plays “Join Lad.” The Tomcats don’t stay about here any longer. There was one around before Wyke got his fife but it has disappeared altogether.<br /><span> </span>You can’t speak of getting you an Enfield Rifle. You are took in about the rifle. The Enfield is not half as good as a common rifle. They are clumsy, ugly things. Won’t shoot near as straight as a common one. I could have got any quantity of them from the Second Virginia Cavalry. I could have got one for five or six dollars or if I had been at the camp where the prisoners were took, could have got shotguns, carbines, Mississippi Rifles, Enfields, Pistols, and any kind of arms you could think of. If the regiment had went to the camp, they could have brought a great many things but they did not go there. The cavalry burned most all the guns and things, If I had been there, I would have [ ] to a good shotgun that would be worth two Enfield rifles. The Mississippi Rifles are more thought of than the Enfield but they are heavier than the Enfield. They can be bought for 8 or 10 dollars.<br /><span> </span>In regard to sending a box to us, there is no possible chance of getting anything larger than a package that can be carried by mail and then it [is] doubtful whether we get it or not. We are 60 miles from the boat lading and very bad roads.<br /><span> </span>You asked me in your letter if I got all the stamps you sent. I got six, Wyke got 8 in one from Aunt with a few lines from you, and he got six from Mary and two 25 cts. stamps. That is all we have got. The mail has been very uncertain. [It] is a little more regular now but it is like all other overland routes on horseback—very slow and uncertain. We are both very well. Have lots of drilling now. Some of the boys are getting furloughs. Five started for Dayton [Ohio] this morning out of our company.<br />Yours forever, — D. W. Maurice</div><div><br /><b><span> </span>David values both getting and sending letters.</b> He clearly has a sense of humor, and shares opinions with his cousin on a variety of issues. To do this, he appreciates getting stamps from home because of the poor availability of stamps in the camp. It seems implied in the fourth paragraph that he has to pay more than face value for postage stamps in the camp. Did you catch his joke about maybe having to send letters without stamps which would mean his cousin would then have to pay to redeem the letters upon reception? Remember, <u>there was no “free” mail for soldiers at this time</u>. Writing the words “soldier’s letter” on the envelope got it delivered back home, but then the family had to pay the postage due in order to get the letter. And while he wants stamps, yet not too many all at once. Likely because he doesn’t want to have to deal with them being made useless by getting wet and damaged or maybe stolen since stamps were used as money due to the coin shortage. On the envelope below there is not stamp showing. So it appears that he did send the letter without postage to his cousin.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sORX1hUl8eUFXJuD0GEq-fGmKqshgOHQjfqy-cu3sCzIpVFAFTTqHMQXLENOPK9WHcas4jqYHllBAl8ad5Wf0uEb-QfnBnMuW62g5cFMWFP6_7mzLAGmDu1qHUzUh_5eIsmxxFV6kbsAMpOtKcfubmN27KlFCZbAOkCR21GFrexoWa1XFBrOjxO-9Q/s1024/David%20Maurice%20Ohio.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="1024" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_sORX1hUl8eUFXJuD0GEq-fGmKqshgOHQjfqy-cu3sCzIpVFAFTTqHMQXLENOPK9WHcas4jqYHllBAl8ad5Wf0uEb-QfnBnMuW62g5cFMWFP6_7mzLAGmDu1qHUzUh_5eIsmxxFV6kbsAMpOtKcfubmN27KlFCZbAOkCR21GFrexoWa1XFBrOjxO-9Q/w400-h239/David%20Maurice%20Ohio.webp" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Written to Joseph Wheldon, Springfield OH</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span> </span>He is looking forward to getting paid in January which will then give him some money to buy things like stationery and envelopes now that the sutler has been resupplied. Remember, the value of 50 cents or 75 cents back then was much greater than it is today. Using a few on-line inflation computation sites, 25 cents 1861 is about $8 today [2022] in value. The picture of the Military Portfolio writing supply sales kit below shows a cost of 30cents for 30 sets of stationery and writing utensils. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NLXujTtYdm0qHPmMCL4JQuFMktsbjQyvD1PexVagiEkdtyOUUzvDrPge8xWvWusXwhlOTiZ5muPzpwUwGFpBreLuH_OuhoKRNNlqaNVr1CMpATm2bj2OyQ2XtCcN5qJBq8iWadhAQIG6YoipqvSa2ZogDGFECCkzul3fhd3oAhvtJUCq562XXnrwYA/s1847/Sutler%20Envelope%202.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1160" data-original-width="1847" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NLXujTtYdm0qHPmMCL4JQuFMktsbjQyvD1PexVagiEkdtyOUUzvDrPge8xWvWusXwhlOTiZ5muPzpwUwGFpBreLuH_OuhoKRNNlqaNVr1CMpATm2bj2OyQ2XtCcN5qJBq8iWadhAQIG6YoipqvSa2ZogDGFECCkzul3fhd3oAhvtJUCq562XXnrwYA/w640-h402/Sutler%20Envelope%202.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>This "Sutlers Stationery Depot" Envelope is 8 3/4" x 5 1/2" in size.</b><br />It is likely early war issue since it has a picture of Winfield Scott on the back side.<br />I have reproduced copies from the original that I bought years ago<br />and have seen some used by reenactors in their living history displays.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><span> </span>Also notice his advice about sending boxes of supplies from home. Family would often try to send food and other items to their soldiers on the field as encouragement. But, he informs his family, delivery of the care packages is not always guaranteed. I hope you enjoy his insights into aspects of the importance and challenges of staying connected with family.</div><div><br /><span> </span><b>David’s comment that he has finally gotten a few newspapers reflects the general valuing of them by the troops.</b> James McPherson cites evidence of troops valuing newspapers in his book <u>For Cause & Comrades – Why Men Fought in the Civil War</u> (p.92): “Newspapers were the most sought-after reading material in camp – after letters from home. Major metropolitan newspapers were often available only a day or two after publication, while hometown papers came weekly when the mail service functioned normally. ‘I receive the Chronicle regularly,’ wrote a lieutenant in the 50th Ohio to his brother back home in 1863. ‘The boys all want to read it. The officers subscribed $4.75 for papers for the benefit of the boys. [We] get four daily papers, all loyal and right on politics’ – that is, Republican. In January 1862 a private in the 17th Mississippi stationed near Leesburg, Virginia, wrote in his diary: ‘Spend much time in reading the daily papers & discussing the war question in general. We always close by coming to the conclusion that we will after much hard fighting succeed in establishing our independence.’ Two years later a lieutenant in the 4th Virginia reported that the ‘boys’ spent much of their time in winter quarters reading the papers. We ‘make comments on the news and express our opinions quite freely about the blood and thunder editorials in the Richmond papers, smoke again and go to bed.’”</div><div><br /><b>Creative supplements to standard Army rations.</b> Isaac “Wyke” Maurice [Jr.] shares in his letter some creative ways he has supplemented the standard Army rations:</div><div><br />Summerville, [West] Va.<br />January 22, 1863<br />Dear Cousin,<br /><span> </span>I take it upon myself to inform you that David got all his tools and a letter all right the last mail (the night before last). David is cooking today. He has not time to write today though he may write before the mail goes out tomorrow morning. The mail comes in the evening.<br /><span> </span>I scarcely know what to say for there has nothing of any importance transpired since you last heard from us. The weather is rather rough. Been snowing & raining several days. I have not done any military duty since New Years Day except dress parade and inspection now and then. Been carpentering, fixing up quarters, and building a cook house & sundry work & ain’t more than half through yet fixing up.<br /><span> </span>The Sergeant Major was shot a week or two ago accidentally by a Lieut. of Co. G. The sergeant was sitting upstairs and the Lieutenant was fooling with a Secesh gun downstairs (not knowing it was loaded—no cap being on the tube) [when] it went off, went through the ceiling and floor, the ball lodging in the spine of his back. He lived a few days, then left this troublesome world. He was from Troy—Tom Mitchell.<br /><span> </span>We get mist all of the important dispatches here by telegraph every day or two—generally two fool cap sheets to write & put on the bulletin board. Tis rumored here that we will leave here before very long. From the looks of things, it may be so though I do not believe anything I hear here till I know it to be sure.<br /><span> </span>Just ate dinner. I think you had better put your usual quantity of corn ground out in beans for I think there will be a good demand before the war is over the way our boys go into them. We have a good set of boys in our mess [and we] generally have a good bit of fun. I was doing a little work for the baker this week and he gave me a couple loaves of bread and David went out in the country the other day, took our coffee and got 8 lb. of butter which goes very nice with soft bread. We have only been getting soft bread about once a week though the quartermaster is going to issue soft bread every day so reported. He has got two or three extra bakers detailed [and] they are at work now. We have had butter most all the time since New Years Day. I took our coffee out on picket the last time I was out and got 4 lb. butter. Coffee is a great object here with the folks. It’s worth 50 cents a pound and butter 15 cents.</div><div><span> </span>Myself and David draw our coffee out as we do not drink any & trade it off to the best advantage. The sutler sells sugar and coffee to the country folks here. Coffee 75 cents a pound, sugar 35 cents a pound. We can trade our extra rations to the country folks to pretty good advantage when we have any to spare, Two of our boys out of our mess went out this morning, took soap and rice to trade for chickens & butter. They have just come in with a lot of pies.<br /><span> </span>A man came in with a watch a few minutes ago for David to fix. He has just taken it to pieces & finds the mainspring broke. How is my little watch getting along? Does it keep good time without getting out of order? Please answer soon. I have not had a letter from any of you folks for about two months. Yours, — I. W. Maurice<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span> </span><b>It is clear that Wyke is glad that they are getting some soft bread from time to time.</b> Evidently his helping out the baker got him some. The Revised US Army Regulations of 1861 has these as standard issue daily rations for a soldier: 12oz pork or bacon, or 1lb 4oz fresh or salt beef / 1lb 6oz soft bread or flour, or 1lb 4oz corn meal, or 1lb hardtack (9 squares). In addition, per every 100 rations there is also issued for the group: 1 peck of beans or peas/ 10 lb. of rice or hominy/ 10 lb. of green coffee, 8 lb. of roasted and ground coffee, or 1 lb. 8 oz of tea/ 15 lb. of sugar/ 1 lb. 4 oz of candles/ 4 lb. of soap/ 1 qt of molasses. In addition to or as substitutes for other items, desiccated vegetables, dried fruit, pickles, or pickled cabbage might be issued.<br /><span> </span>The main focus is on bread and meat as the two main sources of food for the soldier, with some supplements. Soldiers were issued uncooked food, so typically they would group together in a mess and take turns fixing meals, hence the term “mess mates”. Wkye’s reference about a baker making bread may reflect the fact that they are encamped, and so soft bread is being made and issued instead of hardtack which was the normal “bread” when on the march.<br /><span> </span>That he and David are using some of their standard rations like coffee beans to trade for extras from the locals shows their ingenuity in getting variety beyond the normal issued rations. Am not sure, but it probably helped the trading that they are in West Virginia where the locals may have been more supportive of the Union troops. We can see why they might enjoy getting a chicken as a break from salt pork or salt beef. Remember the rations were the same for every meal, breakfast or supper. Remember there was no Chick-fil-A in the neighborhood back then.<br /><span> </span>David’s advice to his cousin to plant beans instead of corn on the farm is probably a mix of sarcasm over normal army rations mixed in with a genuine suggestion of what crop might actually be more profitable due to the increased need for it because of the war.<br /><br /></div><div><b><span> </span>Family Information:</b> Isaac “Wyke” Maurice (1836-1876) and David Wheldon Maurice (1838-1900) – both sons of Isaac Wyke Maurice (1802-1873) and his first wife, Eliza Wheldon (1799-1842) of Springfield, Clark County, Ohio. So, the oldest got his dad’s name and evidently went by his middle name “Wyke” instead of “Junior”, and the younger got his mother’s maiden name for his middle name. David Wheldon Maurice rose in rank to First Sergeant, then 2nd Lieutenant of Co. E, and finally to Captain of same company/regiment.<br /><br /></div><div><span> </span><b>Summary of 11th OVI actions 1862:</b> Operations in the Kanawha Valley April to August, 1862. Moved to Washington, D.C., August 18–24. Pope's Campaign in northern Virginia August 25-September 2. Bull Run Bridge August 27. Maryland Campaign September 6–22. Frederick City, Md., September 12. Battle of South Mountain September 14. Battle of Antietam September 16–17. Moved to Hagerstown, Md., October 8, thence to Clarksburg and Summerville, W. Va., and duty at Summerville until January 24, 1863.<br /><br /></div><div><b>Children Projects:</b> <br />1) <b>Do not let your child think “oh it’s only 25 cents, that nothing”.</b> Work through the “value” of things by using inflation to bring the “cost” of the various items into today’s cost.</div><div><br />2) <b>Explore how they are willing to give up coffee to gain better food.</b> Coffee was highly valued by the soldiers back then as it is today by people. Check out my posts on hardtack so your children will better understand the joy over getting “soft bread”. </div><div><br />3) <b>Eating for a day as a soldier.</b> This project would be for upper grade school & older children to help them understand the challenge of army rations. For one day they only eat bread and meat for all three meals/ no butter or jelly or snacks or goodies. Supply them in the morning with either part of a loaf of bread slices or a loaf of French/Italian bread that they have to slice themselves. If you want to somewhat give “hardtack”, maybe use crackers instead of bread. For the meat portion, maybe bacon to fry up is more accurate, or a pound of sliced ham might be simpler to use to avoid cooking. That’s it. Nothing else. They then must fix the food and eat as they want to. Drink would be water, or tea, or coffee, no juice or soda. This is their food rations for the entire day. The goal is to help them understand why Wyke is so happy about creatively getting butter and chicken etc. Now you as parent can eat like normal. Why? Because you are the “senior officer” and so have advantages. Also, all day any requests must be put in writing by the child on paper and placed in a dish on the table. An hour or so later, you do one of two things. Either read the note, and write a response that you “mail” back to them, or randomly before you read the request you crumple it up and throw it away. This will show the child the importance of letter writing and the frustration of having to wait for an answer or not getting one. Do not use this as a “punishment” exercise, but as a lesson about why variety is appreciated over the tedium of no options. OK, I doubt this project will get much use, but had to put it out for your consideration. I think I probably would have taken the challenge to do it for a day when I was a young kid, and I think it would have made me more appreciative of what the soldiers back then had to endure.</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-56359175863196747602022-10-22T04:47:00.000-07:002022-10-22T04:47:27.522-07:00Why Was Hardtack So Disdained by the Civil War Troops?<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>Complaining about army rations has been a soldier’s task from time immemorial.</b> But is there really any basis for the Civil War soldier to grumble about the army provisions? Well, John D. Billings (<u>Hard Tack and Coffee. Soldier’s life in the Civil War</u> 1887 p.113-16) has an interesting description of this ‘beloved’ government issued army ration which I’d like to serve up for your enjoyment, then you decide if you would sing it’s praises:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I will speak of the rations more in detail, beginning with the hard bread, or, to use the name by which it was known in the Army of the Potomac, Hardtack. What was hardtack? It was a plain flour-and-water biscuit. Two of which I have in my possession as mementos measure three and one-eighth by two and seven-eithers inches, and are nearly half an inch thick. Although these biscuits were furnished to organizations by weight, they were dealt out to the men by number, nine constituting a ration in some regiments, and ten in others; but there were usually enough for those who wanted more, as some men would not draw them. While hardtack was nutritious, yet a hungry man could eat his ten in a short time and still be hungry. When they were poor and fit objects for the soldiers’ wrath, it was due to one of three conditions: <br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>First, they may have been so hard that they could not be bitten; it then required a very strong blow of the fist to break them. The cause of this hardness it would be difficult for one not an expert to determine. This variety certainly well deserved their name. They could not be soaked soft, but after a time took on the elasticity of gutta-percha. <br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>[During the Civil War “gum blankets” (water-proof flexible ponchos/ground clothes) were issued to the troops made with either India rubber or gutta percha coated muslin cloth. According to an on-line video by Mike Woshner, author of India-Rubber and Gutta-Percha in the Civil War, only 4% were made with the gutta-percha latex, the rest with India rubber. It seems the term “gutta percha” became the popular ‘slang term’ for everything that was black rubbery looking even though it was made with India rubber. So, in this context John Billings is saying that even if you soaked them, at best it is still just like eating your gum blanket.]<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtcFWfbyN1Wd3fw9ig1BXbYlcVJQZJwzvjtHfZnZ3PQs0XJZRc3i3FPx0ZfA4lNNdcIw1el1vKYfFefaBaG7VVF4HzgoPG5TNGFBvjU9QkgqoYFe0XOfmIN6C0y4fh-aTnJK2ylklMT0YufGm7YdL9dl5PgY_KW6xFbfMn3Apkq23AnXFGLAYveOjMQ/s329/Hardtack%20crates.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="329" data-original-width="249" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtcFWfbyN1Wd3fw9ig1BXbYlcVJQZJwzvjtHfZnZ3PQs0XJZRc3i3FPx0ZfA4lNNdcIw1el1vKYfFefaBaG7VVF4HzgoPG5TNGFBvjU9QkgqoYFe0XOfmIN6C0y4fh-aTnJK2ylklMT0YufGm7YdL9dl5PgY_KW6xFbfMn3Apkq23AnXFGLAYveOjMQ/w303-h400/Hardtack%20crates.jpg" width="303" /></a></div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The second condition was when they were mouldy [sic] or wet, as sometimes happened, and should not have been given to the soldiers. I think this condition was often due to their having been boxed up too soon after baking. It certainly was frequently to exposure to the weather. It was no uncommon sight to see thousands of boxes of hard bread piled up at some railway station or other places used as a base of supplies, where they were only imperfectly sheltered from the weather, and too often not sheltered at all. The failure of inspectors to do their full duty was one reason that so many of this sort reached the rank and file of the service.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The third condition was when from storage they had become infested with maggots and weevils. These weevils were, in my experience, more abundant than the maggots. They were a little, slim, brown bug an eight of an inch in length, and were great bores on a small scale, having the ability to completely riddle the hardtack. I believe they never interfered with the hardest variety.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When the bread was mouldy [sic] or moist, it was thrown away and made good at the next drawing, so that the men were not the losers; but in the case of its being infested with the weevils, they had to stand it as a rule; for the biscuits had to be pretty thoroughly alive, and well covered with the webs which these creatures left, to insure condemnation. An exception occurs to me. Two cargoes of hard bread came to City Point, and on being examined by an inspector were found to be with weevils. This fact was brought to Grant’s attention, who would not allow it landed, greatly to the discomfiture of the contractor, who had been attempting to bulldoze the inspector to pass it.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The quartermasters did not always take as active an interest in righting such matters as they should have done; and when the men growled at them, of course they were virtuously indignant and prompt to shift the responsibility to the next higher person, and so it passed on until the real culprit could not be found.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But hardtack was not so bad an article of food, even when traversed by insects, as may be supposed. Eaten in the dark, no one could tell the difference between it and hardtack that was untenanted. It was not uncommon occurrence for a man to find the surface of his pot of coffee swimming with weevils, after breaking up hardtack in it, which had come out of the fragments only to drown; but they were easily skimmed off, and left no distinctive flavor behind. If a solider cared to do so, he could expel the weevils by heating the bread at the fire. The maggots did not budge in that way. The most of the hard bread was made in Baltimore, and put up on boxes of sixty pounds gross, fifty pounds net; and it is said that some of the storehouses in which it was kept would swarm with weevils in an incredibly short time after the first box was infested with them, so rapidly did these pests multiply.”</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>As disdained as hardtack was by the soldier, it was a staple of army rations long before the Civil War,</b> having variations of its production back to ancient times for various army and naval units. So, its use in the Civil War time period is not a “new thing”. William Davis writes “as many as three or four million hardtack [were] being consumed every day [by 1864], clearly too big a demand for any one baker to supply, and thus companies all across the North received contracts that kept their ovens at baking heat around the clock.” (A Taste for War: Culinary History of the Blue and the Gray 2003, p.42) That is a lot of crates of hardtack being shipped to Union troops.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The South, not having as much access to wheat flour which was grown mostly in Virginia and Georgia, used other things like corn or rice to make something similar to hardtack known as “corn dodgers” or “Johnny cakes”. This was a mixture of cornmeal, salt, and water cooked until it was just as dry and hard as the Union hardtack.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Given the challenges of the time period of limited preservation options combined with the large quantity needed and the transportation challenges, we have to give the soldiers back then much credit for making due with what they had, even if they grumbled and mocked it in songs like “Hard Crackers Come Again No More” (see the March 5, 2022 post about this humous song). They made due with what they had in order to accomplish the task before them. We can also see why the army sutlers enjoyed good business in offering expensive options of food variety to the soldiers.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"> <b>An example from the Vicksburg campaign of soldiers valuing this army ration</b> is cited in <u>Nothing But Victory; The Army of the Tennessee 1861 -- 1865</u> (p405-06) by Steven Woodworth. "The [Union] army spent May 20 and 21 [1863] making preparations, improving its position and its supply situation. Though the process of hauling up material from the river had begun on the nineteenth, it was taking time to get the new rations into the hands of the soldiers. Riding his line on May 21, Grant heard one of the soldiers say, quietly, but just loud enough for the general to hear him, 'Hard tack.' That was all it took, and within moments hundreds of men had taken up the chant of 'Hard tack! Hard tack!' and it spread rapidly along the line in both directions. Grant assured the soldiers nearby that the food was one the way, and shouts of 'Hard tack!' changed to cheers. By the evening the army was able to issue full rations to all of its troops around Vicksburg."<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Children’s projects:</b><br />1. Given the resources of the times, can your children understand that it was an honest attempt to have food available to eat that could be stored, transported and handed out to keep the men fed? Remind your children this is before refrigeration and plastic packaging etc we take for granted today.<br />2. Which one of the three options would your children find most horrible if their rations were contaminated in one of the ways Billings lists. Extra hard? Moldy? Weevil infested?<br />3. Do some on-line research about weevils. Would they make nice pets? What might be the rationale behind not rejecting weevil infested crackers? Look at Billings description of how such biscuits were used by the men.</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-87670238155066201462022-10-15T10:21:00.003-07:002022-10-15T10:23:26.425-07:00"God's Love Is Free!" Insight Into the Heart of a Woman Who Desired to Bless Civil War Reenactors<p> <b>The following is a transcription of a devotional that my wife, Vicki Rowe gave to a woman’s group about her heart in reenacting the U.S. Christian Commission</b> at Old Mahoning Baptist Church, Home, PA shortly after we had started reenacting -- probably about 1995 or 96. She is sharing with the women of that church, none of whom were reenactors, what we as a family were doing and why. I found her hand written notes of her testimony while going through old papers. Those of you who have been blessed by her at the tent will indeed see that she loved you guys and wanted to bless you in many ways. (Vicki went home to Heaven on March 3, 2016):</p><div><span> </span>We all cherish photographs because they remind us of special people or events. Our heart also carries pictures of God’s faithful training in our lives. I asked God which snapshot from this past year to share with you.<br /><span> </span>Have you ever told God that you wanted to serve Him – that you were willing to do whatever He asked? When God answered and gave you a job to do, maybe the job was less than fun, maybe even something you were not good at – but He was asking you to depend on Him. Deep down inside, we all hope God will use our strong points, instead of exposing our weaknesses to other people.<br /><span> </span>To be painfully honest, I am afraid of grasshoppers – terrified of bees – dislike making buttonholes – feel sick at the smell of smoke – not good at avoiding stepping in the cow patties -- and my least favorite subject in school was history. Do you understand my sinking feeling when God chose to give my family a hobby of Civil War reenacting? When I married my husband 20+ years ago, I had no idea that we would eventually develop a hobby that include so many things I was afraid of.<br /><span> </span>I smiled at God’s sense of humor, and decided to keep my promise to serve Him in trying to be God’s hands, feet, and voice to this group of people. Last year was our first full year, and we chose 6-8 events to be involved in. We planned various acts of kindness that included baking food to share with the troops, helping cook over the open fire, sewing pouches with buttonholes, crocheting scrubbies, handing out samples of stamps/envelopes, and carrying many bucketfulls of water. We would come home both sore and tired – but God has been faithful to teach us many lessons.<br /><span> </span>This year the Mesopotamia [Ohio] event was one we worked hardest preparing for. Probably about 1500+ reenactors. We decided to take a week’s vacation so we could be there for the full 3 days. We spent a month doing without sleep so we could get everything done that God had laid on our hearts to do.<br /><span> </span>Saturday came – we actually made it there in one piece with projects just finished, wool outfits pressed and on the proper person, and did fairly well in being there on time in the morning. The kids and I worked on getting ready to carry the boxes in while my husband went to find our unit’s location. And could you believe it – it started pouring. Everything was soaked including the sewing projects we brought to share, our clothes, shoes. You cannot build a fire in pouring rain. I started telling God how discouraged I was – how I feared that the children would get sick from being cold and soaked. I felt God had neglected His duty to bless my obedience and smooth the way. After all, if we are doing God’s work, doesn’t He smooth the way and give good results?<br /><span> </span>But as I thought about why we were there – to show acts of kindness to the reenactors in hopes that God will soften their hearts to Him and draw some of them closer to Himself, what better way to show God’s love then to do it when things are difficult. Jesus did not come to earth, taking on human limitation, to offer Himself as sacrifice for our sins because it was easy to do. Jesus showed His kindness and love on the cross at Calvary under the harshest of circumstances.<br /><span> </span>Maybe God has asked you to serve Him in something that is fun to do – or maybe He has asked you to do a job that leaves you feeling bedraggled. Either way, He still asks the same question. “Who is the servant – Me or thee?” Are we going to allow God to use us even doing things that we are not good at? He is asking us to depend on Him.<br /><span> </span>That weekend at Mesopotamia through the rain and mud we offered God’s love to the reenactors – “God’s love is free! So is this soldier!” Through the grasshoppers and bees, amidst the cow patties, in spite of the rain we watched God use what little we could do to point reenactors to Him and His free love for them. Only God knows the results. Let God use you in all you do, the things you are good at and the things that you struggle to do, to point others to Him. Pass along the grace God’s given you to others so that they too may find God’s free grace. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iUTe6LP4PPvwaCOxS9oXtk5Qp42zc-U_SPdxPhgbJmaKNnRGUSxaKl6bWimJxEVqX07GKlUD-oCR_eWo4PdUmoaZxj2YAdAA8RJf5G1MQPHMbWjrw5HmWjkDxLitm8dgI7Ehj_Q9d38UTxFszowabScXaUlVaOEYlx4LRK-PMh_WQmYqhqCMJQ85qg/s1440/Vicki%20mix%20lemonde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iUTe6LP4PPvwaCOxS9oXtk5Qp42zc-U_SPdxPhgbJmaKNnRGUSxaKl6bWimJxEVqX07GKlUD-oCR_eWo4PdUmoaZxj2YAdAA8RJf5G1MQPHMbWjrw5HmWjkDxLitm8dgI7Ehj_Q9d38UTxFszowabScXaUlVaOEYlx4LRK-PMh_WQmYqhqCMJQ85qg/w300-h400/Vicki%20mix%20lemonde.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Some of my reflections on her commitment to passing along God’s love to other through reenacting:</b></div><div><span> </span>When I first expressed interest in doing Civil War reenacting, Vicki asked if we could do it as a family. I said yes, the unit is family friendly. So, she said she wanted to be involved. Of course, she fed our unit with goodies at the early events we attended. Then when we learned about the U.S Christian Commission, I remember her saying that we should portray them because it would allow us to offer food and drink to others beyond our unit. Feed the unit or feed the whole reenactment? OK why not.<br /><span> </span>She also sewed things like small pouches & housewives kits, drawstring bags we filled with things like packets of salt & sugar & matches, and handkerchiefs to put out on the gift table at our tent along with the stationery kits & tracts I would put out.<br /><span> </span>As we reenacted over the years, she actually came to enjoy history.<br /><span> </span>At the event that she cites, I do remember that among the large assortment of cookies and baked goods were six banana boxes full of pumpkin bread loaves. At that time, we didn’t have a tent, so we used our unit’s storage tent to keep things, and would throughout the day fill up trays with goodies and walk around among the encampment along with lemonade in porcelain pots saying “US Christian Commission. God’s love is free and so is this”.<br /><span> </span>So, in the above talk which Vicki is sharing with the ladies at the church about why she is working so hard at a challenging opportunity the Lord has asked her to do -- what is her motivation? It is not fame or fortune. It is to be a small part in pointing others to Jesus. It is to bless others in Jesus’ name. Serving Him is our way of saying “Thank you Jesus for doing on the cross what we could never do ourselves – atone for our sin.” God’s love is free! God’s love is not for sale! It is not “church” or “rituals” or “money” or “good deeds” which saves us from judgement for our sins. It is believing in our hearts that we are forgiven by grace – <i>undeserved love</i> – that Jesus showed on the cross. Do not be a Pharisees who pridefully thinks that by keeping the laws then God will then <i>owe</i> you forgiveness & heaven. Come as the thief on the cross who admits "I really do deserve punishment" yet cry out to Jesus for mercy “remember me Lord”.</div><div><span> Vicki</span> wants to welcome you at the tent in Heaven with a hug and some special delicious goodies saying “God’s love is free! Welcome Home! Come on in!” Put your faith in Jesus alone.</div><div> <br /><b>“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9 ESV</b></div><div><br />God bless,<br />Glenn Rowe</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygFbtNmHrbFn6Xacu0titM5HTZFBMPAaB2X0I_5dyV8rGobjzGFvmM1bjCe-AP49LilmsCgDScjosMJ6mBv-hvBqE4fp9sCwD7JZ-M0ScOsFfTkVMyiDS-nFlZ7MLQHSgje66XOHmmGRjkm49MX3XbKVj_teAkqmRMUWTH_nj44Gf1ZlDx8uELNfhkA/s1440/troops%20at%20tent%20goodies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgygFbtNmHrbFn6Xacu0titM5HTZFBMPAaB2X0I_5dyV8rGobjzGFvmM1bjCe-AP49LilmsCgDScjosMJ6mBv-hvBqE4fp9sCwD7JZ-M0ScOsFfTkVMyiDS-nFlZ7MLQHSgje66XOHmmGRjkm49MX3XbKVj_teAkqmRMUWTH_nj44Gf1ZlDx8uELNfhkA/w300-h400/troops%20at%20tent%20goodies.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-3611373897578774512022-09-17T05:47:00.000-07:002022-09-17T05:49:40.760-07:00They've Come! Louisa M Alcott -- Civil War Hospital Sketches<div style="text-align: left;"> <b>What's it like to work among the wounded during the Civil War era?<br /></b><span> </span><span> Tribulation Periwinkle, a woman who has volunteered to come and help in the medical crisis the war is causing, </span>presents a vivid description of the demands confronting nurses working among the wounded after the battle of Fredericksburg in <u>Hospital Sketches</u> Chapter III – They’ve come! (part 1 pages 31-36).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLzcauodpKMBZo7jpCSnuctZ5ghgR0FM5fbmQO51EyESxl3yC4qWGcMSKfWf42WCs_06K8Askn9a_05Ky646am0nLaK2EbbQ07AwQQd6F2hPcMxxMTV-rc_77qrKUGuYYt5myTA9PvnAZZEQiglydY0WRpjzZSug9Qwv91n3qmafTUgsJt8mm1EypE8w/s183/L%20Alcott.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="130" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLzcauodpKMBZo7jpCSnuctZ5ghgR0FM5fbmQO51EyESxl3yC4qWGcMSKfWf42WCs_06K8Askn9a_05Ky646am0nLaK2EbbQ07AwQQd6F2hPcMxxMTV-rc_77qrKUGuYYt5myTA9PvnAZZEQiglydY0WRpjzZSug9Qwv91n3qmafTUgsJt8mm1EypE8w/w227-h320/L%20Alcott.jpg" width="227" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>"THEY'VE come!</b> they've come! hurry up, ladies–you're wanted."<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Who have come? the rebels?"<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This sudden summons in the gray dawn was somewhat startling to a three days' nurse like myself, and, as the thundering knock came at our door, I sprang up in my bed, prepared<br />"To gird my woman's form,<br /> And on the ramparts die,"<br />if necessary; but my room-mate took it more coolly, and, as she began a rapid toilet, answered my bewildered question,–<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Bless you, no child; it's the wounded from Fredericksburg; forty ambulances are at the door, and we shall have our hands full in fifteen minutes."<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"What shall we have to do?"<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Wash, dress, feed, warm and nurse them for the next three months, I dare say. Eighty beds are ready, and we were getting impatient for the men to come. Now you will begin to see hospital life in earnest, for you won't probably find time to sit down all day, and may think yourself fortunate if you get to bed by midnight. Come to me in the ball-room when you are ready; the worst cases are always carried there, and I shall need your help."<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So saying, the energetic little woman twirled her hair into a button at the back of her head, in a "cleared for action" sort of style, and vanished, wrestling her way into a feminine kind of pea-jacket as she went.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I am free to confess that I had a realizing sense of the fact that my hospital bed was not a bed of roses just then, or the prospect before me one of unmingled rapture. My three days' experiences had begun with a death, and, owing to the defalcation of another nurse, a somewhat abrupt plunge into the superintendence of a ward containing forty beds, where I spent my shining hours washing faces, serving rations, giving medicine, and sitting in a very hard chair, with pneumonia on one side, diptheria on the other, five typhoids on the opposite, and a dozen dilapidated patriots, hopping, lying, and lounging about, all staring more or less at the new "nuss," who suffered untold agonies, but concealed them under as matronly an aspect as a spinster could assume, and blundered through her trying labors with a Spartan firmness, which I hope they appreciated, but am afraid they didn't. Having a taste for "ghastliness," I had rather longed for the wounded to arrive, for rheumatism was n't heroic, neither was liver complaint, or measles; even fever had lost its charms since "bathing burning brows" had been used up in romances, real and ideal; but when I peeped into the dusky street lined with what I at first had innocently called market carts, now unloading their sad freight at our door, I recalled sundry reminiscences I had heard from nurses of longer standing, my ardor experienced a sudden chill, and I indulged in a most unpatriotic wish that I was safe at home again, with a quiet day before me, and no necessity for being hustled up, as if I were a hen and had only to hop off my roost, give my plumage a peck, and be ready for action. A second bang at the door sent this recreant desire to the right about, as a little woolly head popped in, and Joey, (a six years' old contraband,) [“contraband” was a Civil War era term for black slave escapees coming from the South] announced -- <br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Miss Blank is jes' wild fer ye, and says fly round right away. They's comin' in, I tell yer, heaps on 'em–one was took out dead, and I see him,–hi! warn't he a goner!"<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With which cheerful intelligence the imp scuttled away, singing like a blackbird, and I followed, feeling that Richard was not himself again, and wouldn't be for a long time to come.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The first thing I met was a regiment of the vilest odors that ever assaulted the human nose, and took it by storm. Cologne, with its seven and seventy evil savors, was a posy-bed to it; and the worst of this affliction was, every one had assured me that it was a chronic weakness of all hospitals, and I must bear it. I did, armed with lavender water, with which I so besprinkled myself and premises, that, like my friend Sairy, I was soon known among my patients as "the nurse with the bottle." Having been run over by three excited surgeons, bumped against by migratory coal-hods, water-pails, and small boys, nearly scalded by an avalanche of newly-filled tea-pots, and hopelessly entangled in a knot of colored sisters coming to wash, I progressed by slow stages upstairs and down, till the main hall was reached, and I paused to take breath and a survey. There they were! "our brave boys," as the papers justly call them, for cowards could hardly have been so riddled with shot and shell, so torn and shattered, nor have borne suffering for which we have no name, with an uncomplaining fortitude, which made one glad to cherish each as a brother. In they came, some on stretchers, some in men's arms, some feebly staggering along propped on rude crutches, and one lay stark and still with covered face, as a comrade gave his name to be recorded before they carried him away to the dead house. All was hurry and confusion; the hall was full of these wrecks of humanity, for the most exhausted could not reach a bed till duly ticketed and registered; the walls were lined with rows of such as could sit, the floor covered with the more disabled, the steps and doorways filled with helpers and lookers on; the sound of many feet and voices made that usually quiet hour as noisy as noon; and, in the midst of it all, the matron's motherly face brought more comfort to many a poor soul, than the cordial draughts she administered, or the cheery words that welcomed all, making of the hospital a home.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The sight of several stretchers, each with its legless, armless, or desperately wounded occupant, entering my ward, admonished me that I was there to work, not to wonder or weep; so I corked up my feelings, and returned to the path of duty, which was rather "a hard road to travel" just then [“hard road to travel” – a phrase used a southern war song “Richmond is a hard road to travel” = won’t be an easy conquest, but a challenge]. The house had been a hotel before hospitals were needed, and many of the doors still bore their old names; some not so inappropriate as might be imagined, for my ward was in truth a ball-room, if gun-shot wounds could christen it. Forty beds were prepared, many already tenanted by tired men who fell down anywhere, and drowsed till the smell of food roused them. Round the great stove was gathered the dreariest group I ever saw–ragged, gaunt and pale, mud to the knees, with bloody bandages untouched since put on days before; many bundled up in blankets, coats being lost or useless; and all wearing that disheartened look which proclaimed defeat, more plainly than any telegram of the Burnside blunder. I pitied them so much, I dared not speak to them, though, remembering all they had been through since the route at Fredericksburg, I yearned to serve the dreariest of them all. Presently, Miss Blank tore me from my refuge behind piles of one-sleeved shirts, odd socks, bandages and lint; put basin, sponge, towels, and a block of brown soap into my hands, with these appalling directions:<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Come, my dear, begin to wash as fast as you can. Tell them to take off socks, coats and shirts, scrub them well, put on clean shirts, and the attendants will finish them off, and lay them in bed."<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If she had requested me to shave them all, or dance a hornpipe on the stove funnel, I should have been less staggered; but to scrub some dozen lords of creation at a moment's notice, was really–really–. However, there was no time for nonsense, and, having resolved when I came to do everything I was bid, I drowned my scruples in my wash-bowl, clutched my soap manfully, and, assuming a business-like air, made a dab at the first dirty specimen I saw, bent on performing my task vi et armis [Latin meaning “by force of arms”] if necessary. I chanced to light on a withered old Irishman, wounded in the head, which caused that portion of his frame to be tastefully laid out like a garden, the bandages being the walks, his hair the shrubbery. He was so overpowered by the honor of having a lady wash him, as he expressed it, that he did nothing but roll up his eyes, and bless me, in an irresistible style which was too much for my sense of the ludicrous; so we laughed together, and when I knelt down to take off his shoes, he "flopped" also, and wouldn't hear of my touching "them dirty craters. May your bed above be aisy darlin', for the day's work ye ar doon! –Whoosh! there ye are, and bedad, it's hard tellin' which is the dirtiest, the fut or the shoe." It was; and if he hadn't been to the fore, I should have gone on pulling, under the impression that the "fut" was a boot, for trousers, socks, shoes and legs were a mass of mud. This comical tableau produced a general grin, at which propitious beginning I took heart and scrubbed away like any tidy parent on a Saturday night. Some of them took the performance like sleepy children, leaning their tired heads against me as I worked, others looked grimly scandalized, and several of the roughest colored like bashful girls.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> <b>Louisa </b></span><b>Alcott does have an interesting way of describing the challenges women faced as they stepped up to help in the hospitals during this national crisis doesn't she?</b> She was born Nov.29, 1832 in Philadelphia, Pa. died March 6, 1880 in Boston, Mass. She is known for books such as Little Women (1868) and Little Men (1871). Her book Little Women was first published in a series of short stories, then eventually complied into one book.<br /><span> </span><span> </span>Due to pressures and family struggles as she grew up, writing became for her a creative and emotional outlet as her family struggled to support themselves. Her family served as station masters for the underground railroad in the late 1840s. She was also involved with the woman suffrage movement during her lifetime.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> In December 1862 she volunteered to be a nurse to aid the wounded in the Union Hospital in Georgetown, DC. The demands of the war led to the acceptance of women serving in the hospitals as nurses (a role previously restricted in the military to male Stewards). She intended to serve three months, but half way through she contracted typhoid and became deathly ill. Though she eventually recovered, she would struggle with the after affects of the medicine (which included mercury) used to help her recover.</div><div><span> </span><span> </span>Alcott edited and fictionalized letters she had written home about her nursing experience into the story of nurse "Tribulation Periwinkle" which were first published in the Boston anti-slavery paper Commonwealth and then later printed as a book entitle <u>Hospital Sketches</u> in 1863 (republished with additions in 1869) — which brought her recognition for her observations and humor.</div><div><br /></div><div> <span> </span><b>Union casualties at the battle for Fredericksburg, Dec.11-15, 1862:</b> 1,180 killed; 9,028 wounded, 2,145 missing (<u>Combat: The Civil War</u> ed by D. Congdon p.315). Other sources have numbers of around 1,200 killed, around 9,600 wounded, around 2,000 missing or captured. Exact stats vary with sources. But clearly there were a great many wounded who were needing medical help from this battle when Alcott came on duty.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div> <b>What is in the name "Tribulation Periwinkle"?</b> I do not claim to have figured out why Alcott chose this name for her fictional character. I looked for suggestions of reasons on other sites, but really didn't find many ideas. Some suggested that "Tribulation" was chosen since the nurse was facing many challenges in getting accepted into the role of nursing and then as she did her work in the medical system of that time. Seems reasonable. Didn't find much on the last name of "Periwinkle". When I did research on the word, it's a name for a grouping of flower types, some of which are poisonous. There seem to be two themes of meaning attached to the flower type from European folklore. One is that periwinkle symbolizes hope/ love/ affection/ protection. The flower was often given to someone who had suffered loss as an act of comfort. The second theme is that it is the flower of death, because its vines were woven into headbands placed on dead children in burial or by criminals on their way to execution. Also periwinkle was a popular folk medicine component in various herbal treatments from the Middle Ages on. Given the mixed messages themes associated with periwinkle, I can see maybe why Alcott chose the name tag. She, as a nurse, was both offering hope and comfort in the midst of suffering and death. Again, I am not claiming this is the correct interpretation of Alcott's reasoning. I offer this as a suggestion that you might find interesting.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><b>Children’s Project:</b><br /><span> <span> </span></span>Discuss with them how they would feel to be in a room full of wounded men and be working on cleaning them up from the grim and dirt of battle along with the blood stains of wounds and surgery. Explain to them how she tried to deal with bad odors of the place through the perfume bottle she carried. Explore why they think she was willing to endure such tough circumstances to be at this hospital. Would they be willing to do the same?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> <span> </span></span>For background on the "contraband" tag see the post on September 2018 "Southern Contraband of the War Fleeing North -- Gen. Butler's Account of the Contraband Tag being Applied to Runaway Slaves".</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-69185232576129007472022-08-20T09:19:00.000-07:002022-08-20T09:19:16.551-07:00Cape Hatteras Under Union Control – A Soldier's Perspective September 1861<div><span><b style="white-space: pre;"><span> How did </span>the men-in-the-ranks view the victory of taking </b></span><b>the Confederate forts protecting the Cape Hatteras inlet in August 1861?</b> Well, it was a much needed Union victory in the fall of 1861 after a summer of defeats as I shared in the previous blog post about the Hatteras Victory Patriotic Envelope, posted on April 20, 2022. But was it an effective strategy in blockading Southern commerce? And what was it like for the Union soldiers to be there on duty after the battle garrisoning the captured forts? The following unnamed soldier’s letter gives some interesting “little details” to help us better appreciate the “big picture” of the Union victory. Hope you enjoy reading his letter printed in the <u>Sunday Mercury Newspaper</u> Sept.22, 1861 about what’s happening now that the Union controls Cape Hatteras:</div><div><br />Hawkins’ Ninth Regiment N.Y.S.V.<br />On Board Steam Transport S.R.Spaulding<br />Cape Hatteras, September 12, 1861<br />To the Editors of the Sunday Mercury:<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I write to you, having an opportunity to send this by the transport which leaves for Fortress Monroe to-day. We struck tents at Newport News, VA., at 4 o’clock PM, of the 10th inst., but did not get aboard of the steamer until 10PM, when we left under cover of night. We arrived here yesterday, 12PM, after a pleasant voyage. The steamer was somewhat crowded, and of course we hadn’t everything we wanted. We slept on deck, down in the hold, and in fact in every place we could find. We disembarked at 1 PM, Wednesday, and remained on shore until 6 PM, when we were ordered aboard again for the night. The same inconvenience we had to experience again. All the companies, with the exception of our own, are ashore. We are detained aboard for something; I don’t know what. To tell the truth, this is the most dreary place I have ever seen. The soil is all sandy, like Coney Island exactly. Our colonel [Rush Hawkins] is in possession of Fort Clark, which is at the upper end of the island. Fort Hatteras, in possession of Col. [Max] Weber, is nearest the landing, and is, I think, the best fort. I stood upon the ramparts yesterday, and viewed the country all around. It is a very curious sight. Shot and shell were strewed all around. I have got plenty of shell and shot, and will endeavor to send you some. Fort Hatteras is not a regularly-built fort, like any that are in the Harbor of New York; it is built of sand and sod, and has no barracks.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Our boys have all sorts of trophies taken here. Some had watches, and others had knives and pistols; and when we arrived, we were received by some of our boys who were dressed up in all sorts of clothes, taken from the “seceshers” -- green, blue, gray, and every color imaginable. It was rather an amusing sight, and one I won’t soon forget. Yesterday we met two schooners (prizes) on their way to Philadelphia. It appears they came in supposing it to be still in possession of the secessionists. Lieut. Crosby met them, and they asked to be towed in by the Fanny, and the captain of the “secesher” said he was glad to get clear of the “d—d Yankee,” meaning the frigate Cumberland, who tried to deceive them by letting them run the blockade. Lieut. Crosby afterward said he was a United States officer, and claimed him as his prisoner. The captain then was so surprised that he went aboard and got drunk, and remained so all day. The colonel had a beautiful stand of colors captured, and the hoisted them on the fort. We have captured five vessels since our boys have been here, and we expect a number to arrive from the West Indies daily. The prizes we took yesterday had on board coffee and ammunition.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Our boys lived high at first. They captured all their provisions. The people, they say, come from miles around into camp, and sell articles, such as fish, etc. They are all loyal. To my utter surprise, we have not seen a contraband since we arrived. There are none around. All the people are white. There is a small church a little way up the main land, where an old minister preaches, and who seems to be their leader. He comes into camp under a flag of truce, and gets all the inhabitants to swear allegiance to the Union. About five hundred have already done so. They say there is no rebels nearer than sixty miles. This I guess is so, because we have no picket-guard posted, only an interior guard. We are on the Cape, and nothing can be seen to the North but a wide expanse of water; and it reminds me of the island that Robinson Crusoe lived on; at the back you can see a few houses. Our men seem to have everything they want; figs are in abundance; a little back in the country, fishing is of the first class, but the water is awful. We have no well save those that are dug in the sand, and the water is almost unfit to drink. When a storm is brewing, they say, it carries everything before it, washing clear over the sand. You may not hear from me for one or two weeks. I understand we are to have communications with the fortress twice a week, and then of course I will write to you often. R.H.J.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3T3gQ9RYmaFJ4tAQ0SdSw_9ymeN3dw3RWvrEA85JsqevQUpuv8EnbAl97qkDBaajGHNm0M5dxSldoTXs1RL2Ztv5Cn4Pk1BGfbrkva8VwWZIv1DNP60DQFG0Jf---q76hW-jBZUt-a5VUODMyfDwD49Ris7JVbzDs-du4acSNyTxZ4o7y7JUhRdGAg/s730/Fort%20Hatteras.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="730" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-3T3gQ9RYmaFJ4tAQ0SdSw_9ymeN3dw3RWvrEA85JsqevQUpuv8EnbAl97qkDBaajGHNm0M5dxSldoTXs1RL2Ztv5Cn4Pk1BGfbrkva8VwWZIv1DNP60DQFG0Jf---q76hW-jBZUt-a5VUODMyfDwD49Ris7JVbzDs-du4acSNyTxZ4o7y7JUhRdGAg/w640-h526/Fort%20Hatteras.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fort Hatteras under Union control<br />Picture from Battles and Leaders of the Civil War 1887 page 665</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><b>9th Infantry Regiment New York State Volunteers</b> also knows as the <b>Hawkins Zouaves</b> or <b>New York Zouaves</b>. Organized mostly in New York city, mustered into U.S. Services May 4, 1861. In June they were stationed at Newport News VA. On August 28-29, 1861 three companies (C, G & H), serving under Major-Gen. Butler, helped in the attack on the confederate forts guarding the Hatteras Inlet. The rest of the regiment was then sent down to help secure the forts taken, arriving Sept.10 through 12.</div><div><br /><b>Little details make “the big event” more interesting</b><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Reading this man’s letter describing various little things going on around him gives us more insight into the big picture event of the Cape Hatteras Assault. You have to appreciate his sense of humor. His humorous description of how the blockade runners were lured into thinking “they had made it safe” by flying of Confederate flag over the fort and the pretending to let them slip by the Union blockading vessels, only to be surprised – “you’re our prisoners”. Might as well finish off the liquor, it’s just going to be confiscated anyway by these yanks. And I am sure the coffee was much appreciated by the garrison.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The details about occupying the forts, the mix of good food options to supplement army rations and distasteful water, and the relationship with the people in the area all give more depth of appreciation of the big picture of this Union victory on the North Carolina shores. I am glad the Sunday Mercury printed up letters like this one during the course of the war. Its always interesting and enjoyable to get perspectives from the guys doing the work on the ground.</div><div><br /><b>Children projects:</b><br />1) Explore why the Confederate blockade runners could be fooled. (You will have to explain there was no such thing as radio signals or text messaging during the Civil War time period.) Show how this was part of the early war Anaconda Plan proposed by Gen. Scott.<br />2) For background on the “contraband” comment, see my post on “Southern Contraband of War Fleeing North” (Sept. 8, 2018) for the origin of this term to describe people of color during the Civil War.<br />3) Perhaps explore how 'big politics' can differ from 'local politics'. The state of North Carolina did secede from the Union. But here the local population seems to accept the Union forces. Explore how secession was more complicated in North Carolina than other southern states.<br />4) This soldier talks about souvenirs of war that he and others were enjoying collecting. Does your family have any souvenirs of maybe family history that you prize? But then the next generations may not value what the previous ones did because the “memories” don’t get passed along. Time moves on. I bought a Civil War hat pin years ago that had been made out of an original Union coat button which some sweetheart had worn in honor of her man off to war. My wife wore it in her hat at the reenactments we went to over the years. So, it got a second life. When Vicki died, I gave it to my daughter. She will give it to my granddaughter who is named after her grandma with the story of the memories of grandma always wearing it in her hat. But someday it will probably just be lost again. Talk to your children about why they treasure some things, about family memoires of things you treasure. It may keep family history alive for another generation.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-41242895100197828442022-07-30T06:07:00.000-07:002022-07-30T06:07:43.267-07:00Challenges & Joys of an Ohio Soldier Tramping Through Tennessee 1862<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>Of course, being out on campaign in the fall of 1862 is fun!</b> Well, maybe better described as a mix of challenges and surprises. This letter is from George Washington Fawcett (1837 – 1912). He had volunteered for three month service in the 19th Ohio when the call first went out from President Lincoln. Then he reenlisted for three year service in Co.I 1st Ohio Infantry. His commitment to the Union cause shows up in this letter, written to his friend Clara Strieby living in Kansas. His unit, involved in the Western Theater campaign, is encamped in Franklin Country TN just north of the Alabama boarder. Having fought at Shiloh (April 1862) and the Corinth Campaign, they are awaiting further orders. His letter is an interesting mix of how he is handling challenges such as 'marching into enemy territory' and finding 'creative' ways to get food, along with enjoyable surprises such as getting mail from home and exploring interesting local sights. He has some interesting insights into the change of attitude about this being a "short war" and about how his attitude toward the secessionists is changing. Enjoy a bit of “history” from the ranks:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GmnTvE9ziYOcolZXjF5hVXyLfw7mAp25bucF5sWiI4-v7Tmk2nCd8VOS4vk0gfIZa2_h4dvQsiNCct6VcneNkt8a8SjsEUO3TRIgXckUTG7Jbh809XU2Xi6buHUuFHGulRhiYR68QPZP_R-JAJbj5G0nrwxlGIbaLs2sYJTyLtqh-PWw-xtwT8bnug/s1573/G%20Fawcett%201862%20Ltr.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="1573" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7GmnTvE9ziYOcolZXjF5hVXyLfw7mAp25bucF5sWiI4-v7Tmk2nCd8VOS4vk0gfIZa2_h4dvQsiNCct6VcneNkt8a8SjsEUO3TRIgXckUTG7Jbh809XU2Xi6buHUuFHGulRhiYR68QPZP_R-JAJbj5G0nrwxlGIbaLs2sYJTyLtqh-PWw-xtwT8bnug/w400-h228/G%20Fawcett%201862%20Ltr.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Written to Miss Clara L Streby<br />Council Grove, Morris County, Kansas<br />Postmarked Nashville, Tn</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Camp Boiling Fork, Franklin county, Tennessee<br />August 5, 1862<br />Friend Clara,<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Yours of July 11th was received the other day and you may rest assured that it was perused with much interest. For a long while we had been—as it were—shut out from the balance of the world without either a mail, newspaper, or any news whatever save camp rumors which are as a general thing very ridiculous and not much to be depended upon. But the other day a train did finally get through from Nashville and the glad tidings was revealed to us that this railroad was open through from Nashville to Stephenson—a distance of 120 miles. But this was not all the joy. A large mail for Company I produced some smiling countenances and your humble servant was the recipient of no less than four letters and several papers, one of which was from your good self. So you may judge that I felt right good and that night I slept sound and had pleasant dreams of friends in the far distant west & of dear ones at home—a sister whom I so dearly love and who expected or hoped that the war would be over before this, was disappointed in not having me home by the 4th of July. Why Clara, if I get home by the next fourth of July, I shall feel thankful. I do not see as there is any prospect of the war ending yet. Indeed, things look more gloomy to me now than they did 10 months ago. We have gained a great amount of territory, but we have got as much or more than we can hold.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The rebels are now all around us and if they should make a dash into our camp today, I would not be a bit surprised. We are looking for them and more than half of our regiment are now out building fortifications. If they do come, we will give them a warm reception and they will get the best we have got in our cartridge boxes. We are encamped in a very pleasant grove near Boiling Fork—a small creek which supplies our camp with an abundance of the best of water. We are guarding a bridge which we have rebuilt across the creek since we came here. We arrived here on the 8th of July. Came by way of railroad from Huntsville. Our train was the first one on the road for over 5 miles as the rebels destroyed all the bridges on the road last spring when they retreated from Nashville. We have now go the road in running order.<br /><span> </span><span> </span>We are distant from Nashville about 87 miles south and 30 north of Stephenson and about 35 or 40 from Chattanooga. We are only a few miles north of the line between Alabama and Tennessee. There is a range of the Cumberland Mountains here through which the railroad crosses by way of a long tunnel. We are encamped at the foot of the mountain about 2 miles from the tunnel.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>When I last wrote you we were at Florence which is over 150 miles from here. We had some hard marches after that beneath the rays of a hot Alabama sun. And you better believe we felt glad when we arrived at Huntsville and were favored with a ride on the cars. The balance of the division were not thus favored as they had to walk through to Stephenson. Since we have been here, we have been rather short of rations for a long while. We were one-fourth rations and some of the time without any at all from Uncle Sam. But we made it a point to visit some of the neighborhood plantations very frequently and the potato patches, hen roosts, orchards and such like had to yield to our wants.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I have been in the service over one year but I have never taken anything of much importance without paying for it—till of late. But lately since the rebs have been playing the mischief so and trying to cut off our supplies, I have just come to the conclusion there is no harm in making the prominent secessionist in the neighborhood respond to our wants. This rather a rich part of the country and there are quite a number of very good plantations near our camp. I have been out several times after provisions. I first go and ask for what I want and if they do not give it, I sometimes take it anyhow. We were out of bread for several days and we were bound to have something to eat or else starve so 8 of our mess went out after potatoes. We found an old planter who gave us enough to fill our haversacks and while 6 of us were in the garden digging, then two others of our mess were skylarking around the premises to see if they could find another patch and they engaged the old planter in conversation while the other two boys filled a 2-bushel bag.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Since our arrival here I have had several tramps up on the mountains and have visited quite a number of very wild and dangerous places. But I am always in my element while clambering over rocks, penetrating caverns, and visiting such wild places. But I must now tell you about what a beautiful cave there is on the mountain side about 1½ miles from our camp. We heard of this cave shortly after our arrival here. Also heard that there was a band of bushwhackers concealed in the cave. So our captain with our entire company went out on a scout to the cave. After a long search, we found it but would not if we had not went and got a negro slave to show us the place. There is no road or even a path leading to it. The entrance of the cave is very small—not more than large enough to crawl in at. We did not see any outward signs of rebels so we had no fears on entering. We left a strong guard on the outside while about 20 of us provided ourselves with hickory torches and entered. After crawling on our hands and knees for several hundred feet, we came out into a large room which was at least 60 feet from floor to ceiling and several hundred feet in length and width. I was perfectly enraptured with awe at its beauty and grandeur. The ceiling and walls resembled the most magnificent fresco painting, which reminded me of the audience room of the M. E. Church in Salem—only it was far more grand. The ceiling was covered with formations which resembled icicles in shape. Those were of various sizes from 3 inches to 3 and 4 feet in length—the points of which are covered with a white substance resembling snow. This reflecting in the torchlight was magnificently grand. We found several springs of the purest crystal water. There were many side caverns that we did not enter but doubtless the cave is miles in extent. I have made two visits to the cave and am now ready for the third visit. I was there one day with our chaplain. He says it exceeds the Mammoth Cath in beauty.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We have captured several bushwhackers since we have been here. One boy belonging to our company was shot at the other day while on picket. I like our present camp very much, it being so near the mountains. The weather as a general thing is very pleasant. There is an abundance of apples & peaches which are now ripe. The health of our regiment is remarkably good. Two of our company there were wounded at Shiloh have again rejoined us in camp nearly as sound as ever. One of them will be a little lame probably for life yet he is of the right grit and he wants to get a chance at them again. Steph. Talcott has again rejoined us after being home on furlough about 3 months. My right hand man, Joe T., is all right. Him and I have got us a very nice bough house made with a good bed in it and everything fixed to suit our fancy. Call around and see us.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Well, Car, I have not told you half as much as I thought I would when I commenced but I will have to close. We are all enjoying camp life hugely. My health was never better. Soldiering is a luxury while we are laying in camp as we are at present.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So it is the white Injins you are afraid of now? I should judge from what you say that they need civilizing—a portion of them at least. Your letter was full of interest and just such a one as a soldier loves to receive. You need have no fears about not interesting me. I remember our friend Alex Taylor. I trust he is not badly wounded.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The late call for 300,000 more troops [Lincoln’s Proclamation July 1, 1862] will either bring out a good many cowards or else they will be drafted. There is considerable of talk about drafting now about home. I have not seen or heard from Br. Hale since I wrote you before but I learn that Woods’ Division is on the railroad between us and Nashville. Talcott saw Br. Hudson on the train the other day as the cars passed but he did not get to speak to him. We still have some very spiritual prayer meetings. I could appreciate a good class meeting once more. I trust that my heart will remain fixed and that my faith may never waiver.<br />Write me soon as you can. I remain as ever your friend truly, — G. W. Fawcett</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>Direct On the line of the Nashville and Chattanooga Railroad, Cowan Station, Tennessee<br /><span> </span>Stephen sends his respects & says he is a going to emigrate to Kansas after the war is over and Fawcett is a going along.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />[This letter transcript is from the WordPress site: Billy Yank & Johnny Reb Letters. Transcribed by Will Griffing, in the Ohio letters section]<br /><br /><b>Children Projects:</b><br /><span> </span>1) In his letter’s first paragraph explore why his unit might be <b>very glad to get “mail from home”</b>. Explain to them what “letters” and “newspapers” are. Maybe show them some of your artifacts if you still have them. And remind them that this letter they are reading was written in 1862 and has survived over 150 years. He wrote this letter on Aug. 5th. The cancelation date on the envelope in Nashville is Aug. 9th. And it looks like someone wrote on the envelope that the letter was "received" on Aug. 15th. So it appears that sometimes mail delivery was good and sometimes not so good, which makes sense in a war situation. Staying connected with loved ones back home was always something the men looked forward to, both to get news from home and as Fawcett shows here to share perspectives from the field about what's going on in his life. <br /><span> </span>2) <b>Supplementing short rations means taking what's needed:</b> Explore his attitude change about getting food needed to survive. They are now in “enemy” territory and sometimes are not getting the supplies needed from the army quartermaster. Initially Union commanders tried to uphold Lincoln’s policy of not pillaging from the locals as the armies moved through secessionist territory. The hope was to avoid pushing locals toward loyalty of the Southern cause. But as the Union troops began pushing into the South in 1862, attitudes began to change as it became evident that Southern loyalty was indeed generally stronger than national loyalty. Attitudes from the men in the ranks on up to higher commanders became “we must conquer” by punishing the disloyal and gaining supplies for our conquest. Fawcett is reflecting this shift in this letter as he describes the reaction to how his unit is supplementing their shortages of army rations. For a more detailed summary of this shift of attitude check out <u>Nothing But Victory – The Army of the Tennessee</u> by S.E Woodworth p.210-13.<br /><span> </span>3) Trace through the letter his comments that point to a <b>shift in his understanding that this will not be a “short war”</b> as he had once hoped in early 1861. Remember he had signed up for the first call to action of 3 months. Now reality is setting in. Discuss if his attitude is one of defeat or determination.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-61148176915293415672022-07-03T14:53:00.000-07:002022-07-03T14:53:54.500-07:00Somebody's Father -- July 3, 1863 Gettysburg<p><b>A confederate soldier's sad memory: </b> C.R. Graham does not give the name of the soldier who shared this memory with him. It appears in a section titled “Random Tails by Confederates”, so we can assume that it is a memory of a southern soldier who was at the battle of Gettysburg:</p><p><span> </span>I think that one of the saddest incidents of the war which I witnessed was after the battle of Gettysburg. Off on the outskirts, seated on the ground, with his back to a tree, was a soldier, dead. His eyes were riveted on some object held tightly clasped in his hands. As we drew nearer we saw that it was an ambrotype of two small children. Man though I was, hardened through those long years to carnage and bloodshed, the sight of that man who looked on his children for the last time in this world, who, away off in a secluded spot had rested himself against a tree, that he might feast his eyes on his little loves, brought tears to my eyes, which I could not restrain had I wanted. There were six of us in the crowd, and we all found great lumps gathering in our throats, and mist coming before our eyes which almost blinded us. We stood looking at him for some time. I was thinking of the wife, and baby I had left at home, and wondering how soon, in the mercy of God, would she be left a widow, and my baby boy fatherless. We looked at each other and instinctively seemed to understand our thoughts. Not a word was spoken, but we dug a grave and laid the poor fellow to rest with his children’s picture clasped over his heart. Over his grave, on the tree against which he was sitting I inscribed the words: “Somebody’s Father, July 3, 1863” [<u style="text-align: justify;">Under Both Flags. A Panorama of the Great Civil War as Represented in Story, Anecdote, Adventure, and the Romance of Reality</u><span style="text-align: justify;"> 1896 pages 84-85]</span></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAnEo9SOP1nYA2KNkzcSJKtYmHlZOJrZmmZYJRjrzoJf3vN5i2XhSiyfy5Bb--SRc5knj0IJYC37JYC1bW9kY_he_GZOY47ZoXqAfzNhqBxdLuwNZL8l0FouJvdnYCQtslcl2Lfgs-bUHytRw63fWxss3tvmY8m-Qm9fALriOGu_CQdbZpO-8xMpwpgA=s478" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="474" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAnEo9SOP1nYA2KNkzcSJKtYmHlZOJrZmmZYJRjrzoJf3vN5i2XhSiyfy5Bb--SRc5knj0IJYC37JYC1bW9kY_he_GZOY47ZoXqAfzNhqBxdLuwNZL8l0FouJvdnYCQtslcl2Lfgs-bUHytRw63fWxss3tvmY8m-Qm9fALriOGu_CQdbZpO-8xMpwpgA=s320" width="317" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deo Vindice = God is our vindicator<br />CS grave marker</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Summary facts about Gettysburg: </b>Casualties at Gettysburg totaled 23,049 for the Union (3,155 dead, 14,529 wounded, 5,365 missing & captured). Confederate casualties were 28,063 (3,903 dead, 18,735 wounded, and 5,425 missing & captured), more than a third of Lee's army.<br /> The Confederate dead were not buried in the Soldier’s National Cemetery. Within a few months after the battle most of the Union dead were dug up from their shallow graves and reinterred in the Soldier’s National Cemetery, which was for those who fought to preserve the Union. But the Confederate dead were left wherever they were buried scattered across the fields and farms of the area. In the 1870s an effort was made by organizations in the southern states to find and relocate the corpses of the southern soldiers to sites down south. But it is a known fact that not all of these shallow grave burials were discovered. And from time to time a grave has been uncovered. So, we do not know if this man’s body was ever returned home to family.<br /> In the ‘broad roll of human history’ come moments which remind us that it is those whom God has put in our lives as “family” that are far more important than fame or fortune. These relationships of love are God’s great gift to us no matter what is rolling along in the big picture of history.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Children’s project discussion questions:</b><br />1. Would you hope your father’s dying thoughts would be on your family, or would you want him to be thinking about how successful he was or how rich he was or how athletic he was?<br />2. If you would want him to be thinking of you and your family circle, then are you trying to learn good traits from your parents, or are you too busy with friends your own age to care about building a positive family circle?</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-40420441447276112622022-06-11T11:58:00.000-07:002023-01-21T19:04:44.872-08:00The Army Sutler's Role in the Encampment -- an 1861 Description<div> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>What was a sutler and what his role in Civil War camp life?</b> Here is an interesting first-person description of how the Army Sutler runs his business printed in the New York City Sunday Mercury Newspaper, September 29, 1861:</div><div><br /> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The sutler’s tent is the same in all camps we ever visited. Be it understood, for the benefit of those who are uniformed, that the sutler is the merchant of the regiment. He sells lemonade, tobacco (in papers and plugs), cigars (of cabbage, oak leaves, or tobacco), red herrings, cracker, and molasses-cake. He would sell whiskey if he dared. His tent is always lumbered up with barrels and boxes, and at the customers’ end of it a board across two pork-barrels does duty for a counter. Here the men come in crowds every hour in the day, to get some little delicacy (after salt fat pork and no vegetables, with the sun at ninety-eight degrees, even molasses-cake is a delicacy) to eat, or for a glass of cool lemonade to drink and make much of.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAD1f0f3PJX7lla4MTZ_QkFFnq64V03BNZfBKaO-r3crb7x_i-FU-KbsSqnQGqzQenphkroiiecdrtmQJHAelj6jUGrPfHxVndxkmqV4WWA3qWcaZugisVPQVO9k021WDeEUAbeO9Tce8P0c45L1S0KhQ_9EEo5MCIIKcjtlhDRHzY0pPzjVFWVUmBeA/s1429/Sutler%20tent.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1429" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAD1f0f3PJX7lla4MTZ_QkFFnq64V03BNZfBKaO-r3crb7x_i-FU-KbsSqnQGqzQenphkroiiecdrtmQJHAelj6jUGrPfHxVndxkmqV4WWA3qWcaZugisVPQVO9k021WDeEUAbeO9Tce8P0c45L1S0KhQ_9EEo5MCIIKcjtlhDRHzY0pPzjVFWVUmBeA/w400-h260/Sutler%20tent.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> </span>As the regiments are mostly supplied with water from muddy springs of their own digging (to prevent poisoning by our amiable Virginia neighbors); and as the sutler generally has the only ice in camp, a glass of even the sutler’s lemonade is a grateful beverage under the torrid circumstances.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The currency used by the sutler is paste-board tickets, representing respectively the value of five cents, ten cents, or twenty-five cents, payable in goods at the sutler’s store. When a soldier desires to enter into commercial negations with the sutler, and has no money wherewith to achieve that mercantile desideratum, he naturally concludes to anticipate some portion of his pay. He, therefore, obtains from his captain a printed order on the paymaster for one dollar or more, as the case may be, which is signed by himself, of course, as drawer of the order, and is then countersigned by the captain, as a guaranty that the sum of money called for in the order is actually due the man. This document is now negotiable, and the sutler will take it and give for its “face,” not in money, but in tickets, which are simply due-bills on himself, which he binds himself to redeem in store goods.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> All the goods are sold at his own prices; and as the tickets must eventually all find their way to his establishment, it follows that the office of regimental sutler usually pays better than that of major-general. When pay-day comes round, the men, having spent all their tickets, have, as a general rule, little interest in the paymaster. The sutler presents all the orders for pay which are in his possession, and from the paymaster received the gold. This whole system is very objectionable and the French plan of paying the soldiers every ten days would be an infinite improvement. As it is, the men do the work and dare the danger, while the sutler pockets the lion’s (or rather the sutler’s) share of the pay.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>All sutler’s stores or tents are alike – are always thronged, and always making money. There is usually a rear entrance for the officers, who are thus admitted behind the counter; and occasionally a sportive major takes a fancy to ride a frolicsome horse in the back door, and a smashing sensation is the result.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Though the sutlers are prohibited from selling spirits to the men, which rule they obey in most regiments, till, as a general thing, an officer need not languish for his liquor. A colonel can have his cocktail, a major can procure his mint-julep, a captain his “cold without,” a lieutenant his “lemonade with,” and even a sergeant can procure his favorite “smash.”<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>But the whole sutler arrangement is bad, though it is so intimately connected with the system of army payments that a reform touching only the sutler’s department would be but half skin-deep.</div><div><br /></div><div>Another description in a different Letter to the Editor by a different soldier tagged as being in the Ninth Regiment N.Y.S.M. at Camp Smith, Darnestown Maryland written Oct.5, 1861 and printed in the Sunday Mercury Oct.13th edition:</div><div><br /></div><div><span> Now for a few words for our sutler. He is to outsiders a very pleasant man, but he has what the boys say "gone back on us." His charges are outrageous, and what is still worse, he will not allow any outside peddler to come anyways near camp; so we are thus compelled to patronize him, and he has got us as his mercy. We are unable to buy any luxuries from the farmers, as he buys up everything to supply the officers' table. It would do you good to hear the boys grumble when pay-day comes. As soon as they receive their hard-earned money from Uncle Sam, the sutler stands by the desk, and nine out of ten of the boys turn most of their money over to him to settle their accounts, and then commence grumbling; but there is no use of saying a word, as he will only tell that he don't care for you custom. But, at the same time, he knows that he has got things most of the boys need, and so they are compelled to patronize him.</span><br /></div><div><br /><b>Background on the word “sutler”</b><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Sutlers have been accompanying armies here since the colonial times during the French and Indian Wars, and before that in Europe. Shakespeare has the character Pistol declare in Henry V (written in 1599) “For I shall sutler be, Unto the camp, and profits will accrue”. Our English “sutler” comes from the Dutch word. Merriam-Webster gives this background: “The Dutch adopted ‘soeteler’ from a Low German word meaning ‘sloppy worker,’ which itself traces to an even older verb that meant ‘to do sloppy work’ or ‘to dirty.’ Perhaps the snide designation was inspired by the fact that the traditional sutler followed troops and sold them supplies at hugely inflated prices.”<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With the outbreak of the Civil War, “opportunities” or “needs” -- depending on how you want to describe it -- greatly increased because of the ever expanding size of the army as the war dragged on. These were civilian merchants supplying non-military goods, both essentials like food variety and luxuries that were not supplied by the army for the soldiers on duty. They could be located in a building at an established permanent military post. Or if following a regiment in the field, they would typically set up a tent or even occasionally sell directly from their wagon if necessary. The regulations over who could be a sutler and what they could do changed over the course of the war. Typically, there was to be only one sutler per regiment or post. And being a sutler meant you had to be in good with those in command of the unit.</div><div><br /><b>Background Info on the New York City Sunday Mercury Newspaper</b><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Started in 1840 the newspaper had achieved notoriety and circulation over the years to 145,000. But when the war broke out it lost about 90,000 in the southern and western states subscriptions. To help with the loss of circulation, the paper in April 1861 announced it would begin publishing letters and accounts sent to it from soldiers in the army, with a free copy being sent back to the soldier who contributes. Over 3000 such contributions were printed during the course of the war, 1861-65.</div><div><br /><b>Observations:</b><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I always find “first person” accounts interesting helps to “step back in time” with greater understanding. Yet I also realize that different people can have different perceptions of the same event, so not everything they say is automatically “fact”. Use these accounts to explore an aspect of history not typically described.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>These 1861 articles are interesting descriptions of how sutlers operated their business. You can sense from how the writers words that while sutlers were considered “necessary”, they were not “necessarily appreciated” because of 1) their pricing which took advantage of the soldiers, 2) the often poor quality of what was being sold, and 3) the double standard of service given to the men in the ranks vs. the treatment of the officers.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It is said that many sutlers setup their tents just outside the encampment so they could also service civilians nearby as well as offer “services” that were restricted within the encampment by regulations such as selling whiskey. <br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Though the first 1861 letter above mentions that the sutlers used “paste-board tickets”, some would later on issue token coins like the one pictured below stamped with the regiment designation they were serving along with their business name and a trade value (5 cents, 10 cents etc). From the description of how payment was made by credit from the soldier’s future pay, you can see how many men would be lured into making purchases that might not have been wise even though desirable on the impulse of the moment.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UveU84RJl5Hrm1wAyNrOmcJn8V8hE6F6717UZSj7mk7kXu-Hno-vtgxOlKhoeDPeDxKUTmTOaqvLR3WtWKnRPM70_5kPxoDo5PkUM2trONC84JdeYYYU9s1UvY9oNQ0m6ykAfS5_PjK1ES78MHnQG7BBOLCtrC9OKcpgTCxZ21o_J9iCwXFfsa3Rmw/s855/Sutler%20token.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="855" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UveU84RJl5Hrm1wAyNrOmcJn8V8hE6F6717UZSj7mk7kXu-Hno-vtgxOlKhoeDPeDxKUTmTOaqvLR3WtWKnRPM70_5kPxoDo5PkUM2trONC84JdeYYYU9s1UvY9oNQ0m6ykAfS5_PjK1ES78MHnQG7BBOLCtrC9OKcpgTCxZ21o_J9iCwXFfsa3Rmw/w200-h188/Sutler%20token.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Children projects: </b><br />1) Explore why it might not be wise for a soldier to spend money that he had not yet actually gotten even though his circumstances might pressure him to need/want to make purchases. How is this like “credit” buying today? Remember that most of these soldiers had a family at home that they were needing to support with the money they were being paid.<br />2) How would your child feel about needing to drinking muddy water with no ice on a hot day? It’s an interesting little historical tidbit that gives insight into the pressure that a soldier back then had to face. No bottled water. No ice in the fridge. Drink it anyway. . .<br />3) Explore the issue of “rank has its privileges” back in then, and today. Talk through the writer’s clear condemnation as unfair that officers can buy drinks while the men in the ranks are prohibited from buying.</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-26203606589192337552022-05-21T03:37:00.003-07:002022-05-21T06:19:56.526-07:00Colonel Elmer Ellsworth -- A Death That Made History -- May 24 1861<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>Is Elmer Ephraim Ellsworth a heroic martyr or just another slain tyrant?</b> Depends on which side you stand with during the early days of 1861. If you stand with the Union, then he is a heroic martyr who needs to be remembered. If you stand with the Confederacy, then he is just the first of many tyrants who need to be killed.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>Here is a eulogy for him entitled “The Murder of Colonel Ellsworth”</b> printed on May 26, 1861 in the New York City <u>Sunday Mercury</u> Newspaper two days after his death:<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We hope, and do not doubt, that every fireman, every patriot, and every American citizen will recollect, and hold in eternal remembrance, the assassination of the young, the gallant, and the glorious Colonel Ellsworth whose fate, at Alexandria on Friday last [May 24], sealed the last seal which consecrates the book of martyrs to the cause of human liberty. He died at the hands of an assassin – not at the hands of a foeman who met him in the field of war; for, had he died on the field of battle, we might have ascribed his sacrifice to the chances incident to a glorious, or even inglorious, fight. Young, honorably ambitious, patriotic, and zealous in the cause of his country, he entered the lists of the nation to win a glorious name or a soldier’s grave. He fell too early and young, but his death shall not go unavenged. The whole North and North-west will rally to punish the cowards and braggart, who to propagate and advance the cause of human slavery.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeBFoSFlB3Ue_phfudtrrBgxtpR8SjgQIuDOughetMxYB_2uGFbsEgDGGePWQdCWLduTA3HuxzlltEJdO3aPtwyTqHsZ7R8vbeRrHfZouXLHLFkqgqM-SYHwmthnF8Ko5e77Vn31UyHhTcav5p4oIH1rADfqvuR0C-OzSRj5wJaIuki5OOmf_eE9ebA/s640/Death_of_Col_Ellsworth.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="478" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeBFoSFlB3Ue_phfudtrrBgxtpR8SjgQIuDOughetMxYB_2uGFbsEgDGGePWQdCWLduTA3HuxzlltEJdO3aPtwyTqHsZ7R8vbeRrHfZouXLHLFkqgqM-SYHwmthnF8Ko5e77Vn31UyHhTcav5p4oIH1rADfqvuR0C-OzSRj5wJaIuki5OOmf_eE9ebA/w299-h400/Death_of_Col_Ellsworth.jpg" width="299" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Currier and Ives engraving 1861</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The murder of Ellsworth will carry fire, faggot, and flame to every region where his assassination shall be applauded by rebels, knaves, and thieves!<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ellsworth! Brave, determined and gallant! He led to the field of war our Fire Zouaves, and will they not, and all their sympathizers, rally to avenge the death of their chosen leader and chieftain.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Colonel Ellsworth, though not a resident of the city of New York, and, in some sort, a stranger to our firemen, yet commanded their respect, confidence, and lasting love. They will not permit his assassination to go unpunished, and woe to be those who hearafter fall into the hands of his enemies. His death has awakened a feeling, excited loud notes from the tocsin of war, and called into action, which cannot be subdued or silenced until every road of land between the Potomac and the Rio Grande is conquered!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span><b>The writer of this eulogy mourns Ellsworth’s death as that of a heroic martyr</b> who gave his life for an honorable cause, and in so doing set an example of courage to be followed by every true patriot – total commitment to human liberty and preserving the union.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Now if you were to ask a young person today “who was Col. Ellsworth, and was he a hero or a villain?” they would glance up from their smart phone for moment with a total blank look, shrug that they haven’t seen him on YouTube, and then go back to texting their friends that they just got asked a stupid question. But in early 1861 he became well known because of his death at the Marshall House Inn in Alexandria VA on May 24th. In fact, “Remember Ellsworth!” became a rallying cry in the North to show support for the Union early in the war. Poems and songs were written in his memory, and patriotic envelopes showing his picture were very popular.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He was born in Malta, New York (April 11, 1837) and then grew up in nearby Mechanicville. At age 17 he made his way out west to the state of Illinois where his intense interest in military history and tactics led to his involvement in developing a local Militia company based on the French Zouaves model. He also clerked and studied law in pursuit of a better livelihood and hopes of gaining approval of beloved young lady’s father so they could marry. In the summer of 1860 he and his Zouaves toured the North performing precision drills in 20 cities. This introduced him to Abraham Lincoln who invited him to come to work in Lincoln’s law office in Springfield IL and then help in Lincoln’s presidential campaign. This connection led to his accompanying President Lincoln to Washington DC. As political tensions between North and South increased after Lincoln’s election and in response to his call for 75,000 volunteers to put down the rebellion, Ellsworth went back up to New York City and raised the 11th New York Volunteer Regiment which had many firemen in its ranks, hence the name the Fire Zouaves. The unit then proceeded to Washington DC in May of 1861 where they encamped at Camp Lincoln on the banks of the Potomac River. </div><p><span style="white-space: pre;"> <b>S</b></span><b>ome interesting context to Ellsworth's actions</b> which led to his death and fame is recorded in the same May 26th edition of the <u>Sunday Mercury</u> in a letter from a soldier serving in the Fire Zouaves printed in “Letters to the Editor” section. (All throughout the war, this newspaper was known for printing letters sent to it by soldiers.) The man in the ranks makes these observations on May 18th, (the date he wrote the letter), about the rising political tensions: “Here we still remain, directly opposite our enemies and the enemies of our country, leading and holding the ‘even tenor of our way’. Why don’t the knights of the red-tape councils (for, you know, red tape is predominant) order us into immediate action? Here we remain, in dull inactivity, rusting for want of excitement. The ‘boys’ would rather attack a second Sebastopol than have days and weeks pass away with ‘nothing to do’. If an order was promulgated to the effect that we were to have a daring brush or engagement with the rebels, it would be hailed as a god-send. Directly across the river is the rebel rendezvous – Alexandria. Is it not tantalizing to see the secession flag flying there, and we unable, though anxious, to pull it down? Between you and me, and the guardhouse, there was a plot that some fifty of us would secretly cross the river to-night, and bear it away in triumph; but the colonel, by some means unknown to us, discovered the plot, and positively refused to countenance it, therefore, we must let the matter drop for the present.” [His reference to “attack a second Sebastopol” is a reference to the charge of the Light Brigade, and means ‘we’d rather go down in a glorious defeat than waste away here in camp.’]</p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>From the above letter it is obvious that the Confederate flag flying over James Jackson’s hotel, the Marshall House, was viewed by Col. Ellsworth’s men as a secession insult that needed to be torn down. Jackson had raised the large Star & Bars flag in February to show his support of the Confederacy. It was large enough so it could be seen across the river by people in Washington DC. <br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Virginia ratified the ordinance of secession through popular vote on May 23. The next day, May 24, Lincoln sent about 13,000 Union troops across the Potomac to secure various strategic points in Virginia. Col Ellsworth and the Fire Zouaves (11th New York) crossed the river into Alexandria, landed at the city’s wharf where they met no resistance since the small Confederate militia force there had evacuated the town by railroad to Manassas. Ellsworth sent one company to occupy the railroad depot. He led another small group toward the telegraph office.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Though Ellsworth had evidently prohibited some of his men’s earlier unauthorized plan, it is no surprise at all that when his regiment did cross the Potomac on May 24 under proper military orders that he led a group of them to tear down that insulting secesh flag. Many view his action as an impetuous decision, since it seems to have been done on the way to occupying the telegraph office, and since he did not bring with him a significant number of soldiers. So, was it simply an impetuous action with a bad outcome getting used to push the larger political agenda? I think that his removing the insulting flag was a determined action to confirm to both the local residents of Alexandria as well as to his own men that he did indeed stand with the Union. He may have moved up his timing of the flag’s removal in his mind’s order of actions to secure the city for Union control, but I doubt it was just an unplanned impulse on his part. His taking so few men with him may just be an indicator that since he had met no real resistance thus far, he therefore assumed it would be a simple task. And that he went up and cut the flag down himself instead of sending a detachment to do so also shows his personal desire to stand for the Union.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Ellsworth was shot by Jackson as he came down the stairs. Jackson was also killed in the struggle by Private Francis Brownell. In the North “Remember Ellsworth” became a rallying cry to defend the Union and put down the rebellion. While in the South, Jackson’s death was viewed as that of a patriot killed defying tyrants and defending his home. Is Elmer Ephraim Ellsworth a heroic martyr or just another slain tyrant? Depends on which side you stand with during the early days of 1861.</div><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QYDb07JopA8nqWByw9P1GqwYxvkTLTAoP5hQ2glj5xm3RoDfJ3v2-VyGBs3mUpkFgokBuJm16HtnRONgkSj5x7KeFyAjncLDHxe-KdrkhWf5gq12IJbXCVP8Q6gBRMSyQ3bj6G58t_u5u9xhfpQbCt66jH4HMEGnG3yV2P-BoncoWJfjjf2Az9YOCQ/s1211/Ellsworth.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="1211" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QYDb07JopA8nqWByw9P1GqwYxvkTLTAoP5hQ2glj5xm3RoDfJ3v2-VyGBs3mUpkFgokBuJm16HtnRONgkSj5x7KeFyAjncLDHxe-KdrkhWf5gq12IJbXCVP8Q6gBRMSyQ3bj6G58t_u5u9xhfpQbCt66jH4HMEGnG3yV2P-BoncoWJfjjf2Az9YOCQ/w640-h376/Ellsworth.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patriotic Envelope US32<br />"True to the Union" is in the banner the eagle is holding.<br />This is just one example of the many patriotic covers done to rally support for the Union.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Children Projects:</b><br />This could be an interesting discussion about “who your hero is” depends on “which side you support”. Also, how narratives of deeds and deaths are often used to support "the greater cause". As well as how “heroes change over time”. So, help your child develop God honoring values. That will help them sort through the “narrative of the moment” that they will be bombarded with throughout their lives.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-85180697791340584092022-04-30T11:38:00.000-07:002022-04-30T11:38:44.774-07:00Hatteras Inlet Assault 1861 Patriotic Envelope<p><span style="text-align: justify;"> <span> </span>Taking a casual glance at this patriotic envelope and seeing General Butler along with mention of the Navy and the picture of a Confederate fort being bombarded by naval ships as troops storm it, the first instinct is to think of the capture of New Orleans in April & May 1862 where Benjamin Butler, "The Beast", gained his infamous reputation for draconian control. But wait, was Commander Stringham the naval hero in the New Orleans assault? Nope, it was another man, Admiral David Farragut. So What's going on here?</span></p><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ApxrB8EAovs/YJMU42hbPnI/AAAAAAAAAVA/pnR4Mo-FTFUr2upcWxT5zXqmV3yR5djSQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1108/001.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="1108" height="362" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ApxrB8EAovs/YJMU42hbPnI/AAAAAAAAAVA/pnR4Mo-FTFUr2upcWxT5zXqmV3yR5djSQCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h362/001.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Army & Navy US 23 Patriotic Envelope<br />(pictured is enlarged to show details; actual envelope size is the normal 5 1/2" by 3 3/8")</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> </span>Well, on the back side of the envelope is the printer's details: S.C.Upham, Philadelphia, copyright 1861. That information sends us on a quest to discover what Union battle involving both army and navy personal this envelope is celebrating since it's now obviously is not the seizure of New Orleans in 1862.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> Upham is celebrating the successful capture of the Confederate coastal forts protecting the Cape Hatteras Inlet in North Carolina (Aug.28-29, 1861). This battle was part of the Union Atlantic Blockage Campaign to cut off Southern trade and stop their commerce-raiding of Northern shipping. Despite the Union blockade of Norfolk, VA. the South still had access to trade via the North Carolina sound through the barrier islands coast. The Hatteras Inlet was the most traveled and the most vulnerable to Union attack because it was deep enough for sizeable warships.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> When North Carolina seceded, they began the construction of Fort Clark and Fort Hatteras at the southern end of Hatteras Island to control access to Pamlico Sound. Fort Clark faced east out to sea, with Fort Hatteras protecting the inlet the ships would sail through. Fort Hatteras had only about ten 32-pounder smoothbore mounted guns when the assault came. Fort Clark only had five. Compared to the Union ship's guns, these were of limited range for coastal defense. Nor was there really sufficient manpower at both forts to hold off a determined Union assault.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span> The Union plan from Navy Secretary Gideon Welles was to sink old ballast-laden ships in the channels going through the outer banks along the North Carolina coast to block them so the South could no longer sail ships in and out. Silas H. Stringham, commandant of the Atlantic Blockading Squadron did not believe this approach would work since he believed tidal currents would sweep away the wrecks or rapidly scour out new channels. For Stringham the southern forts would have to be taken and held by Union forces to effectively shut the channels down. This would need the cooperation of Army personnel along with the Navy assault. General John E. Wood at Fort Monroe organized an infantry force of 880 troops to assist Stringham's ships and put Major-General Benjamin F. Butler in charge.</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span> Some of the Union ships arrived off the Hatteras inlet late Aug.27th and commenced bombarding Fort Clark the next morning on the 28th. Stringham kept his ships moving in a loop, delivering a broadside against the fort, then moving back out of range to reload. This tactic prevented the fort artillery from adjusting their aim as they fired against the fleet, and so reduced the traditional advantage of shore-based guns over attacking ships. Mid-day the infantry troops began to attempt to land. Only about a third of the Union soldiers were able to land on the beach a few miles east of Fort Clark because increasing winds caused the waves to surge higher and higher making troop transport impossible. Shortly after noon the Confederate forces in Fort Clark ran out of artillery ammunition, so they spiked the guns and abandoned the fortification, heading for Fort Hatteras. Colonel Max Weber, commanding the Union troops who had managed to get ashore, realized this and sent his men in to occupy Fort Clark. The Union troops got their ships to cease the bombardment of the fort by waving the American Flag, signaling that it had fallen to Union control.</span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span> Stringham then had his ships move to begin bombarding Fort Hatteras. Because the Confederate forces were conserving ammunition, they only returned limited fire. Stringham thinking it may also have been abandoned, sent a shallow-draft gun boat into the inlet to take possession of the fort. Now the Confederate forces opened up with a full volley of fire, forcing that Union ship to flee back out to sea while the other Union ships again opened fire.</span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span><span> With night coming and threatening weather, Stringham ceased bombardment and pulled his ships back out to deeper water until the next morning. At dawn on the 29th, the Union ships steamed back in and anchored just out of range of the Confederate guns to renew their bombardment of Fort Hatteras. Union ships were able to prevent Confederate transport shops from bringing in more troops to reinforce the fort garrison. By 11:00 am the Confederates realized their hope of holding out was fast fading. As they were preparing to spike the guns and withdraw, a shell hit and ignited the fort's magazine, forcing Commander Samuel Barron to raise a white flag. Butler insisted on unconditional surrender. Barron complied and the 700 Confederate troops and officers were taken prisoner.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> The taking of the Hatteras Inlet was a great morale boost for the Union after a summer of failure and defeats like First Bull Run. It was said that when his staff woke President Abraham Lincoln up in the middle of the night to tell him about this victory, that he danced a jig in his nightshirt.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Now we can better understand why Upham printed this envelope celebrating the Hatteras Inlet victory. The picture of the soldiers storming the fortification and the ships bombarding it makes more sense when we understand the historical context. And we have a better understanding of why Butler and Stringham are the two leaders on this patriotic cover. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="text-align: left;">Note that the Confederate flag pictured on the fort being attacked is the Stars and Bars first national flag, and not the battle flag which has become the one most people today would recognize as a Confederate flag. Also note on the envelope picture that the flag pole is being shattered by the attacking Union forces. </span>This patriotic cover celebrates much needed good news for the Union cause in late 1861.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span> I admit that when I bought the original patriotic cover years ago at a military antique show, I bought it for two reasons. First, </span>because I saw Gen. Butler's picture on it, I just assumed it was celebrating the famous capture of New Orleans. Secondly, since I had seen very few envelopes celebrating the Navy, I wanted to have one to reproduce for reenactors to use for variety in their letter writing and also in their displays for spectators to see. Now obviously I was wrong about which battle victory it was celebrating. But I don't regret buying it and reproducing it, because now I can say it shows an aspect of history that was important in that time. And I also get to say that doing research is important in learning about history.</div><div><br /></div><b>Children's Project:</b> Explore why the Union blockade of Southern ports was a good war strategy for the North and a harmful one for the South. Although the Hatteras Inlet assault was only one part of the overall strategy, look at a map of the area to see how controlling it would help hurt the Southern shipping. Also discuss how after a summer which produced little "victory" for the North, an actual victory would be good news to people supporting the Union cause.</div><div><br /><div><br /><p></p><br /></div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-29017516688132217872022-04-06T16:49:00.000-07:002022-04-06T16:49:58.662-07:00Songs on the Civil War Battlefield -- Shiloh 1862<div style="text-align: left;"> <b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">An account
from a soldier who fought and died there:</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>The sanguinary
battle of Shiloh was fought on the sixth and the seventh of April, 1862.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The ordinary scene which presents itself,
after the strife of arms has ceased, is familiar to everyone.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Heaps of the slain, where friend and foe lie
by the side of each other; bodies mangled and bleeding; shrieks of the wounded
and dying, are things which we always associate with the victories and defeats of
war.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But seldom do we read that voices
of prayer, that hymns of exultant faith and thanksgiving, have been heard at
such times and in such places.<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>The
following account was received from the lips of a brave and pious captain in
one of the Western regiments, as some friends who visited Shiloh on the morning
after the battle were conveying him to the hospital.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>The man had
been shot through both thighs with a rifle bullet; it was a wound from which he
could not recover.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">While lying on the
field, he suffered intense agony from thirst.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He supported his head upon his hand, and the rain from heaven was
falling around him.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In a short time, a
little pool of water collected near his elbow and he thought if he could only
reach that spot he might allay his raging thirst.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">He tried to get into a position which would
enable him to obtain a mouthful, at least, of the muddy water; but in vain, and
he must suffer the torture of seeing the means of relief within sight, while
all his efforts were unavailing.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“Never”
said he,</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">“did I feel so much the loss of
any earthly blessing.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">By and by the
shades of night fell around us, and the stars shone out clear and beautiful
above the dark field, where so many had sunk down in death, and so many others
lay wounded, writhing in pain, or faint with the loss of blood.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Thus situated, I began to think of the great
God who had given his Son to die a death of agony for me, and that he was in
the heavens to which my eyes were turned, -- That he was there, above that
scene of suffering, and above those glorious stars; and I felt that I was
hastening home to meet him, and praise him there; and I felt that I ought to
praise him then, even wounded as I was, on the battlefield.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I could not help singing that beautiful hymn:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a name="_Hlk71119858"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">When I can
read my title clear<br /></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk71119858;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">To mansions in the skies,<br /></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk71119858;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ll bid farewell to every fear,</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk71119858; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">And wipe my weeping eyes.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">And though I was not aware of it till then,” he said, “it
proved there was a Christian brother in the thicket near me.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">I could not see him, but was near enough to
hear him.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">He took up the strain from me;
and beyond him another, and then another, caught the words, and made them
resound far and wide over the terrible battlefield of Shiloh.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">There was a peculiar echo in the place, and that added to the effect, as we made the night vocal with our hymns of praise
to God.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>It is
certain that men animated by such faith have the consciousness of serving God
in serving their country, and that their presence in the army adds to it some
of its most important elements of strength and success.</span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.3in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">From <u>Christian
Memorial of the War:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scenes and
Incidents Illustrative of Religious Faith and Principle, Patriotism and Bravery
in Our Army</u> by Horatio B. Hackett 1864 page 18-20.</span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiITrKD_qiWWcanE3HzaxUCRop3yzbR5BOYPFH0rDIKdGGkmDBBCuGUllwcpmhyuUwaF0QIK5_jqzh4XlwDhTrh3tbMBk2OsE6EsIjP6mGddsPzv31Qae2PEASjRisKxpLJC2hkAt-_Iqy4ahUAxmLUqqMK4ryWnt3OSq-25kDBTwQBxFAKW6Qh0X_xJQ=s510" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="510" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiITrKD_qiWWcanE3HzaxUCRop3yzbR5BOYPFH0rDIKdGGkmDBBCuGUllwcpmhyuUwaF0QIK5_jqzh4XlwDhTrh3tbMBk2OsE6EsIjP6mGddsPzv31Qae2PEASjRisKxpLJC2hkAt-_Iqy4ahUAxmLUqqMK4ryWnt3OSq-25kDBTwQBxFAKW6Qh0X_xJQ=w400-h303" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shiloh Church</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Summary historical perspective on the battle<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span> </span>The
intensity of the Battle of Shiloh in southwestern Tennessee on April 6-7, 1862,
also known as the Battle of Pittsburg Landing, changed public expectations in
both the North and the South that this would be a short-lived war because of
the intensity of the battle and the high rate of casualties for both sides:<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Union losses
out of 62,000 troops: 13,047<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Killed
1,754<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Wounded
8,408<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Missing
or captured 2,885<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Confederate
losses out of 45,000 troops: 10,669<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Killed
1,728<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Wounded
8,012<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Missing
or captured 959<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span> </span>In his memoirs in chapter 25 “Remarks on Shiloh” Grant writes
“Up to the battle of Shiloh, I, as well as thousands of other citizens,
believed that the rebellion against the Government would collapse suddenly and
soon, if a decisive victory could be gained over its armies….” But the
intensity and cost in man-power changed his perspective:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I gave up all idea of saving the Union
except by complete conquest.”<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span> </span>Though the
Union losses were greater than the Confederate, the Union victory would allow
for him to push deeper into Southern territory to divide the Confederacy in
two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Victory came at a high cost.<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Reflections on the “soldier in the ranks” perspective on
dealing with the cost of battle<br /></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span> </span>In the midst
of such pain and suffering what should one do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The above account which Horatio Hackett recounts shows some dealt with
the harshness of their suffering through the lens of faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hymn “When I can Read My Title Clear” by
Isaac Watts was first published under the heading "The Hopes of Heaven our
Support under Trials on Earth" in his 1707 <u>Hymns and Spiritual
Songs</u>:</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">When I can read my title clear</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To mansions in the skies,</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I’ll bid farewell to every fear,</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And wipe my weeping eyes.</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Should earth against my soul engage,</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And hellish darts be hurled,</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Then I can smile at Satan’s rage,</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And face a frowning world.</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Let cares, like a wild deluge come,</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And storms of sorrow fall!</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">May I but safely reach my home,</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">My God, my heav’n, my All.</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">There shall I bathe my weary soul</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In seas of heavn’ly rest,</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And not a wave of trouble roll</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Across my peaceful breast.</span></div></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span> </span>“Clear
title” means “undisputed ownership”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Isaac Watts’ original title -- "The Hopes of Heaven our Support
under Trials on Earth" -- gives us insight into his meaning of this
song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a world of fear and sorrow, Watts
challenges us to put our trust in Jesus’ promise in John 14:1-3: “Let not your
heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my Father's house are many mansions: if it
were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I
go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself;
that where I am, there ye may be also” (King James Version wording clearly is
the basis for the song).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through faith
in Jesus, Watts says we can put in perspective the troubles of this world as we
look to the place of joy Jesus is preparing for those who trust in Him as Savior.<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span> </span>So there on
the Shiloh battlefield where death, pain and sorrow were abundant, for many of
the men this well-known hymn became a call to look to Jesus’ promise as a way of
dealing with the “storms of sorrow” that night and yet also an offering of
praise to Jesus for His willingness to “die a death of agony for me”.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span> In the Old Testament, the town of Shiloh ("place of peace") became the place where the Tent of Meeting was located after the land was conquered and the people would come to worship God during the time of Joshua and the days of the Judges (Josh.18:1-10). The Shiloh Meeting House on the battle site was built in 1853, and Union forces encamped along the ridge the church was built on. The battlefield took its name from the church. The church was damaged in the fighting, then used as a hospital after the battle, and finally torn down by Union soldiers for the lumber to build a bridge.</span><br /></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"> In <u>Nothing But Victory -- The Army of the Tennessee 1861-1865</u> by Steven Woodworth (2005) pages189-191 is a detailed description of the night of April 6. After intense twelve hours of fighting came the darkness with the wounded between the lines "calling for mother, sister, wife, sweetheart, but the most piteous plea was for water". Then came the rain and thunder mixing with the ongoing artillery fire between the lines. Woodworth cites that on one part of the battlefield was heard the singing of Charles Wesley's "Jesus, Lover of My Soul" hymn among the wounded. And elsewhere was the singing of the hymn of this account. I cite this as evidence that the above account recorded by H. Hackett is in fact a description of something that actually happened that night.<br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>Children’s project questions:</b><br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>1) Talk
about the shift from early war “optimism” that the conflict would be brief and
end soon to the “reality” that it was going to be a “long hard road to
Richmond”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Explore why human nature
often “presumes” desired outcomes more often than realistically thinking
through what might happen and exploring ways to overcome the difficulties to
accomplish the goal.<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>2) Would
there be many who would join in today if someone started singing a Christian
song on a battlefield filled with wounded & dying soldiers?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What does that say about our culture
today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Does that make you glad or sad?</span></div>
<br /><p></p>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-14526958190183404432022-03-25T17:50:00.002-07:002022-03-25T20:25:00.460-07:00Letters Are Important to Civil War Soldiers<div style="text-align: left;"> <b>What is the proof that letters were important to Civil War Soldiers?</b><br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We often hear that letters were important to soldiers serving on the field. The following excepts are from letters George P. Jarvis wrote to his sister Leonora Jarvis during the war when he served in the 3d Ohio. The complete transcripts of all eight of his letters are in Billy Yank & Johnny Reb Letters under the Ohio section. The complete letters are interesting reads. I am only citing excepts from various letters that illustrate how much he treasured staying in contact with family back home through letters. I hope you find this first hand evidence of "letters being important" enjoyable and informative.<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>George P. Jarvis (1842-1920). Raised in in Athens County, Ohio where his father had a mercantile business in the unincorporated town of New England. (No, not the region in the North Eastern US.) He enlisted for three months in the 3d Ohio, then reenlisted June 1862. Wounded Oct. 1862 in the Battle of Perrysville Kentucky, he returned to his unit in late Dec. 1862 when stationed at Murfreesboro Tennessee.</div><div><br /><b>Letters from home are considered a good source of news</b>; also he mentions that he has enclosed a letter from a confederate soldier that was left behind when then they skedaddled. Letter #1:</div><div><br />Huntsville, Alabama<br />May 13th 1862<br />Dear Sister,<br />Having nothing else to do this morning, I thought I would drop you a few lines. The weather is very hot here now although it is only May and the Devil only knows how hot it will be next month. I think, however, that six or eight months will close this thing up [the war] . . . I wrote to Charlie Collier some time since but as yet have received no reply. Haven’t had a mail for three weeks and can’t tell what is going on. About all the news we get is from a Nashville paper — a kind of a would-be Secesh if it dared to sort of a paper — and one don’t have much comfort in reading it. . . The enclosed letter is one that I picked up. The writer, it seems, was a member of Hindman’s Legion [CS Arkansas units led by Thomas Hindman that Jarvis’ unit routed] — the same we shelled at Bowling Green. It seems from his letter that they were not whipped, they only ran to prevent such a catastrophe. He is wrong as regards the number killed as there was not a person killed during the whole cannonade. It will give you a pretty good idea of Southern intellect. But I have been stretching this out longer than I at first intended and will have to close. So good bye all with kind regards to everyone. </div><div>I remain as ever your affectionate brother, — Geo. P. Jarvis</div><div><br /></div><div><span> </span>Letters allow “news” to flow both ways. Unfortunately, there is no copy of the captured confederate letter that Jarvis sent home. But you can see he wants to keep his family informed of what’s going on in his life on the field. At the same time, he relies on them to keep him updated on news, both family and national. His letters show there is give and take between him and his family, which is an encouragement to him as he does his duty.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeFZzOhqomG9emaBnmdpGoUWIk9dspu_eetA0cfpW3Q9hONoyvUpGsVNU7M1kwL6qUuVV-aIPnqefFcGl94WNAU_ikg4VxfODwPDoVeGFnzXIIAIYt_-9ebWtQ-WfE2WNwlXqMs8ptDi2lR2Qc7_j77zuzhvaVj7QYjVbxLaXDUJJGkK9pHJo43digEg=s788" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="788" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeFZzOhqomG9emaBnmdpGoUWIk9dspu_eetA0cfpW3Q9hONoyvUpGsVNU7M1kwL6qUuVV-aIPnqefFcGl94WNAU_ikg4VxfODwPDoVeGFnzXIIAIYt_-9ebWtQ-WfE2WNwlXqMs8ptDi2lR2Qc7_j77zuzhvaVj7QYjVbxLaXDUJJGkK9pHJo43digEg=w400-h236" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span> </span>This plain envelope is what he sent Letter #1 in to his sister. Note that is it marked "Soldier's Letter" in the upper right corner. So that is why the "due 3" is written in the lower left below the address. His sister had to pay three cents to redeem the letter. In the upper left corned it looks like the letter was sent through the Chaplain of the 3d Ohio, who also wrote the tag Soldiers Letter. Remember, there was no "free mail" for soldiers at this time in history.<div><br /><b>Circumstances sometimes make writing a bit difficult</b> Letter #2:</div><div><br />Murfreesboro, Tennessee September 4th 1862<br />Dear ones at home,<br />It has been some time since I wrote home but be assured that it was not a lack of interest on my part that caused the delay, but we have been on the move almost all the time and it has been impossible for me to send a letter even if I had written one. I will give you a brief account of our march and troubles. . . My postage stamps were all stolen from me by some rascal night before last and I would like some more if you can send them just as well as not. I would say something about our movements and force but are not allowed to do so. I will write again soon. Give my love to all.<br />As ever, your affectionate son & brother, — G. P. Jarvis</div><div><br /><span> </span>Being on the march can make it difficult to keep them up to date with what he is experiencing. And that his postage stamps were stolen also doesn’t help. Remember, postage stamps functioned as small change during the war, so the thief was likely stealing them for the money value. But For Jarvis the frustration is that it hinders his ability to stay in touch with his family. For more information on this see my post “Letter Writing and Postage Stamps Importance to the Civil War Soldier” May 9, 2020 in the blog archive, where I discuss the need to use stamps as money because of the coin shortage during the war.</div><div><br /><b>Mail Delivery is not always the best – grumbling about delays</b> Letters #4 & #5:</div><div><br />Corinth, Mississippi<br />May 18th 1863<br />Dear ones at home,<br />Not as yet have I heard from you, but if I don’t get a letter tonight, I shall be disappointed, and I’ll give Uncle Sam’s mail carriers thunder for I think they have had sufficient time to have forwarded a letter to me since I wrote you last. But it will come some time and if it does not come tonight, I shall not despair. Suppose I should be at home soon. Would it not surprise you? . . . Now do not make up your minds to see me for this is only my opinion, but just consider me as absent till my time is out and then if I get home before, why! you will be disappointed, that’s all.</div><div><br />Murfreesboro, Tennessee<br />June 22d 1863<br />Dear Ones at P. G. C.<br />I take upon myself the duty of answering your kind letter of the 4th and 7th ulto. received yesterday. You can’t guess how much pleasure they afforded me, they being the first of a late date I had received from home since I left Murfreesboro to go on that confounded trip into the bowels of “Dixie.” I had you — when I was at Nashville — direct to that place without reference to Company or Regiment from the fact that I did not know what moment I would leave there nor where I would go, and I thought by so doing I could get the letters sooner and it has proved I was right. The letters remaining in the office are advertised each morning and as soon as I saw my name in the advertisements I wrote to the postmaster where to forward them to. Don’t you think I was rather cute?</div><div><br /><span> </span>Jarvis has some interesting comments in these two letters about delivery issues. You can’t blame him for grumbling about delays since he really values the letters from home. Yet circumstances on the field often made mail delivery to the soldiers difficult. The second letter shows an interesting point that evidently a list was put out to units about letters that the army mail service wasn’t sure where the addresses was located. Interesting, as I had not heard about this approach to letter delivery, but it does make sense.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyynmvMjupxFv--KR-14SyUvdYd8aHpiALWAIi9EuVd4uHXUeAvS1KqomuBKKZ2vargQzUaGqo-F1U71Y9BWkI72M2KyADXpyQHXWZJT48s45A21sRpjXqMaMFVvzlqPS1dVX20btr_KR7u5cIcfCNNqMDzyOI1fO_koQeoNrqcaZMPFU9fhn5ZNTH1A=s1086" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="613" data-original-width="1086" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiyynmvMjupxFv--KR-14SyUvdYd8aHpiALWAIi9EuVd4uHXUeAvS1KqomuBKKZ2vargQzUaGqo-F1U71Y9BWkI72M2KyADXpyQHXWZJT48s45A21sRpjXqMaMFVvzlqPS1dVX20btr_KR7u5cIcfCNNqMDzyOI1fO_koQeoNrqcaZMPFU9fhn5ZNTH1A=w400-h226" width="400" /></a></div><span> </span>This plain envelope is from Letter #6 which I have not cited anything from, but I have included the envelope picture here because of the "Due 6" cents stamp on it. The cost of getting letters home for the soldiers varied at times due to factors such as a long distance or the need to be sent on a ship to get delivered. I do not know what was the cause of the additional cost in this case. Again, notice that this time George Jarvis wrote "Soldiers Letter" himself in the upper corner. The postmark shows the letter clearly went through Nashville, TN to be delivered to Ohio.<div><br /><b>Constantly changing circumstances sometimes mean rewriting is necessary</b> Letter #7:</div><div><br />Chattanooga, Tennessee<br />October 3d 1863<br />Dear Sister,<br />Your kind note of 14 Sept. came duly to hand last evening about ten o’clock. You have no idea how glad I was to hear from you for I had not heard a word for nearly a month. I have written just as often as I could send letters and even oftener. Two or three letters I have written and kept a few days and then burned them up because I had no opportunity to send them. And by the time I would get an opportunity, they would be stale and I would write again. I have not written much account of the fight [Battle of Chickamauga] because you will get it in the papers much sooner and more correctly than I could give it to you, and I have not been on the field at all, but have been in the rear all the time where we get nothing but exaggerated reports till we ourselves get a paper containing an account of the battle. And even if I had been there, I could only have described first what came beneath my immediate notice.</div><div><br /><span> </span>Jarvis takes keeping the family updated seriously, so as things are often changing, he updates letters if he can’t send them out. And evidently, he doesn’t want his discarded letters to be found and read by someone other than his family. Yet he is also honest in that he realizes his perspective is often limited and may not be the total truth of what has taken place.</div><div><span> As I said at the beginning, I've only cited excerpts focused on illustrating his high value of staying connected with family through the letters. I appreciate his sense of humor and also his humility. He is sharing what he is experiencing so they can continue to be involved in his life even though separated by hundreds of miles. Mail Call for him was a good thing to look forward to. And because his letters have been preserved, we also get to see into his joy of keeping connected with his loved ones back home.</span><br /></div><div><br /><b>Children Projects:</b><br />1) Do you think Jarvis’ action in letter #7 in getting rid of old letters that he didn’t get sent out and so had to update by rewriting is in part due to his finding that confederate soldier’s letter he mentions in letter #1? He doesn’t want his feelings, concerns and perspectives being read by someone other than his intended readers, his family.<br />2) Explore the issue of stamps being worth money by also reading the blog I mentioned in comments on letter #2. Today if you took in a stamp to a store would they accept it as change? No. Especially the “forever stamp” which has a constantly changing value.<br />3) Look at the envelope pictures. They are marked “soldier’s letter”, but they were not "free". The family had to pay the money due to redeem them at the hometown post office. And remember “3 cents” back then was of much greater value then 3 cents is today.</div><p><br /></p>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-23125925835785699422022-03-05T09:25:00.000-08:002022-03-05T09:25:02.559-08:00Hard Crackers, Come Again No More! A Song Celebrating a Beloved Civil War Army Ration!<div style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>Yes, the title above is being sarcastic. John D. Billings shares his memory of a famous Civil War song that captures the “man in the ranks joy” over the army’s provisions (<u>Hard Tack and Coffee. Soldier’s life in the Civil War</u> 1887). This song that Billings remembers is a Civil War parody of a popular song from 1854 “Hard Times Come Again No More” by Stephen Foster that<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5kN_YOgkUXMcUQPNI-RQL4GiVzy-owIGsvJOMQamNpT_gQmEiqWAXtRb0XvFm57mpH4EgmwGgdtxdz2s0Wb8n8Bqq-KrGjJ_7550L9BGf-94g7oFxVe_5DGs823TYL2spmjfm4JderoXVko4E00sjTCfFTyGgheloducRUCv3qJYjkJQyFZV-LbaH6w=s927" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="927" data-original-width="826" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5kN_YOgkUXMcUQPNI-RQL4GiVzy-owIGsvJOMQamNpT_gQmEiqWAXtRb0XvFm57mpH4EgmwGgdtxdz2s0Wb8n8Bqq-KrGjJ_7550L9BGf-94g7oFxVe_5DGs823TYL2spmjfm4JderoXVko4E00sjTCfFTyGgheloducRUCv3qJYjkJQyFZV-LbaH6w=w247-h310" width="247" /></a></div>challenged the fortunate to remember the struggles of the less fortunate. The Civil War song is a satirical mocking of a staple of army rations that went by a variety of names: the hard cracker, hardtack, hard bread, army crackers, worm castles, sheet-iron crackers, tooth dullers. Billings writes:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span> </span>“For some weeks before the battle of Wilson’s Creek, Mo., where the lamented [General Nathaniel] Lyon fell, the First Iowa Regiment had been supplied with a very poor quality of hard bread (they were not then -- 1861 -- called hardtack). During this period of hardship to the regiment, so the story goes, one of its members was inspired to produce the following touching lamentation:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Let us close our game of poker,<br />Take our tin cups in our hand,<br />While we gather round the cook’s tent door,<br />Where dry mummies of hard crackers<br />Are given to each man;<br />O hard crackers, come again no more!<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Chorus: ‘Tis the song and sigh of the hungry,<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Hard crackers, hard crackers, come again no more!<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Many days have you lingered upon our stomachs sore,<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>O hard crackers, come again no more!”</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">There’s a hungry, thirsty soldier<br />Who wears his life away,<br />With torn clothes, whose better days are o’er;<br />He is sighing now for whiskey,<br />And, with throat as dry as hay,<br />Sings, “Hard crackers, come again no more!” -- Chorus</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">‘Tis the song that is uttered<br />In camp by night and day,<br />‘Tis the wail that is mingled with each snore,<br />‘Tis the sighing of the soul<br />For spring chickens far away,<br />“O hard crackers, come again no more!” -- Chorus</div><p>When General Lyon heard the men singing these stanzas in their tents, he is said to have been moved by them to the extent of ordering the cook to serve up corn-meal mush, for a change, when the song received the following alteration:</p><div style="text-align: left;">But to groans and to murmurs<br />There has come a sudden hush,<br />Our frail forms are fainting at the door;<br />We are starving now on horse-feed<br />That the cooks call mush,<br />O hard crackers, come again once more!<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Chorus: It is the dying wail of the starving,<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Hard crackers, hard crackers, come again once more;<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You were old and very wormy, but we pass your failings o’er,<br /><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>O hard crackers, come again once more!</div><p>The name hardtack seems not to have been in general use among the men of the Western armies.” (p.118-19)</p><p><span> </span>In sharing this memory, Billings is reminding us that he and others did their duty even though it meant having to be “creative” with less than ideal food rations as well as with finding humor in what they were dealt. Now certainly down through the centuries it has always been the habit, and the right, of the ranks to complain about the rations provided. You have to enjoy the creativity of this song in lamenting what was a part of life for the soldier during the Civil War.</p><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Children’s project:</b><br />1) Make some hardtack (there are various recipes on line; this one from the site: Emerging Civil War – “Civil War Cookin’: Hard Tack Come Again No More”. No, haven’t personally tried to use this recipe. Others on line have differing measurements, salt added, and cooking times etc.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> </span>3 cups flour (can use all-purpose, but whole wheat is more authentic)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Water (1 cup)</div><div style="text-align: left;">Add enough water to Flour so the mixture is soft, but not sticky, then knead for 8 minutes to make the dough elastic. Roll the dough out and cut into 3”x 3” squares ½” thick. Use a nail or something to prick four holes across in four rows down into the dough, then turn over and do this again -- (this prevents the cracker from “rising” as it bakes). Bake at 450 degrees for 7 minutes, then reduce oven to 350 and bake for additional 7 – 10 minutes. They will be hard, and get harder as they cool and dry. Bake them for looks, not for eating as they will be hard. Don’t put them in a sealed container because they will mold, but let them dry out completely. Add weevils for additional flavor and realism. What?!? Just joking. My family has a couple of hardtack pieces that we use for living history display that were given to us almost 30 years ago. That should tell you how “durable” hardtack is.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">2) Look up the words to the song “Hard Times Come Again No More” and compare them to this Civil War song parody. (Parody: an imitation of the style of a particular writer, artist, or genre with deliberate exaggeration for comic effect). Explore how parody works by looking at Foster’s song which calls on the favored in society to see the distressed struggling people around them and realize their plight. Some say Foster’s song was his way of calling on the privileged to realize the needs of “the less fortunate” around themselves. Others see his song as expressing his personal feelings as he descended into loss in his own life. It most likely is a mix of both. As culture continued to divide and the Civil War came, his song was indeed a challenge needed by society to look compassionately on others in their struggles. Now obviously the parody Civil War song “Hard Crackers Come Again No More” is making the challenge for the “privileged” well-fed officers to see the plight of the “down-trodden” man-in-the-ranks. Some eat well in the army, while many others must make do with poor quality rations as they obey the orders of the privileged to march and fight. The “effectiveness” (= popularity) of the Hard Crackers song is in a great degree based upon the popularity of the Hard Times song in the culture of that time. Maybe come up with a project where your child does a parody on something that is popular to them.</div><div><br /></div>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-48055327388687484882022-02-11T17:50:00.000-08:002022-02-12T06:24:51.898-08:00To My Wife -- A Civil War Poem from a Blessed Soldier far from Home<div style="text-align: left;"> At midnight, on my lonely beat,<br /><span> When darkness veils the wood and lea,<br /></span><span>A vision seems my view to greet,<br /></span><span><span> Of one at home who prays for me.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2c5uDGbXxqkd-DosT92713Ogb4OErFZEez_1h8GylLVNOSX0J9WG0BVBMisNISco2AZfLlL_SmY43R6owxpy9uRAp4wCb56a7fkE4WPRZgO2PkwNTw_65fCGDIb-oKnXAfQmAAvJFApusJC1bdLZKJ8x8ZKgUAt63AggqPjZWjJrIUM4i7b-NCmryTw=s552" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="552" data-original-width="452" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg2c5uDGbXxqkd-DosT92713Ogb4OErFZEez_1h8GylLVNOSX0J9WG0BVBMisNISco2AZfLlL_SmY43R6owxpy9uRAp4wCb56a7fkE4WPRZgO2PkwNTw_65fCGDIb-oKnXAfQmAAvJFApusJC1bdLZKJ8x8ZKgUAt63AggqPjZWjJrIUM4i7b-NCmryTw=w328-h400" width="328" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture from a Civil War envelope</td></tr></tbody></table><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span>The roses bloom upon her check;</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span> Her form seems to me like a dream;</span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>And on her face, so fair and meek,</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> A host of holy beauties gleam.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">For softly shines her flaxen hair;</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> A smile is ever on her face;</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>And the mild, lustrous light of prayer</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span> Around her sheds a moonlike grace.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>She prays for me, that's far away --</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span> The soldier in his lonely fight;</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span>And asks that God in mercy may</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span> Shield the loved one and bless the right.</span><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span>Until, though leagues may lie between,</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> The silent incense of her heart</span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span>Steals o'er my soul with breath serene,</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span> And we no longer are apart.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span>So, guarding thus my lonely beat,</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span> 'Mid darkening wood and dreary lea,</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span>That vision seems my view to great,</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> Of her at home who prays for me.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Written by Joseph McArdle, Company F 163d New York Volunteers. For some years First Assistant Chief of the Kansas City Fire department, and noted for his bravery and zeal in the discharge of duty. He died a little over a year ago [Feb.21, 1893] from the effects of pneumonia, contracted while fighting a disastrous fire. A self-contained and somewhat diffident old solider, he was loved by his comrades, especially by veteran Company A, but few suspected that he possessed any talent in a literary way. Among his papers, however, was found the following little poem, written in 1864, dedicated to his wife, and containing sentiment worthy to be perpetuated.” (Page 525 <u>Under Both Flags A Panorama of the Great Civil War as Represented in Story, Anecdote, Adventure and the Romance of Reality</u> Edited by C.R. Graham. 1896)</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>An obituary from Kansas City says that McArdle was born in Ireland in 1837, and came to the U.S. at age 10. “When, in 1861, the war of the Rebellion broke out, McArdle enlisted in that famous 73d New York, 4th Regiment, Excelsior Brigade, 2d New York F’ire Zouaves. In the fall of 1864, McArdle went to Kansas City and engaged for a short time in work for the government. But the urgent call for troops by President Lincoln once more appealed to his patriotism, and he re-entered the army, enlisting in the 51st Missouri, and serving as first sergeant. After five months’ service his regiment was mustered out of service, and McArdle went back to Kansas City.” The obituary goes on to share about his service as their Fire Chief.</div><div><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So McArdle would have been 27 years old when he wrote the poem about his love for his wife and her love for him that gave him strength as he served his country. C.R. Graham is right. Such love, such drawing strength to do the hard and challenging from knowing that you are loved by a wife who lets you go to do your duty while deeply desiring you to safely return is indeed a “sentiment worthy to be perpetuated”. Consider the wisdom observations from King Solomon:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">“He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and has obtained favor from the Lord”</div><div style="text-align: center;">Proverbs 18:22 NASV</div><div style="text-align: center;">“An excellent wife, who can find her? For her worth is far above jewels. The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised.” </div><div style="text-align: center;">Proverbs 31:10-11,30 NASV</div><div><br /></div><div>For my tribute to my wife, see my post on Aug.24, 2016: In Honor of my Beloved Wife Vicki Lynn Rowe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Children’s Project: Discuss how McArdle’s love for his wife and his knowing that she cared and prayed for him while he was away in danger serving his country would have been a source of strength for him. Discuss how a strong marriage between husband and wife can be built by sharing how you and your spouse have deepened your love for each other.</div><div><br /></div></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><p><span><span><br /></span></span></p>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8943423586651782458.post-27275324927968922462022-01-22T06:51:00.000-08:002022-01-22T06:51:51.819-08:00On a Muddy Path You have to Laugh -- Burnside's Mud March January 1863<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>General
Ambrose Burnside, who replaced George McClellan as commander of the Army of the
Potomac in Nov.1862 hoped that his plans in January 1863 to march on Richmond
would go better than the disastrous assault on Fredericksburg he had commanded in
December 1862 had gone.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">This time he
planned for his army to outflank Lee’s defensive position at Fredericksburg by
crossing the river upstream and drawing Lee’s men out of their defensive
positions. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">That was the plan.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></span><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2BOYKb8XljU/YchdGE72ypI/AAAAAAAAAXA/xvuGta1-KCglmxAQ-0zBG_6bCDUepw4GACNcBGAsYHQ/the-mud-march.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="560" height="394" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2BOYKb8XljU/YchdGE72ypI/AAAAAAAAAXA/xvuGta1-KCglmxAQ-0zBG_6bCDUepw4GACNcBGAsYHQ/w640-h394/the-mud-march.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span> <span> </span><span> </span></span>On January
20, 1863 in unseasonably mild weather the Union Army started its march to cross
the Rappahannock.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">But during the night a
violent storm began pouring down rain which continued coming over the next two
days.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The torrential downpour turned the
dirt roads into a </span><a name="_Hlk71098192" style="font-size: 12pt;">muddy quagmire</a><span style="font-size: 12pt;">.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One solider wrote “The whole country was a
river of mud, the roads were rivers of deep mire.”</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Wagons sank to their wheel hubs in mud.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">At times artillery became so hopelessly stuck
that even a team of 12 horses and 150 men couldn’t pull one cannon out of the
mud.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Soldiers slipped repeatedly, many
losing their shoes in the thick mud.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The
rain ended on the 22</span><sup>nd</sup><span style="font-size: 12pt;">, but the unusual above freezing temperatures
kept the roads sticky mud paths where horses and mules died of exhaustion.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">To help raise his soldier’s spirits Burnside
issued a whiskey ration, but instead it led to drunken troops brawling with one
another.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Across the river, Confederate
pickets watched the struggling Union troops with amusement.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Some put up a large sign on the riverbank
that said “Burnside’s Army Stuck in the Mud” and another sign “This way to
Richmond”.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>On the
fourth day, Burnside cancelled the order for the advance and ordered his troops
to return to their encampments.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Many in
the ranks were totally demoralized. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">A
Massachusetts soldier, Charles E. Davis Jr. wrote, “It is not an exaggeration
to say, that before or after, there was seen no such state of demoralization as
possessed a large part of the Army of the Potomac at the end of this foolish
undertaking.” </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Lincoln replaced Burnside
with Joseph Hooker as commander of the Army of the Potomac on Jan.26th.</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>All this
historical background gives an interesting twist to a “revised prayer of the
soldier while on the celebrated Burnside Mud March” that John Billings shares
in his book of Civil War memories</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">(Page
72 </span><u style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;">Hard Tack and Coffee</u><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt;"> 1887):</span></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Now I lay me down to sleep<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In mud that's many fathoms deep<br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">If I'm not here when you wake, <br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Just hunt me up with an oyster rake"</span></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span> </span>You have to
smile at the humor of whoever came up with this revision of a prayer meant to
comfort.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sometimes things in life are so
bad, the only thing left is to find something to laugh over.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Yes, this is not a “significant historical
notation”, but Billings gives us insight into one way the men in the ranks struggling
through the muddy quagmire got a brief moment of relief.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">And evidently one solider remembered it long
after and shared it with Billings.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Good
night and watch where you sleep.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEi7OQjOrRLh_hupBrRb9bnw1poMaADa_wZLfCvcBnWlrs82BJIX8WAANHiM87ioPpBLDaeNN_MUoLTsE5ooSXkcarxNvcychRjEOOrMGKPUz2vvCX6C98IQymaJ6YqoIhgbQNlb5z0wsZZRFBqI2ROwILdUGqfMPF26iWAnYTpsSnNFLTC00brJ05pg=s1098" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="1098" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEi7OQjOrRLh_hupBrRb9bnw1poMaADa_wZLfCvcBnWlrs82BJIX8WAANHiM87ioPpBLDaeNN_MUoLTsE5ooSXkcarxNvcychRjEOOrMGKPUz2vvCX6C98IQymaJ6YqoIhgbQNlb5z0wsZZRFBqI2ROwILdUGqfMPF26iWAnYTpsSnNFLTC00brJ05pg=w640-h352" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">General Burnside Civil War Patriotic Envelope US48<br />celebrating his attacks on Confederate forces along the North Carolina coast<br />from February through June 1862.<br />Wonder how popular this one was among the soldiers after the mud march?</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Children's Project: </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Explore how both the Confederate signs and the Union revised prayer are both "sarcastic humor" using irony (intended meaning is the opposite of what's expressed). Explore how what is humorous to one is not so funny to the other (am sure neither the Union soldiers seeing the CS signs nor General Burnside were pleased to be mocked). This might be an interesting way to discuss different types of humor and the challenges of "cancel culture" with your children. For example, should they share a joke mocking their teacher with the teacher? And </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">obviously jokes about you as a parent are always off limits.</span></span></p>Glenn Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05310235469500514847noreply@blogger.com0