Civil War history

Atlanta, Georgia Tuesday, November 15, 1864 Finally, inexplicably, there is wood for the fireplace. Warmth spread throughout Caitlin's body, relaxing muscles kinked from weeks of shuddering in the drafty house. She stepped closer to the fire, smiling as the heat caressed her face. Finally, the chill is gone. "Wake up! Wake up!" Caitlin jerked awake to find Ana yanking on her arm. Wraiths of smoke crawled across the ceiling. The fire was not in the parlor hearth, but on the floor, spreading in a crackling pool from a blackened pine torch. The clock's chimes jarred Caitlin's nerves once, twice, three times, as flames flashed on its face. _____________________________________________________________ The above excerpt from Yankee in Atlanta reflects the historical event of Sherman's armies burning Atlanta 150 years ago today. Actually, Sherman's men had begun the fires on November 12, 1864, targeting places of military importance such as factories and railroad stations. But, even though General Slocum issued a five-hundred-dollar reward for anyone who caught soldiers committing arson at private residences, wayward soldiers did torch plenty of homes. Ten-year-old Carrie Berry wrote the following in her diary about this night: [[{"type":"media", "view_mode":"media_large", "fid":"1110", "attributes":{"class":"media-image alignright size-medium wp-image-2550", "typeof":"foaf:Image", "style":"", "width":"300", "height":"240", "alt":"carrieberry"}}]]"Oh what a night we had. They came burning the store house and about night it looked like the whole town was on fire. We all set up all night. If we had not set up our house would have ben [sic] burnt up for the fire was very near and the soldiers were going around setting houses on fire where they were not watched. They behaved very badly."* The Berry family was among about five hundred residents still living in Atlanta. When Confederate General Hood evacuated Atlanta a couple of months earlier, Atlanta's population was at four thousand, down from its war-time peak of more than twenty thousand. When General Sherman moved in in early September 1864, his forced evacuation of the shell-shocked residents whittled it down to a mere fifty families or so, who were allowed to stay by special permission. For those residents, November 12-15, 1864, was a terrifying time, indeed. [[{"type":"media", "view_mode":"media_large", "fid":"1111", "attributes":{"class":"media-image size-full wp-image-2553", "typeof":"foaf:Image", "style":"", "width":"540", "height":"640", "alt":"Train depot ruined upon Sherman"}}]] Train depot ruined upon Sherman's departure   None of them knew then that Sherman's departure would be the start of his infamous March to the Sea, in which the idea of "total war" would be played out with a vengeance. [[{"type":"media", "view_mode":"media_large", "fid":"1112", "attributes":{"class":"media-image wp-image-2555 size-full", "typeof":"foaf:Image", "style":"", "width":"597", "height":"467", "alt":"Painting: \u0026quot;War Is Hell\u0026quot; by Mort Kunstler, depicting Sherman in Atlanta"}}]] Painting: "War Is Hell" by Mort Kunstler, depicting Sherman in Atlanta   [[{"type":"media", "view_mode":"media_large", "fid":"1113", "attributes":{"class":"media-image alignright size-full wp-image-2559", "typeof":"foaf:Image", "style":"", "width":"150", "height":"190", "alt":"carrie diary"}}]]*I obtained a transcript of Carrie Berry's full diary courtesy of the Kenan Research Center at the Atlanta History Center. Portions of her diary have been published in several different books, as well, including A Confederate Girl: The Diary of Carrie Berry, 1864. For more about the historical background to Yankee in Atlanta, visit www.heroinesbehindthelines.com.

It’s impossible to write a Civil War novel about medical care in the Union army without having at least some text devoted to amputations. Here’s some of the information that helped me as I wrote both Wedded to War and Widow of Gettysburg. Contrary to popular belief, the days of “biting the bullet” (or a leather strap) during an amputation were over by the time of the Civil War. Anesthesia was available in the form of chloroform and ether, even in field hospitals. However, if the soldier had been wounded more than 24 hours prior to amputation, the surgeon would not give anesthesia for fear the patient would not recover from it. And unfortunately, the Confederacy had a severe shortage of medicines, including these, to work with. So even though the medicine existed, there were plenty of cases where the patients had to go without it. But in the cases where anesthesia was available, there were specific guidelines for how to administer it. Chloroform According to the Manual of Military Surgery Prepared for the Use of the Confederate States Army (published 1863): Chloroform should be given in the fresh air with the patient’s head on a pillow and the body remaining horizontal throughout inhalation. Clothing should be loosened about the neck, chest and abdomen so that breathing is not restricted. Only a light but nutritious meal should be given earlier, or the state of unconsciousness during the second stage of the anesthetic might bring on vomiting. Before giving the chloroform, first give brandy. (Union surgeons did not always follow this point. They used alcohol stimuli only on physically depressed patients because they felt it could slow down the induction of anesthesia in a healthy patient.) The Confederate manual went on to instruct: “all special instruments of inhalation have been discarded, and a towel or napkin, folded into a cone, by having its corners turned down, is not almost universally employed for the purpose. The chloroform, about a drachm (one-eighth ounce) is poured into this cone, and is held over the patient’s mouth and nostrils which should previously have been anointed.” Holding the cone a half-inch from the patient’s face prevented facial blistering and allowed adequate air flow. The first stage of anesthesia was one of excitement, producing “muttering, wild eyed, the cries, the exalted imagination” followed by “violent struggles, attempts to rise, and rigid contraction.” If the spasm extended to the larynx, there would be danger of breathing being obstructed. Surgeons were instructed to remove the cone temporarily if this were the case. The second stage was that of unconsciousness, insensibility and relaxation of the voluntary muscles. Eyelids would no longer contract when touched. The pulse would slow and weaken, respiration became shallow and feeble. Ether Ether was slow-acting, had a foul smell patients objected to, and caused coughing. But it was frequently used in general hospitals where time was not as pressing, because, unlike chloroform, it did not cause vomiting, prostration or increased excitement. It was also far less dangerous if the wrong dose was given. Throughout the Civil War, only four deaths were recorded from overdoses of ether, while chloroform’s rate was 5.4 deaths for every thousand that used it. The Operation The book, Civil War Medicine, by C. Keith Wilbur, M.D. has easy-to-understand explanations and diagrams of various types of amputations. Those interested in primary source material for the operations can thank SonoftheSouth.net for posting excerpts from The Practice of Surgery by Samuel Cooper, here: http://www.sonofthesouth.net/leefoundation/amputation.htm  The book, written in 1820, would have served as the how-to guide for surgeons in the beginning of the war. These online excerpts provide detailed instructions for amputation of legs, arms, fingers and toes, including photos of original Civil War instruments. Carl Schurz, commander of the Union’s 11th Corps at Gettysburg, offers this account of amputations after the battle: Most of the operating tables were placed in the open where the light was best some of them partially protected against the rain by tarpaulins or blankets stretched upon poles. There stood the surgeons their sleeves rolled up to the elbows, their bare arms as well as their linen aprons smeared with blood, their knives not seldom held between their teeth while they were helping a patient on or off the table, or had their hands otherwise occupied around them pools of blood and amputated arms or legs in heaps sometimes more than man high. Antiseptic methods were still unknown at that time. As a wounded man was lifted on the table often shrieking with pain as the attendants handled him the surgeon quickly examined the wound and resolved upon cutting off the injured limb. Some ether was administered and the body put in position in a moment. The surgeon snatched his knife from between his teeth where it had been while his hands were busy, wiped it rapidly once or twice across his blood stained apron and the cutting began. The operation accomplished the surgeon would look around with a deep sigh. and then—“Next!” Read The Reminiscences of Carl Schurz at Google Books here: http://bit.ly/OCf1CD  Recommended Sources: For more in-depth study, in addition to the resources I listed on my last post, I recommend: Cooper, Samuel. The Practice of Surgery. London: A and R Spottiswoode, 1820. Available at Google Books here: http://bit.ly/OvS97P. Hamilton, Frank Hastings. A Practical Treatise on Military Surgery. New York: Balliere Brothers, 1861. Available at Google Books here: http://bit.ly/O72JCN Teacher Tube video (5 min.) from the Museum of the Confederacy about amputations and artificial limbs. Not graphic at all. http://bit.ly/SZhlEF

Yesterday I received a fairly mangled piece of mail—not a car dealership ad, either, which would have been promptly recycled anyway. This was a tax document. [[{"type":"media", "view_mode":"media_large", "fid":"928", "attributes":{"class":"media-image aligncenter wp-image-781", "typeof":"foaf:Image", "style":"", "width":"574", "height":"430", "title":"100_4254", "alt":""}}]] But then I flipped over the envelope containing the remains, and after scanning the text, simply thought, “Huh. That’s nice of the post office. They’re trying. They care,” and then went to make a cup of tea. (I do that a lot during the winter, living here in Iowa.) [[{"type":"media", "view_mode":"media_large", "fid":"929", "attributes":{"class":"media-image aligncenter", "typeof":"foaf:Image", "style":"", "width":"574", "height":"430", "title":"100_4256", "alt":""}}]] Two days ago, I would have been just a little irked about the torn up document. But it’s what I read in my research for novel #3 just before the mail arrived that totally put my mail mishap into perspective. The Civil War didn’t just divide the country, it divided families—not just politically and ideologically, but geographically. Regardless of their views on the war, relatives in both North and South longed to see each other. That was virtually impossible, as travelling across the lines required a passport, and officials on both sides denied about 90 percent of those requests. Sending transsectional letters was an option, but mail crossing the lines had to carry both Union and Confederate postage, it had to contain the full names of the recipients and senders, and the content had to be limited to family matters. Even mentioning that your property had been raided or destroyed was considered contraband, because it related to the war. All transsectional mail went through Fort Monroe, Virginia, where it was inspected. The inspectors could censor your letters, or choose not to send them at all. Mail that did make it through could take a few weeks or up to a year to reach its destination. Some personal mail was even published in newspapers as “special reports” from far-away locations. Can you imagine? Clearly, this system was not working. Then in December of 1863, someone had the brilliant idea of purchasing space in the advertising section of the New York Daily News to send a message to a distant relative who may read the paper. Others caught on, and within a month, the New York Daily News and the Richmond Enquirer had an arrangement whereby they reprinted each other’s ads so family members North and South could finally communicate in a reliable manner. Two dollars would buy eight lines of space. Here are some family advertisements that ran: "Edward C. Huntley, Richmond, Va.—Folks all well; no news from Kate; Aunt Sarah dead; money in bank for you, Holmes, Executor; I am keeping hotel at Catskill. Have started twice to see you; couldn’t get there. Heard from you some time ago, and answered per directions. Let us hear from you again. JACK." Another Southerner published: “Lost all my children to yellow fever. Kate and I are well.” A notice to a Union brother: “Dear Brother. I am well, but have been severely wounded twice. Father and brother William died during the siege of Vicksburg…Would like to hear from you.” In a single issue of the Richmond Enquirer, more than 100 ads could run, filling five columns and more than one full page of the paper. More than 2000 family advertisements appeared in 1864. By the end of the year, however, war officials decided this had to stop, and put an end to it. Why? According to their logic, either 1) the ads contained coded messages of espionage or 2) the families were benefiting from encouragement from their relatives, which made them better able to persevere in the war. The war officials on the Union side would rather see Southerners demoralized enough to hasten a surrender. Sad but true. So my mangled mail really doesn’t bother me. When I think about how hard it was for these families to communicate, it makes me very grateful for all the ways I have of communicating, even with by brother and sister-in-law who live in France. In fact, I think I’ll write to them today, and marvel that at the click of my mouse, they will get my email in mere moments. Who will you write to today, just because you can? SOURCE: The Divided Family in Civil War America by Amy Murrell Taylor.  The University of North Carolina Press, 2009.

A note from Jocelyn: Last summer, I visited Virginia's Peninsula to research my Civil War novel, Wedded to War. While there, I stayed with Linda Montgomery, the editor of ExcellentorPraiseworthy.org, the devotional Web site of Campus Crusade's Military Ministry. In honor of Memorial Day, I want to share with you an article by Linda about the origin and meaning of "Taps." It first appeared at ExcellentorPraiseworthy.org.  July 2012 marks the 150th anniversary of Taps, as it was written after the Seven Days Battle (which appears in Wedded to War). Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to the heavens, You are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast. — Psalm 139:7-10 For me, the story of “Taps” is a local story because I live close to where it was composed. I could easily drive to Berkeley Plantation in Virginia, where there is a monument marking the “birthplace” of Taps. Tour guides will tell you that the haunting 24-note bugle call is actually a revision of a French call to signal to the troops the end of the day and “lights out.” The story goes like this: “In of July of 1862, in the aftermath of the bloody Seven Days battles (Peninsular campaign), hard on the loss of 600 men and wounded himself, Union General Daniel Adams Butterfield called the brigade bugler to his tent. . . .Oliver Wilcox Norton, the bugler, tells the story, ‘. . . showing me some notes on a staff written in pencil on the back of an envelope (some accounts say that Butterfield hummed it to Norton), (he) asked me to sound them on my bugle. I did this several times, playing the music as written. He changed it somewhat, lengthening some notes and shortening others, but retaining the melody as he first gave it to me. After getting it to his satisfaction, he directed me to sound that call for Taps thereafter in place of the regulation call. The music was beautiful on that still summer night and was heard far beyond the limits of our Brigade. The next day I was visited by several buglers from neighboring Brigades, asking for copies of the music which I gladly furnished. The call was gradually taken up through the Army of the Potomac.’” From “History of Taps.” Savage's Station, Virginia, June 30, 1862, Union field hospital during and after the Seven Days Battle. Photo courtesy: Library of Congress   Not long after Taps was composed, it was used for the first time at a military funeral. Union Captain John Tidball, commander of an artillery battery, had it played for the burial of a cannoneer killed in action (during the Peninsular Campaign) because the traditional three-rifle volleys fired over the grave might have alerted the enemy nearby. This event is commemorated in a stained glass window at The Chapel of the Centurion, also nearby at Ft. Monroe. Ten months after it was written, Taps was played at the funeral of Confederate General “Stonewall” Jackson. By 1874 Taps was officially recognized by the U.S. Army and was required to be played at military funerals by 1891. Taps is played throughout our nation on Memorial Day as it is traditionally sounded at funerals, wreath-laying, and memorial services. In order to honor those who died in service to our country, giving the ultimate sacrifice—Taps is played in remembrance of all of those who have insured our precious freedom. While we are hearing the strains perhaps you can also remember the words which are associated with the bugle call. While these lyrics are not “official,” the first verse is commonly sung with these words: “Day is done, gone the sun, From the hills, from the lake, From the sky. All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.” God is nigh. The definition of “nigh” is “near in space, time, or relation.” The American College Dictionary, 1955. God is near: You are near, O LORD, and all Your commandments are truth. — Psalm 119:151 The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. — Psalm 34:18 But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, that I may tell of all Your works. — Psalm 73:28 The LORD is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth. — Psalm 145:18 Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. — Philippians 4:5 The last verse of Taps, traditionally, is similar to the first verse: “Thanks and praise, For our days, ‘Neath the sun, ‘Neath the stars, ‘Neath the sky, As we go, This we know, God is nigh.” Is there any doubt in your mind and heart that God is near, during deployment? Even during the lowly conditions of war in 1862, God was there. Jari A. Villanueva is a bugler and bugle historian, considered the country’s foremost authority on Taps. He wrote: “.. . it is hard to believe that Butterfield could have composed anything that July in the aftermath of the Seven Days battles which saw the Union Army of the Potomac mangled by Lee’s Army of Northern Virgina. Over twenty six thousand casualties were suffered on both sides. . . . In the midst of the heat, humidity, mud, mosquitoes, dysentery, typhoid and general wretchedness of camp life in that early July, it is hard to imagine being able to write anything.” From “24 Notes that Tap Deep Emotions”. But write it (or revise it) he did, and Butterfield’s desire to honor his soldiers is forever the way that we seek to honor our brave soldiers. The Scripture from Psalm 139 is a reminder of what we declare in the singing of Taps. With a lump in our throats and perhaps tears in our eyes, we remember this Memorial Day, with grateful hearts, those courageous patriots who have gone before us in battle. . . . and we remember that our God is faithful . . . . and near. Questions to Share: 1. What thoughts come to your mind when you hear Taps? 2. On this Memorial Day, is there someone who served our country whom you could tell your spouse about as a way of honoring them? Note:  Additional information on Taps is available at www.tapsbugler.com

When people ask me where I get ideas for my novels, I tell them it’s pretty easy—history is already full of fascinating characters and dramatic events. Margaret Culkin Banning said it well: “Fiction is not a dream, nor is it guesswork. It is imagining based on facts, and the facts must be accurate or the work of imagining will not stand up.” Historical fiction is based on facts--and that includes people who lived during the time period. Today I’d like to share with you five real people who inspired my upcoming Civil War novel, Wedded to War. I want you to fall in love with my fictional characters, but I also hope you will grow to respect the real people in the novel, as well. I am convinced that each of them felt ordinary, like you and me, but they did extraordinary things and should be remembered for them. 1) Dorothea Dix. Social reformer Dorothea Dix went straight to Washington within a week of war breaking out and didn’t leave until she had a meeting with President Lincoln himself. Her goal: for the government to allow women to be nurses. It was a shocking suggestion, for nurses in hospitals up until that time had all been male. Proper Victorian women could not be expected to touch a strange man’s body, even if he was sick or wounded—or so society believed. Yet the numbers alone were enough to convince Lincoln he needed help. At the start of the war, the U.S. Army Medical Department had a total of 28 surgeons, and no general hospital. Lincoln gave permission, and made Dix the Superintendent of Female Nurses. She had the authority to provide nurses to the army, and she wanted to be taken seriously. So her requirements for women nurses were stringent: they must be married, at least 30 years of age, of good health and character. They must not wear hoops under their skirts, ruffles, bows or jewelry. She was even known for turning away women because they were not homely enough. (Pretty women were accused of bringing out the men’s “natural desires.”) Even so, Dix was bombarded with applicants. Readers of Wedded to War will meet Dorothea Dix, or “Dragon Dix” as she was commonly called, in the novel. 2) Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell. An English immigrant, Dr. Blackwell was the first woman to earn a medical degree in the United States, and ran an infirmary for women and children near the slums of New York City. When the Civil War broke out, she realized the Union army needed a system for distributing supplies and organized four thousand women into the Women’s Central Association of Relief (WCAR). The WCAR grew into chapters around the county, and this body systematically collected and distributed life-saving supplies such as bandages, blankets, food, clothing and medical supplies. Blackwell also partnered with several prominent male physicians in New York City to offer a one-month training course for 100 women who wanted to be nurses for the army. This was the first formal training for women nurses in the country. Once they completed their training, they were sent to Dix for placement at a hospital. By July 1861, the WCAR prompted the government to form a national version—the United States Sanitary Commission. And it all started because Dr. Blackwell decided to mobilize the women of the country to help the Union. Dr. Blackwell plays a major role in Wedded to War.  3) Georgeanna Woolsey. At 28 years old, Georgeanna should not have been allowed to serve the army as a nurse, but she got through the application process anyway. Against her mother’s and sisters’ wishes, she was one of the 100 women trained in New York City to be a nurse. Not content to sit in a parlor and knit or scrape lint, she was eager to go where the fighting was, to get her hands dirty in a way she had never been allowed to before as a wealthy, privileged woman. Georgeanna wrote many letters and accounts of her experiences, including this: Some of the bravest women I have ever known were among this first company of army nurses. . . . Some of them were women of the truest refinement and culture; and day after day they quietly and patiently worked, doing, by order of the surgeon, things which not one of those gentlemen would have dared to ask of a woman whose male relative stood able and ready to defend her and report him. I have seen small white hands scrubbing floors, washing windows, and performing all menial offices. I have known women, delicately cared for at home, half fed in hospitals, hard worked day and night, and given, when sleep must be had, a wretched closet just large enough for a camp bed to stand in. I have known surgeons who purposely and ingeniously arranged these inconveniences with the avowed intention of driving away all women from their hospitals. These annoyances could not have been endured by the nurses but for the knowledge that they were pioneers, who were, if possible, to gain standing ground for others. . . Georgeanna Woolsey is the inspiration for my main character in Wedded to War, Charlotte Waverly. Georgeanna’s sister Eliza inspired the fictional sister Alice, as well. 4) Louisa May Alcott. Before she wrote Little Women, Louisa May Alcott was a nurse at the Union Hotel Hospital in Georgetown for six weeks before she contracted typhoid fever and had to return to her home in Concord. Her book Hospital Sketches is full of vivid descriptions of hospital life, from her own duties to the personalities and sufferings of her patients. Louisa arrived in Washington too late for her to fit the timeline of Wedded to War, but her account of the horrific hotel-turned-hospital—which matched the Sanitary Commission report—helped me color my own descriptions of the Union Hotel Hospital. My main character Charlotte finds herself there in the summer of 1861 and quickly learns what it really means to be a nurse in the Civil War. 5) Frederick Law Olmsted. Most people know him as the landscape architect of New York City’s Central Park, which opened just a few years before the war began, or as the founder of modern landscape architecture. But he also played a critical role as the executive secretary of the U.S. Sanitary Commission from 1861 until he burned out from the job in 1863. He was a master administrator, and did untold good for the Union army by inspecting hospital camps and suggesting life-saving improvements in their hygiene, sanitation, cooking, and general care. Olmsted also helped form the fleet of hospital transport ships that removed sick and wounded Union soldiers from the swamps of Virginia during General George B. McClellan’s ill-fated Peninsula Campaign during the summer of 1862. (For more on the hospital transport’s service, read The Other Side of War by Katharine Prescott Wormeley and Hospital Transports, published by the Sanitary Commission in 1863 and available to read in full for free at http://books.google.com.) Frederick Law Olmsted is a character in Wedded to War, interacting with Charlotte Waverly both in Washington and on the hospital transports. *Bacon, Georgeanna Woolsey and Eliza Woolsey Howland, My Heart Toward Home: Letters of a Family During the Civil War. Roseville, Minnesota: Edinborough Press, 2001 (81).